Desiderius Erasmus : Adagia II,
1, 1: Festina Lente
Speude bradeos, i.e. festina
lente, "Make haste slowly." This charming proverb appears at
first glance a riddle, because it is made up of words which contradict each
other. It is therefore to be classed with those which express their meaning
through enantiosin, that is, contrariety, as we
explained in the beginning of the Adages. Of this genus is the
saying dusdaimon eudaimonia, unfortunate good fortune. Nor
does it seem a groundless conjecture that our present proverb was created from
a phrase which appears in Aristophanes' Knights: speude
tacheos, hasten
hastily, so that the person who made the allusion, whoever he was,
converted the anadiaplosin, or doubling, into contrariety, enantiosin.
The apt and absolute brevity of the phrase gives a superlative grace to the
rhetorical figuration and to the humor of the allusion, a gem-like grace that
seems to me to be especially beautiful in proverbs, and to make them gem-like
marvels of price.
2.
If you weigh carefully the force and the sentiment of our proverb, its succinct
brevity, how fertile it is, how serious, how beneficial, how applicable to
every activity of life, you will easily come to the opinion that among the huge
number of sayings you will find none of greater dignity. Speude bradeos ought
to be carved on columns. It ought to be written on the archways of churches,
and indeed in letters of gold. It ought to be painted on the gates of great
men's palaces, engraved on the rings of cardinals and primates, and chased on
the scepters of kings. To go further, it ought to be seen on all monuments
everywhere, published abroad and multiplied so that everyone will know it and
it will be before every mortal eye, and there will be no one who doesn't hold
it of greatest use — especially princes, and to those to whom, to quote Homer
["The
people are entrusted, and the care of much."]
3. People of
private station, if they have omitted something by laziness, or committed
something through rashness, face lighter consequences, for the damage that is
done can be remedied by smaller means. But princes... A single instance of
neglect, or one counsel too hastily put into effect, dear God! what hurricanes
have they not often excited, what huge disasters have they not let loose upon
humanity? But, if our speudein bradeos were there to help —
that is, a certain ripening of action and moderation blended together
from both wakefulness and gentleness — so that kings would commit
nothing through rashness they would regret, nor pass over through laziness
anything that would tend to the well-being of the state, I ask you, what could
be more prosperous, better grounded, and more stable than this kind of rule?
The happiness of such a government would hardly be contained by the boundaries
of a country, but would extent far and wide to neighboring peoples, nor could
the line of Hesiod be better applied than here:
["An
evil neighbor is a curse, as much as a good one is a benefit."]
4. I consider this
proverb has better right to be called basilikon, i.e. royal,
than any other, not so much because royalty could best use it, but because the
minds of princes seem to be peculiarly prone to the two vices of sloth and
hotheadedness. Fortune's favor, the abundance of wealth, the ready allurements
to amusements, the ability to do whatever one pleases, and finally that most
pestilent euge!, "bravo!", of yes-men, and the
everlastingly ready smiles, applause, and congratulations for a king, whatever
he does or says in any way — it's no wonder if all these things, and others of
the same nature, persuade many princes to laziness, especially if the person
exposed to these temptations is young and inexperienced. Yet on the contrary,
it often happens that the natural and "lion-like" — I might call it —
vigor of some princes' minds, when inflated by limitless wealth, whipped up by
the prospects of great things, inflammed with anger, ambition or other desires
of that type, and egged on by flattering counsels, first charges out in one
wrong direction, then in another, and then carries the whole state with it into
the abyss.
5. Although it is
possible to sin in both directions, a king had much better pay attention to
being slow than unseasonably rapid. Homer seems to have given his character
Agamemnon a certain vicious softness of soul, that is, the bradeos,
so that the poet attributes no outstanding actions to him, except when he got
mad because Chryeis had been taken away and he robbed Briseis from Achilles. To
Achilles Homer attributes the opposite quality of to speudein,
immoderate impulse. It is possible that Homer meant our speudein
bradeos to apply to him on the occasion when he was about to draw his
sword and go after Agamemnon but was restrained by Athena and told to vent his
indignation in insults only. Even this was the action of a mind out of control,
and Achilles, in the midst of crowded assembly of leaders, rants and raves with
shabby and shameful abuse against the man who holds the supreme authority. Alexander the
Great imitated Achilles, and, to be sure, surpassed him, since his soul's
uncontrolled violence would drive him to the point where he drew his sword
against his dearest friends. Sardanapalus emulated Agamemnon, and outdid him in
torpidity. One could find numberless examples of both types, those who
exhibited the sloth of the latter, or the ferocity of the former. You will find
very few great men who followed our proverb and mingled a timely speediness
with a thoughtful slowness. Of course one man may suffice to represent those
who succeeded, Fabius Maximus, whom they called Cunctator,
"the Delayer." Fabius gained himself undying praise when cunctando
restituit rem, "he restored
safety by delay," to the Roman state which had been brought to desperate
circumstances by the ill-advised rashness of lesser leaders.
