Prologus
Why the Wise Shun the Stage
Three classical figures—Codrus, Alcibiades, and Diogenes—each avoided public spectacle for a different reason: poverty, beauty, and wisdom.
For three reasons, people in the theater hate formal ceremonies: the first goes by the name Codrus, the second Alcibiades, the third Diogenes. Codrus, because he was poor and shabby in dress; Alcibiades, because he was remarkably handsome; Diogenes, because he was both conspicuous for the charm of his character and rich in the weight of his soul. The first, so he wouldn't expose his own poverty — laughable in itself — to everyone's mockery; the second, so he wouldn't draw the danger of the evil eye upon himself; the third, so he wouldn't prostitute the most chaste majesty of wisdom to vulgar defilement. For Codrus chose to subtract himself from others' spectacles rather than offer himself as a contemptible sight to them; because there is no alliance between royalty and ragged company. Alcibiades too chose to hide at home in obscurity rather than glory in his beauty at the cost of ruining it; because nothing is so naturally striking that it wouldn't be envied by the envious. Diogenes, for his part, thought it wise to scorn the company of the crowd; because it is better to be revered in solitude than despised in company.
A Humble Page, Not a Theater
The author's modest writing is free from vanity and is called not to sing of trivial things but to illuminate the deeds of the fathers.
But this little page's rough thinness, its fasting plainness, is free from the curiosity of Alcibiades. For fear of the evil eye is superstitious, and the deformed have nothing they could lose in the estimation of beauty. But neither are we driven by the maxim of Diogenes, weighty though it is, to whom prudence never granted even a trickle of favor's little drop. We are frightened only by the image of Codrus, only by Codrus' likeness, since our slightness lies exposed to the snares of public audiences and does not even have a ragged cloak to serve as a covering for shame. For we are not held at the tribunal to wanton among the muses in choruses of young women, but to stand before the sacred senate — not to sing of the shady reeds of the marshes, but of the golden columns of the fatherland. We are ordered to carve out not clay dolls but the true likenesses of the fathers from the bosom of oblivion, from most ancient ivory — or rather, we are summoned to hang the divine lamps of light upon the royal citadel and to sweat amid these warlike tumults.
Not Compelled, But Obedient
The author insists he writes not from vanity or compulsion but under the necessity of obedience.
But there's a difference between what's undertaken through reckless impulse, through a craving for show, through a hunger for profit, and what the empress of obedience imposes as a matter of necessity. It's not a compulsive urge to write that drives me, it's not the goad of petty glory or the madness of small profit that sets me on fire, so that after so many barely survived shipwrecks of hard labor I'd actually enjoy being wrecked again on the same sandbanks. After all, a thistle only tastes like lettuce to a donkey's palate, and something utterly bland is only perceived as sweet by a completely dull sense of taste.
The Mirror of the Ancestors
The prince commanded the author to preserve ancestral examples as mirrors of virtue, and the author accepts the burden with hope for kind companionship on the journey.
But it's an unjust thing to turn away from a just command. That most vigorous man among princes surely understood that proofs of every kind of energy and marks of every kind of honor spring forth from the examples of our ancestors as if from certain mirrors. For a journey is traveled more surely with a guide going ahead, with light as a forerunner, and the likeness of character that antiquity prefigures through examples is more graceful than if it sprang forth as if from certain mirrors. Therefore, in handing down to posterity a share of ancestral virtues, he laid upon me, a writer with a fragile pen — and as if a reed — an Atlantean burden on pygmy shoulders, persuaded by no other reasoning than this: that the gleam of gold and the brilliance of gems are not cheapened by the crudeness of the artisan, just as the stars, when pointed out by the ugliest Ethiopian fingers, do not grow dark. Nor is the artisan considered skilled if iron is cleansed of rust, if gold is refined from dross. Because it's foolish to struggle against a burden that can't be set aside, I'll do my best with the strength I have, provided I'm surrounded by the company of those who will cherish the start of this journey with a sweet little heart; who won't marvel at a fall on a slippery slope or a stumble on treacherous ground; and whose shared goodwill means the burden won't feel like a burden, nor the loss seem like a real loss. For on the road, a cheerful companionship is the vehicle of the journey. This one thing I ask of everyone: that judgment not be passed on us by just anyone at random, but only by those whom the refinement of intellect or the brilliance of urbanity commends — so that no one may be allowed to look down on us before having examined us with the greatest care.
Judge with Care
True judgment requires careful examination, so let praise and blame alike be given sparingly.
