First draft. This English translation was generated by
Claude Sonnet 4.6, critiqued by Claude Haiku 4.5, and adjudicated/corrected
once by Claude Sonnet 4.6. It is published for reading and review, not as a
final scholarly edition. Hippocratic medical recipes and treatments are
historical text, not medical advice.
LETTERS. DECREE. ALTAR ORATION. EMBASSY ORATION.
Great King of Kings Artaxerxes to Paitos, greeting.
1
The disease called pestilential has drawn near to our armies, and though we have done much, it has given no ground. Wherefore I call upon you by every means and with all the gifts at my disposal, whether through some device arising from your natural gift, or some action drawn from your art, or through the interpretation of some other man capable of healing — send at once. Scourge this affliction, I call upon you; for there is agitation throughout the multitude, and great distress — a heavy, dense pneuma it has. [The text here appears compressed or defective; the grammatical subject of ἔχων is unresolved in the transmitted Greek.] We fight without fighting: we have as enemy the beast that ravages the flocks; it has wounded many, rendered them hard to heal, rains down bitter shafts among shafts. I cannot bear it; I no longer have the mind to take counsel with men of sound judgment. Resolve all these things without delay and with good conscience. Farewell.
Paitos to Great King of Kings Artaxerxes, greeting.
2
Natural remedies do not resolve an epidemic of pestilential disease. Diseases that arise from nature, nature herself heals by reaching a crisis; those that arise from epidemic, art by artfully judging the turning of bodies. Hippocrates the physician heals this affliction. By descent he is Dorian, from the city of Cos, his father being Heraclidas son of Hippocrates son of Gnosidicus son of Nebrus son of Sostratus son of Theodore son of Cleomyttades son of Crisamis. This man is endowed with a godlike nature, and from small and common beginnings he has advanced medicine to greatness and art. The divine Hippocrates stands ninth in order from Crisamis the king, eighteenth from Asclepius, twentieth from Zeus; his mother is Praxithea daughter of Phaenaretes, from the house of the Heraclids — so that through both lines of seed the divine Hippocrates is a descendant of gods, being on his father's side an Asclepiad and on his mother's side a Heraclid. He learned the art from his father Heraclidas and from his grandfather Hippocrates. Yet with them, as is likely, he was initiated only into such first principles of medicine as they themselves could reasonably know, while the whole art he taught himself, being gifted with a godlike nature, surpassing his forebears in the natural endowment of his psyche by as much as he has excelled them also in the excellence of his art. He purifies not the race of beasts but of beastlike and savage diseases over much land and sea, scattering everywhere, like Triptolemus scattering the seeds of Demeter, the remedies of Asclepius. He has therefore most justly been consecrated in many parts of the earth and been deemed worthy of the same gifts as Heracles and Asclepius by the Athenians. Order him to be summoned, and that silver and gold be given to him in whatever quantity he wishes. For he knows not one method only of healing this affliction; he is father of health, he is savior, he is soother of pain, he is in short the guide of divinely fitting knowledge. Farewell.
Great King of Kings Artaxerxes to Hystanes, satrap of the Hellespont, greeting.
3
The fame of the art of Hippocrates the physician of Cos, descended from Asclepius, has reached even me. Give him therefore gold in whatever quantity he wishes, and the rest in abundance of what he lacks, and send him to us. He will be honored equally with the best of the Persians; and if there is any other good man in Europe, take him into friendship with the royal house without sparing wealth; for it is not easy to find men capable of anything in the way of counsel. Farewell.
Hystanes, satrap of the Hellespont, to Hippocrates, descendant of the Asclepiads, greeting.
4
Great King Artaxerxes, having need of you, has sent satraps to us, ordering that silver and gold and the rest in abundance of what you lack and whatever you wish be given to you, and that you be sent to him with all speed; for you are to be honored equally with the best of the Persians. Come therefore without delay. Farewell.
Hippocrates the physician to Hystanes, satrap of the Hellespont, greeting.
5
In reply to the letter you sent saying you had come from the king — write to the king what I now say, as quickly as possible: that we have food, clothing, housing, and all the means sufficient for life. Of Persian wealth it is not lawful for me to partake, nor to relieve barbarian men of their diseases, they being enemies of the Greeks. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Demetrius, health.
6
The King of the Persians summons me, not knowing that to me a word of wisdom counts for more than gold. Farewell.
Hystanes, satrap of the Hellespont, to the King of Kings, my great master Artaxerxes, greeting.
7
The letter you sent, ordering it to be sent to Hippocrates the physician of Cos, descended from the Asclepiads, I sent, and I received from him a reply which he wrote out and gave with orders to send to your house. I have therefore dispatched to you the bearer Gymnasbes Dieutycles. Farewell.
Great King of Kings Artaxerxes to the Coans — this he says:
8
Give to my messengers the physician Hippocrates, a man of base conduct who behaves outrageously toward me and the Persians. If you do not, you shall know it and pay the penalty for your first offense as well; for I will lay waste your city, pull your island down into the sea, and make it impossible for anyone even in time to come to know whether there was on this spot an island or a city of Cos.
Reply of the Coans.
9
It seemed good to the people to reply to the messengers from Artaxerxes that the Coans will do nothing unworthy of Merops, of Heracles, or of Asclepius; for whose sake all the citizens will not give up Hippocrates, not even if they are about to perish by the worst destruction. For when Darius and Xerxes, carrying on from their fathers, wrote letters demanding earth and water, the people did not give it, seeing them to be mortal just like other men; and now it gives the same reply. Depart from the Coans, for they do not surrender Hippocrates. Report back to him, you messengers, that not even the gods will neglect our cause.
The Council and People of Abdera to Hippocrates, greeting.
10
The city is now at the greatest risk, Hippocrates — a man of our own, one from whom, both in the present time and the time to come, glory was ever hoped for the city; and may he not, now at least, all gods willing, be robbed of it. So overcome is he by the great wisdom that holds him that there is no small fear, should Democritus lose his reason, that in truth our city of the Abderites will be left desolate. For having forgotten everything, and himself first of all, waking both night and day, laughing at everything great and small alike, and thinking all of life to be nothing, he passes his time unceasingly. Someone marries, another trades, another speaks before the people, another holds office, serves as ambassador, is elected, is voted out, falls ill, is wounded, has died — and he laughs at all of it, looking on some as downcast and gloomy, others as rejoicing. The man also inquires into the things in Hades and writes about these, and says the air is full of images, and he listens closely to the voices of birds, and often rising at night alone he seems to be quietly singing songs to himself, and at times he says he will travel abroad into infinity, and that there are countless Democrituses just like himself; and with his judgment thus corrupted, the very color of his face shows his deterioration. These things we fear, Hippocrates, these things trouble us — but save us, come quickly and counsel our fatherland, and do not cast us off; for we are not to be cast off, and witness to it lies in us. You would not miss the mark in either the glory of his preservation, or in payment, or in learning — though the things of learning are to you far better than the things of fortune. But even these will come abundantly and ungrudgingly from us. For the psyche of Democritus — even if it were gold — the city is not worth the same as your coming, if you should hold nothing back at all. We seem, Hippocrates, to be sick in our laws, to be cutting at our laws. Come and heal, most excellent of men, a most distinguished man — not as physician but as founder of all Ionia, enclosing us with a wall more sacred. It is a city, not a man, you will heal; a council sick and at risk of being shut out from itself you are about to open up, coming yourself as lawgiver, yourself as judge, yourself as ruler, yourself as savior, and as craftsman of these things. These things we expect of you, Hippocrates, may you be these things when you come. One city not without renown — or rather all of Greece — needs you to preserve the body of wisdom. Consider that learning itself sends an embassy to you, asking to be freed from this derangement. Wisdom is, it seems, akin to all people, but to those who have gone nearer to it, as we have, considerably more so. Know well that you will also gratify the age to come if you do not abandon Democritus to the truth he hopes to surpass before you. For you are bound by descent and by art to Asclepius, while Democritus is nephew to Heracles, from whom comes Abderus — as you doubtless know entirely — for whom the city is named; so that the healing of Democritus would also be a grace to him. Seeing then, Hippocrates, that both the people and a most distinguished man are drifting into insensibility, hasten to us, we beg you. Alas, how even good things in excess meet with disease: for as much as Democritus was strong in reaching the heights of wisdom, he is equally in danger now of being harmed by an apoplexy of understanding and senselessness. The rest of the many Abderites, having remained in lack of education, hold at least common sense; but now they are wiser in judging the disease of a wise man — they who before were without sense.
10 (continued)
Go then with Asclepius your father, go with Epione daughter of Heracles, go with the children who campaigned at Ilion, go now bringing paean remedies for the disease. The earth will bear rich crops of roots and herbs, flowers that are antidotes against madness; almost never will the earth or the mountain peaks yield more fruitfully than now for Democritus, the things that conduce to health. Farewell.
Hippocrates to the Council and People of the Abderites, greeting.