6. With good
cause, therefore, our proverb Speude bradeos benefitted the
two most praised Roman emperors, Augustus and Titus Vespasian. Both of these
men possessed a unique greatness of soul, and with an incredible gentleness
joined with courtesy and the amiable popularity of their manners, they bound
the hearts of all to them. But, nonetheless, when affairs demanded force, they
accomplished the greatest actions with diligence equal to their gentleness.
Augustus was so greatly delighted with this saying — as Aulus Gellius relates
in the eleventh chapter of the tenth book of his Attic Nights (whom
Macrobius follows in the sixth book of his Saturnalia) — that he not only
used it very often in his daily conversation, but also frequently inserted it
into the language of his official letters, advising by these two words that his
ministers in carrying out their duties should employ both the despatch of
efficient business, and the slowness of careful reflection. Gellius thought
that this concept could be expressed in a single Latin word, matura;
for maturari means that something should happen neither too
soon, nor later than it ought, but at the exact right moment. Gellius says that
Vergil uses the verb in this sense when he writes in the first book of the Aeneid
["Now
is the time for escape."]
Although maturari signifies in Latin
authors the same thing as festinare, it means to hasten so as not
to anticipate the proper time. You may use festinata correctly as a synonym for praeproperata,
but not for maturata. None of this conflicts with what Suetonius
says in his life of Augustus: "Augustus thought nothing less
appropriate," he says, "for a perfect leader than a combination of
hastiness and rashness. He often quoted these words:
Speude
bradeos, asphales gar est' ameinon e thrasus
strategos.
["Make
haste slowly, for a general who makes no mistakes is better than a brave
one."]
7. Thus Suetonius
[2.25.4]. These words, up to thrasus, are a verse, a catalectic
trochaic tetrameter, excerpted, as I
conjecture, from some poet, to which Augustus himself added strategos,
"general." This is the meaning: "Make haste slowly. For the leader
who carries things safely out of reach of disaster, is better than one who is
blustering and overconfident." Things that are
foreseen and provided for by slow and gentle forethought are safer than what is
hurried into action by hot and hasty heads.
8. From the
ancient coins minted by Titus Vespasian we can easily gather that this same
proverb pleased him, too. Aldus Manutius showed me a specimen, a silver piece
of old and clearly Roman workmanship, which he said was sent to him as a gift
by the Venetian nobleman Pietro Bembo, who honored the youthful Aldus as an
example of the foremost students and diligent investigators of literary
antiquities in his time. The impression stamped on the coin was like this. On
the obverse was the portrait of Titus Vespasian with his titles; on the reverse
was a dolphin curving around and embracing the shank of an anchor. This device
means exactly the same thing as the saying of Augustus Cæsar, Speude
bradeos, and the evidence is in the monuments written in hieroglyphic letters.
9.
"Hieroglyphic" is the name given to the enigmatic characters which
the earliest ages used in writing, especially the Egyptian priests and
theologians, who considered it forbidden to divulge the mysteries of wisdom to
the profane crowd — as we do — in ordinary letters. If they judged something
worthy of the name of wisdom, the Egyptians wrote it down in pictures of
various animals, so that not everyone could guess the significance. However, if
you knew and understood the properties of all things, and the strengths and
natures of animals, you could then put together the hints given by the symbols
and grasp the meaning of the riddle. In this way, when the Egyptians wished to
signify Osiris, whom they believed to be the same as the sun, they carved a
scepter with an eye on top of it, hinting that this is the god, sublime in
royal power, who looks down on everything — because antiquity called the sun
the "eye of Jove." Thus Macrobius relates in the first book of his Saturnalia.
10. Likewise they
wrote "year" in this fashion: they painted a serpent, rolled in a
hoop, holding its tail in its mouth, hinting that the year always returned to
the same points revisiting the same recurrences of seasons. Hence Servius
asserts that in Greek eniautos is a word applied to the year, and that Vergil is
looking to this when he says:
["And the year too rolls in upon itself through its own way-marks."]
