Philostratus: The Life of Apollonius of Tyana Book 7

I am aware that the conduct of philosophers under despotism is the truest touchstone of their character, and am in favor of inquiring in what way any one man displays more courage than another. And my argument also considers me to consider the point; for during the reign of Domitian, Apollonius was beset by accusations and writs of information, the several origins, sources and counts of which I shall presently enlarge upon; and as I shall be under the necessity of specifying the language which he used and the role which he assumed, when he left the court after convicting the tyrant rather than being himself convicted, so I must first of all enumerate all the feats of wise men in the presence of tyrants which I have found worthy of commemoration, and contrast them with the conduct of Apollonius. For this I think is the best way of finding out the truth.

Zeno then of Elea, who was the father of dialectic, was convicted of an attempt to overthrow the tyranny of Nearchus the Mysian; and being put to the rack he refused to divulge the names of his accomplices, though he accused of disloyalty those who were loyal to the tyrant, with the result that, whereas they were put to death on the assumption that his accusations were true, he effected the liberation of the Mysians, by tripping despotism up over itself. And Plato declares that he took up the cause of the liberation of the people of Sicily, and associated himself in this enterprise with Dion. And Phyton, when he was banished from Rhegium, fled to Dionysius the tyrant of Sicily; but being treated with more honor than an exile might expect, he realized that the tyrant had designs also upon Rhegium; and he informed the people there of this by letter. But he was caught doing so by the tyrant, who forthwith fastened him to one of his siege engines alive, and then pushed it forward against the walls, imagining that the inhabitants of Rhegium would not shoot at the machine in order to spare Phyton. He, however, cried out to them to shoot, for, said he: “I am the target of your liberty.” And Heraclides and Python who slew Cotys the Thracian were both of them young men, and they embraced the principles of the Academy and made themselves wise and so free men. And who does not know the story of Callisthenes of Olynthus? He on one and the same day delivered a panegyric and of an attack upon the Macedonians, just at the time when they were at the acme of their power; and they put him to death for exciting their displeasure. Then there were Diogenes of Sinope and Crates of Thebes, of whom the former went direct to Chaeronea, and rebuked Philip for his treatment of the Athenians, on the ground that, though asserting himself to be a descendant of Heracles he yet was destroying by force of arms those who had taken up arms in defense of the descendants of Heracles. The other Crates, when Alexander declared that he would rebuild Thebes for his sake, replied that he would never stand in need of a country or of a city, which anyone could raze to the ground by mere force of arms. Many more examples of this kind can be adduced, but my treatise does not allow me to prolong them. It is indeed incumbent upon me to criticize these examples, not in order to show that they were not as remarkable as they are universally famous, but only to show that they fell short of the exploits of Apollonius, in spite of their being the best of their kind.

About the conduct of Zeno of Elea then, and about the murder of Cotys there is nothing very remarkable; for as it is easy to enslave Thracians and Getae, so it is an act of folly to liberate them; for indeed they do not appreciate freedom, because, I imagine, they do not esteem slavery to be base. I will not say that Plato somewhat lacked wisdom when he set himself to reform the affairs of Sicily rather than those of Athens, or that he was sold in all fairness when, after deceiving others, he found himself deceived, for I fear to offend my readers. But the despotic sway of Dionysius over Sicily was not solidly based when Phyton of Rhegium made his attempt against him, and in any case he would have been put to death by him, even if the people of that city had not shot their bolts at him; his achievement, then, I think, was by no means wonderful: he only preferred to die in behalf of the liberty of others rather than to endure the death penalty to make himself a slave. And as for Callisthenes, even today he cannot acquit himself of baseness; for in first commending and then attacking one and the same set of people, he either attacked those whom he felt to be worthy of praise, or he praised those whom he ought to have been openly attacking. Moreover a person who sets himself to abuse good men cannot escape the charge of being envious, while he who flatters the wicked by his very praises of them draws down upon his own head the guilt of their misdeeds, for evil men are only rendered more evil when you praise them. And Diogenes, if he had addressed Philip in the way he did before the battle of Chaeronea instead of after it, might have preserved him from the guilt of taking up arms against Athens; but instead of doing so he waited till harm was done, when he could only reproach him, not reform him. As for Crates, he must needs incur the censure of every patriot for not seconding Alexander in his design of recolonizing Thebes. But Apollonius had not to fear for any country that was endangered, nor was he in despair of his own life, nor was he reduced to silly and idle speeches, nor was he championing the cause of Mysians or Getae, nor was he face to face with one who was only sovereign of a single island or of an inconsiderable country, but he confronted one who was master both of sea and land, at a time when his tyranny was harsh and bitter; and he took his stand against the tyrant in behalf of the welfare of the subjects, with the same spirit of purpose as he had taken his stand against Nero.

Some may think that his attitude towards Nero was a mere bit of skirmishing, because he did not come to close quarters with him, but merely undermined his despotism by his enocuragement of Vindex, and the terror with which he inspired Tigellinus. And there are certain braggarts here who foster the tale that it required no great courage to assail a man like Nero who led the life of a female harpist or flautist. But what, I would ask, have they to say about Domitian? For he was vigorous in body, and he abjured all those pleasures of music and song which wear away and soften down ferocity; and he took pleasure in the sufferings of others and in any lamentations they uttered. And he was in the habit of saying that distrust is the best safeguard of the people against their tyrants and of the tyrant against the multitude; and though he thought that a sovereign ought to rest from all hard work during the night, yet he deemed it the right season to begin murdering people in. And the result was that while the Senate had all its most distinguished members cut off, philosophy was reduced to cowering in a corner, to such an extent that some of its votaries disguised themselves by changing their dress and ran away to take refuge among the western Celts, while others fled to the deserts of Libya and Scythia, and others again stooped to compose orations in which his crimes were palliated. But Apollonius, like Tiresias, who is represented by Sophocles as addressing to Oedipus the word:

'For ’tis not in your slavery that I live, but in that of Loxias,'

chose wisdom as his mistress, and escaped scot-free from paying tribute to Domitian. Applying to himself, as if it were an oracle, the verse of Tiresias and of Sophocles, and fearing nothing for himself, but only pitying the fate of others, he set himself to rally round him all the younger men of the Senate, and husband such intelligence as he saw discerned in many of them; and he visited the provinces and in the name of philosophy he appealed to the governors, pointing out to them that the strength of a tyrant is not immortal, and that the very fact of their being dreaded exposes them to defeat. And he also reminded them of the Panathenaic festival in Attica, at which hymns are sung in honor of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, and of the sally that was made from Phyle, when thirty tyrants at once were overthrown; and he also reminded them of the ancient history of the Romans, and of how they too had been a democracy, after driving out despotism, arms in hand.

And on occasion when a tragic actor visited Ephesus and came forward in the play called the Ino, and when the governor of Asia was one of the audience, a man who was though still young and of very distinguished rank among the consuls, was nevertheless very nervous about such matters, just as the actor finished the speech in which Euripides describes in his iambics how tyrants after long growth of their power are destroyed by little causes, Apollonius leapt up and said: ““But yonder coward understand neither Euripides nor myself!”

When moreover the news was brought how notable a purification of the goddess Hestia of the Romans Domitian had carried out, by putting to death three of the Vestal virgins who had broken their vows and incurred the pollution of marriage, when it was their duty to minister in purity to the Athena of Ilion and to he fire which was worshipped in Rome, he exclaimed: “O Sun, would that thou couldst too be purified of the unjust murders with which the whole world is now filled.” Nor did he do all this in private, as a coward might, but he proclaimed his sentiments and aspirations amidst the crowd and before all.

On another occasion when after the murder of Sabinus, one of his own relations, Domitian was about to marry Julia, who was herself the wife of the murdered man, and Domitian's own niece, being one of the daughters of Titus, Ephesus was about to celebrate the marriage with sacrifice, Apollonius interrupted the rites, by exclaiming: “O thou night of the Danaids of yore, how unique thou wast!”

The following then is the history of his acts in Rome. Nerva was regarded as a proper candidate for the throne which after Domitian's death he occupied with so much wisdom, and the same opinion was entertained of Orfitus and of Rufus. Domitian accused the two latter of intriguing against himself, and they were confined in islands, while Nerva was commanded to live in Tarentum. Now Apollonius had been intimate with them all the time that Titus shared the throne with his father, and also reigned after his father's death; and he was in constant correspondence with them on the subject of self-control, being anxious to enlist them on the side of the sovereigns whose excellence of character he esteemed. But he did his best to alienate them from Domitian, on account of his cruelty, and encouraged them to espouse the cause of the freedom al all. Now it occurred to him that his epistles conveying advice to them were fraught with danger to them, for many of those who were in power were betrayed by their own slaves and friends and womankind, and there was not at the time any house that could keep a secret; accordingly he would take now one and now another of the discreetest of the companions, and say to them: “I have a brilliant secret to entrust to you; for you must betake yourself as my agent to Rome to so and so,” mentioning the party, “and you must hold converse with him and do the utmost I could do to win him over.” But when he heard that they were banished for having displayed a tendency to revolt against the tyrant, and yet had from timidity abandoned their plans, he delivered a discourse on the subject of the Fates and of Destiny in the grove of Smyrna in which stands the statue of the river Meles.