11
Your fellow citizen Amelesagores came to Cos, and it happened that on that very day was the taking up of the staff and the annual festival — as you know — our solemn gathering and the costly procession to the cypress, which it is customary for those belonging to the god to conduct. Since Amelesagores appeared to be in earnest both from his words and his appearance, and I was persuaded, as was the case, that the matter was pressing, I read your letter, and I marveled that over one man the city is in turmoil as if over a single man. Blessed are peoples that know good men are their own defenses, and not towers nor walls, but the wise judgments of wise men. And I, persuaded that the arts are gifts of the gods and men are works of nature — and do not be indignant with me, men of Abdera — it seems to me that I am called not by you but by nature itself to restore nature's own handiwork, which is in danger of falling away through disease. So now on behalf of you, I who obey nature and the gods hasten to heal the ailing Democritus — if indeed this is a disease, and you are not being deceived by a shadow of delusion, which I pray; and may it prove to be more evidence of the goodwill among you, even at the cost of having been disturbed by a suspicion. As for silver upon my coming, neither nature nor a god would promise it, so do not you either, men of Abdera, press the matter, but let the works of a free art be free. Those who work for wages compel the branches of knowledge to serve as slaves, enslaving them as it were out of their former freedom of speech; and then, as is likely, they would lie about a great disease and deny a small one, and would not come though they had promised, and would come again when not called. Pitiable is the life of men, because through all of it, like a winter gale, the unbearable love of money has crept in — against which I wish all physicians would rather gather together, coming to treat a disease harder than madness, because it is a disease that is called blessed even while it destroys. I myself think that all diseases of the psyche are violent fits of madness, creating in the rational faculty certain forceful impressions and appearances, and one who has been purified through virtue is healed of these. If I had wished to grow rich at all costs, men of Abdera, I would not have crossed over to you for ten talents, but would have gone to the great king of the Persians, where whole cities came to him filled with the kind of good fortune that comes from other men; I could have gone up and healed the plague there, but I refused to free a land hostile to Greece from its terrible disease, doing my part in the naval victory over the barbarians as well; and I would have had shame as the wealth from the king and as surplus hostile to my fatherland, and I would have worn it as a siege-engine against Greece. Wealth is not making money from every source; for the great sanctuaries of virtue, not hidden by justice but openly visible, are at hand — or do you not think it an equal wrong to preserve enemies and to heal friends for pay? But this is not our way, people; I do not make profit out of diseases, nor did I hear of the derangement of Democritus with a prayer that it were so — a man who, whether he is well, will be a friend, or whether he is sick, once healed, will be still more so. And I hear that he is weighty and firm in his character, and an ornament of your city. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Philopoimen, greeting.
12
The ambassadors who brought me the city's letter also brought yours; I was greatly pleased both by your promise of hospitality and the rest of the diaita (regimen / way of living). May we come with auspicious fortune; and we shall arrive, as I think, with better hopes than is indicated in the letter — the man showing not madness but some surpassing vigor of psyche, having no thought for children or wife or kinsmen or property or anything whatsoever, settled day and night in himself and apart, for the most part in caves and solitary places or in the shade of trees or in soft grasses or beside many flowing streams. Such things mostly befall those who are melancholic; for they are sometimes silent and solitary, and love solitude; they estrange themselves from the sight of their own kind, regarding it as alien. And it is not unlike the state of those who are earnest about learning to have all other concerns scattered by the single disposition toward wisdom. For just as male and female slaves in a household who are making tumult and quarreling, when the mistress suddenly stands over them, are struck with alarm and fall still — in like manner also the remaining desires of the psyche in men, servants of evil; but when the face of wisdom establishes itself, the remaining passions withdraw as slaves. Those who are mad do not in every case desire caves and quiet, but also those who have risen above human affairs out of desire for tranquility; for when the mind, beaten down by cares from without, wishes to give the body rest, then it quickly withdraws into stillness, and then rising at dawn it surveyed in itself a region of truth all around, in which there is no father, no mother, no wife, no children, no brother, no kinsmen, no servants, no fortune, none at all of the things that produce turmoil; and all the disturbing things stand shut out by fear, not daring to approach out of wariness of those dwelling there; and in that region dwell arts and excellences of every kind and gods and daimones and counsels and thoughts. And the great vault of heaven in that region is crowned with the many-moving stars, to which Democritus perhaps has also migrated through wisdom; and then, no longer seeing those in the city, as if having gone far abroad, he is believed to suffer from madness on account of his love of solitude. The Abderites are at pains to be shown at the cost of silver that they do not understand Democritus. But do you prepare the hospitality for us, my friend Philopoimen; for I do not wish to cause disturbance to the troubled city, since I have had you as a personal guest-friend of long standing, as you know. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Dionysius, greeting.
13
Either wait for me at Halicarnassus, or come yourself first, my friend; for I must in every necessity go to Abdera on account of Democritus, to whom the city has summoned me because he is ill. For there is something inexpressible about the sympathy of men, Dionysius: as one psyche, the whole city is sick along with its citizen; so that it seems to me that they too are in need of treatment. But I think it is not even a disease, but an excess of learning — not truly an excess at all, but considered to be so by ordinary men, since the excess of virtue is never harmful. The appearance of disease arises from the excess through the ignorance of those judging; and each person judges from what he himself does not have, reckoning that what is more abundant in another is a surplus — just as the coward has taken courage to be excess, and the money-lover magnanimity, and every deficiency seems to exceed the due measure of virtue. When we have seen the man himself with the foreknowledge we bring from here, and have heard his words, we shall know better. But you, Dionysius, press on and come yourself; for I wish you to spend time in my fatherland until I return, so that you will look after our affairs and first of all our city; since by some coincidence I know not how, the year is healthy and has its original constitution, so that not many diseases will cause trouble either. But come regardless. You will live in my house, which is in an excellent position, especially since my wife remains with her parents on account of my absence. Nevertheless keep an eye on her affairs too, that she conducts herself with self-restraint, and does not, on account of her husband's absence, think of other men. She was well-ordered from the start and had respectable parents, her father being an unusually virile and quite extraordinarily upright old man. But still, a woman always has need of someone to keep her in order, for she has in herself by nature the licentious impulse, which, if it is not checked day by day, grows wild and overgrown like untended trees. I think a friend watches more precisely than parents as a guard over a woman; for the same feeling of goodwill does not dwell with him as with them, by which they often overshadow their admonition; and in all things the more dispassionate is wiser, as not being bent by goodwill. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Damagetos, greeting.
14
I know that ship of yours when I was at Rhodes with you, Damagetos — it bore the name of the sun, a most beautiful vessel with a fine stern, adequately keeled, and with great passage capacity; you praised also its rigging as quick and secure and skillfully managed, and the ease of its sailing. Send it to us, but if possible, do not row it with oars but with wings; for the matter presses, my friend, and I very much need to sail across to Abdera very quickly; for I wish to heal a sick city through one sick man, Democritus. You have heard, I suppose, of the man's fame — his fatherland has charged him with being harmed by madness; but I wish, or rather I pray, that he is not truly out of his mind, but that this is only in the opinion of those people. He laughs, they say, always and does not cease laughing at every matter, and they take this as a sign of madness. Wherefore tell your friends in Rhodes to be always moderate, and not to laugh much nor to be overly gloomy, but to acquire the mean of both of these, so that to some you seem to be most charming, and to others a man who reflects on virtue with care. There is however something wrong, Damagetos, in his laughing at each thing; for if excess is a flaw, the constant flaw is more of one. And I might say to him: Democritus, whether a man is sick, being slain, dead, besieged, or meeting with every ill, each of the things being done lies ready as material for your laughter. But are you not fighting against the gods, if, of the two things in the world — joy and grief — you have cast out the one? And you would be blessed — but it is impossible — if your mother and father and children and wife and friend had never fallen ill, but instead all things were kept safe and fortunate by your laughter alone. But you laugh at the sick, you rejoice at the dying; if you hear somewhere of a misfortune, you are gladdened. How very base you are, Democritus, and far from wisdom, if you think these things are not even evils; you are in a state of black bile then, Democritus, at risk of being an Abderite yourself — while the city is wiser. But about these things we will speak more precisely there, Damagetos; meanwhile the ship is taking too long even for this very moment when I am writing to you. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Philopoimen, greeting.