However, Horus the Egyptian, of whom there survive two
symbolic books of this type, says that the hieroglyph of the serpent does not
represent the year, but rather eternity, and that "year" is written
by an image of Isis, or of a phœnix. Among the Greeks, Plutarch commented on
these things in his book De Osiride, and Chaeremon
wrote also — on the testimony of the Suda lexicon. It is from
Chaeremon's books, I suspect, that the examples of this kind of hieroglyphic
writing which we have just seen were excerpted, and along with these there was
also this picture.
11. First, a
circle, then an anchor, whose shank, as I have said, is entwined by a dolphin.
The adjoined written interpretation explains that the circle stands for eternal
time, as a circle has no beginning or end. The anchor, which stays and moors a
ship and keeps it in place, indicates slowness. The dolphin, the fastest of all
animals, and the animal of keenest reflexes, expresses speed. If you connect
all of this symbolism intelligently, it forms the following sentence: aei
speude bradeos, "Always make haste slowly." Furthermore, this
symbolic method of writing possesses not only the greatest dignity, but also
provides a great deal of pleasure to a person who can look deeply into the
qualities of things; because this symbolic representation mingles the
scientific contemplation of things and natural causes with the study of
literature.
12. If you have
the books which Aristotle entitled his Physics, you will see
clearly that there is a certain analogy or likeness between space, motion, and
time. For all of these three exist together in the same relation. As time
inheres in motion, so motion inheres in space. What is a point in space, is an
instant in time, and an impulse in motion — that which in motion is its least
and indivisible part (let us term it that for now). We do not have to elaborate
words, if it fits in actuality. If you consider the extension of a straight
line, you will find two points, of which one is simply the beginning, and the
other the end. This is whence the length arises, and how the length is defined.
If you analyze motion in the same way, you will find two impulses, one from
which the motion arises, and the other in which it subsides. There is the same
reasoning behind both of these. What is the beginning of the line is simply the
beginning of the motion, and what is the end of the line is the end of the
motion. Time necessarily accompanies motion. If you contemplate time separately
from extension and motion, the same principle applies to it also, and you will
see two instants (thus we shall call them), one of which is the beginning of
the time, and the other the end. Again, if you were to consider the points of
space, the impulses of motion, and the instants of time which fill the middle
between the beginning and the end in the same line, you will see that the
nature of each one of these is double. In relation to the beginning, the middle
elements are ends; in relation to the end, beginnings. So, where the space is
finite, there too the motion is finite, and it follows that the time is finite.
That space, then, is finite which possesses a beginning such that it could not
also be an ending, and also an ending which could not be by the same reasoning
a beginning. This happens in all plane and solid figures except the circle and
the sphere. For in these there is no fixed point which can properly be called a
beginning, and no point which an ending occurs, and can therefore be called the
end. Likewise, then, there is no instant or impulse that can be called a
beginning or an end. Hence it follows that here neither the space, nor the
motion, nor the time is finite. Again, wherever there is a point of space on
the circle or sphere, it is capable of being both a beginning and an end.
Therefore it is necessary that the space of the circle or sphere is infinite.
By the same rule, since whatever impulse on the circle can be a source of
motion or an end of motion, here the motion is infinite. Finally, since each
instant can be a beginning of time or an end, then the time ought to be
infinite. But we call infinite time "eternity," and eternity corresponds
to eternal motion. Eternal motion likewise requires eternal space. All these
elements are not able to coexist except in a spherical or circular form. From
this the philosophers have deduced the eternity of the world, because they saw
the shape of the whole sky and of the stars to be spherical, and also its
motion to be spherical. Furthermore, the idea of a circle squares not only with a
space of this type, but the motion that inheres in this figure is in fact a
circle also. By the same token the time that measures this motion does not
reject the name of circle, as Aristotle testifies in the fourth book of his Physics.
Whoever perceives these things and others of the same kind from the doctrines
of the philosophers will easily figure out why the Egyptians decided to express
everlasting time by a circle.
13. Now let us
look a little at the faculties and nature of the dolphin. Our authors say that
this animal leaves the whole race of animals far behind it in its unbelievable
speed and wonderful force. Oppian, in his second book On the Nature of
Fishes, does not compare dolphins with any old bird, but with eagles:
aietoi e theressi met omesteisi leontes,
hosson aristeuousin en herpustersi drakontes,
tosson kai delphines en ichthusin hegemones.
["As much as eagles are the kings of aery
birds,or lions those over flesh-eating beasts, as much as dragons excel among
serpents, by so much are the dolphins leaders among fishes."]
He [535-36] also compares them to a dart:
dia
gar belos hoste thalassan / hiptantai.
["For
they fly through the sea like an arrow."]
allote
men bathu kuma diatreche eute lailaps
["Sometimes
he rushes through the deep waves like a storm."]