Ginger has no flavor unless it's chewed, and nothing else delights in the passing moment; but it's uncivilized to judge a matter without examining it. So whoever praises sparingly, let them blame even more sparingly.
Read the original Latin
Tres tribus ex causis theatrales oderunt sollennitates: primi nomen Codrus, secundi Alcibiades, tertii Diogenes. Codrus, quia pauper et pannosus habitu, secundus, quia specie perinsignis, tertius, quia et morum venustate conspicuus et animi erat gravitate fecundus. Primus, ne ridiculam per se pauperiem omnium exponeret ridiculo; secundus, ne fascini exciperet in se periculum; tertius, ne castissimam prudentiae maiestatem scurrili prostitueret incestui. Maluit enim Codrus aliorum sibi subtrahere spectacula quam de se aliis despicabile praebere spectaculum; quia nullum est inter purpuras et pannositatem sodalitii foedus. Elegit et Alcibiades potius domi delitescere inglorius quam formae dispendio de forma gloriari; quia nihil tam naturaliter est conspicuuum, quod lippientis oculis noen fascinaretur invidiae. Rursus censuit Diogenes vulgi consortia dedignari per prudentiam; quia satius est solitudine venerari quam familiaritate contemni.
At huius quidem pagellae rudis macies, ieiuna ruditas ab Alcibiadis est curiositate secura. Superstitiosus enim est fascini timor, nec habet deformis, quod de formae existimatione perdat. Sed nec Diogenis nos, licet divina, urget sententia, quibus nec stillantis guttulam gratiolae prudentia indulsit. Codri dumtaxat, Codri territamur imagine, quum publicis assidentium exposita insidiis nostra tenuitas nec etiam pannosum, quo pudori consuleret, habeat amiculum. Non enim adulescentularum inter musas collascivire choris Diones, sed sacri senatus assistere tenemur suggestui, non ut umbratiles palustrium caneremus arundines, sed aureas patriae columnas. Non puppas fictiles, sed veras patrum effigies de sinu oblivionis, de ebore antiquissimo iubemur excidere – immo divinae lampades lucis in arce regia arcessimur appendere et bellicis inter haec insudare tumultibus.
Sed aliud est, quod incircumspectione praecipiti, quod ostentationis libidine, quod quaestus esurie praesumitur, et aliud, quod imperatrix obsequelae, necessitas, infligit. Non enim ea me scribendi cacoëthes exagitat, non ea gloriolae instimulat ambitio, non lucelli rabies inflammat, ut post toties vix enata laborum naufragia rursus in eisdem delecter syrtibus naufragari. Nonnisi namque asini palato pro lactucis sapit carduus, nec nisi prorsus insipiens suavitate capitur insipida.
Sed iniusta est iustae praeceptionis declinatio. Intellexit nimirum strenuissimus principum, omnimodae strenuitatis experimenta, omnimoda honestatis insignia ex maiorum exemplaribus velut ex quibusdam speculis resultare. Certius siquidem iter carpitur duce praevio, luce praeambula, et venustior est effigies morum, quam vetustas praefigurat exemplaribus velut ex quibusdam speculis resultare. Avitarum itaque virtutum posteris dilargiens participium, mihi scriptori calamo fragili ac si arundineo humeris pygmaeis onus imposuit Atlanteum, non alia forte persuasus ratione, nisi quod auri rutilantia, quod gemmarum nitor artificis ruditate non vilescit, sicut et sidera, taeterrimis Aethiopun demonstrata digitis, non furvescunt. Nec subtilis esse artificis, si ferrum purgatur a rubigine, si aurum eliquatur a scoria. Quia igitur stultum est luctari cum onere, quod declinari non potest, enitar pro viribus, dummodo me talium consectetur comitiva, qui huius auspicium itineris dulci corculo confoveant; qui et casum in praecipiti et lapsum non mirentur in lubrico; quorum aggratulatione socia nec onus sit oneri nec dispendium videatur dispendio. In via enim iocunda societas est viae vehiculum. Illud denique apud omnes precor esse impetratum, ne omnibus passim de nobis detur iudicium sed eis dumtaxat, quos ingenii elegantia vel urbanitatis commendat claritudo: ne cui nos prius liceat despicere quam perdiligentissime dispexisse.
Non enim sapit zingiber, nisi masticatum, nec est aliud, quod in transitu delectet; sed est incivile, re inperspecta, de re iudicare. Qui ergo parce laudat, parcius vituperet.
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