And being aware that Nerva would before long become sovereign, he went on to explain in his oration that not even tyrants are able to force the hand of destiny, and directing the attention of his audience to the brazen statue of Domitian which had been erected close by that of Meles, he said: “Thou fool, how much art thou mistaken in thy views of Destiny and Fate. For even if thou shouldst slay the man who is fated to be despot after thyself, he shall come to life again.” This saying was reported to Domitian by the malevolence of Euphrates, and though no one knew to which of the personages above mentioned this oracle applied, yet the despot in order to allay his fears determined to put them to death. But in order that he might seem to have an excuse for doing so, he summoned Apollonius before him to defend himself on the charge of holding secret relations with them. For he considered that if he came, he could get a sentence pronounced against him, and so avoid the imputation of having put people to death without trial, seeing that they would have been convicted through Apollonius, or in the alternative case, if the latter by some ruse avoided an open trial, then the fate of the others would all the more certainly be sealed, because sentence would have been passed on them by their own accomplice.

Moved by these considerations Domitian had already written to the governor of Asia, directing the man of Tyana to be arrested and brought to Rome, when the latter foreseeing in his usual way through a divine instinct what was coming, told his companions that he needed to depart on a mysterious voyage; and they were reminded of the opinion enunciated by Abaris of old, and felt that he was intent upon some such scheme. Apollonius however, without revealing his intention even to Damis, set sail in his company for Achaea, and having landed at Corinth and worshipped the Sun about midday, with his usual rites, embarked in the evening for Sicily and Italy. And falling in with a favorable wind and a good current that ran in his direction, he reached Dicaearchia on the fifth day. There he met Demetrius who passed for being the boldest of the philosophers, simply because he did not live far away from Rome, and knowing that he had moved to get out of the way of the tyrant, yet said by way of amusing himself: “I have caught you in your luxury, dwelling here in the most blessed part of happy Italy, if indeed she be happy, here where Odysseus is said to have forgotten in the company of Calypso the smoke of his Ithacan home.” Thereupon Demetrius embraced him and after sundry pious ejaculations said: “O ye gods, what will come upon philosophy, if she risks the loss of such a man as yourself?” “And what risks does she run?” asked he. “Those, surely, a foreknowledge of which brought you here,” said the other; “for if I do not know what is in your mind, then I do not know what is in my own. But let us not conduct our conversation here, but let us retire where we can talk together alone, and let only Damis be present whom, by Heracles, I am inclined to consider an Iolaus of your labors.”

With these words, Demetrius led them to the villa in which Cicero lived of old, and it is close by the city. There they sat down under a plane tree where the grasshoppers were chirping to the soft music of the summer's breeze, when Demetrius glancing up at them, remarked: “O ye blessed insects and unfeignedly wise, it would seem then that the Muses have taught you a song which is neither actionable, nor likely to be informed against; and they made you superior to all wants of the belly, and settled you far above all human envy to live in these trees, in which you sit and sing in your blessedness about your own and the Muses’ prerogative of happiness.” Now Apollonius understood the drift of this apostrophe, but it jarred upon him as inconsistent with the strenuous professions of his friend. “It seems then,” he said, “that, though you only wanted to sing the praises of grasshoppers, you could not do it openly, but came cowering hither, as if there were a public law against anyone praising the grasshoppers.” “I said what I did,” he replied, “not by way of praising them, but of signifying that while they are left unmolested in their concert halls, we are not allowed even to mutter; for wisdom has been rendered a penal offense. And whereas the indictment of Anytus and Meletus ran: Socrates commits wrong in corrupting youth and introducing a new religion, we are indicted in such terms as these: So and so commits wrong by being wise and just and gifted with understanding of the gods no less than of men, and with a wide knowledge of the laws. And as for yourself, so far forth as you are cleverer and wiser than the rest of us, so much the more cleverly is the indictment against you drawn up; for Domitian intends to implicate you in the charges for which Nerva and his associates were banished.” “But for what crime,” said Apollonius, “are they banished?” “For what is reckoned by the persecutor to be the greatest of latter-day crimes. He says that he has caught these persons in the act of trying to usurp his throne, and accuses you of instigating their attempt by mutilating, I think, a boy.” “What, as if it were by an eunuch, that I want his empire overthrown?” “It is not that,” he replied, “of which we are falsely accused; but they declare that you sacrificed a boy to divine the secrets of futurity which are to be learned from an inspection of youthful entrails; and in the indictment your dress and manner of life are also impugned, and the fact of your being an object of worship to some. This then is what I have heard from our Telesinus, no less your intimate than mine.” “What luck,” exclaimed Apollonius, “if we could meet Telesinus: for I suppose you mean the philosopher who held consular rank in the reign of Nero.” “The same,” he said, “but how are we to come across him? For despots are doubly suspicious of any man of rank, should they find him holding communication with people who lie under such an accusation as you do. And Telesinus, moreover, gave way quietly before the edict which has lately been issued against philosophers of every kind, because he preferred to be in exile as a philosopher, to remain in Rome as a consul.” “I would not have him run any risks on my account anyhow,” said Apollonius, “for the risks he runs in behalf of philosophy are serious enough.

“But tell me this, Demetrius, what do you think I had better say or do in order to allay my own fears?” “You had better not trifle,” said the other, “nor pretend to be afraid when you foresee danger; for if you really thought these accusations terrifying, you would have been away by now and evaded the necessity of defending yourself from them.” “And would you run away,” said Apollonius, “if you were placed in the same danger as myself?” “I would not,” he replied, “I swear by Athena, if there were someone to judge me; but in fact there is no fair trial, and if I did offer a defense, no one would even listen to me; or if I were listened to, I should be slain all the more certainly because I was known to be innocent. You would not, I suppose, care to see me choose so cold-blooded and lavish a death as that, rather than one which befits a philosopher. And I imagine that it behoves a philosopher to die in the attempt to liberate his city or to protect his parents and children and brothers and other kinsfolk, or to die struggling for his friends, who in the eyes of the wise are more precious than mere kinsfolk, or for favorites that have been purchased by love. But to be put to death not for true reasons, but for fancy ones, and to furnish the tyrant with a pretext for being considered wise, is much worse and more grievous than to be bowed and bent high in the sky on a wheel, as they say Ixion was. But it seems to me the very fact of your coming here will be the beginning of your trial; for though you may attribute your journey hither to your quiet conscience, and to the fact that you would have never ventured upon it if you were guilty, Domitian will credit you with nothing of the kind; but will merely believe that you ventured on so hardy a course because you possess some mysterious power. For think, ten days, they say, have not elapsed since you were cited to appear, and you turn up at the court, without even having heard as yet that you were to undergo a trial. Will not that be tantamount to justifying the accusation, for everyone will think that you foreknew the event, and the story of the boy will gain credit therefrom? And take care that the discourse which the say you delivered about the Fates and Necessity in Ionia does not come true of yourself; and that, in case destiny has some cruelty in store, you are not marching straight to meet it with your hands tied, just because you won't see that discretion is the better part of valor. And if you have not forgotten the affairs of Nero's reign, you will remember my own case, and that I showed no coward's dread of death. But then one gained some respite: for although Nero's harp was ill attuned to the dignity that befits a king, and clashed therewith, yet in other ways its music harmonized not unpleasantly with ours, for he was induced thereby to grant a truce to his victims, and stay his murderous hand. At any rate he did not slay me, although I attracted his sword to myself as much by your discourses as by my own, which were delivered against the bath; and the reason why he did not slay me was that just then his voice improved, and he achieved, as he thought, a brilliant melody. But where's the royal nightingale, and where the harp to which we can today make our peace-offerings? For the outlook of today is unredeemed by music, and full of spleen, and this tyrant is as little likely to be charmed by himself, as by other people. It is true that Pindar says in praise of the lyre that it charms the savage beast of Ares and stays his hand from war; but this ruler, although he has established a musical contest in Rome, and offers a civic crown for those who win therein, nevertheless slew some of them, for whom it was the proverbial swan-sung that they piped or sang. And you should also consider our friends and their safety, for you will certainly ruin them as well as yourself, if you make a show of being brave, or use arguments which will not be listened to. But your life lies within your reach; for here are ships—you see how many there are—some about to sail for Libya, others for Egypt, others for Phoenicia and Cyprus, others direct to Sardinia, other still for places beyond Sardinia. It were best for you to embark on one of these provinces; for the hand of tyranny is less heavy upon these distinguished men, if it perceives that they only desire to live quietly and not put themselves forward.”

