Plutarch: Lives of the noble Grecians and Romans
the other side, laid himself down one night, as he used to do,
in his tent, and was not asleep, but thinking of his affairs,
and what events he might expect. For he is related to have been
the least inclined to sleep of all men who have commanded
armies, and to have had the greatest natural capacity for
continuing awake, and employing himself without need of rest.
He thought he heard a noise at the door of his tent, and looking
that way, by the light of his lamp, which was almost out, saw a
terrible figure, like that of a man, but of unusual stature and
severe countenance. He was somewhat frightened at first, but
seeing it neither did nor spoke anything to him, only stood
silently by his bed-side, he asked who it was. The specter
answered him, "Thy evil genius, Brutus, thou shalt see me at
Philippi." Brutus answered courageously, "Well, I shall see
you," and immediately the appearance vanished. When the time
was come, he drew up his army near Philippi against Antony and
Caesar, and in the first battle won the day, routed the enemy,
and plundered Caesar's camp. The night before the second
battle, the same phantom appeared to him again, but spoke not a
word. He presently understood his destiny was at hand, and
exposed himself to all the danger of the battle. Yet he did not
die in the fight, but seeing his men defeated, got up to the top
of a rock, and there presenting his sword to his naked breast,
and assisted, as they say, by a friend, who helped him to give
the thrust, met his death.
PHOCION
Demades, the orator, when in the height of the power which he
obtained at Athens by advising the state in the interest of
Antipater and the Macedonians, being necessitated to write and
speak many things below the dignity, and contrary to the
character, of the city, was wont to excuse himself by saying he
steered only the shipwrecks of the commonwealth. This hardy
saying of his might have some appearance of truth, if applied to
Phocion's government. For Demades indeed was himself the mere
wreck of his country, living and ruling so dissolutely, that
Antipater took occasion to say of him, when he was now grown old,
that he was like a sacrificed beast, all consumed except the
tongue and the belly. But Phocion's was a real virtue, only
overmatched in the unequal contest with an adverse time, and
rendered by the ill fortunes of Greece inglorious and obscure. We
must not, indeed, allow ourselves to concur with Sophocles in so
far diminishing the force of virtue as to say that,
When fortune fails, the sense we had before
Deserts us also, and is ours no more.
Yet thus much, indeed, must be allowed to happen in the conflicts
between good men and ill fortune, that instead of due returns of
honor and gratitude, obloquy and unjust surmises may often
prevail, to weaken, in a considerable degree, the credit of their
virtue.
It is commonly said that public bodies are most insulting and
contumelious to a good man, when they are puffed up with
prosperity and success. But the contrary often happens;
afflictions and public calamities naturally embittering and
souring the minds and tempers of men, and disposing them to such
peevishness and irritability, that hardly any word or sentiment of
common vigor can be addressed to them, but they will be apt to
take offense. He that remonstrates with them on their errors, is
presumed to be insulting over their misfortunes, and any free
spoken expostulation is construed into contempt. Honey itself is
searching in sore and ulcerated parts; and the wisest and most
judicious counsels prove provoking to distempered minds, unless
offered with those soothing and compliant approaches which made
the poet, for instance, characterize agreeable things in general,
by a word expressive of a grateful and easy touch, exciting
nothing of offense or resistance. Inflamed eyes require a retreat
into dusky places, amongst colors of the deepest shades, and are
unable to endure the brilliancy of light. So fares it in the body
politic, in times of distress and humiliation; a certain
sensitiveness and soreness of humor prevail, with a weak
incapacity of enduring any free and open advice, even when the
necessity of affairs most requires such plain-dealing, and when
the consequences of any single error may be beyond retrieving. At
such times the conduct of public affairs is on all hands most
hazardous. Those who humor the people are swallowed up in the
common ruin; those who endeavor to lead them aright, perish the
first in their attempt.
Astronomers tell us, the sun's motion is neither exactly parallel
with that of the heavens in general, nor yet directly and
diametrically opposite, but describing an oblique line, with
insensible declination he steers his course in such a gentle, easy
curve, as to dispense his light and influence, in his annual
revolution, at several seasons, in just proportions to the whole
creation. So it happens in political affairs; if the motions of
rulers be constantly opposite and cross to the tempers and
inclination of the people, they will be resented as arbitrary and
harsh; as, on the other side, too much deference, or
encouragement, as too often it has been, to popular faults and
errors, is full of danger and ruinous consequences. But where
concession is the response to willing obedience, and a statesman
gratifies his people, that he may the more imperatively recall
them to a sense of the common interest, then, indeed, human
beings, who are ready enough to serve well and submit to much, if
they are not always ordered about and roughly handled, like
slaves, may be said to be guided and governed upon the method that
leads to safety. Though it must be confessed, it is a nice point
and extremely difficult, so to temper this lenity as to preserve
the authority of the government. But if such a blessed mixture
and temperament may be obtained, it seems to be of all concords
and harmonies the most concordant and most harmonious. For thus
we are taught even God governs the world, not by irresistible
force, but persuasive argument and reason, controlling it into
compliance with his eternal purposes.
