I am desirous, conformably to the wisdom of the Lydian¹¹⁾, to compose for you a fable. The speakers in it, however, will not be a lion, nor an eagle, nor things still less vocal than these, oaks; but they will be as follows: Jupiter was, heaven and earth, and the citizens of heaven, indeed, were the gods; but men, the nurselings of the earth, had not yet emerged into light. Jupiter, therefore, called Prometheus, and ordered him to colonize the earth with an animal, simple, and approaching in his mind very near to the gods: but let its body, said he, be slender, erect, and full of symmetry, its countenance mild, its hands prompt to operation, and its step firm. Prometheus obeyed the mandates of Jupiter, made men, and with them colonized the earth. But they, after their birth, lived without difficulty; for the earth supplied them with aliment, rich meadows, longhaired mountains, and abundance of fruits, such as she is accustomed to bear when undisturbed by husbandmen. The nymphs also supplied them with pure fountains, pellucid rivers, and easily pervious and copious sources of other streams. To these things also was added a bland heat from the sun, which afforded a solace to bodies by its circumfluent symmetry; and cooling breezes from rivers refreshed them in the summer. To the inhabitants of the earth, thus living in an abundant supply of spontaneous good, hostility was unknown. Poets appear to me, to be very near to this our fable, who obscurely signify that there was a life of this kind under Saturn, the king of the gods; a life without war, without iron, without a guard, peaceful, healthful, unindigent: and Hesiod, as it seems, (strenuously alluding to such a life as this) calls it the golden¹²⁾ age.

Here, however, let the fable end, and let our discourse, arising out of it, compare in its progress life with life, the latter with the former, whether some one may think proper to denominate it iron, or to give it some other appellation. When men, therefore, being allotted the earth, had distributed different portions of it among themselves, they enclosed themselves with fortifications and walls, rolled soft bandages round their bodies, and defended their feet with skins. Some, too, adorned their necks, others their heads, and others their fingers with depending gold, an auspicious and pleasing bond. They also built houses, and devised valves, and halls, and vestibules. Hence, too, they began to molest the earth by digging into it for metals; nor did they leave the sea undisturbed, but in this constructed boats, which might be the vehicles of war, or voyaging, or merchandize. The air, likewise, experienced their incursions: for this they plundered by ensnaring flocks of birds with bird-lime, and nets, and all-various devices. But they neither abstained from tame animals through their imbecility, nor from savage animals through fear, but through blood and slaughter, and all-various gore, pursued the gratification of the belly. They likewise always explored some novelty in pleasure; and by despising ancient, and pursuing recent delight, they fell into misery. Hence they aspired after wealth, but always considered that portion of it which was present as indigence, when compared with that which was absent, and what they possessed as less than what they expected; fearing poverty, but incapable of being filled; dreading death, but neglecting the care of life; and shunning diseases¹³⁾ but not abstaining from noxious aliment. They also suspected others, and devised stratagems against many. They were dreadful to the unarmed, but timid towards the armed; and though they hated tyranny they desired themselves to tyrannise. They blamed base actions, but did not abstain from them. They admired prosperity, but did not admire the virtues ; and they commiserated misfortunes, but did not avoid improbity. When their affairs were attended with success they were audacious, but when they were adverse they were dejected. They proclaimed, indeed, the dead to be blessed, but yet were anxious to live. And again, they hated to live, and yet dreaded to die. They were averse to war, and yet unable to live in peace. In a state of servitude they were abject, but in liberty they were confident. In a democracy they were dissolute, but in a tyranny timid. They desired children, but neglected them when they had them. They prayed to the gods, as to those who were able to supply their wants, and yet despised them, as if they were unable to punish. And again, they dreaded them as avenging powers, but violated their oaths, as if the gods had no existence.

Such, then, being the sedition and discord with which this second life is replete, to which kind of life shall we give the palm of victory? Which of them shall we say is simple, prosperous, and full of liberty? and, on the contrary, which of them is not simple, but compelled, lamentable, and full of misfortune? Let two men then approach, one from each of these, to our discourse as an arbiter; and let it interrogate each of these, and, in the first place, him from the former life, that naked man, who was without a house and without art, the citizen and inhabitant of the whole earth. But let us ask him, (opposing to him the life and manners of the second) whether he chooses to continue in the possession of his pristine nutriment and freedom, or, receiving the pleasures of the other life, to possess the molestations with which they are attended? After this man let the other approach, and let the judge oppose to him the diet and liberty of the former, and ask him whether he chooses to remain as he is, or to change his condition, and transfer himself to that peaceful and unrestrained life, which is void of fear, and unattended with pain? Which of the men will abandon his place of abode? Which of them will change life for life?

What man, therefore, is so stupid, inelegant, and unhappy, as, through the love of trifling and diurnal pleasures, ambiguous good, immanifest hope, and dubious prosperity, not to migrate, nor transfer himself to acknowledged felicity; especially, since he knows that by the change he shall be liberated from a multitude of evils which adhere to the second life, and is not ignorant how uncertain, unhappy, and very unfortunate these evils render the condition of living? So that I shall assimilate each of these lives, and, in the first place, this, which is so noble and all-various, to a dreadful prison of unhappy men, confined in a dark recess, with large iron fetters round their feet, a great weight about their neck, and a troublesome bond hanging from their hands, and thus passing their time in filth, in torment, and in weeping. Through time, however, and custom, they devise for themselves in the prison certain felicities, and means of procuring tranquillity, by sometimes becoming intoxicated, singing all together, distending their belly with food, and indulging in venery; though neither can they be quietly filled with these, through fear, through distrusting their felicity, and through the recollection of their present evils; so that you may hear the prison, at one and the same time, resounding with lamentation and singing, with groans and joyful paeans. On the contrary, I assimilate the other life to a man passing his time in pure light, whose hands and feet are free, who can turn his neck everywhere, can extend his eyes to the sun, survey the stars, distinguish night from day, expect the seasons of the year, feel the winds, and inhale pure and free air. At the same time, however, he is deprived of those pleasures which subsisted in conjunction with bonds, so that he neither becomes intoxicated, nor indulges in venery, nor pampers his appetite, nor groans, nor sings the song of triumph, nor laments, nor is satiated, but, merely satisfying the wants of nature, his belly is in an attenuated and temperate condition. Which of these images shall we proclaim blessed, which of the lives shall we bewail, which of them shall we choose? Will it be that which is confined in a prison, which is mixed and obscure, and which is ensnared by bitter and lamentable pleasures:

“Where joyful shouts and groans promiscuous rise¹⁴⁾ of men rejoicing and at the same time lamenting. Far be it from thee, O miserable soul!

Let us, however, leave these images together with fables, and direct our attention to a man, who did not live under the reign of Saturn, but in the midst of this iron race, and who was made free by Jupiter and Apollo. But this man was neither Attic nor Doric; he was neither a pupil of Solon, nor formed from the discipline of Lycurgus, (for neither places nor laws elect the virtues) but he was from Sinope, in Pontus; and, having consulted with Apollo, he divested himself of all calamitous circumstances, liberated himself from his fetters, and travelled round the earth without restraint, like a bird endued with intellect, fearing no tyrant, compelled by no law, employed by no polity, neither oppressed by the education of children, nor suffering restraint through wedlock, nor detained by agriculture, nor disturbed by military affairs, nor driven from place to place by merchandize; but he derided all who are thus employed and their pursuits, just as we do little children, when we see them seriously employed about their play-things, and striking and plundering each other. He, indeed, lived the life of a fearless and free king, not passing his time during the winter in Babylon¹⁵⁾, nor fatiguing himself in summer among the Medes; but, together with the seasons of the year, he passed over from Attica to the Isthmus, and again from the Isthmus to Attica. His kingdoms were temples, and gymnasia, and sacred groves, and his wealth was the most abundant, the most secure, and the most free from stratagems; for it consisted of the whole earth and its fruits, together with fountains, the offspring of the earth, more copious than all the Lesbian and Chian wine. He was also a friend, and accustomed to the air, after the manner of lions, nor did he withdraw himself from the seasons appointed by Jupiter, nor attempt to oppose him, by contriving bland heat in winter and refrigeration in summer; but he was so accustomed to the nature of the universe that from this mode of living he became healthy and strong, and old in the extreme; neither being in want of medicine, nor sword, nor fire, nor Chiron, nor Aesculapius, nor his descendants, nor the oracles of diviners, nor the lustrations of priests, nor the incantations of sorcerers. When Greece also was at war, and all were attacking all,

“Each now contends with each in dreadful fight,”

He alone formed a league, being unarmed among the armed, and a confederate with all that were at war. From him the unjust, tyrants and sycophants refrained their hands. For he confuted indeed, the depraved, yet not with the sophisms of words, which form the most troublesome kind of confutation, but by the example of his daily actions, this being the most useful and the most peaceful of reprehensions. Hence neither did any Melitus, nor Aristophanes, nor Anytus, nor Lycon, rise against Diogenes.

How is it possible, therefore, that such a life as this should not have been preferred by Diogenes, which he voluntarily chose, which Apollo had given him, which Jupiter applauded, and which those endued with intellect admire? Or do we think that adverse circumstances are any thing else than the use of action not voluntarily chosen by the possessor? Ask him who has a wife, on what account he married, he will answer, for the sake of children. Ask him who educates his children, on what account he begot them, he will reply, for the sake of succession. Ask the soldier, why he fights, he will say, that he may increase his fortune; the husbandman, why he is busied in agriculture, he will say, for the sake of fruits; the merchant, why he engages in traffic, he will reply, for the sake of opulence; and the statesman, why he gives himself up to politics, and he will say, for the sake of honour. Of these loves, however, most are abortive and end in the contrary; and prosperity is the work of fortune, not of counsel or art. But every one who makes these things the object of his choice passes through life involved in a certain calamity, and endures misery which is voluntary, and which does not arise from an ignorance of self-eligible goods. For who among these will any one say is free? The demagogue? You speak of the slave of many despots. The rhetorician? You speak of the slave of bitter judges. The tyrant? You speak of the slave of intemperate pleasures. The leader of an army? You speak of the slave of uncertain fortune. The sailor? You speak of the slave of unstable art. The philosopher? Of which among them do you speak? For I praise, indeed, Socrates, but I hear him saying: “I obey the law, I willingly go to prison, and I willingly drink the poison.” O Socrates, do you see what you say? Willingly or unwillingly do you oppose yourself in so becoming a manner to adverse fortune? You reply, in obedience to the law. But to what law? For if to that of Jupiter I praise the legislator; but if to that of Solon, in what was Solon better than Socrates¹⁶⁾? Let Plato also answer me for philosophy, if no one disturbed him; neither the exile of Dion, nor the threats of Dionysius, nor the Sicilian and Ionian seas, through which he was compelled repeatedly to sail. And, if I pass on to Xenophon, I see also his life full of wandering, of ambiguous fortune, necessary military expeditions, involuntary command of armies, and dignified exile. I say, therefore, that all these calamities are avoided by that life, through which Diogenes was more elevated than Lycurgus and Solon, Artaxcrxes, and Alexander, and more free than Socrates himself, since he was neither led to a court of justice, nor detained in prison, nor celebrated from calamities¹⁷⁾.