14. Pliny the
Elder, in his Natural History, book nine, chapter eight, follows
the opinion of Aristotle and conforms closely to his relation. Pliny says that
the dolphin is the swiftest of all animals, not only of sea-creatures, but also
faster than any bird and speedier than any arrow. Pliny confirms the dolphin's
remarkable speed particularly by this proof. The dolphin has its mouth, which
it uses in hunting fishes, sited a long way behind its beak, almost in the
middle of its belly. This must strongly hinder its swimming. Nor does the
dolphin snatch fishes except turned over lying on its back. However, there is
no prey at all that can escape the dolphin's speed. The dolphin itself is quite
aware of this natural gift, and either for the sake of praise or because of
high spirits, it often races ships that scud under full sail. The dolphin is
especially fond of human beings [philanthropos]. Some even say it loves
boys [paiderasten], and for this reason it is a deadly enemy to the
crocodile, which hates human beings more than any other animal. Thus, the
dolphin is not afraid of man, but comes right up to ships. It jumps up and
plays, it will race any vessel and outstrip even those moving under full sail.
In the catching of mullets in the Laternan Bay the dolphin makes it
magnificently clear how he excels in speed, the power of his intellect, and
finally how great a well-wisher he is to human beings. What, indeed, can I say
about his unbelievable power? If he is driven by hunger, he will pursue a fish
to the deepest depths, and hold in his breath a very long time. When he darts
out of the water to breathe, like an arrow from a bow, he jumps up with such
force that his leap has capsized many a ship of billowing sail. Therefore, what
symbol could be more perfectly suited to expressing the sharp and indefatigable
impulse of the mind, than the dolphin? On the contrary, for the signifying of
slowness and delay, the echeneis fish, which the Romans call a remora,
is not inappropriate. However, since its appearance is unfamiliar and hard to
recognize (besides that it is quite small and is not marked by any striking
features), the symbol of the anchor lends itself much more pleasing for this
purpose, because if a ship is sailing dangerously fast because of strong winds
astern — "favoring" winds — the anchor will save the ship and
restrain its immoderate course. So, this saying, speude bradeos,
appears to have derived from the genuine mysteries of primitive philosophy,
whence it was taken up by the two most praised emperors, so that it holds a
place both in the rank of proverbs and of imperial devices, since it conforms
so well with the character and genius of both.
"[Surely,
I believe, by the will and grace of the gods."]
16. By Hercules,
it is a herculean task and worthy of some royal spirit, to
restore to the world a thing so divine collapsed in ruin down to its
foundations, to track down the hidden, to dig up what is buried, to call things
extinct back to life, to make the mutilated whole, and to emend texts depraved
in so many ways and especially by the viciousness of those
apologists for common slovenliness who find more antiquity in the glint of a
little gold piece in than the entire body of literature.
Aldus has taken as his own this same device which once
so pleased Titus Vespasian. He has multiplied it and made it not only famous,
but also most beloved by everyone everywhere in the world who understands and
loves literature. I do not believe that this symbol was so illustrious when it
was stamped on the imperial money and carried around to be rubbed by the
fingers of merchants, than now when it has been printed on the title-pages of
books of all sorts, in both languages, among all nations, even those beyond the
borders of Christendom. It is known, loved, and praised by all who cultivate
the sacred studies of the liberal arts, and especially by those who despise
turgid and barbaric dogma and as-pire to the true ancient learning. Aldus was
as it were born on purpose and, I might say, formed and fashioned by the Fates
themselves for learning's benefit, so ardently he desires this one thing only,
with such tireless zeal he toils and shirks no labor or hardship so that he
might restore the whole of literature entire, unblemished, and pure back to the
possession and the hearts of good people. How important a task this is (even
though the fates are against it, I almost said), the facts themselves declare.
If some god, a friend to literature, were to look kindly on these beautiful and
kingly wishes of our Aldus — and if malevolent spirits let him be — within a
few years I could promise there would be available to scholars in all fields of
study whatever good authors are extant in four languages, Latin, Greek, Hebrew,
and Chaldean, and that students would have each one of these works in full and
correct text, and no one would lack for the least crumb of the feast of
literature. At the same time the true number of good manuscripts still hidden
would come to light, codices so far either oppressed by the neglect or suppressed
by the ambition of certain people, whose only desire is that they alone may
seem to know anything. Then at last it will be known just how many horrendous
mistakes pullulate in the texts of the classics, even those which we now think
sufficiently emended. If anyone would like to make an experiment to gauge the
enormity of the labor involved, the letters of the Younger Pliny are soon to
see the light from the Aldine Press, and when our experimenter compares Aldus's
text with the vulgate editions, whatever he finds in them to deplore, he should
expect in other authors also.
