Ah, but Hesiod, your own authority, tells us, Well begun is half done; so we may safely call you half-way by this time.
Not even there yet; that would indeed have been much.
Where shall we put you, then?
Still on the lower slopes, just making an effort to get on; but it is slippery and rough, and needs a helping hand.
Well, your master can give you that; from his station on the summit, like Zeus in Homer with his golden cord, he can let you down his discourse, and therewith haul and heave you up to himself and to the Virtue which he has himself attained this long time.
The very picture of what he is doing; if it depended on him alone, I should have been hauled up long ago; it is my part that is still wanting.
You must be of good cheer and keep a stout heart; gaze at the end of your climb and the Happiness at the top, and remember that he is working with you. What prospect does he hold out? when are you to be up? does he think you will
Too soon, Lycinus.
By next Olympiad, then?
All too short a time, even that, for habituation to Virtue and attainment of Happiness.
Say two Olympiads, then, for an outside estimate. You may fairly be found guilty of laziness, if you cannot get it done by then; the time would allow you three return trips from the Pillars of Heracles to India, with a margin for exploring the tribes on the way instead of sailing straight and never stopping. How much higher and more slippery, pray, is the peak on which your Virtue dwells than that Aornos crag which Alexander stormed in a few days?
There is no resemblance, Lycinus; this is not a thing, as you conceive it, to be compassed and captured quickly, though ten thousand Alexanders were to assault it; in that case, the scalers would have been legion. As it is, a good number begin the climb with great confidence, and do make progress, some very little indeed, others more; but when they get half-way, they find endless difficulties and discomforts, lose heart, and turn back, panting, dripping, and exhausted. But those who endure to the end reach the top, to be blessed thenceforth with wondrous days, looking down from their height upon the ants which are the rest of mankind.
Dear me, what tiny things you make us out—not so big as the Pygmies even, but positively grovelling on the face of the earth. I quite understand it; your thoughts are up aloft already. And we, the common men that walk the earth, shall mingle you with the Gods in our prayers; for you are translated above the clouds, and gone up whither you have so long striven.
If but that ascent might be, Lycinus! but it is far yet.
But you have never told me how far, in terms of time.
No; for I know not precisely myself. My guess is that it will not be more than twenty years; by that time I shall surely be on the summit.
Mercy upon us, you take long views!
Ay; but, as the toil, so is the reward.
That may be; but about these twenty years—have you your master’s promise that you will live so long? is he prophet as well as philosopher? or is it a soothsayer or Chaldean expert that you trust? such things are known to them, I understand. You would never, of course, if there were any uncertainty of your life’s lasting to the Virtue-point, slave and toil night and day like this; why, just as you were close to the top, your fate might come upon you, lay hold of you by the heel, and lug you down with your hopes unfulfilled.
God forbid! these are words of ill omen, Lycinus; may life be granted me, that I may grow wise, and have if it be but one day of Happiness!
For all these toils will you be content with your one day?
Content? yes, or with the briefest moment of it.
But is there indeed Happiness up there—and worth all the pains? How can you tell? You have never been up yourself.
I trust my master’s word; and he knows well; is he not on the topmost height?
Oh, do tell me what he says about it; what is Happiness like? wealth, glory, pleasures incomparable?
Hush, friend! all these have nought to do with the Virtuous life.
Well, if these will not do, what are the good things he offers to those who carry their course right through?
Wisdom, courage, true beauty, justice, full and firm
By Heracles (and his death on Oeta), they quit themselves like men, and have their reward, it seems. But there is one thing I should like to know: are they allowed to come down from their elevation sometimes, and have a taste of what they left behind them? or when they have once got up, must they stay there, conversing with Virtue, and smiling at wealth and glory and pleasure?
The latter, assuredly; more than that, a man once admitted of Virtue’s company will never be subject to wrath or fear or desire any more; no, nor can he feel pain, nor any such sensation.
Well, but—if one might dare to say what one thinks— but no—let me keep a good tongue in my head—it were irreverent to pry into what wise men do.
Nay, nay; let me know your meaning.
Dear friend, I have not the courage.
Out with it, my good fellow; we are alone.