15 [35]
Deep in thought and anxious on account of Democritus, I fell asleep that very night and toward the beginning of dawn was visited by a dream; from which I judge that nothing at all precarious has come to pass — for I awoke thunderstruck. I seemed to see Asclepius himself, and he appeared nearby; and we were already at the gates of Abdera. Asclepius appeared not as he is customarily shown in his likenesses — gentle and mild of aspect — but aroused in his bearing and more fearsome to behold; and serpents followed him, a prodigious mass of crawling things, pressing forward themselves with a long trailing motion, and making a kind of shuddering hiss such as in wildernesses and hollow glens; while the companions behind him walked carrying cases of medicaments very securely sealed. Then the god stretched out his hand to me; and I, taking hold of it gladly, kept urging him to come along and not fall behind in attending me. But he said: you have no need of me at present — rather, this goddess, common to immortals and mortals alike, will be your guide just now. I turned and saw a woman, tall and beautiful, dressed simply, in shining raiment; and the orbs of her eyes cast a pure light, like what you would take to be the glittering of stars. Then the divine one withdrew; and that woman, gripping me at the wrist with a gentle yet firm firmness, led me through the city with goodwill; and when we were near the house where I thought the guest-lodging had been made ready, she departed like a phantom, saying only this: Tomorrow I will find you at Democritus's. And as she was already turning away, I said: I beg you, most excellent one — who are you, and what shall we call you? She said: Truth — and this one you see approaching, and suddenly another appeared to me, not herself without beauty either, but bolder to look upon and agitated — is called Opinion, she said; and she dwells among the Abderites. On waking, then, I interpreted the dream for myself: that Democritus had no need of a physician, seeing that the very god who heals had withdrawn, as though having no material for healing; but the truth of his being well remains with Democritus, while the opinion that he is sick has truly taken up residence among the Abderites. These things I believe to be true, Philopoemen, and they are so, and I do not dismiss dreams, most of all when they also preserve order. Medicine and the art of divination are closely kin, since the father of both crafts is one — Apollo, our ancestor too — who foretells diseases present and to come, and heals those who are sick and those who will be sick. Farewell.
Hippocrates greets Crateus.
16 [45]
I know you to be the finest root-cutter, friend, both through your own practice and through the renown of your forebears, so that you are in no way lacking in potency compared to your ancestor Crateus. Now therefore, if ever at any other time, gather whatever herbs you can, however many and of whatever kind — for necessity presses — and send them to me, for a man who weighs as much as an entire city: an Abderite, yes, but Democritus; for they say he is ill and greatly in need of purging, being within the grip of madness. We may well not use the medicaments, as I am already persuaded; but all the same, one must prepare from every quarter. The business of herbs I have often marveled at in you — how you know the nature and ordering of all things, and the most sacred settlement of the earth, from which living creatures and plants and nourishments and medicaments and fortune and wealth itself all grow up; for greed would have had nowhere to plant its foot, nor would the Abderites now be trying to lure me with ten talents, exposing me as a hireling rather than a physician. Would that you could, Crateus, cut out the bitter root of greed so as to leave no remnant of it — know well that we would then have purged along with men's bodies their ailing psychai as well. But these are wishes; as for you, give us for the present above all the mountain-growing and high-ridged herbs — for they are firmer than the more water-fed ones and sharper, on account of the density of the earth and the thinness of the air there; for what they draw in is more full of life. Try nonetheless also to gather the marsh-growing plants that grow by lakes, and those growing beside rivers, or those we call 'spring-plants' or 'fountain-plants', which I am persuaded are weak, lacking in potency, and sweet in their juice. And all such things as flowing juices and plant-saps, let them be carried in glass vessels; and such as are leaves or flowers or roots, in new sealed cups, so that they may not, being dispersed by the winds, lose the potency of their medicinal force, as though they had lost their vital breath — but send these to us immediately. For both the season of the year is favorable, and the necessity of the so-called madness presses; and delay is alien to every craft, but most of all to medicine, in which postponement puts the psyche at risk; and the opportune moments are the souls of treatments, their observance is the end. I do expect that Democritus is well even without treatment; but if some failure of nature or of timing or some other cause should arise — for much escapes us who are mortal, since we do not operate with complete precision throughout — every power must be gathered toward the uncertain. For one in danger is not satisfied with what we can do; he desires also what we cannot; and we fight almost always toward two ends — one belonging to the human, the other to the craft — of which the one is uncertain, the other defined by knowledge. In both of these there is need of fortune as well; for the unpredictable element in purgings must be handled with caution: for we suspect damage to the stomach, and we aim at a proportioning of medicament to a nature we do not know; for the nature of all people is not one and the same, and each one, always defining things in relation to itself, makes them its own, and sometimes has destroyed the whole. And among herbs many crawling creatures have injected their venom, and having opened their jaws breathed harm rather than protection upon them with their inner exhalation, and this will go unnoticed unless some stain or blemish or a bestial and harsh smell appears as a sign of what has occurred; and so the craft has missed the mark of success because of the mischance in the symptom. More reliable always, for this reason, are purgings made with hellebores — which Melampus in the case of Proetus's daughters and the Anticyrean in the case of Heracles are recorded to have used.
16 (50)
But let us use none of these in the case of Democritus; rather, may wisdom prove the end — the most active and most healing of medicaments — for him. Farewell.
Hippocrates greets Damagetus.
17 [45]
This is that very thing, Damagetus, which we surmised: Democritus was not deranged, but held all things in contempt from on high, and was bringing us to soundness of mind, and through us all mankind. I sent to you, dear friend, what is truly the Asclepiad ship — add to it alongside the sun-emblem also the sign of health, for it sailed by divine favor in very truth, and arrived at Abdera on the very day on which I had written to them that I would arrive. We found them all assembled before the gates, as was to be expected, waiting for us — not men only, but women as well, and moreover old men and children, by the gods, downcast — yes, even the infants. And these were in this state as though over a maddened Democritus, while at that very moment he was engaged with perfect exactness in the most thorough philosophizing. When they saw me, they seemed to recover somewhat in themselves and began to form good hopes; and Philopoemen was eager to bring me to the guest-lodging, and the others agreed with this. But I said: Men of Abdera, I have no business more pressing than to behold Democritus. They approved on hearing this, and were glad, and led me quickly through the marketplace — some following, others running ahead from different directions, saying: save him, help, treat him. And I urged them to take heart, on the ground that, being confident in the seasonal rhythms, there was likely nothing amiss; or if something slight, it was easily set right; and saying these things I went along, for the house was not far — or rather, neither was the whole city. We arrived, then, for it happened to be near the wall, and they led me up quietly; and then behind the tower there was a certain high hill, shaded by tall and dense poplars; from there could be observed Democritus's dwelling-place, and Democritus himself was sitting under a certain spreading and very low-branched plane tree, alone, without oil rubbed on him, on a stone seat, very pale and lean of flesh, with his beard in need of cutting. Beside him on the right, slender flowing water running gently down the slope of the hill trickled softly; and there was a sort of sacred precinct above that hill, as one would suppose in surmise, dedicated to nymphs, shaded over by self-grown vines. He had a book resting very tidily on his knees, and certain other books had been laid out on both sides of him, and many dissected animals had been piled up, cut open throughout their whole bodies. At times he would write intently, pressing at it; at times he would be still, pausing very long and pondering within himself; then after no great while, these things still being done, he would rise and walk about, examining the entrails of the animals, and setting them down would return and sit again. The Abderites standing around me, downcast and with expressions not far from weeping, said: You see Democritus's way of life, Hippocrates, how he is mad, and knows neither what he wishes nor what he does. And one of them, wishing to display his madness still more, gave a sharp wail, like a woman lamenting the death of her child, and then another wailed again, playing the part of a traveler who had lost something he was carrying; and Democritus, hearing them, at some things smiled faintly, at others laughed outright, and wrote nothing more, but shook his head repeatedly. I then said: Men of Abdera, you stay there; I myself, going closer to the man's words and body, and having seen and heard, will know the truth of his condition. And saying these things I went down quietly. That ground was steep and precipitous; so barely keeping my footing I made my way through; and as I drew near, it happened that when I came up to him he was writing something with inspired intensity and momentum.
17 (50) [95]
I stood there waiting for the moment of his pause; and after a short while he ceased the rush of the stylus and looked up at me as I approached, and said: Greetings, stranger. And I replied: Many greetings to you as well, Democritus, wisest of men. He, being abashed, I think, because he had not addressed me by name, said: And what shall we call you? — for ignorance of your name was the reason for the address 'stranger.' My name, I said, is Hippocrates the physician. He said: The noble lineage of the Asclepiadae and the great renown of your wisdom in medicine have spread widely and reached us as well. What need, friend, has brought you here? — but first before all things sit down; you see how this is a not unpleasant seat of leaves, still green and soft, more comfortable to sit on than the envied seats of fortune. When I had sat down, he said again: Have you come here seeking some private or public matter? Speak clearly; for we too might cooperate in whatever we are able. And I said: The true cause is this — I have come here for your sake, to meet a wise man; but the homeland has a pretext, whose embassy I am fulfilling. He said: Then make use first of our hospitality. Testing the man in every way, though it was already clear to me that he was not deranged, I said: Do you know Philopoemen, who is a citizen of yours? He replied: Certainly — the one you speak of is the son of Damon, the one who lives beside the Hermaïd spring. That is the one, I said, whose hereditary guest-friend I happen to be from my father's side. But do you, Democritus, receive me in the better hospitality, and first tell me what you happen to be writing. He paused briefly and said: On madness. And I said: By Zeus the king, how timely a response to the city. He said: What city, Hippocrates? I replied: Nothing, Democritus — I don't know how I let it slip out. But what are you writing about madness? What else, he said, than what it is, and how it comes to arise in human beings, and in what manner it might be relieved? For these animals here, however many you see, he said, I am dissecting for this very purpose — not because I hate the works of a god, but because I am seeking the nature and position of bile; for you know that this, overflowing in excess, is in the main the cause of derangement in human beings, since it is present by nature in all — though in lesser degree in some, and somewhat more in others — and its excess constitutes diseases, as the underlying matter is sometimes good, sometimes base. And I said: By Zeus, Democritus, you speak truly and wisely; so that I count you fortunate, enjoying such great tranquility; but to share in this is not granted to us. When he asked why it was not granted, Hippocrates, I replied: because either farmlands or a household or children or debts or diseases or deaths or slaves or marriages or such things cut away one's ease. At that point the man fell into his accustomed state and burst out laughing all at once, abundantly, and mocked, and thereafter kept quiet. And I said: Why do you laugh, Democritus? Is it at the good things I named, or the bad? He laughed still more; and the Abderites watching from a distance — some of them beat their own heads, others their foreheads, others pulled their hair; for, as they said afterward, he had used laughter more excessively than usual. Cutting in, I said: Well now, best of the wise, Democritus — for I wish to grasp the reason for your state — what laughter have I earned, or what in what was said? So that when I have learned I may cease from the cause, or you, having been refuted, will put a stop to the unseasonable laughter.