Damis was so impressed by the arguments of Demetrius that he exclaimed: “Well, you anyhow are a friend and by your presence you can do a very great service to my master here. As for me, I am of little account, and if I advised him not to throw somersaults upon naked swords, nor expose himself to risks with tyrants, than whom none were ever yet deemed harsher, he would not listen to me. As a matter of fact I should never have known, if I had not met you, what he meant by his journey hither; for I follow him more readily, more blindly, than another man would follow himself; and if you asked me where I am bound or for what, I should merely excite your laughter by telling you that I was traversing the seas of Sicily and the bays of Etruria, without knowing in the least why I took ship. And if only I were courting these dangers after I had received open warning, I could then say to those who asked me the question, that Apollonius was courting death, and that I was accompanying him on board ship because I was his rival in his passion. But as I know nothing of this matter, it's time for me to speak of what I do know; and I will say it in the interests of my master. For if I were put to death, it would not do much harm to philosophy, for I am like the esquire of some distinguished soldier, and am only entitled to consideration because I am his suite. But if someone is going to be set on to slay him, and tyrants find it easy to contrive plots and to remove obstacles from their path, the I think a regular trophy will have been raised over the defeat of philosophy in the person of the noblest of her human representatives; and as there are many people lurking in our path, such as were Anytus and Meletus, writs of information will be scattered from all quarters at once against the companions of Apollonius; one will be accused of having laughed when his master attacked tyranny, another of having encouraged him to talk, a third of having suggested to him a topic to talk about, a fourth of having left his lecture-room with praise on his lips for what he had heard. I admit that one ought to die in the cause of philosophy in the sense of dying for one's temples, one's own walls, and one's sepulchers; for there are many famous heroes who have embraced death in order to save and protect such interests as those; but I pray that neither I myself may die in order to bring about the ruin of philosophy, and that no one else either may die for such an object who loves philosophy and loves Apollonius.”

Apollonius answered thus: “We must make allowance for the very timid remarks which Damis has made about the situation; for he is a Syrian and lives on the border of Media, where tyrants are worshipped, and hence does not entertain a lofty idea of freedom; but as for yourself, I do not see how you can defend yourself at the bar of philosophy from the charge of trumping up fears, from which, even if there were really any reason for them, you ought to try to wean him; instead of doing so you try to plunge into terror a man who was not even afraid of such things as were likely to occur. I would indeed have a wise man sacrifice his life for the objects you have mentioned, but any man without being wise should equally die for them; for it is an obligation of law that we should die in behalf of our freedom, and an injunction of nature that we should die in behalf of our kinsfolk or of our friends or darlings. Now all men are the slaves of nature and of law; the willing slaves of nature, as the unwilling ones of law. But it is the duty of the wise in a still higher degree to lay down their lives for the tenets they have embraced. Here are interests which neither law has laid upon us, nor nature planted in us from birth, but to which we have devoted ourselves out of mere strength of character and courage. In behalf therefore of these, should anyone try to violate them, let the wise man pass through fire, let him bare his neck for the axe, for he will not be overcome by any such threats, nor driven to any sort of subterfuge; but he will cleave to all he knows as firmly as if it were a religion in which he had been initiated. As for myself, I am acquainted with more than other human beings, for I know all things, and what I know, I know partly for good men, partly for wise ones, partly for myself, partly for the gods, but for tyrants nothing. But that I am not come on any fool's errand, you can see if you will; for I run no risk of my life myself, nor shall I die at the hands of a despot, however much I might wish to do so; but I am aware that I am gambling with the lives of those whom I bear such relation as the tyrant chooses, whether he count me their leader or their supporter. But if I were to betray them by holding back or by cowardly refusal to face the accusation, what would good men think of me? Who would not justly slay me, for playing with the lives of men to whom was entrusted everything I had besought of heaven? And I would like to point out to you, that I could not possibly escape the reputation of being a traitor.

“For there are two kinds of tyrants; the one kind put their victims to death without trial, the other after they have been brought before a court of law. The former kind resemble the more passionate and prompt of wild beasts, the other kind resemble the gentle and more lethargic ones. That both kinds are cruel is clear to everybody who takes Nero as an example of the impetuous disposition which does not trouble about legal forms, Tiberius, on the other hand of the tardy and lurking nature; for the former destroyed his victims before they had any suspicion of what was coming, and the other after he had tortured them with long drawn-out terror. For myself I consider those crueler who make a pretense of legal trial, and of getting a verdict pronounced in accordance with the laws; for in reality they set them at defiance, and bring in the same verdict as they would have done without any real trial, giving the name of law to the mere postponement of their own spleen. The very fact of their being put to death in legal form does not deprive the wretches so condemned to death of that compassion on the part of the crowd, which should be tendered like a winding sheet to the victims of injustice. Well, I perceive that the present ruler cloaks his tyranny under legal forms. But it seems to me that he ends by condemnation without trial; for he really sentences men before they enter the court, and then brings them before it as if they had not yet been tried. Now one who is formally condemned by a verdict in court, can obviously say he perished owing to an illegal sentence, but how can he that evades his trial escape the implied verdict against himself? And supposing, now that the fate of such distinguished persons also rests on me, I do manage to run away from the crisis which equally impends over them and myself, what can save me from no matter where I go on all the earth from the brand of infamy? For let us suppose that you have delivered yourself of all these sentiments, and that I have admitted their correctness and acted on them, and that in consequence our friends have been murdered, what prayers could I offer in such a case for a favorable voyage? What haven could I cast anchor in? To whom could I set out on any voyage? For methinks I should have to steer clear of any land over which the Romans rule, and should have to seek men who are my friends, and yet do not live in sight of the tyrant, and that would be Phraotes, and the Babylonian, and the divine Iarchas, and the noble Thespesion. Now supposing I set out for Ethiopia, what, my excellent friend, could I tell Thespesion? For if I concealed this episode, I should prove myself a lover of falsehood, nay worse, a slave; while if I frankly confessed all to him, I could only use such words as these: O Thespesion, Euphrates slandered me to you and accused me of things that are not on my conscience; for he said that I was a boaster and a miracle-monger, and one that violated wisdom, especially that of the Indians; but while I am none of these things, I am nevertheless a betrayer of my own friends, and their murderer, and utterly unreliable and so forth; and if there is any wreath for virtue, I come to wear it, because I have ruined the greatest of the Roman houses so utterly, that henceforth they are left desolate. You blush, Demetrius, to hear such words; I see that you do so. What then, if you turn from Thespesion to Phraotes and imagine me fleeing to India to take refuge with such a man as he? How should I look him in the face? How should I explain the motive of my flight? Should I not have to say that when I visited him before, I was a gentleman not too faint-hearted to lay down my life for my friends; but that after enjoying his society, I had at your bidding thrown away with scorn this divinest of human privileges. And as for Iarchas, he surely would not ask me any questions at all when I arrived, but just as Aeolus once bade Odysseus quit his island with ignominy, because he had made a bad use of the gift of a good wind which he had bestowed on him, so Iarchas, I imagine, would drive me from his eminence, and tell me that I had disgraced the draught I there had from the cup of Tantalus. For they require a man who stoops and drinks of that goblet, to share the dangers of his friends. I know, Demetrius, how clever you are at chopping logic, and this, I believe, is why you will tender me some further advice, such as this: But you must not resort to those you have named, but to men with whom you have never had anything to do, and then your flight will be secure; for you will find it easier to lie hidden among people who do not know you. Well, let me examine this argument too, and see whether there is anything in it. For this is how I regard it: I consider that a wise man does nothing in private nor by himself alone; I hold that not even his inmost thoughts can be so devoid of witness, that he himself at least is not present with himself; and whether the Pythian inscription was suggested by Apollo himself, or by some man who had a healthy conscience, and was therefore minded to publish it as an aphorism for all, I hold that the sage who 'knows himself,' and has his own conscience as his perpetual companion, will never cower before things that scare the many, nor venture upon courses which others would engage upon without shame. For being the slaves of despots, they have been ready at times to betray to them even their dearest; because just as they trembled at imaginary terrors, so they felt no fear where they should have trembled.

“But Wisdom allows of none these things. For beside the Pythian epigram, she also praises Euripides who regarded 'conscience in the case of human beings as a disease which works their ruin, whenever they realize that they have done wrong.' For it was such conscience that brought up before Orestes and depicted in his imagination the shapes of the Eumenides, when he had gone mad with wrath against his mother; for whereas reason decides what should be done, conscience revises the resolutions taken by reason. If then reason chooses the better part, conscience forthwith escorts a man to all the temples, into all the by-streets, into all groves of the gods, and into all haunts of mankind, applauding him and singing his praises. She will even hymn his merits as he sleeps, and will weave around him a chorus of angels from the world of dreams; but if the determination of reason trip and fall into evil courses, conscience permits not the sinner to look others in the face, nor to address them freely and boldly with his lips; and she drives him away from temples and from prayer. For she suffers him not even to uplift his hands in prayer to the images, but strikes them down as he lifts them, as the law strikes down those who rebel against it; and she drives such men from every social meeting, and terrifies them in their sleep; and while she turns into dreams and windy forms all that they see by day, and any things they think they hear or say, she lends to their empty and fantastic flutterings of heart truth and substantial reality of well-found terror. I think then that I have clearly shown you, and that truth itself will convince you, that my conscience will convict me wherever I go, whether to people that know me, or to people that do not, supposing I were to betray my friends; but I will not betray even myself, but I will boldly wrestle with the tyrant, hailing him with the words of the noble Homer: Ares is as much my friend as thine.”