17. Furthermore,
people pile heap on heap of praise upon those who by their prowess defended
their countries or merely extended their boundaries, even though these heroes
were engaged in a merely secular affair and in a narrowly limited field. But
whoso from near extinction rescues the Republic of Letters — a task almost more
difficult than establishing it in the first place — he labors
on something holy and immortal, and he sustains the hopes not of just one
province or another, but of all humanity and all ages. This duty was once the
special gift of princes, among whom the glory of Ptolemy shines brightest. And
although Ptolemy's library was confined within the narrow walls of his dynastic
palace, Aldus toils so that his library shall be contained by
no limits other than those of the world.
18. I do not feel
that I have wandered impertinently into this little digression, since scholars
will greater value, reverence, and delight in the dolphin and anchor device
when they know what famous men authored it and understand its significance, and
last, when they remember the great good the Dolphin promises them, if only God
will assist and favor these beautiful attempts.
19. Later, after
this detour, I will pick up our story again, as soon as I shall have laid out
my complaint against certain printers who have merited extremely ill of
literature. This is not a new complaint, but it has never been more justified
than now, when I am now preparing the fourth (if I'm not mistaken) edition of
these Adages, that is, in 1525.
20. The city of
Venice is very famous because of many of her citizens, and she is become even
more famous through the Aldine Press, to the point that whatever book issues
thence abroad, the mere mention of the city of printing on the title page is
enough to make it more sellable. Yet certain booksellers of mean station have
so abused the glamour of Venice's name that from no other city come texts more
disgracefully corrupted, and not just ordinary authors, but those of the first
rank, as Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian — not to complain about what they do
to Holy Scripture. The laws provide that no one shall cobble a shoe or make a
bookcase unless they have been approved by their trade's guild. And yet great
authors, to whose works even religion owes a debt, are sent into the public by
men so ignorant of letters that they can scarcely read what they print, so lazy
that they refuse to proofread their copy, and so grasping and mercenary that
they would sooner suffer a good book to be filled with six thousand mistakes
than for a few crowns to hire someone who could make corrections.
21. The ones who
make the most magnificent promises on their title-pages are those who most
shamelessly peddle corrupt editions. The majesty of the law orders that if
someone sells cloth as dyed with genuine scarlet and is detected to have used
no scarlet at all in the dyeing, he shall pay restitution. Indeed he is fined
if he run a business under such false colors. And shall that
person enjoy his filthy lucre — or theft rather — who foists the same trick on
thousands of people? Once upon a time as many scruples accompanied the mere
copying of books as now employed by sworn public notaries. Certainly more
scruples were needed, for the contamination of books has reach its present
astonishing level for no other reason than because the transmission of these
holy texts was entrusted to any old obscure and uneducated monks, and even to
little nuns, without any attempt at choosing those suited for the work. Yet how
small is the damage which the negligent or unlearned scribe commits, when you
compare the printer? And on this point the laws lie asleep. Whoever sells cloth
dyed in Britain as cloth dyed in Venice is punished; but the printer who sells
unmixed textual cruces, and other engines of torture for the wit,
as "good authors," enjoys the fruits of his shamelessness. You may
say that it is not much of a fault in a seller to try to get something out of
the buyer. But it certainly ought to be a fault, if the
title-page promises "exacting diligence" and the book is riddled with
mistakes. There are, indeed, errors which are not readily caught by even the
expert. Now the numberless crowd of printers has thrown everything into
confusion, especially in Germany. Not everyone is allowed to be a baker; making
money by printing is forbidden to nobody. It's not safe to paint or even to say
many things; but any kind of matter is allowed to be printed. To what part of
the world have new books not flown in swarms? If one or another of these books
offers something worth knowing, nonetheless their very multitude violently
hinders liberal studies by the surfeit it induces — and surfeit in good things
is extremely harmful — or by the very fact that the human mind is by nature
greedy of newness and prone to be waylaid by these temptations and to be
distracted from the reading of ancient authors, who are the best that can be
recommended, though I do not intimate that there may be something found in the
moderns which escaped them. It is possible there exists someone who can teach
what Aristotle didn't know. However, I do not believe that there will ever
arise anyone who will define the body of philosophy more absolutely than he
did. Then perhaps there will be someone who sees things in Holy Scripture which
eluded Chrysostom or Jerome; but I do not think there will ever arise anyone
who will provide, all in all, what they did.