17 (100) [155]
He said: Heracles! If you can refute me, you will perform a treatment the like of which no one has ever performed for anyone, Hippocrates. And how should you not be refuted, I said, excellent man? Or do you not think it unseemly to laugh at a man's death or sickness or derangement or madness or melancholy-excess or slaughter or anything worse? Or conversely at marriages or festivals or the begetting of children or mysteries or offices and honors or any other good thing whatsoever? For you laugh at what ought to be pitied, and at what one should rejoice in, you laugh those things to scorn, so that neither good nor bad is distinguished in your case. He said: What you say there, Hippocrates, is well said — but you do not yet know the reason for my laughter. When you have learned, I know well that you will carry away a better cargo than the embassy you came on — taking back my laughter as treatment for the homeland and for yourself, and you will be able to bring others to their senses; in return for which perhaps you will also teach me medicine reciprocally, once you have understood how great is the zeal with which all human beings, zealously pursuing what deserves no zeal, expend their lives on worthless doings, administering affairs worthy of laughter. And I said: Speak, by the gods — for perhaps the entire world is secretly ill, and has nowhere to which it might send an embassy for treatment; for what would be outside it? He replied: There are indeed countless worlds, Hippocrates, and on no account, friend, belittle nature, which is rich. But I said: These things, Democritus, you will teach me at a fitting time — for I am wary lest somehow in going through infinity you begin to laugh; but know that now you will be giving an account of your laughter to the world. He looked at me very keenly and said: You suppose there are two causes of my laughter — good things and base things; but I laugh at one thing: the human being, who is full of foolishness, empty of right action, childish in all his scheming, and suffering endless labors for the sake of no benefit, traversing the extremities of earth and the boundless recesses with unmeasured desires, melting silver and gold, and never ceasing from this accumulation, always thrown into turmoil over the greater — how he may not end up with less of it — and is not ashamed to be called fortunate because he digs the earth's chasms with the hands of prisoners, of whom some were destroyed by the loose earth falling in, while others, bearing this constraint for a long time, remain as though in their native land in their punishment, searching for silver and gold, tracking dust-traces and flakes, gathering sand from one place and another, cutting the veins of the earth, clod-breaking forever for surplus, making the mother earth into enemy earth, and the same one they both marvel at and tread upon. What laughter — they love the hidden and laborious earth while insulting the visible one. Some buy dogs, others horses, others enclosing much land register it as their own, and wishing to rule much land cannot even rule themselves; they hasten to marry women whom shortly after they throw out; they love then hate; they beget with desire, then cast off the full-grown. What is this empty and mindless zeal, differing nothing from madness? They make war among kinsmen, not choosing to be at peace; they lay ambushes against kings, commit manslaughter; digging the earth they seek silver; finding silver they wish to buy earth; having bought earth they sell the produce; having sold produce they take silver again. In how many changes are they caught, in how much wickedness. Those without property desire property; those who have it hide it, make it disappear. I laugh at their failures in action; I intensify my laughter at their misfortunes — for they have transgressed the ordinances of truth, contending in enmity against one another, carrying on strife with brothers and parents and fellow-citizens, and this over possessions of which no one who is dead is master; they kill each other, thinking lawlessly about life, scorning the friendlessness of friends and fatherlands, enriching the undeserving and the lifeless; they purchase whole fortunes' worth of statues — because the image seems to speak — but those who truly speak they hate.
17 (150) [195]
They reach for what is not easily had; for dwelling on the mainland they long for the sea, and again when on islands they yearn for the mainland, and they distort everything to fit their own desire. And while they seem to praise courage in war, they are conquered daily by licentiousness, by greed, by all the passions which are their diseases. All are Thersiteses of life. Why, Hippocrates, did you blame my laughter? For no one laughs at his own folly, but each at another's — some at the drunk, when they themselves seem sober, others at the lover, while themselves suffering a worse disease; some at those who sail, others at those occupied with farming; for they do not agree either about the crafts or about the works. And I said: These things are sound, Democritus, nor would any other account be better suited for declaring the wretchedness of mortals. But activities legislate the necessary — for the sake of household management, and shipbuilding, and the other form of civic life in which a human being must participate; for nature did not generate him for idleness. Out of these things again the love of glory, once poured out, has overthrown many a soul of sound judgment — people who are zealous in all things as if toward infallibility, but unable to summon the strength to foresee the uncertainty. For who, Democritus, in marrying has expected divorce or death? Who, similarly, in raising children, their loss? No more in farming and sailing and kingship and command and all that exists through life's course; for no one anticipated a stumble beforehand, but each of these feeds on good hopes and does not remember the worse. Is not your laughter then ill-suited to these? And Democritus said: You are quite sluggish in your thinking, and a long way off from my judgment, Hippocrates — not examining the measures of tranquility and disturbance, through ignorance. For those who managed these same things with a sound mind both departed easily themselves and lessened my laughter. But now, like those whose minds are deranged, fastened upon the things of life, they are swept about by senseless thinking in the disorderly rush — hard to teach; for the change of all things, falling in with sharp reversals and conceiving a sudden rolling variety, was lesson enough. But they, as though on something fixed and stable, forgetful of sufferings that fall upon them otherwise and otherwise continuously, desiring the things that grieve them, seeking what does not benefit them, roll about in many misfortunes. But if anyone had pondered to do all things according to his own capacity, he would have guarded an unfailing life, knowing himself thoroughly, and having understood his own blend clearly, not extending the zeal of desire without limit, but viewing the rich nature, the nurse of all things, through self-sufficiency. Just as the good condition of the fat is a manifest danger, so the greatness of good fortune is precarious; and the most notable ones are seen side by side in their misfortunes. Others, not studying the deeds of the ancients, were destroyed by their own misfortune, failing to foresee the plain as though it were obscure, having the long course of life as a pattern of things that have happened and have not happened, from which one ought also to comprehend what is to come.
17 (200) [245]
This is the object of my laughter: senseless human beings, paying the penalty of their wickedness — of greed, insatiability, hatred, treachery, scheming, envy — a devising of evils too painful to recount in full, for there is something boundless even in these things. Weaving deceits against one another, crooked of mind; and what passes for virtue among them is the worse thing: they practice love of falsehood, they adorn love of pleasure, defying laws. And their own inner condition condemns their want of deliberate choice, since they partake neither of sight nor of hearing; the sole perception of a human being is that which shines far through precise understanding, foreseeing both what is and what will be.
They are dissatisfied with everything, and then come back again to those same things: having renounced seafaring they sail; having declared against farming they farm again; having expelled a wife they bring in another; having begotten children they buried them; having buried them they begot again, and raise them again; they prayed for old age, and arriving at it they groan — holding no settled judgment in any condition. Leaders and kings call the private man fortunate; the private man reaches after kingship; the man in public life envies the craftsman his freedom from danger; the craftsman envies him his energy and competence — so it is throughout. For they do not behold the straight path of virtue, clear and smooth and free from stumbling, upon which no one has dared to set foot; but they rush upon the disobedient and crooked path, walking rough ground, being swept downward and tripping, and most of them falling off, panting as if hunted, quarreling, lagging behind, pressing ahead.
Some of them have been set alight from within by ruinous passions — thieves of another's marriage-bed, relying on shamelessness; others are consumed by the boundless disease of greed; others set upon one another; still others, lifted up into the air by love of glory, are borne down by the weight of wickedness into the depths of ruin. They tear down and then build up again; they give gifts and then repent and take back what friendship had a right to; they do injury and turn it to enmity; they make war of kinship — and the cause of all these things is greed. In what do they differ from playing children, in whom judgment is without discrimination and whatever comes along brings delight? And in their passions, what have they left beyond unreasoning animals? — except that the beasts remain within self-sufficiency. For what lion buried gold in the earth? What bull armed himself with the desire for more? What leopard has fallen into insatiability? The idle pig thirsts only as much water as it has craved; the wolf, having torn apart what chance prey comes its way for necessary nourishment, rests; but through days and nights joined together, the human being has no satiety of feasting. And the ordered cycle of the yearly seasons is the limit of coupling for unreasoning creatures; but the human being has unceasing mad frenzy in his licentiousness.