Damis was so impressed by this address, he tells us, that he took fresh resolution and courage, and Demetrius no longer despaired of Apollonius, but rather praising and agreeing with his appeal, wished godspeed to him in his perilous enterprise and to his mistress Philosophy for whose sake he braved so much. And he led them, Damis says, to where he was lodging; but Apollonius declined and said: “It is now eventide, and about the time of the lighting up of the lamps and I must set out for the port of Rome, for this is the usual hour at which these ships sail. However we will dine together another time, when my affairs are on a better footing; for just now some charge would be trumped up against yourself of having dined with an enemy of the Emperor. Nor must you come down to the harbor with us, lest you should be accused, merely for having conversed with me, of harboring criminal designs.” Demetrius accordingly consented, and after embracing them he quitted them, though he often turned back to look towards them and wiped tears from his eyes. But Apollonius looked at Damis and said: “If you are firmly resolved, and as courageous as myself, let us both embark upon the ship; but if you are dispirited it is better for you to remain here, for you can live with Demetrius during the interval, since he is as much your friend as mine.” But Damis took him up and said: “What could I think of myself, if after you have so nobly discoursed today about the duty of sharing the dangers of one's friends, when they fall upon them, I let your words fall on deaf ears, and abandoned you in the hour of danger, and this although until now I have never shown cowardice where you are concerned?” “You speak rightly,” said Apollonius, “so let us depart; I will go as I am, but you must needs disguise yourself as a man of the people, nor must you wear your hair long as you do now, and you must exchange your philosopher's cloak for this linen garment, and you must put away the shoes you wear. But I must tell you what my intention is in this; for it were best to hold out as long as we can before the trial: then I do not wish that you should be a sharer of my fate through being detected by your dress, which will certainly betray you and lead to your arrest; but I would rather that you followed me in the guise of one not sworn to my philosophy, but just attached to me for other reasons, and so accompanying me in all I do.” This is the reason why Damis put off his Pythagorean garb; for he says he did not do it through cowardice, nor through any regret at having worn it, but merely because he approved of a device to which he accommodated himself to suit the expedience of the moment.

They sailed from Dicaearchia, and on the third day they put in to the mouth of the Tiber from which it is a fairly short sail up to Rome. Now the Emperor's sword was at that time in the keeping of Aelianus, a person who long ago had been attached to Apollonius, because he once met him in Egypt. And although he said nothing openly in his favor to Domitian, for that his office did not allow of his doing—for how could he have praised to his sovereign's face one who was supposed to be an object of detestation any more than he could intercede in his behalf as for a friend of his own?—nevertheless whatever means there were of helping him in an unobtrusive way, he resorted to in his behalf; and accordingly at the time when, before he arrived, Apollonius was being calumniated to Domitian, he would say: “My sovereign, sophists ar all prattle and flippancy; and their art is all show, and they are so eager to die because they get no good out of life; and therefore they don't wait for death to come of itself, but try to anticipate and draw it on themselves by provoking those who hold the sword. This I think was the reason which weighed with Nero and prevented his being drawn on by Demetrius into slaying him. For as he saw that he was anxious for death, he let him off not because he wished to pardon him, but because he disdained to put him to death. Moreover in the case of Musonius the Tyrrhenian, who opposed his rule in many ways, he only kept him in the island called Gyara; and Hellenes are so fond of sophists, that at that time they were all making voyages by ship to visit him, as they now do to visit the spring; for until Musonius went there, there was no water in the island, but he discovered a spring, which the Greeks celebrate as loudly as they do the horse's spring at Helicon.”

In this way Aelian tried to put off the king until Apollonius arrived, and then he began to use more address; for he ordered Apollonius to be arrested and brought into his presence. And when the counsel for the prosecution began to abuse him as a wizard and an adept at magic, Aelian remarked, “Keep yourself and your charges against him for the Royal Court.” But Apollonius remarked: “If I am a wizard, how is it I am brought to trial? And if I am brought to trial, how can I be a wizard? Unless indeed the power of slander is so great that even wizards cannot get the better of it.” Then when the accuser was about to say something still more foolish, Aelian cut him short and said: “Leave me the time that will elapse until his trial begins; for I intend to examine the sophist's character privately, and not before yourselves; and if he admits his guilt, then the pleadings in the court can be cut short, and you can depart in peace, but if he denies his guilt, the emperor will try him.” He accordingly passed into his secret court where the most important accusations and causes were tried in strict privacy, and said to the company: “Do you depart hence, and let no one remain to listen, for such is the will of the Emperor.”

And when they were alone, he said: “I, O Apollonius, was a stripling at the time when the father of the present sovereign came to Egypt to sacrifice to the gods, and to consult you about his own affairs. I was a tribune only then, but the Emperor took me with him because I was already versed in war; while you were so friendly with myself, that when the Emperor was receiving deputations from the cities, you took me aside and told me of what country I was and what was my name and parentage; and you foretold to me that I should hold this office which is accounted by the multitude the highest of all, and superior to all human positions at once, although to myself it means much trouble and much unhappiness. For I am the sentinel of the harshest of tyrants, whom if I betray, I am afraid of the wrath of heaven. But I have shown you how friendly I am towards yourself, for in reminding you how our friendship began, I have surely made it clear to you that it can never cease, as long as we can remember those beginnings……If I have said I would question you in private about the charges which your accuser has drawn up against you, it was only a good-natured pretext on my part for obtaining an interview with you, in order to assure you of my own good will, and to warn you of the Emperor's designs. Now what his verdict will be in your case I do not know; but his temper is that of people who are anxious to condemn a person, but are ashamed to do so except upon some real evidence, and he wishes to make you an excuse for destroying these men of consular rank. So his wishes you see are criminal, but he observes a certain formality in his actions in order to preserve a semblance of justice. And I, too, in my turn, must pretend to be exasperated with you; for if he suspects me of any leniency, I do not know which of us will be the first to perish.”

Apollonius replied: “Since we are talking without any restraint and you have told me all that is in your heart, I in turn am bound to tell you no less; and since you also take a philosopher's view of your own position, as one might do who has most thoroughly studied philosophy in my society, and, by Heaven, inasmuch as you are so kindly disposed towards us as to imagine you run a common risk with myself, I will tell you exactly what I think. It was in my power to run away from you to many parts of the earth, where your authority is not recognized, and where I should have found myself among wise men, men much wiser than myself, and where I might have worshipped the gods in accordance with the principles of sound reason. I had only to go to the haunts of men who are more beloved of the gods than are the people of this city, men among whom such things as informers and writs of accusation are unknown, because, since they neither wrong one another nor are wronged, they stand in no need of law-courts. But I am come to offer my defense, because I fear to be branded as a traitor; for, if I ran away instead of stating and defending myself, those who are running risks on my account would be brought to ruin. But I would have you tell me what are the accusations against which I have to defend myself.”

“The counts of the indictment,” replied the other, “are as varied as they are numerous; for your style of dress is assailed in them and your way of living in general, and your having been worshipped by certain people, and the fact that in Ephesus once you delivered an oracle about the famine; and also that you have uttered certain sentiments to the detriment of the sovereign, some of them openly, some of them obscurely and privately, and some of them on the pretense that you learned them from heaven. But the charge which most appeals to the credulity of the Emperor, although I cannot credit it in the least, for I know that you are opposed even to shedding the blood of victims, is the following: they say that you visited Nerva in the country, and that you cut up an Arcadian boy for him when he was consulting the auspices against the Emperor; and that by such rites as these you roused his ambitions; and that all this was done by night when the moon was already on the wane. This is the accusation as compared with which we need not consider any other, because it far outweighs them all. For if the accuser attacks your dress and your mode of life and your gift of foreknowledge, it is only by way, I assure you, of leading up to this charge; and it was moreover these peculiarities which prompted you to commit the crime of conspiring against the Emperor, so he says, and emboldened you to offer such a sacrifice. You must then be prepared to defend yourself upon these counts, and I would only ask you in what you say to show great respect for the sovereign.” And Apollonius replied: “That I shall show no disrespect, you may clearly gather from the fact that I am come here to justify myself; and even if my circumstances were such as to embolden me to treat a despot in a haughty manner, I should anyhow submit myself to a man like yourself who also loves me. For though it does not so much matter if you merely fall into the bad graces of an enemy—for your enemies will hate you not for reasons which make you an object of public suspicion, but for private causes of offense which you have given them—nothing is graver than to give a friend reason to think ill of you: this is worse than all your enemies put together can effect, for no man can avoid being disliked by the public too for his ill conduct.”

These words impressed Aelian as very sensible; and he bade him be of good courage, while he himself formed the conviction that here was a man whom nothing could terrify or startle, and who would not flinch, even if the head of the Gorgon were brandished over him. He accordingly summoned the jailors who had charge of such cases and said: “My orders are to detain this man, until the Emperor be informed of his arrival and learn from his lips all he has said to me.” And he said this with the air of a man very much enraged; and then he went into the palace and began to attend to the duties of his office.