22. Now as for
these Famous Contemporaries, these Almost Classics, we waste our
hours with their mindless tunes; we neglect the genuine study of literature and
its authors, and the authority of senates, councils, schools, lawyers and
theologians lies in ruin. If this situation continues as it has begun, and the
Sum of Things is brought under the control of a few, we will wind up burdened
with a barbarous tyranny like the Turks. The world will obey the whims of one
man, or of a few, all traces of civil polity will vanish, and the world will be
ruled by military violence. All decent studies will cease, and one law only
will survive. Such is the wish of whoever would be z kosmokrator,
the Universal Dictator. The proponents of religion will be held in contempt,
or, if they retain any power or dignity, that will be totally at the service of
those who rule all things, not by their judgment, but by their frowns and nods.
23. In the four
elements that make up the universe, each one is mixed in with the others and
tempered by them so that they exist in an everlasting alliance. How much better
would humankind be provided for, if in the same way everyone retained the
powers legitimately assigned to them! The people would receive their just
portion. Law, equity, and their own capacities would determine what powers are
to be designated to the senate and magistrates. Bishops and priests would keep
their honor. Not even monks would be denied what is owed them. Theconcors
discordia, the harmonious dissonance, of all these estates and their many
colors of opinion would more faithfully preserve the state than what prevails
now, when everyone tries to snatch everything for himself. Not even a family
can survive unless the husband delegate part of his authority to his wife,
unless there be a distinction between free persons and slaves, and unless the
slaves themselves are not treated as beasts but as human beings. Finally, there
must be a distinction between one slave and another, so that those who serve
more willingly may be treated more indulgently and expect freedom as the reward
of their work.
24. But here
someone might say: "Hey there, you blithering prophet, what's this got to
do with printers?" It's got to do with that a lot of our present evils is
caused by them and their rampant licentiousness. They fill the world with books
and pamphlets. These are — I don't call them trifling things, such as I perhaps
write, but rather stupid, unfactual, slanderous, scandalous, obscene,
pestilent, blasphemous, and seditious, and they come forth in such a crowd that
the good fruit of wholesome books perishes. Some of these indecent writings fly
out under no title, or, what is more criminal, under false title-pages. When
caught in the act these prostitute publishers say, "Give me the means to
support my family, and I'll cease to print such books". A thief, con-man,
or pimp when arraigned could with much better face reply, "Give me the
means to live, and I'll leave off this trade" — if it is a lesser crime
secretly to make off with someone else's goods than publicly to usurp someone
else's good name, or if it is a smaller sin to make bad use of yourself and
wrong someone else for gain, than to destroy another's livelihood and
reputation, things that are dearer than life.
25. But enough
already of complaints. We must show the remedy. This evil will be eradicated if
princes and magistrates take care that good-for-nothing people, who are the
ones who stir up these mercenary print-wars, should be checked as far as
possible. And if there are abandoned types whom neither reason nor shame can
move, the Law should show them a hand ready with the whip unless they turn to
better ways. And then, if there are people who are attempting works
useful to the public and lack resources, rewards should be instituted to help
and succor them, either by princes or by bishops and abbots, or from the public
treasury. For from merchants, most of whom have devoted themselves entirely to
Mammon, it would perhaps be perverse to demand such a service. Someone who has
built a church or a tomb, who has
dedicated a painting or set up a statue promises himself a name that will
survive to posterity. How much greater a posthumous reputation would he achieve
by the way we have described? From many examples I shall select one. There was
no one more versed in the explication of scripture than the divine John
Chrysostom, nor any writer more helpful to those who prepare themselves for the
privilege of preaching. He wrote very much, of which we have a large part in
indifferent translation. Most of his text is corrupt and mixed with much that
owes nothing to Chrysostom. How bright a light would shine in sacred studies,
if we had such a teacher as Chrysostom complete, in Greek, and emended? Or at
least we ought to have him speaking Latin as he spoke in Greek.
26. I shall not
here count up how many ways important people waste their money,
how much they throw away on their dice, whores, drinking bouts, junkets, pomps,
wars got up on purpose, ambition, flatterers, jesters, actors. If only they
contributed some little portion of this money, so shamefully wasted, to the
public good, or to their own glory, or both together! What scholar does not
support Aldus in his efforts toward noble ends? Who does not contribute
something to make his work lighter? How many times have not people in Hungary
or Poland sent him ancient manuscripts along with a gift of money, so that he
might accurately publish them? What Aldus has been working hard at in Italy —
he himself has blessed the fates that have allowed his enterprise to thrive
under the reputation of his name — Johannes Froben toils at among the nations
beyond the Alps, with no less zeal than does Aldus, and with success, but, it
cannot be denied, with less material profit. If you want the reason, I believe
there is one in particular among many: that when it comes to literary matters
we are touched with less brilliance and enthusiasm than the Italians are
favored with. I do not fear to assert this because I have had direct experience
of it. When I, a Dutchman in Italy, was getting ready to publish my collection
of proverbs, how many learned men came to me to supply me with authors that had
not yet been printed, and whom they thought I could use! Aldus had nothing in
his treasure of books which he did not share with me. John Lascaris, Baptista
Egnatius, Marcus Musurus, and Brother Urbanus did the same. I felt the kind
help of certain people who were unknown to me either by face or name. To Venice
I had brought nothing but a confused and unarranged mass of materials for a
work-to-be, and all of that had been collected solely from printed sources.