Hippocrates — should I not laugh at one who weeps over a love affair, because he is fittingly shut out, especially if he is reckless and is being carried toward precipices or the depths of the sea? Shall I intensify my laughter? Should I not laugh at one who has sunk his ship under many cargoes and then blames the sea for having sunk it while full? I myself think I do not laugh adequately — I would wish to discover against them something grievous. But there ought not even to be medicine on their behalf, nor a healing Paean fashioning remedies by his art. Let your ancestor Asclepius be a lesson to you: he is thanked with thunderbolts for saving human beings.
Do you not see that I too am a share in wickedness, in that, while seeking the cause of madness, I kill and dissect animals? Yet it was from human beings that the cause ought to have been sought.
17 (250) [295]
Do you not see that the world also is filled with hatred of humanity? It has gathered together boundless sufferings against them. The human being entire is disease from birth: when being nourished — useless, a suppliant for assistance; when growing up — reckless, senseless, in need of the hand of a pedagogue; in his prime — bold; past his prime — pitiable, having cultivated his own toils by thoughtlessness; for out of his mother's bloody gore he leaped forth such as he is.
For this reason some, who are hot-tempered and overflowing with immoderate anger, live in disasters and quarrels; others perpetually in corruptions and adulteries; others in drunkenness; others in desire for what belongs to others; others in the ruin of what is their own.
Would that there were power to uncover the dwellings of all and leave nothing of what is inside hidden behind any veil, and then to see what is being done within. We would see some eating, others vomiting, others twisting in torments, others mixing poisons, others plotting treachery, others calculating, others rejoicing, others weeping, others composing accusations against friends, others out of their minds through love of glory. And the still deeper things: the actions of what is hidden in the psyche — and among these, how many are young and how many are old, asking, refusing, in poverty, in abundance, pressed by hunger, others burdened with extravagance, filthy, in chains, others preening themselves on luxuries; some rearing, others slaughtering, others burying; despising what they have, rushing after hoped-for possessions; some shameless, some miserly, some insatiable; some committing murder, some being beaten, some arrogant, some fluttering with empty vanity. And some are given over to horses, some to men, some to dogs, some to stones or wood, some to bronze, some to painted images; some are occupied in embassies, some in generalships, some in priesthoods, some wearing garlands, some under arms, some being put to death. Each of them is carried along — some toward a sea-battle, some on campaign, some to farming, others to merchant ships, some to the marketplace, others to the assembly, some to the theater, some into exile, others in other directions; and some toward love of pleasure and sensual enjoyment and incontinence, others toward idleness and laziness.
Seeing then such psychai — unworthy and wretched, and so many of them — how should we not mock this life of theirs that holds such incontinence? For I strongly expect that even your medical art is not pleasing to them; for they are dissatisfied with everything by reason of incontinence, and they consider wisdom to be madness. I suspect clearly that much of your knowledge is being damaged — either through envy or through ingratitude; for those who are ill, at the very moment of being saved, assign the cause to the gods or to fortune; many, attaching it to nature, hate their benefactor, nearly growing indignant if they are regarded as indebted; and the many who carry upon themselves the mark of lack of skill, being without understanding, pull down what is better — for the votes are cast among the unperceiving; neither do those who suffer wish to agree, nor do those who share the same craft wish to bear witness — for envy stands in the way.
I make these things clear to you, not as to one without experience of such disputes, knowing that you have often found yourself in undeserved suffering and that it is not for the sake of wealth or out of envy that you are provoked to mockery; for of truth there is neither recognition nor testimony.
As he said these things he smiled, and to me, Damagetos, he appeared godlike, and I had forgotten his former appearance. And I said: Democritus of great repute, great indeed are the gifts of your hospitality that I shall carry back to Cos; for you have filled me with much wonder at your wisdom. And I depart as your herald, of one who has tracked down and understood the truth of human nature.
17 (300) [310]
Having received from you treatment of my own understanding, I take my leave — the hour requiring this and the care of the body. Tomorrow and on following days we shall meet again in the same place. I rose having said these things, and he was ready to accompany me; but as someone came up — I know not from where — he was giving back the books. And I pressed on more urgently, and coming to the Abderites who were truly waiting for me at the lookout point, I said: Men, great thanks to you for the embassy to me; for I have seen Democritus — a man most wise, the one most capable of bringing human beings to their senses. These are the things I have to tell you about Democritus, Damagetos, with great joy. Farewell.
Democritus to Hippocrates: may you fare well.
18 [25]
You came to us as to madmen, Hippocrates, intending to give hellebore, having been persuaded by senseless men, with whom the toil of virtue is judged to be madness. We happened to be writing concerning the arrangement of the world and the multiplicity of forms, and still further concerning the heavenly stars. Having come to know the nature behind these matters — how they had been fashioned with altogether pure craftsmanship and how far removed they stood from madness and derangement — you praised the nature of my inquiry, and judged those others as harsh and mad. For all the things that wander through the air in differing appearances, which indeed have been seen together with the world's order and have come to be in alternating configuration — these my mind, having investigated their nature precisely, has brought to light; and the books written by me are witnesses to these things. You too, then, Hippocrates, ought not to go and associate with men of such a kind, whose mind is superficial and unsteady. For if, having been persuaded, you had given me hellebore as to a madman, the sensible madness would have come to exist, and they would have blamed your art as having become a contributing cause of mental derangement; for hellebore given to those in health darkens the understanding, but to the mad it is accustomed to give great benefit. Understand: if you had not found me writing, but lying down or walking about at leisure and conversing with myself, sometimes expressing displeasure, sometimes smiling at what was being thought by me, and not attending to those acquaintances who approached, but fixing attention on the mind and reflecting with intensity — you would have thought, judging Democritus by sight, from what was visible, that he resembled the image of madness. It is necessary, then, for the physician not to judge the afflictions by sight alone, but also by the facts; to examine the rhythms as thoroughly as possible, and whether the affliction is at its beginning or at its peak or declining; and attending to the distinction and the season and the age to treat the affliction and the wholeness of the body's dwelling; for from all these things together you will readily find the disease. I have also sent you the discourse on madness. Farewell.
The discourse on madness.
19 [25]
We go mad — as I said in the work on the sacred disease — by reason of moisture in the brain, in which reside the workings of the psyche. Whenever it is more moist than its nature, it is necessarily set in motion; and when it is in motion, neither sight nor hearing is at rest, but at different times one sees and hears different things, and the tongue speaks such things as it happens to see and hear each time; but for as long as the brain is at rest, the human being thinks for that length of time.
The corruption of the brain comes about through phlegm and bile, and you will recognize each as follows: those who go mad through phlegm are quiet and not given to shouting or tumult; those through bile are violent and malicious and not calm. If they are continuously mad, these are the causes; but if there are terrors and fears, it comes about through a shifting of the brain when it is heated by bile rushing upon it through the blood-carrying veins; when the bile retreats again into the veins and the body, it ceases. Distress and loathing and forgetfulness arise when the brain is chilled out of season by phlegm and contracts beyond its habit. When the brain is suddenly heated throughout by bile through the veins mentioned, with the blood boiling up, they see fearful dreams, and the face flushes as in a waking person, and the eyes redden, and the judgment conceives some evil deed to be done; this also occurs during sleep; but when the blood is scattered again through the veins, it ceases. In the fifth book of the Epidemics I recorded how there came to be loss of voice, loss of understanding, frequent delirious wandering and relapse; the tongue was hard, and unless he rinsed it out, he was unable to speak, and it was mostly quite bitter; phlebotomy brought relief, water-drinking, honey-water, draughts of hellebore. This man survived a short time and then died. There was another in whom, whenever he set out to drink, fear of the pipe-girl took hold of him if he heard her playing the pipe; by day when he heard it he suffered nothing.
Hippocrates to Democritus: may you fare well.
20 [20]
The achievements of the medical art, Democritus, most people do not praise wholeheartedly, but often attribute them to the gods; and if nature, acting in opposition, destroys the one being treated, they blame the physicians, setting aside the divine. And I myself think that the art has received as its lot more blame than honor. For I myself have not arrived at the full end of medicine, although already established in old age; nor indeed did Asclepius, its discoverer — indeed he himself disagreed on many points, as the books of the writers have handed down to us. The letter sent to us by you, then, found fault with the use of hellebore as a drug. I was brought in, Democritus, as one treating you for madness with hellebore, not having formed any conjecture as to who you might actually be; but having met you and come to know you, it was not — by Zeus — the work of derangement, but something worthy of every admiration; I praised your nature most highly and judged you the finest interpreter of nature and of the world's order; and those who brought me I blamed as the mad ones, for they were in need of the drug themselves. Since, then, chance has brought us together to the same place, you will do well to write to us more frequently and to share with us the compositions written by you; and I myself also have sent you the discourse on the use of hellebore. Farewell.
Hippocrates to Democritus concerning the use of hellebore.