At this point Damis records an incident which in a way resembles and in a way is unlike the episode related of Aristides long ago at Athens. For they were ostracizing Aristides because of his virtue, and he had no sooner passed the gates of the city than a rustic came up to him and begged him to fill up his voting sherd against Aristides. This rustic knew no more to whom he was speaking than he knew how to write; he only knew that Aristides was detested because he was so just. Now on this occasion a tribune who knew Apollonius perfectly well, addressed him and asked him in an insolent manner, what had brought him to such a pass. Apollonius replied that he did not know. “Well,” said the other, “I can tell you: for it is allowing yourself to be worshipped by your fellow-men that has led you to be accused of setting yourself on a level with the gods.” “And who is it,” asked the other, “that has paid me this worship?” “I myself,” said the other, “when I was still a boy in Ephesus, at a time when you stayed our epidemic.” “Lucky it was both for you,” and for the city of Ephesus that was saved.” “Well this is a reason,” said the other, “why I have prepared a method of defense for yourself, which will rid you of the charge against you. For let us go outside the gates, and if I cut of your head off with my sword, the accusation will have defeated itself and you will go scot free; but if you terrify me to such an extent that I drop my sword, you must needs be thought a divine being, and then it will be seen that there is a basis of truth in the charges made against you.” So much coarser and ruder was this fellow than the man who wished to banish Aristides, and he uttered his words with grimace and mocking laughter, but Apollonius affected not to have heard him, and went on with his conversation with Damis about the delta, about which they say the Nile is divided into two branches.

Aelian next summoned him and ordered him into prison, where the captives were not bound, “until,” he said, “the Emperor shall have leisure, for he desires to talk with you privately before taking any further steps.” Apollonius accordingly left the law-court and passed into the prison, where he said: “Let us talk, Damis, with the people here. For what else is there for us to do until the time comes when the despot will give me such audience as he desires?” “Will they not think us babblers,” said Damis, “and bores, if we interrupt them in the preparation of their defense, and moreover, it is a mistake to talk philosophy with men so broken in spirit as they.” “Nay,” said Apollonius, “they are just the people who most want someone to talk to them and comfort them. For you may remember the verses of Homer in which he relates how Helen mingled in the bowl of wine certain drugs from Egypt to drown the heartache of the heroes; well, I think that Helen must have picked up the lore of the Egyptians, and have sung spells over the dejected heroes through their bowl of wine, so healing them by a blending of words and wine.” “And that is likely enough,” said Damis, “seeing that she came to Egypt and was escorted by Proteus; or, if we prefer Homer's account, was well acquainted with Polydamna, the daughter of Thon. However let us dismiss these topics for the moment, for I want to ask you something.” “I know,” said Apollonius, “what you are going to ask me, for I am sure you wish me to tell you what my conversation was about with the consul, and what he said, and whether he was formidable and severe or gentle to me.” And forthwith he told Damis all that had passed. Thereupon Damis prostrated himself before him and said: “Now I am ready to believe that Leucothea did really once give her veil to Odysseus, after he had fallen out of his ship and was paddling himself over the sea with his hands. For we are reduced to just as awful and impossible a plight, when some god, as it seems to me, stretches out his hand over us, that we fall not away from all hope of salvation.” But Apollonius disapproved of the way he spoke, and said: “How long will you continue to cherish these fears, as if you could never understand that wisdom amazes all that is sensible of her, but is herself not amazed by anything.” “But we,” said Damis, “are brought here before one who is quite insensible, and who not only cannot be amazed by us, but would not allow anything in the world to amaze him.” “Seest thou not,” said Apollonius, “O Damis, that he is maddened with pride and vanity?” “I see it, how can I not?” said the other. “Well,” said Apollonius, “you have just got do despise the despot just in proportion as you get to know him.”

They were talking like this, when someone, a Cilician I think, came up and said: “I, gentlemen, am brought to this pass by my wealth.” And Apollonius replied: “If your wealth was acquired by other than holy methods, for example by piracy and administration of deadly drugs, or by disturbing the tombs of ancient kings which are full of gold and treasure, you deserve not only to be put on your trial, but also to forfeit your life; for these things are wealth no doubt, but of an infamous and inhuman kind. But if you acquired your wealth by inheritance or by commerce such as befits free men and not by petty traffic, who could be so cruel as to deprive you under color of law of what you have acquired with its venerable sanction?” “My property,” said the other, has accrued to me from several of my relations, and has centered itself in my single household; and I use it, not as if it belonged to other people, for it is my own; yet not as my own, for I share it freely with all good men. But the informers accused me of having acquired my wealth to the prejudice of the despot; for they say that, if I attached myself to another as his accomplice, my wealth would weigh heavily in his favor. And there is actually an oracular air about the charges made against us, such as that all excess of wealth engenders insolence, or that more than ordinary wealth makes its owner carry his head too high and rouses in him a spirit of pride; and that it prevents him from being a good subject and obeying the laws and rulers who are sent to the provinces; they say indeed that it is very nearly tantamount to giving them a box on the ears, because they grovel to wealthy men or connive at their crime, on account of the influence which wealth gives.

“Now when I was a stripling, before I had as much as a hundred talent to call my own, I used to think such apprehensions as ridiculous and I had small anxiety on the score of my property; but when my paternal uncle died and in a single day I came in for a reversion of five hundred talents, my mind underwent such a change as those who break horses effect, when they cure them of being unruly and intractable. And as my riches increased and flowed in to me by land and by sea, I became so much the slave of anxiety about them, that I poured out my substance, partly upon sycophants whom I had to flatter in order to stop their mouths by means of such blackmail, and partly upon governors whose influence I wished to enlist on my side against those who plotted against me, and partly on my kinsmen, to prevent them being jealous of my wealth, and partly on my slaves for fear they should become worse than they were and complain of being neglected. And I also had to support a magnificent flock of friends, for the latter were full of solicitude for me; and some insisted on helping me with their own hands, and others with their warnings and advice. But although I thus fenced my wealth about, and surrounded myself so securely with fortifications, I now am imperiled by it, and I am not yet sure that I shall escape with my life.” And Apollonius answered: “Take heart, for you have your wealth to go surety for your life; for if it is your wealth which has led to your being confined in bonds, it is your wealth also which, when it is dissipated, will not only release you from this prison, but from the necessity of cherishing and flattering those sycophants and slaves whose yoke it has imposed upon your neck.”

Another man came and said that he was being prosecuted, because at a public sacrifice in Tarentum, where he held office, he had omitted to mention in the public prayers that Domitian was the son of Athena. Said Apollonius: “You imagined that Athena could not possibly have a son, because she is a virgin for ever and ever; but you forgot, methinks, that this goddess once on a time bore a dragon to the Athenians.”

Another man was confined in the prison on the following charge: He had a property in Acarnania near the mouth of the Achelous; and he had been in the habit of sailing about the islands called the Echinades in a small boat, and he noticed that one of them was already joined to the mainland; and he planted it all over with fruitful trees and vines producing sweet wine. So he made it a convenient habitation for himself, for he also brought in water in sufficient quantities for the island from the mainland. In consequence, an accusation was trumped up against him, that he had a guilty conscience, and that it was because he was conscious of having committed crimes beyond description, that he transported himself and quitted all other land, feeling that he polluted it, and at the same time had chosen for himself the same form of release as Alcmaeon the son of Amphiareus had done, when after his mother's murder he went and lived on the delta of the Achelous. Even if he had not committed the same crime as Alcmaeon, he must yet, they said, have on his conscience horrible deeds, not falling short of his. Although he denied these insinuations, and declared that he only went to live there for the sake of peace and quiet, he had nevertheless, they said, been accused and brought to justice, and for this reason he was cast into prison.

Several prisoners, for there were about fifty of them in this prison, approaches Apollonius inside it, and uttered such lamentations as the above. Some of them were sick, some of them had given way to dejection, some of them expected death with certainty and with resignation, some of them bewailed and called upon their children and their parents and their wives. Whereupon, “O Damis,” said Apollonius, affected by the spectacle, “it seems to me that these people need the drug which I alluded to when I first entered. Whether it be an Egyptian remedy, or whether it grows in every land and only needs wisdom enough to cut it from its root out of her own gardens, let us administer some of it to these poor people, lest their own feelings destroy them before Domitian can do it.” “Let us do so,” said Damis, “for they seem in need of it.” Accordingly Apollonius called them all together and said: “Gentlemen, who are sharing with me the hospitality of this poor roof, I am wrung with pity for you, because I feel that you are undoing yourselves, before you know in the least whether the accuser will undo you. For it seems to me that you are ready to put yourselves to death and anticipate the death sentence which you expect will be pronounced against you; and so you show actual courage where you should feel fear, and fear where you should be courageous. This should not be; but you should bear in mind the words of Archilochus of Paros who says that the patience under adversity which he called endurance was a veritable discovery of the gods; for it will bear you up in your misery, just as a skillful pilot carries the bow of his ship above the wash of the sea, whenever the billows are raised higher than his bark. Nor should you consider as desperate this situation into which you have been brought against your wills, but I myself of my own accord.

“For if you admit the charges brought against you, you ought rather to deplore the day when your judgment and impulses betrayed you into unjust and cruel courses of action. But if you, my friend yonder, deny that you took up your residence in the island of Achelous for the reason which your accuser alleges; and you there, that you ever raised your wealth to the peril and endangering of the sovereignty; and you again that you of set purpose deprived the sovereign of his pretension to be called the son of Athena,—if, I say, you can prove that the several reasons alleged for your being, each of you, here in such parlous plights, are unfounded, what then is the meaning of all this lamentation about things which have no existence or reality? For instead of crying after your friends and relatives, you ought rather to feel just as much courage as you now feel despair; for such I imagine are the rewards of the endurance I have described. But perhaps you would argue that confinement here and life in a prison are hard to bear in themselves? Or do you look upon them as the mere beginning of what you expect to suffer? Or do you think that they are punishment sufficient in themselves, even if you are exposed to nothing else in the way of penalty? Well, I understand human nature, and I will preach you a sermon which is very unlike the prescriptions of physicians, for I shall implant strength in you and will avert death from you. We men are in a prison all that time which we choose to call life. For this soul of ours, being bound and fettered in a perishable body, has to endure many things, and be the slave of all the affections which visit humanity; and the men who first invented a dwelling seem to me not to have known that they were only surrounding their kind in a fresh prison; for, to tell you the truth, all those who inhabit palaces and have established themselves securely in them, are, I consider, in closer bonds in them than any whom they may throw into bonds.