Rushed along by my reckless boldness, we went far beyond this: myself in
writing, Aldus in printing. The whole of the work was completed in nine months
more or less, and that period was never marred by a single bad day. Here I
realized how greatly lacking in usefulness my efforts would have been if my
learned friends had not helped me to manuscripts. Among the books they brought
me were Plato's works in Greek, Plutarch's Lives and his Moralia,
which began to be printed as my work drew to a close. There was Athenaeus' Deipnosophistae,
Aphthonius, Hermogenes with his commentators, Aristotle's Rhetorica with
the scholia of Gregory Naziazenus, Aristides complete with the scholia, the
short commentaries on Hesiod and Theocritus, Eustathius on the whole of Homer,
Pausanias, and Pindar with accurate commentary. There was the collection of
proverbs attributed to Plutarch, and another attributed to Apostolius, which
Hieronymus Aleander loaned to us. There were other smaller items, too, which
either offered no materials, or did not pertain to the work. None of these,
however, had ever yet been published in printed form.
27. Now in its
turn examine the "singular humanity" of a certain North
European friend of mine, whom I have counted among my principal friends, nor
have I discarded, since "We ought to know the characters
of our friends, not hate them." When I was
enlarging the Venetian edition, I happen to see at his house a copy of the Suda lexicon
whose margins were filled with annotated proverbs. It was a huge work, and one
most important to be studied. Desirous therefore of enriching my labor with
this volume, I asked him to let me have the use of it, even for just a few
hours, so my secretary could copy out the marginalia for me. Again and again I
begged him, and he refused me. When I tried every possible approach with him,
and could not get him to grant my prayer, I asked him whether he himself
intended to publish a collection of proverbs, and I said I would happily yield
to him so he could work on it more succesfully. He swore there was nothing
such. "What then," I said, "motivates you?" Finally he
confessed, as if it had been dragged out of him by torture, that he feared the
open popularizing of things which until now had made learned men seem prodigies
to ordinary people. Hinc illae lacrimae! "Hence those
tears." In the colleges and monasteries of Germany, France, and England
lie hidden manuscripts of the greatest antiquity. Their keepers allow no one —
with extremely few exceptions — access to them, or even if someone asks about
them, they hide then, or deny their existence, or sell the use of them at an
unfairly high price, double that of professional bookdealers. At length these carefully
preserved manuscripts are destroyed by mildew and silverfish, or
thieves make off with them. Rich people not only do not help literary affairs
with their generosity, they believe that no money is worse wasted than what is
spent on such things, nor do they care in the least about things from which
they can make no profit. But if the princes of North Europe would pursue
liberal studies with the same enthusiasm as the Italians, the Serpents of
Froben's device would not lag far behind Aldus' Dolphin in wealth. Aldus,
hastening slowly, has gained no less money than glory, and he has deserved
both. Froben carries his staff upright, seeking no end but the public good,
while he cleaves to dovelike mildness and expresses the wisdom of serpents
better in his printer's device than in his deeds. But Froben is richer in fame
than in money.
28. But let us
limit our digressions, and turn our essay back to the elucidation of our
proverb. Speude bradeos may be used in three ways. First,
whenever we admonish someone to think carefully a little longer before rushing
into action but then after he has decided what to do, to perform it quickly. In
this way the Anchor refers to the slowness of deliberation, and the Dolphin to
the speed of performance. Sallust's phrase is pertinent: Before you
begin, think; when you have thought, you need to act
quickly.
Aristotle reviews this sentiment in the sixth book of his Ethics, though he
calls it "commonly" quoted: They say, he says, that
once you have decided on something, you should do it quickly, but that you
should make decisions hesitantly. Laertius witnesses
that the author of this idea was Bias, who was accustomed to advise people bradeos
encheirein tois prattomenois, hot' an ele bebaios teronte diamenein: to
be slow to put your hand to affairs, but once you have started to see them
through vigorously. The writer of
mimes, Publianus, I believe, plays with this idea similarly: You should
make long preparations for a war, so you can win it more quickly. Again, he says: In
deciding what's useful, delay is safest. Add to these this proverb: en
nukti boule, a council in the night. And then this line of
Sophocles from his Oedipus the King:
["Too-hasty
decisions are dangerous."]