21 [45]
For those who are not easily purged upward: before drinking, pre-moisten the bodies with more nourishment and rest. After one has drunk hellebore, lead the person more toward bodily movement, not toward sleep; seafaring shows that movement disturbs the bodies. When you want to drive hellebore further, set the bodies in motion. Hellebore is dangerous for those who have healthy flesh. Those who do not develop thirst during the purgation do not cease being purged until thirst appears. Convulsion from hellebore is deadly. Convulsion or hiccup coming on after excessive purging is a bad sign. In disturbances of the belly and in vomiting that arise spontaneously: if they are purged of what ought to be purged, it is beneficial and they bear it easily; if not, the opposite. As I said in the Prognostic, upward purging is appropriate when, without fever, there is loss of appetite or heartburn or dizziness with darkened vision or bitterness in the mouth — in general, for pains above the diaphragm; downward purging, where without fever there is colic, pain in the loins, heaviness of the knees, difficult menstruation, pains in the parts below the diaphragm. Guard against giving purging drugs to those well-formed in body, especially the dark-complexioned and those with moist flesh, and also to those somewhat dry, and those who stammer or lisp. Those who attempt to resolve inflamed conditions right at the beginning of the disease, as I said in the work on barley-gruel, by drug-treatment — they benefit the tense and inflamed part not at all (for the condition, being still raw, does not transmit), but they dissolve those elements that resist the disease and maintain health; and as the body grows weak, the disease prevails and they become incurable. One should treat with hellebore those in whom a flux comes down from the head; but do not give it in cases of suppuration, nor administer drugs to those who are colorless, or hoarse-voiced, or spleen-affected, or blood-deficient, or those full of pneuma who cough dryly, who are thirsty, flatulent, those with tension in the hypochondria and sides and the area between the shoulders, those who have been numbed, those who see dimly, and those with ringing in the ears, and those who lack control of the urinary passage; nor to those with jaundice or weak belly, or hemorrhoids, or in cases of tumors; but if drug-treatment seems called for, purge safely upward with hellebore, not downward; the best treatment for these is diaita — diaita (regimen / ordering of life). As I said in the Prorrhetic, do not administer drugs to those who vomit black matter upward, who are without appetite and mildly delirious, who have slight pains in the region of puberty, who have a bold eye lying inclined, those who are swollen, dizzy, colorless; nor to those who are prostrated by burning fever. As I said in the work on barley-gruel, the sesame-like substance purges upward; the dose is half a drachma ground in oxymel; it is also blended with the hellebores at a ratio of one third of the dose, and it is less stifling. Purge also those with chronic quartan fevers and those with chronic hectic fever, and those without thirst and without excretion — these only after three weeks; and sometimes also those with pleurisy and ileus; and as I said in the work on women's things, also if the womb stands in need of purging.
Hippocrates to his son Thessalus.
22 [15]
Let the study of geometry and of arithmetic be your concern, my son; for it will accomplish not only a life of good repute for you and one useful in many ways toward the human condition, but will also render the psyche keener and of farther-reaching vision in the way of benefiting everything that medicine requires. And yet the inquiry into geometry, being of many shapes and many forms, and accomplishing everything with demonstration, will be useful with respect to the positions of bones and dislocations and the remaining arrangement of the limbs; for being better acquainted with their great variety, you will employ the setting of joints and the sawing and drilling and composing and removing of shattered bones and the remaining treatment, knowing what sort of region it is and what bone is being removed from it. And let the ordered practice of arithmetic be sufficient for the cycles and the well-reasoned transitions of fevers and the crises of the sick and the safety-points within diseases; for it is a very fine thing to have in medicine a service of such a kind, which provides you with clear recognition of the unequal shares of intensification and relaxation without error. Therefore strive as far as possible to arrive at experience of this kind. Farewell.
Democritus to Hippocrates concerning the nature of the human being.
23 [45]
All human beings ought to understand the medical art, Hippocrates, for it is both fine and beneficial for life; and most of all those who have become well-versed in learning and discourse. For I think the inquiry of wisdom is medicine's sister and dwelling-companion; wisdom draws up the psyche from its afflictions, while medicine removes the diseases of bodies. The mind grows when health is present — which it is fine for those of sound purpose to foresee; but when the bodily condition is in pain, the mind has no inclination toward the cultivation of virtue; for disease when present grievously darkens the psyche, bringing understanding into sympathy with it.
The sketch of human nature holds a view of this kind: the brain guards the summit of the body, entrusted with its safety, dwelling together within membranous nerve-like coverings, over which the double-natured bones, fitted together by necessity, conceal the brain as master-guardian of understanding. The orderly arrangement of hair adorning the skin. The visual power of the eyes, dwelling in a many-layered covering by the stability of moisture, is established under the forehead by the discipline of its housing, and is the cause of seeing; the precise pupil submits to the eyelid as guardian of timely protective action. The double nostrils, discerning smell, mark the boundary neighboring the eyes. The soft touch of the lips, wrapping around the mouth, has provided clear sensation of words and precise articulation, being governed. The chin, terminal and tortoise-like, fitted together with bolts. The ears, receptacles of words, the craftsman opened up: once a word has entered them it does not become an unsafe minister of thoughtlessness. The tongue, mother of speech, messenger of the psyche, keeping gate over taste, is guarded by the strong battlements of the teeth. The windpipe and the throat, fitted to each other, are neighbors: one forwards along the path of pneuma, the other sends nourishment deep into the belly's depth, driven on greedily. The heart, cone-shaped, queen, nursing-mother of passion, has put on a breastplate against every attack. The many passages of the lungs, traversed by air, bring forth the pneuma which is the cause of voice. What supplies blood and transforms it into nourishment — alongside the many lobes that circulate in the hollow — will be the liver, cause of desire; and green bile, remaining near the liver, wells up in excess and becomes the corruption of the human body. The spleen — a harmful and useless inhabitant of the human body — sleeps opposite, laying claim to nothing. In the middle of these, the all-receiving belly acts as provider and settles into its task of managing pepsis. Subject to the belly, the intestines, stirred together by the craft of their composition, wind around the belly — causes of reception and excretion. The twin kidneys, settled in the hips and clothed in fat, are naturally suited to the excretion of urine. The master of the whole belly, called the omentum, has enclosed the entire stomach, except for the spleen alone. Next, the nerve-like bladder, with its mouth seated in the hip, connected with interwoven vessels, becomes the cause of the excretion of urine. And the womb, neighbor to this, nurse of infants — causing terrible pain, contributing cause of the countless toils of woman — has taken its lodging; the flesh that swells in the recesses of the hips acts as gate-warden and is tightened by sinews, and pours out from the fullness of the belly's nature in the forethought of birth. And hanging outside the body, managing their dwelling outside, the testicles — builder-offspring, many-layered — a benevolent thing for puberty, wrought by nature as a weaving of veins and sinews, effecting the outpouring of urine, an assistant for intercourse, fashioned by nature as desire thickens with puberty. The legs and arms and the extremities joined to them, gathered together as they are holding the whole beginning of service, fulfill the secure ministry of the sinews.
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And the incorporeal nature within the recesses has fashioned all the varied kinds of the viscera — which death, standing over them, swiftly brought to a stop from their service.
Hippocrates' work on health to King Demetrius.
24 [30]
Hippocrates of Cos to King Demetrius, greetings. We, having already been eager, O King, to examine in summary the parts of human nature, wrote these up as you requested and sent them to you. Now, concerning the things about which the thoughtful ought above all to be earnest, we have written to you — some things received from those before us, some things we ourselves are discovering additionally even now — following which and using them very frequently as signs when the earlier ailments arise, you would be free of disease for all time. There are two kinds of ailments in all living creatures: one differing by kind, the other by affliction. The desires relating to nourishment you will see arising from opposites: wet things drying out the moist, moist things the dry, things emptying the full, things filling the empty; and all diseases you will see established from opposites, and diseases arising from diseases. From convulsions, a fever coming on stops the illness; intense pain in the head is stopped by blood breaking out through the ears or through the nostrils; convulsions coming on in all those subject to black bile put an end to the black-bile states. And in general, the head is both the source and root of human diseases, and the greatest ailments arise from it; for since it lies over the body, like a cupping-vessel it happens to draw in all the residues (perittōmata) and the fine-grained chymoi that are brought in. One must pay close attention, having prepared oneself to conduct oneself in a particular way with regard to these parts, so that the ailments that come upon you receive no increase — through the care and the orderliness of life that is yours — neither indulging in the intemperance of sexual pleasures, nor in the variety of different foods, nor in sleep that is excessively relaxing when the body is without exercise; but following the signs that arise in the body, observe the right moment for each, so that, having guarded against the ailment that is about to be brought on, you may, using the treatments that I shall write, continue to be free of disease.
Decree of the Athenians.