“And when I think of cities and walls, it seems to me that these are common prisons, so that the merchants are in chains, in chains no less than the members of the Assembly, and the frequenters also of spectacles, as well as those who organize public processions. Then there are the Scythians who go about upon wagons; they are just as much in chains as ourselves; for rivers like the Ister and the Thermodon and the Tanais hem them in, and they are very difficult to cross, except when they are hard frozen; and they fix up their houses on their wagons, and they imagine they are driving about, when they are merely cowering in them. And if you don't think it too silly a thing to say, there are those who teach that the ocean also encompasses the earth in order to chain it in. Come, O ye poets, for this is your domain. Recite your rhapsodies to this despondent crowd, and tell them how Kronos was once put in bonds by the wiles of Zeus; and Ares, the most warlike of gods, was first enchained in heaven by Hephaestus, and later upon earth by the sons of Aloeus. When we think of these things, and reflect on the many wise and blessed men who have been thrown into prison by wanton mobs, or insulted by despots, let us accept our fate with resignation, that we may not be found inferior to those who have accepted the same before us.” Such were the words which he addressed to his companions in the prison, and they had such an effect upon them that most of them took their food and wiped away their tears, and walked in hope, believing that they could never come to harm as long as they were in his company.

On the next day he was haranguing them in a discourse of the same tenor, when a man was sent into the prison privately by Domitian to listen to what he said. In his deportment this person had a downcast air and, as he himself admitted, looked as if he ran a great risk. He had great volubility of speech, as is usually the case with sycophants who have been chosen to draw up eight or ten informations. Apollonius saw through the trick and talked about themes which could in no way serve his purpose; for he told his audience about rivers and mountains, and he described wild animals and trees to them, so that they were amused, while the informer gained nothing to his purpose. And when he tried to draw him away from these subjects, and get him to abuse the tyrant, “My good friend,” said Apollonius, “you say what you like, for I am the last man in the world to inform against you; but if I find anything to blame in the Emperor, I'll say it to his face.”

There followed other episodes in this prison, some of them insidiously contrived, and others of mere chance, and not of sufficient importance to merit my notice. But Damis, I believe, has recorded them in his anxiety to omit nothing; I only give what is to the point. It was evening, and it was already the fifth day of his imprisonment, when a certain person entered the prison, who spoke the Hellenic tongue, and said: “Where is the man of Tyana?” And taking Apollonius aside he said: “It is tomorrow that the Emperor will give you an audience.” And this he appeared to have heard direct from Aelian. “I will keep your secret,” said Apollonius, “for it is only Aelian, I think, who can know so much.” “Moreover,” said the other, “word has been given to the chief jailer to supply you with everything which you may want.” “You are very kind,” said Apollonius, “but I lead exactly the same life here as I would outside; for I converse about casual topics, and I do not need anything.” “And do you not, O Apollonius, need someone to advise you how to converse with the Emperor?” “Yes by heaven,” he replied, “if only he will not try to get me to flatter him.” “And what if he merely advised you not to slight him nor flout him?” “He could give no better advice,” said Apollonius, “and it is what I have made up my own mind to do.” “Well, it was about this that I am come,” said the other, “and I am delighted to find you so sensibly disposed; but you ought to be prepared for the way in which the Emperor speaks, and also for the disagreeable quality of his face; for he talks in a deep voice, even if he is merely engaged in a gentle conversation, and his eyebrows overhang the sockets of his eyes and his cheeks are so bloated with bile, that this distinguishes him more than anything else. We must not be frightened, O man of Tyana, by these characteristics, for they rather belong to nature than to anything else, and they always are the same.” And Apollonius replied: “If Odysseus could go into the cave of Polyphemus, without having been informed beforehand either of the giant's size, or what he ate, or of how he thundered with his voice, and yet did not lose his presence of mind, though he was in some trepidation to begin with; and if he left his cave after acquitting himself like a man, I too shall be quite satisfied if I get off with my own life and with that of my companions, in whose behalf I incur this risk.” Such were the words that passed between him and his visitor, and after reporting them to Damis he went to sleep.

And about dawn a notary came from the Royal court, and said: “It is the Emperor's orders, O Apollonius, that you should repair to his court at the time when the market-place is full; not indeed as yet to make your defense, for he wants to see you and find out who you are, and to talk with you alone.” “And why,” said Apollonius, “do you trouble me with these details?” “Are you not then Apollonius?” said the other. “Yes, by Heaven,” he said, “and of Tyana too.” “To whom then,” said the other, “should I give this message?” “To those who will take me thither,” he replied, “for I suppose that I shall have to get out of this prison somehow.” “Orders have already been given,” replied the other, “to them, and I will come here in good time, and I only came to give you the message now, because the orders were issued late last night.”

He accordingly went away: but Apollonius after resting himself a little while on his bed said, “Damis, I need sleep, for I have had a bad night trying to remember what Phraotes once told me.” “Well,” said the other, “if you had to keep awake, you had much better have occupied yourself in preparing for so great an occasion as now is announced to you.” “And how could I prepare myself,” said Apollonius, “when I do not even know what questions he will ask of me?” “Then are you going to defend your life extempore?” said Damis. “Yes, by Heaven,” he replied, “for it is an extempore life that I have always led. But I want to tell you what I could remember of the conversation with Phraotes, for I think you will find it very profitable under the circumstances. Phraotes enjoined the tamers of lions not to strike them, for he said that they bear you a grudge if they are struck; but also not to flatter them, because that tends to make them proud and fierce; but he advised them rather to stroke them with the hand at the same time that they threatened them, as the best way of reducing them to obedience and docility. Well, he made these remarks not really about lions—for we were not interested about how to keep lions and wild beasts—but he was really supplying a curb and rein for tyrants of such a kind as he thought would in practice keep them within the lines of good sense and moderation.” “This story,” said Damis, “is indeed most apposite to the manners of tyrants; but there is also a story in Aesop about a certain lion who lived in a cave, and Aesop says that he was not sick, but only pretended to be so, and that he seized on other wild animals who went to visit him; and accordingly the fox made the remark: 'What are we to do with him, for no one ever quits his residence, nor are any tracks to be seen of his visitors going out again?'” And Apollonius remarked: “Well, as for myself I should have regarded your fox as a cleverer animal, if he had gone in to see the lion, and instead of being caught had issued from the cave safely and left clear tracks behind him.”

After making this remark, he took a short nap, just enough to close his eyes, and when day came he offered his prayers to the Sun, as best as he could in prison, and then he conversed with all who came up and asked him questions; and so about the time when the market fills a notary came and ordered him to repair at once to court, adding: “Lest we should not get there in time for the summons in his presence.” And Apollonius said: “Let us go,” and eagerly went forth. And on the way four bodyguards followed him, keeping at a greater distance from him than would an escort merely to guard him. And Damis also followed in his train, in some trepidation indeed, but apparently plunged in thought. Now the eyes were all turned upon Apollonius, for not only were they attracted by his dress and bearing, but there was a godlike look in his eyes, which struck them with astonishment; and moreover the fact that he had come to Rome to risk his life for his friends conciliated the good wishes even of those who were evilly disposed to him before. When he halted at the Palace and beheld the throng of those who were either being courted or were courting their superiors, and heard the din of those who were passing in and out, he remarked: “It seems to me, O Damis, that this place resembles a bath; for I see people outside hastening in, and those within, hastening out; and some of them resemble people who have been thoroughly washed, and others those who have not been washed at all.” This saying is the inviolable property of Apollonius, and I wish it to be reserved to him and not ascribed to this man and that, for it is so thoroughly and genuinely his, that he has repeated it in one of his letters. There he saw a very old man who was trying to get an appointment, and in order to do so was groveling before the Emperor and fawning upon him. “Here is one,” he said, “O Damis, whom not even Sophocles so far has been able to run away from a master who is raging mad.” “Yes, a master,” said Damis, “that we ourselves, Apollonius, have chosen for our own; for that is why we are standing here at such gates as these.” “It seems to me, O Damis,” said the other, “that you imagine Aeacus to be warden of these gates, as he is said to be of the gates of Hades; for verily you look like a dead man.” “Not dead yet,” said Damis, “but shortly to be so.” And Apollonius answered: “O Damis, you do not seem to me to take very kindly to death, although you have been with me some time, and have studied philosophy from your first youth. But I had imagined that you were prepared for it, and had also acquainted yourself with all the strategy and tactical resources that I have at my command; for just as men in battle, no matter how heavily armed they are, require not merely pluck, but also a knowledge of tactics to interpret to them the right opportunities of battle, so also philosophers must wait for the right opportunities when to die; so that they be not taken off their guard, nor like suicides rush into death, but may greet their enemies upon ground of their own good choosing. But that I made my choice well of a moment to die in and found an occasion worthy of a philosopher, supposing anyone wants to kill him, I have both proved to others before whom I defended myself in your presence, and am tired of teaching yourself the same.”