Cato the younger is a similar instance. His manners were little
agreeable or acceptable to the people, and he received very
slender marks of their favor; witness his repulse when he sued for
the consulship, which he lost, as Cicero says, for acting rather
like a citizen in Plato's commonwealth, than among the dregs of
Romulus's posterity, the same thing happening to him, in my
opinion, as we observe in fruits ripe before their season, which
we rather take pleasure in looking at and admiring, than actually
use; so much was his old-fashioned virtue out of the present mode,
among the depraved customs which time and luxury had introduced,
that it appeared indeed remarkable and wonderful, but was too
great and too good to suit the present exigencies, being so out of
all proportion to the times. Yet his circumstances were not
altogether like Phocion's, who came to the helm when the ship of
the state was just upon sinking. Cato's time was, indeed, stormy
and tempestuous, yet so as he was able to assist in managing the
sails, and lend his helping hand to those who, which he was not
allowed to do, commanded at the helm. Others were to blame for
the result; yet his courage and virtue made it in spite of all a
hard task for fortune to ruin the commonwealth, and it was only
with long time and effort and by slow degrees, when he himself had
all but succeeded in averting it, that the catastrophe was at last
effected.
Phocion and he may be well compared together, not for any mere
general resemblances, as though we should say, both were good men
and great statesmen. For assuredly there is difference enough among
virtues of the same denomination, as between the bravery of
Alcibiades and that of Epaminondas, the prudence of Themistocles
and that of Aristides, the justice of Numa and that of Agesilaus.
But these men's virtues, even looking to the most minute points of
difference, bear the same color, stamp, and character impressed
upon them, so as not to be distinguishable. The mixture is still
made in the same exact proportions, whether we look at the
combination to be found in them both of lenity on the one hand,
with austerity on the other; their boldness upon some occasions,
and caution on others; their extreme solicitude for the public,
and perfect neglect of themselves; their fixed and immovable bent
to all virtuous and honest actions, accompanied with an extreme
tenderness and scrupulosity as to doing anything which might
appear mean or unworthy; so that we should need a very nice and
subtle logic of discrimination to detect and establish the
distinctions between them.
As to Cato's extraction, it is confessed by all to have been
illustrious, as will be said hereafter, nor was Phocion's, I feel
assured, obscure or ignoble. For had he been the son of a turner,
as Idomeneus reports, it had certainly not been forgotten to his
disparagement by Glaucippus, the son of Hyperides, when heaping up
a thousand spiteful things to say against him. Nor, indeed, had
it been possible for him, in such circumstances, to have had such
a liberal breeding and education in his youth, as to be first
Plato's, and afterwards Xenocrates's scholar in the Academy, and
to have devoted himself from the first to the pursuit of the
noblest studies and practices. His countenance was so composed,
that scarcely was he ever seen by any Athenian either laughing, or
in tears. He was rarely known, so Duris has recorded, to appear
in the public baths, or was observed with his hand exposed outside
his cloak, when he wore one. Abroad, and in the camp, he was so
hardy in going always thin clad and barefoot, except in a time of
excessive and intolerable cold, that the soldiers used to say in
merriment, that it was like to be a hard winter when Phocion wore
his coat.
Although he was most gentle and humane in his disposition, his
aspect was stern and forbidding, so that he was seldom accosted
alone by any who were not intimate with him. When Chares once
made some remark on his frowning looks, and the Athenians laughed
at the jest. "My sullenness," said Phocion, "never yet made any
of you sad, but these men's jollities have given you sorrow
enough." In like manner Phocion's language, also, was full of
instruction, abounding in happy maxims and wise thoughts, but
admitted no embellishment to its austere and commanding brevity.
Zeno said a philosopher should never speak till his words had been
steeped in meaning; and such, it may be said, were Phocion's,
crowding the greatest amount of significance into the smallest
allowance of space. And to this, probably, Polyeuctus, the
Sphettian, referred, when he said that Demosthenes was, indeed,
the best orator of his time, but Phocion the most powerful
speaker. His oratory, like small coin of great value, was to be
estimated, not by its bulk, but its intrinsic worth. He was once
observed, it is said, when the theater was filling with the
audience, to walk musing alone behind the scenes, which one of his
friends taking notice of, said, "Phocion, you seem to be
thoughtful." "Yes," replied he, "I am considering how I may
shorten what I am going to say to the Athenians." Even
Demosthenes himself, who used to despise the rest of the
haranguers, when Phocion stood up, was wont to say quietly to
those about him, "Here is the pruning-knife of my periods." This
however, might refer, perhaps, not so much to his eloquence, as to
the influence of his character, since not only a word, but even a
nod from a person who is esteemed, is of more force than a
thousand arguments or studied sentences from others.