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It seemed good to the council and the people of the Athenians. Since Hippocrates of Cos, being a physician and descended from Asclepius, has shown great goodwill together with preservation to the Greeks — when a plague too was coming from the barbarians against Greece, he sent his own students to various places and enjoined them with what treatments they should use to escape safely from the advancing plague, and how the healing art of Apollo, transmitted to the Greeks, safely preserves their sick — and he has also generously published writings on the healing art, wishing that there might be many physicians who preserve life; and since the King of the Persians summoned him with honors commensurate with himself and with gifts of whatever Hippocrates himself might choose, he scorned the barbarian's promises, because the barbarian was an enemy and common foe of the Greeks: so that the Athenian people may be seen to choose at all times what is beneficial for the Greeks and to give fitting thanks to Hippocrates for his benefactions, it has seemed good to the people to initiate him into the Great Mysteries at public expense, just as Heracles son of Zeus was initiated, and to crown him with a golden crown of a thousand gold pieces; to proclaim the crown at the Great Panathenaea in the gymnastic contest; and that it be permitted to all sons of the Coans to be registered as youths in Athens just as sons of Athenians, since their homeland has given birth to such a man; and that Hippocrates receive both citizenship and meals in the Prytaneum for life.
Epibomios.
26 [20]
O you many, inhabitants of many cities, who have come to stand in great esteem, bearing the common name of Thessalians — to all human beings bitter necessity forces them to bear what is fated; for it compels them to endure what it wills, yielding to which even I now, having wreathed branches with my family, sit as a suppliant at the altar of Athena — who I am must be said to those who do not know. Hippocrates, O men, the physician of Cos, for a noble and beautiful reason commends myself and his children to you. Be acquainted with us, O multitude; for indeed, O men, being kinsmen in a manner of speaking, I am known truly to many of you and your cities, as one might say in outline. The name of his form has gone further still; and I think this — from my art — to be the cause of health and life for people, not only those who inhabit our land, but also among many Greeks I am known in proximity to us. Now why I endured to do so great a deed in action, I shall tell. The Athenians, O Thessalian men, using their power badly, are treating our mother-city Cos as a subject, making the freedom held through our ancestors into something conquered by the spear, showing no reverence for kinship — which goes back to Apollo and Heracles and extends to Aenion and Sunion among their descendants — nor taking to heart the benefactions of Heracles, which the god who is rightly held in common by you and by us has laid up for them. But come, in the name of Zeus of suppliants and the gods of common kin, come forth, defend us, set us free, falling short in nothing of your own love of honor.
Ambassadorial Speech of Thessalus Son of Hippocrates.
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It seems fitting to me, O men of Athens, that whoever presents himself before you and is not known to the whole multitude should first make clear who he is and where he is from, and after that take up the rest of his words. My father is Hippocrates, whose power in the healing art you know how great it is. My name is Thessalus; and I too am not unknown among the lesser or fewer of you. My homeland is Cos, and how it is akin to you from ancient times, others who are more capable of setting out its history will say. I have come, sent by my father, having four benefactions to speak of, rendered by us to you: one of them an old one from the time of our ancestors, common to all the Amphictyons, of which you are no small part; another still greater than this and reaching to most of the Greeks — and these will be shown to belong to the city and to my ancestors; the third is my father's own, and of such a size as no single man has laid up for you and many Greeks; and the last of the four is held in common by my father and me, and extends no further, but to you yourselves — which when compared to the earlier benefactions might appear small, but measured against the gratitude of others it is great. Such, then, and so arranged, are the benefactions I said there to be — to put it briefly — but it is necessary not only to assert them but also to demonstrate that they are true. I shall make the beginning of the account the beginning of the services, and speak first of the most ancient things, in which perhaps you will find that I speak at some length and in a more mythic manner; yet the subject somehow calls to be told in the old way. There was a time when there was the Crissaean people, who dwelt around the Pythian sanctuary and held the land that is now consecrated to Apollo; what is called the Crissaean plain lies where the Locrians dwell and where Melaena borders it, and the Cirphian mountain, where the Phocians are situated. These Crissaeans, who had become numerous and strong and wealthy at that time, used these good things to evil ends; for having grown insolent they committed many terrible and lawless acts: being impious toward the god, enslaving the Delphians, plundering their neighbors, robbing sacred envoys, carrying off women and children, and committing outrages against their persons. In response to which the Amphictyons, enraged, threw an army into their land, conquered them in battle, ravaged the country, and sacked the cities. There they committed many unholy acts and met a terrible fate, paying no less than what they had done. Most to be envied among them were those who died in the fighting; second those who were taken captive by the spear and were transported to another land and cities, for they could not see their own miseries with their own eyes; but those who stayed behind among the prisoners were most unfortunate — those who were abused in their own land with their wives and children, watching their fields and towns being given over to fire. And worse off still than these were those who held out in the walls, since of the evils described they saw some and heard of others, receiving more than the truth by hearsay — for so it tends to happen — and indeed held poor hopes of deliverance. There was near this place their largest city, where the equestrian contest is now held, whose walls they were strengthening, and into which they received those fleeing from the other cities; they cast out what was useless and brought in what was necessary, and intended to hold out, having hoped that the city would be taken neither by the enemy in battle nor through length of time.
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The Amphictyons, having reduced the other places, built a fort against this city as well, and preparing for a siege, dismissed the rest of the army to their several cities. As time went on and a plague fell upon the camp and the soldiers fell ill, and some even died, and some abandoned the fort on account of the disease, the Amphictyons were thrown into confusion and took different counsels — for common undertakings tend to go this way — and at last, being vexed at the affliction and having come to their senses, they entrusted the matter to the god and asked what they ought to do. He commanded them to fight and promised he would grant them victory, if they came to Cos and brought back with haste a fawn-child as an ally together with gold, so that the Crissaeans might not first plunder the tripod in the inner shrine; if not, the city would not be taken. They, hearing this, went to Cos and reported the oracular response; and while the Coans were at a loss and did not understand the oracle, a man arose, an Asclepiad by descent, an ancestor of ours, acknowledged as the best physician among the Greeks of that time — his name was Nebros — who declared that the oracle had come for him by name: if the god so enjoined you, coming to Cos, to bring back a fawn-child as an ally — for Cos herself is Cos, and the offspring of deer are called nebroi (fawns), and my name is Nebros, and what other assistance could come first to an ailing army than a physician? And moreover this follows directly: I do not think that the god ordered men who surpass so many Greeks in wealth, coming to Cos, to ask for a gold coin; rather, this oracle comes to my house — for the youngest of my sons is called Chrysos (Gold); and he is altogether distinguished from his fellow-citizens both in form and in excellence of psyche, as a father may say. I therefore, unless you think otherwise, will go myself and bring my son, having fitted out a fifty-oared ship at my own expense with both medical and military crews, so that we may be of help in both respects. He spoke, and it seemed good to them, and they were sent off. This Nebros also took aboard a Calydonian man who was being raised in his household, about whom the account will make clear in due time, when the occasion comes. When then these men arrived where the camp was being maintained, the god was glad; for the deaths of the soldiers ceased, and by divine fortune — when the horse of Eurylochus, who led the war and was a Thessalian and descended from the Heraclids, struck with its hoof the pipe through which water was carried into the wall, whenever it wanted to be tended to — Nebros poisoned the water with drugs; from this the bowels of the Crissaeans were destroyed, and this contributed greatly to the city's capture; and from that point the resolve of the besiegers was lifted, as it was now clear that the god was giving aid. When assaults were being made and prizes were being set out for those who should first mount the wall, the contest was very fierce, and the city was being taken; for Chrysos mounted the wall first and seized the tower, and the Calydonian man, of whom I spoke before, followed close upon him shielding him side by side. Chrysos, struck by a spear, fell headlong from the tower by Mermodes, the brother of Lykos, who was stoned to death when he came into the inner shrine to plunder the tripod. The city was thus captured; and the assistance of Nebros together with Chrysos turned out well both in terms of medicine and in terms of war, the god proved true, and what he promised he brought to pass. For these things the Amphictyons dedicated a temple to Apollo — the one now at Delphi — and established gymnastic and equestrian contests which they had not previously held; they consecrated the entire land of the Crissaeans, giving to the giver what he had given in accordance with the oracle; they buried Nebros's son Chrysos in the hippodrome and ordered the Delphians at public expense to make offerings to the dead on his behalf; to the Asclepiads in Cos was given, by the grace of Nebros, priority of consultation at the oracle, just as to the sacred commissioners; and to the Calydonians, from that man and that service, both priority of oracle and perpetual dining rights at Delphi have been given to this day.