So far these matters then; but when the Emperor had leisure, having got rid of all his urgent affairs, to give an audience to our sage, the attendants whose office it was conducted him into the palace, without allowing Damis to follow him. And the Emperor was wearing a wreath of olive leaves, for he had just been offering a sacrifice to Athena in the hall of Adonis and this hall was bright with baskets of flowers, such as the Syrians at the time of the festival of Adonis make up in his honor, growing them under their very roofs. Though the Emperor was engaged with his religious rites, he turned round, and was so much struck by Apollonius’ appearance, that he said: “O Aelian, it is a demon that you have introduced to me.” But Apollonius, without losing his composure, made free to comment upon the Emperor's words, and said: “As for myself, I imagined that Athena was your tutelary goddess, O sovereign, in the same way as she was Diomede's long ago in Troy; for she removed the mist which dulls the eyes of men from those of Diomede, and endowed him with the faculty of distinguishing gods from men. But the goddess has not yet purged your eyes as she did his, my sovereign; yet it were well, if Athena did so, that you might behold her more clearly and not confuse mere men with the forms of demons.” “And you,” said the Emperor, “O philosopher, when did you have this mist cleared away from your eyes?” “Long ago,” said he, “and ever since I have been a philosopher.” “How comes it then,” said the Emperor, “that you have come to regard as gods persons who are most hostile to myself?” “And what hostility,” said Apollonius, “is there between yourself and Iarchas or Phraotes, both of them Indians and the only human beings that I regard as gods and meriting such a title?” “Don't try to put me off with Indians,” said the Emperor, “but just tell me about your darling Nerva and his accomplices.” “Am I to plead his cause,” said Apollonius, “or—?” “No, you shall not plead it,” said the Emperor, “for he has been taken red-handed in guilt; but just prove to me, if you can, that you are not yourself equally guilty as being privy to his designs.” “If,” said Apollonius, “you would hear how far I am in his counsel, and privy to his designs, please hear me, for why should I conceal the truth?” Now the Emperor imagined that he was going to hear Apollonius confess very important secrets, and that whatever transpired would conduce to the destruction of the persons in question.

But Apollonius seeing him on tip-toe with expectation, merely said: “For myself, I know Nerva to be the most moderate of men and the gentlest and the most devoted to yourself, as well as a good ruler; though he is so averse to meddling in high matters of State, that he shrinks from office. And as for his friends, for I suppose you refer to Rufus and Orphitus—these men also are discreet, so far as I know, and averse from wealth, somewhat sluggish to do all they lawfully may; while as for revolution, they are the last people in the world either to plan it or to take part with another who should do so.” But the Emperor was inflamed with anger at what he heard and said: “Then you mean to say that I am guilty of slander in their cases, since you assert that they are good men, only sluggish, whom I have ascertained to be the vilest of man kind and usurpers of my throne. For I can imagine that they too, if I put the question to them about you, would in their turn deny that you were a wizard and a hot-head and a braggart and a miser, and that you looked down on the laws. And so it is, you accursed rascals, that you all hold together like thieves. But the accusation shall unmask everything; for I know, as well as if I had been present and taken part in everything, all the oaths which you took, and the objects for which you took them, and when you did it, and what was, your preliminary sacrifice.” At all this Apollonius did not even blench, but merely remarked: “It is not creditable to you, O sovereign, nor is it congruous with the law, that you should either pretend to try a case affecting persons about whom you have already made up your mind, or should have made it up before ever you have tried them. But if you will have it so, permit me at once to begin and plead my defense. You are prejudiced against me, my sovereign, and you do me a greater wrong than could any false informer, for you take for granted, before you hear them, accusations which he only offers to prove.” “Begin your defense,” said the Emperor, “at any point you like, but I know very well where to draw the line, and with what it is best to begin.”

From that moment he began to insult the sage, by cutting off his beard, and hair, and confining him among the vilest felons; and as regards his hair being shaved, Apollonius remarked: “It had not occurred to me, O sovereign, that I risked losing my hair.” And as regards his imprisonment in bonds, he remarked: “If you think me a wizard, how will you ever fetter me? And if you fetter me, how can you say that I am a wizard?” “Yes,” replied the Emperor, “for I will not release you until you have turned into water, or into some wild animal, or into a tree.” “I will not turn into these things,” said Apollonius, “even if I could, for I will not ever betray men who, in violation of all justice, stand in peril and what lam, that I will remain; but I am ready to endure all you can inflict upon my vile body, until I have finished pleading the cause of these persons.” “And who,” asked the Emperor, “is going to plead your cause?” “Time,” replied Apollonius, “and the spirit of the gods, and the passion for wisdom which animates me.”

Such was the prelude of his defense, which he made in private to Domitian, as Damis outlines it. But some have, out of malignity, perverted the facts, and say that he first made his defense, and only then was imprisoned, at the same time that he was also shorn; and they have forged a certain letter in the Ionic dialect, of tedious prolixity, in which they pretend that Apollonius went down on his knees to Domitian and besought him to release him of his bonds. Now Apollonius, it is true, wrote his testament in the Ionian style of language; but I never met with any letter of his composed in that dialect, although I have come across a great many of them; nor did I ever find any verbosity in any letter of the sage's, for they are laconically brief as if they had been unwound from the ferule of a herald. Moreover, he won his cause and quitted the court, so how could he ever have been imprisoned after the verdict was given? But I must defer to relate what happened in the law court. I had best narrate first what ensued after he was shaved and what he said in his discourses, for it is worthy of notice.

For after the sage had been confined for two days in prison, some one came to the prison, and said that he had purchased the right to visit him, and that he was come to advise him how to save his life. This person then was. a native of Syracuse, and was mind and mouthpiece of Domitian; and he had been suborned, like the earlier one, by him. But he had a more plausible mission; for whereas the first one beat about the bush, this one took up his parable straight from what he saw before him, and said: “Heavens, who would ever have thought of Apollonius being thrown into chains?” “The person who threw him,” said Apollonius, “for surely he would not have done so, if he had not thought of it.” “And who ever thought that his ambrosial locks could be cut off?” “I myself,” said Apollonius, “who wore them.” “And how can you endure it?” said the other. “As a man well may bear it who is brought to this pass neither with nor without his will.” “And how can your leg endure the weight of the fetters?” “I don't know,” said Apollonius, “for my mind is intent upon other matters.” “And yet the mind,” said the other, “must attend to what causes pain.” “Not necessarily,” said Apollonius, “for if you are a man like myself, your mind, will either not feel the pain or will order it to cease.” “And what is it that occupies your mind?” “The necessity,” answered Apollonius, “of not noticing such things.” Then the other reverted to the matter of his locks and led the conversation round to them again, whereupon Apollonius remarked, “It is lucky for you, young man, that you were not one of the Achaeans long ago in Troy; for it seems to me that you would have raised a terrible hullabaloo over the locks of Achilles, when he cut them off in honor of Patroclus, supposing he really did so, and you would at least have swooned at such a spectacle. For if as you say, you are full of pity for my locks which were all grey and frowzy, what would you not have felt over those of Achilles which were nicely curled and auburn?”

The other of course had only made his remarks out of malice, in order to see what would make Apollonius wince, and, by Heaven, to see whether he would reproach his sovereign on account of his sufferings. But he was so shut up by the answers he got that he said: “You have incurred the royal displeasure on several grounds, but in particular on those for which Nerva and his friends are being prosecuted, namely of injuring the government. For certain informations have been conveyed to him about your words in Ionia, when you spoke of him in hostile and embittered tones. But they say that he attaches little importance to that matter, because his anger is whetted by the graver charges, and this although the informer from whom he learnt those first charges is a very distinguished person of great reputation.” “A new sort of Olympic winner is this you tell me of,” said Apollonius, “that pretends to win distinction by the weightiness of his slanders. But I quite realize that he is Euphrates, who, I know, does everything against me which he can; and these are far from being the worst injuries which he has done me. For hearing once on a time that I was about to visit the naked sages of Ethiopia, he set himself to poison their minds against me and if I had not seen through his malignant designs, I should probably have gone away without even seeing their company.” The Syracusan then, much astonished at this remark, said: “Then you think it a much lesser thing to be traduced to the Emperor than to forfeit your good repute in the eyes of the naked sages owing to the insinuations dropped against you by Euphrates?” “Yes, by Heaven,” he said, “for I was going there as a learner, whereas I am come here with a mission to teach.” “And what are you going to teach?” said the other. “That I am,” said Apollonius, “a good and honorable man, a circumstance this of which the Emperor is not yet aware.” “But you can,” said the other, “get out of your scrape if you only will teach him things, which if you had told him before you came here, you would never have been cast into prison.” Now Apollonius understood that the Syracusan was trying to drive him into some such admission as the Emperor had tried to get out of him, and that he imagined that out of sheer weariness of his imprisonment he would tell some falsehood to the detriment of his friends, and, accordingly he answered: “My excellent friend, if I have been cast into prison for telling Domitian the truth, what would happen to me if I refrained from telling it? For he apparently regards truth as something to be punished with imprisonment, just as I regard falsehood.”