To be added to these is Plato's dictum, which we have
cited elsewhere: Who hastens too much at the beginning, comes to the
end too late. Tending in a
slightly other direction, but nonetheless à propos, is what Quintilian says: That
type of mind which develops too early hardly ever comes to bear fruit. Also what people
commonly say, that boys who are wise before their time turn into stupid old
men. Actius seems to agree with this when he says, as he is quoted by Gellius, that in young
minds as in early apples it was the sourness that pleased him, for it showed
they were on the way to ripening. Indeed, timely maturity brings sweetness; the
others rot on the tree.
29. We use our
proverb in a second way when we advise that the passions of the mind should be
restrained by the reason as by reins. Plato divides the mind into three parts —
reason, capacity for anger, and desires, and he believes philosophy reaches its
highest level when the passions obey reason as subjects obey a king. Because of
this he locates reason in the brain, as a palace assigned to it. The Peripatetics,
whose standard-bearer is Aristotle, consider the passions to be certain
impulses or stimuli of the soul placed there by nature, by which we are incited
to the practice of virtue. However, the Stoics deny this, and particularly
Seneca in his books On Anger which he wrote to Nero. The Stoics believe
that the passions not only do not conduce to virtue but in fact are obstacles,
though they do not deny that the primitive impulses remain in the mind of their
hypothetical wise man who has trained them to take orders from reason because
he cannot get rid of passion root and branch. Rather, reason, when it does not
give its assent, rejects these impulses. Homer hints at this in the first book
of the Iliad. Athena stands behind Achilles, and holds him back as
he moves his hand toward his swordhilt. Thus, you could correctly call the
violent motions of the mind the Dolphin, and the Anchor the moderating
influence of wisdom. Seneca writes that hesitancy is a benefit in nothing
except in anger. Further, whenever we immoderately desire or hate something,
delay brings us to safety. Plutarch in his Sayings of the Romans tells
the story of the philosopher Athenodorus. On the occasion when he sought to
obtain leave of Augustus to return home on account of old age, he advised him
that when angered he should say and do nothing until he had recited the
twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet. When Augustus heard this he replied
that Athenodorus himself ought to have used that method and learned the art of
keeping quiet, and on that pretext he detained Athenodorus a whole other year
with him. The verse of
Terence looks to the same thing: See that this is not just too clever. There are minds
which need spurs and those which need bridles. Thus the ancients correctly
intended the anchor entwined by the dolphin to mean that the one quality must
be tempered by the other in the same way Plato believes the soul may be trained
by mixture of music and athletics, if they are practiced together.
30. The third way
of using our proverb is when we warn that headlong speed must be avoided in
every kind of business, because it is the peculiar vice of certain minds that
in everything they do any delay, no matter how small, seems long. Mistakes and
regret are prone to be the companions of this sort of haste, according to the famous
verse in Greek:
propeteia
pollois estin aitia kakon
["For
many people haste is the source of troubles."]
31. The noble
saying of Cato concords with this: Fast enough, if done well enough, which
the divine Jerome mentions in a letter written to Pammachius: Very wise
also is that bit of Cato, Fast enough, if done well enough. Once as teenagers
we used to laugh at it when it was repeated by an accomplished orator in his
introduction to classes. I think you recall our mutual blunder here, when
around us the entire Atheneum resounded with students' voices chanting 'Fast
enough, if done well enough.'
32. Thus far Jerome. His words fit those
who too hastily grasp at fame and prefer an instant off-the-shelf reputation,
if big, to a fame that is solid and lasting. Things that ripen prematurely are
wont suddenly to go limp. What grows slowly and steadily can endure. Horace: The
fame of Marcellus grows like a tree as time passes unobserved. And Pindar in Nemean VIII:
chlorais eersais hos ote dendron aissei
sophois andron aertheisa en dikaiois te pros hygron aethera
["Virtue increases, as a tree surges up with the
refreshing dew, and rises up among wise and just men towards the liquid
heaven."]
In sum, whosoever errs by laziness or by impulsiveness
should keep this saying, first of Augustus Caesar, then the symbol of Titus
Vespasian, and now of Aldus, SPEUDE BRADEOS, forever before their
mind's eye, and remember the significance of the Dolphin and the Anchor.
THE END
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