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But I return to our own affairs; for that I speak true, when my father and I came forward, the Amphictyons renewed these rights and restored them, and having inscribed them on a stele set it up at Delphi. And that is the end of this account; there it is clearly shown that our ancestors were your benefactors. Having set this down, I shall take up another account concerning the same matters, not the same account: when the Great King campaigned with the Persians and the other barbarians against those Greeks who would not give water and earth, our homeland chose rather to be destroyed to the last person than to take up hostile arms against you and those who thought as you did and to send a campaign by sea — but it refused, making a noble resolve worthy of its ancestors, who are said to be earth-born and Heraclids. They decided therefore, there being four walls on the island, to abandon all of them and, having fled to the mountains, to hold fast to their preservation. From which, what evil did not befall them? — the land being plundered, free bodies being enslaved and killed in the way of enemies, the city and the other strongholds and sanctuaries being burnt to ashes, and moreover given over to Artemisia, daughter of Lygdamis, in accordance with a hereditary quarrel, to net out everything that remained. But as it seems, we were not neglected by the gods; for when extraordinary storms arose, the entire fleet of Artemisia came close to being destroyed, and many ships were in fact lost, and many lightning-bolts fell upon her army — a rare thing, the island being struck by lightning; and it is said that apparitions of heroes appeared to the woman — frightened by all of which she withdrew from irreversible acts, making a bitter settlement, and very bitter it is called — so let it pass. And here too I shall assign to my ancestors the true claim that the Coans did not voluntarily take up arms against you or the Lacedaemonians or the other Greeks, even though many of those living alike on the islands and in Asia joined the barbarians in the war not by compulsion; for those who then led the city were Cadmos and Hippochos — and it stands on true ground that Cadmos and Hippochos are my ancestors: Cadmos, who himself devised that very plan, is from my mother's line, while Hippochos is fourth in descent from the Asclepiads from Nebros who helped bring down the Crissaeans, and we are Asclepiads through the male line — so that this noble deed too belongs to our ancestors. I return to Cadmos; for this man was so zealous for the noble cause of the Greeks that, when the land ceased to be besieged by Artemisia, leaving his wife and family behind, he went with those who chose the same things to Sicily, in order to prevent Gelon and his brothers from making a treaty against the Greeks with the barbarians; and he accomplished many other noble deeds, which it is not timely to dwell upon at length.
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Such, then, and so many, are the public services of our ancestors to you and the other Greeks — indeed the capacity of speech fails. I come now to set before those who do not know the benefaction of Hippocrates my father; and I would speak truthfully thus: when a plague was flowing through the barbarian land that lies above the Illyrians and Paeonians, and when the evil came upon that land, the kings of those peoples — guided by the renown of the healing art, which, being true, had the strength to make itself known everywhere — sent to my father on Thessaly (for there my father had his dwelling before and at that time), calling him to their aid, and said they would send not only gold and silver and other possessions, but that he could take away as much as he himself wished if he helped them. He, having made enquiry about what sorts of seasonal changes occur with respect to burning heat and winds and mists and the other things that are by nature apt to disturb the bodily conditions (hexeis) beyond what is settled — when he had acquired knowledge of all these things, he ordered those men to go back, declaring that he was not in a position to go into their country; but as quickly as he could, he himself set about sending word to the Thessalians about what ways they should take precaution against the approaching evil, and writing up a course of treatment he set it out throughout the cities. Me he dispatched to Macedonia — for there was a hereditary tie of hospitality between us and the Heraclid kings who rule there. And I went where my father ordered me from Thessaly, to bring aid to those there; and it had been arranged for me to make my way to your city as well. My brother Dracon he ordered to set out from Pagasae and sail toward the Hellespont, giving him guidance similar to what he himself was doing — for not all places admit the same remedies, because the surrounding conditions from the air are not everywhere alike. And Polybius, who has his daughter — my own sister — and other students he distributed to various market-places and roads of various peoples to travel, so that they might bring help to as many as possible. When he had accomplished what concerned Thessaly, he proceeded to bring help to the neighboring peoples; and on arriving at the Pass he gave aid to the Dorians and to the Phocians along with the others; and when he arrived at Delphi, he put up a supplication to the god on behalf of the Greeks, and having sacrificed he made his way toward Boeotia, and after aiding those there proportionately, he came to your city, and adequately declared from his whole heart the measures for your salvation that I now recount. And I think many of you know that I speak true; for it was not long ago — this is the ninth year since I traveled through and set out toward the Peloponnese, to bring help to those who inhabit it. From all sides there met us a worthy honor both in word and deed, so that we do not regret that we did not exchange it for the money from the Illyrians and Paeonians. Compared with the gifts of other cities, what was given by you was great: for your citizenship surpassed that of others, and the city of Athens stands higher than other cities in repute, and the golden crown placed on one's head in your theatre led one to the very peak of emulation. But you surpassed even that noble deed by initiating my father and me publicly into the mysteries of Demeter and the Maiden and the rites. These are three, as it were the sources by which one drawing out speeches and reaching for ropes proceeds — the gifts of the city, of the ancestors, and of my father, along with many of the Greeks. I shall take up the fourth service to speak of, which, as I proposed, my father and I rendered to you. When the city sent out Alcibiades to Sicily with a large force — not so much large as wonderful (for such were his deeds) — when a word fell in the assembly concerning the physician who must accompany the expedition, my father came forward and promised to give me for your bodies, equipped at his own expense and without asking for pay for as long as the expedition should be abroad, reckoning the adequate profit less than the service that would be rendered to you.
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For I was not merely spending my own resources while serving you, but was also assigned to great labors of another kind. And this is the least of what will be spoken next; for my father chose rather to let me, his son, be tossed about in a foreign land, both at sea and amid the dangers of war, and amid the infirmities that are more accustomed to settle upon those living wandering lives than upon those living in an ordered way — for he understood that favor is repaid by favor, and not as if one were to buy something, making the exchange from hand to hand once and then departing. Such, then, was his disposition. And I, being his son, fall short in nothing of ambition and skill, bringing help and facing danger alongside you whenever occasion may arise; and in these two things neither illness nor hardship nor fear, whether at sea or in the hands of enemies, holds me back. The witness of this lies not in others but in yourselves; so if anyone must speak against it, let him rise without hesitation — but I do not think I am speaking falsely. Having done these things for three years, crowned with a golden crown of honor and praised still more finely, I returned to my own land for marriage, so that I might establish successors both of our craft and of our lineage. Such, then, are the services that exist toward you from the city, from our ancestors, from my father, and from myself; and it has been told what we in turn have received from you. I think many of you wonder for what purpose all this has been measured out; so that both you may know and I may obtain what I desire, it is time to speak.
My father, men of Athens, and I make this request of you — for so it is fitting to speak freely among free men, and among friends to receive from friends freely — that from your fatherland you not take up arms of war against us. But if it is necessary, as perhaps it is necessary for those who have come forward on behalf of their own, we ask also that you not place us, who stand in great esteem and have been the first to provide such services, in the condition of slaves. And further — for it will be fitting to speak this way too — we entreat you not to make our possessions your own as spoils of the spear; you will be superior to far lesser things if you prevail, but look also to this: that fortune hastens different things differently; and great men have at times had need of small ones, and the strong have found safety through weakness. I think it sufficiently plain — that I may not speak more plainly — that on account of a single man not a city but many nations have been shown to have benefited in warlike affairs, and where skill has force. Do not throw us away; for we are not to be thrown away, as the witness lying within us attests. But first, those from whom we claim to descend — Asclepius and Heracles — came into being for the benefit of humankind, and all men hold these, through the excellence they displayed here, in the place of gods. My city and I who speak trace ourselves back to these men, as the accounts of people preserve; and so we shall both appear standing forward on behalf of Greeks in this same way and for every finest purpose. For the Trojan deeds are not myth but acts, in which Cos together with her own islands is not a small part but the greatest as ally; and so likewise the sons of Asclepius helped Greeks not only with skill but also with arms. Machaon at any rate laid down his psyche in the Troad, when, as those who write these things say, he rode on horseback into the city of Priam.
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Do not then wrong us, neither on account of our being of the same kin, nor on account of our having been born of those who helped Greeks as helpers ourselves. I shall not lengthen this speech by recounting again the Crisaean affairs or the Persian ones, since you have both heard them and they are more in hand than what was just spoken. But take to heart this too: it is not holy to wrong benefactors. And what manner of people will you appear to be — who are descended from the fathers such as the storytellers have told of — if you choose to do wrong rather than to be good? For I do not wish to speak more bitterly. Those men, men of Athens, paid gratitude to the Heraclidae, and came to the aid of many others who had done good to them. The day would give out on me speaking at length, if I were to go through how many good things have come to how many people who had no prior need of you. Look around at yourselves, and even without my saying so, recognize what you are doing. Unchecked power is pernicious, men of Athens — for it does not know how to keep itself within its proper measure, but has indeed damaged certain cities and nations. Looking at others as though into a mirror, see for yourselves what you are doing, and I speak the truth. And a new custom it is: trusting in good fortune, not to look also toward the difficult — this is not yours; for you have had much experience of adversity through fortune too. We do no wrong to you; but if we do wrong, let us be judged not by arms but by argument. I also ask this of you: do not incur obligation to others for coming to our aid; for those within Thessaly, Argos, Lacedaemon, the kings of Macedonia, and wherever other Heraclidae or kinsmen of the Heraclidae dwell, will come to our aid, if they act rightly. It is better to do what is just without compulsion than under compulsion. I have not uttered the word insurrection; but I make this plain: that we are, or will be, the concern of many, unless it has vanished from every quarter that there are still good people in the world. For my part, then — for my power of speech is small, fitted as I am for the care of other things — I shall here bring it to a close. And I ask, for the sake of your guests and those accustomed to be your counselors, and for the sake of the gods and heroes and the acts of grace that pass among human beings, that you keep enmity from your mutual dealings and incline each other toward friendly things. For if we shall not obtain these things in your city, I do not know where we might go and meet with good fortune in what we long for.