The Syracusan was so much struck with the superiority of his philosophical talent (for after saying this he went away), that he promptly left the prison; but Apollonius glancing at Damis said: “Do you understand this Python?” “I understand,” said he, “that he has been suborned to trip you up; but what you mean by Python, and what is the sense of such a name, I do nor know.” “Python,” replied Apollonius, “of Byzantium, was, they say, a rhetor skillful to persuade men to evil courses. He was sent in the interests of Philip, son of Amyntas, on an embassy to the Hellenes to urge their enslavement, and though he passed by other states, he was careful to go to Athens, just at a time when rhetoric most flourished there. And he told them that they did a great injury to Philip, and made a great mistake trying to liberate the Hellenic nation. Python delivered these sentiments, as they say, with a flood of words, but no one save Demosthenes of the Paeanian deme spoke to the contrary and checked his presumption; and he reckons it amongst his achievements that he bore the brunt of his attack unaided. Now I would never call it an achievement that I refused to be drawn into the avowals which he wanted. Nevertheless I said that he was employed on the same job as Python, because he has come here as a despot's hireling to tender me monstrous advice.”

Damis says that though Apollonius uttered many more discourses of the same kind, he was himself in despair of the situation, because he saw no way out of it except such as the gods have vouchsafed to some in answer to prayer, when they were in even worse straits. But a little before midday, he tells us that he said: “O man of Tyana,”—for he took a special pleasure, it appears, in being called by that name,—“what is to become of us?” “Why what has become of us already,” said Apollonius, “and nothing more, for no one is going to kill us.” “And who,” said Damis, “is so invulnerable as that? But will you ever be liberated?” “So far as it rests with the verdict of the court,” said Apollonius, “I shall be set at liberty this day, but so far as depend upon my own will, now and here.” And with these words he took his leg out of the fetters and remarked to Damis: “Here is proof positive to you of my freedom, to cheer you up.” Damis says that it was then for the first time that he really and truly understood the nature of Apollonius, to wit that it was divine and superhuman, for without sacrifice—and how in prison could he have offered any?—and without a single prayer, without even a word, he quietly laughed at the fetters, and then inserted his leg in them afresh, and behaved like a prisoner once more.

Now simple-minded people attribute such acts as this to wizardry, and they make the same mistake in respect of many purely human actions. For athletes resort to this art, just as do all who have to undergo a contest in their eagerness to win; and although it contributes nothing to their success, nevertheless these unfortunate people, after winning by mere chance as they generally do, rob themselves of the credit and attribute it to this art of wizardry. Nor does any amount of failure in their enterprises shake their faith in it, they merely say such things as this: “If I had only offered this sacrifice or that, if I had only burnt that perfume in place of another, I should not have failed to win.” And they really believe what they say. Magic also besieges the doors of merchants no less, for we shall find them too attributing their successes in trade to the wizard or magician, no less than they ascribe their losses to their own parsimony and to their failure to sacrifice as often as they should have done. But is especially lovers who are addicted to this art; for as the disease which they suffer from in any case renders them liable to be deluded, so much so that they go to old hags to talk about it, it is no wonder, I think, that they resort to these impostors and give ear to their quackeries. They will accept from them a magic girdle to wear, as well as precious stones, some of the bits of stone having come from the depths of the earth and others from the moon and stars; and then they are given all the spices which the gardens of India yield; and the cheats exact vast sums of money from them for all this, and yet do nothing to help them at all. For let their favorites only give them the least encouragement, or let the attractions of the lover's presents advance his suit in the very least, and he at once sets out to laud the art as able to achieve anything; while if the experiment does not come off, he is as ready as ever to lay the blame on some omission, for he will say that he forgot to burn the spice, or to sacrifice or melt up that, and that everything turned upon that and it was impossible to do without it. Now the various devices and artifices by which they work signs from heaven and all other miracles on a wide scale, have been actually recorded by certain authors, who laugh outright at the art in question. But for myself I would gladly denounce such arts in order to prevent young men from resorting to its professors, lest they become accustomed to such things even in fun. This digression has led me far enough from my subject; for why should I attack any further a thing which is equally condemned by nature and by law?

After Apollonius had thus revealed himself to Damis, and held some further conversation, about midday someone presented himself to them and made the following intimation verbally: “The Emperor, Apollonius, releases you from these fetters by the advice of Aelian; and he permits you to take up your quarters in the prison where criminals are not bound, until the time comes for you to make your defense, but you will probably be called upon to plead your cause five days from now.” “Who then,” said Apollonius, “is to get me out of this place?” “I,” said the messenger, “so follow me.” And when the prisoners in the free prison saw him again, they all flocked round him, as around one restored to them against all expectations; for they entertained the same affectionate longing for Apollonius as children do for a parent who devotes himself to giving them good advice in an agreeable and modest manner, or who tells them stories of his own youth; nor did they try to hide their feelings; and Apollonius continued incessantly to give them advice.

And on the next day he called Damis and said: “My defense has to be pleaded by me on the day appointed, so do you betake yourself in the direction of Dicaearchia, for it is better to go by land; and when you have saluted Demetrius, turn aside to the sea-shore where the island of Calypso lies; for there you shall see me appear to you.” “Alive,” asked Damis, “or how?” Apollonius with a smile replied: “As I myself believe, alive, but as you will believe, risen from the dead.” Accordingly he says that he went away with much regret, for although he did not quite despair of his master's life, yet he hardly expected him to escape death. And on the third day he arrived at Dicaearchia, where he at once heard news of the great storm which had raged during those days; for a gale with rain had burst over the sea, sinking some of the ships that were sailing thither, and driving out of their course those which were tending to Sicily and the straits of Messina. And then he understood why it was that Apollonius had bidden him to go by land.

The events which followed are related by Damis, he says, from accounts given by Apollonius, both to himself and Demetrius. For he relates that there came to Rome from Messene in Arcadia a youth remarkable for his beauty, and found there many admirers, and above all Domitian, whose rivals even the former did not scruple to declare themselves, so strong was their attachment. The youth however was too high-principled and respected his honor. Now had it been gold that he scorned or possessions or horses, or such other attractions and lures as sundry persons seek to corrupt young people with, we had no call to praise him, for the seducer can hardly dispense with such preparations. But he was tempted with larger honors than all those put together who ever attracted the glances of sovereigns, yet he disdained them all for himself. In consequence, he was cast into prison by his own admirer's orders. He came up to Apollonius, and made as if he would speak to him, but, being counseled by his modesty to keep silent, did not venture to. Apollonius noticed this and said: “You are confined here, and yet are not of an age to be a malefactor, like ourselves who are hardened sinners.” “Yes, and I shall be put to death,” said the other; “for by our latter-day laws self-respect is honored with capital punishment.” “So it was in the time of Theseus,” answered Apollonius, “for Hippolytus was murdered by his own sire for the same reason.” “And I too,” said the other, “ am my own father's victim. For though I am an Arcadian from Messene, he did not give me an Hellenic education, but sent me here to study law; and when I had come here for that purpose the Emperor cast an evil eye on me.” But Apollonius feigned not to understand what he meant and said: “Tell me, my boy, surely the Emperor does not imagine you have blue eyes, when you have, as I see, black ones? Or that you have a crooked nose, whereas it is square and regular, like that of a well executed Hermes? or has he not made some mistake about your hair? For, methinks, it is sunny and gleaming, and your mouth too is so regular, that whether you are silent or talking, it is equally comely, and you carry your head freely and proudly. Surely the Emperor must be mistaking all these traits for others, or you would not tell me he has cast an evil eye on you.” “That is just what ruined me,” said the other, “for he has condescended to favor me and instead of sparing what he praises is prepared to insult me as a woman's lovers might.” Apollonius admired the Arcadian too much to ply him with such question as what he thought of sleeping together, as whether it was disgraceful or not, and others of the sort, as he noticed that he blushed and was not decorous in his language; so he only put to him the question: “Have you any slaves in Arcadia?” “Why yes, many,” replied the lad. “What conversation to them,” said Apollonius, “do you consider yourself as holding?” “That,” he replied, “which the laws assign to me, for I am their master.” “And must slaves obey their masters or disdain the wishes of those who are masters of their persons?” The other discerned the drift of his question and answered: “I know indeed how irresistible and harsh is the power of tyrants, for they are inclined to use it to overpower even free men, but I am master of my person and shall guard it inviolate.” “How can you do that,” said Apollonius, “for you have to do with an admirer who is prepared to run amuck of your youth, sword in hand?” “I shall simply hold out my neck, which is all his sword requires.” Whereupon Apollonius commended him, and said: “I perceive you are an Arcadian.” Moreover, he mentions this youth in one of his letters, and gives a much more attractive account of him than I have done in the above, and while praising him for his high principles to his correspondent, adds that he was not put to death by the tyrant. On the contrary, after exciting admiration by his firmness, he returned by ship to Malea, and was held in more honor by the inhabitants of Arcadia than the youths who among the Lacedaemonians surpass their fellows in their endurance of the scourge.