Family Teaching
Grym. In the first place, they have taught me that I am of most honourable lineage, which yields to none in this province, and, on that account, I must take care diligently, and strive earnestly, not to degenerate from the rank of my ancestors; that they have won great honour to themselves by yielding to no one in position, dignity, authority, in name, and that I ought to do the same. If any one should wish to detract from that honour, immediately I must fight him. It behoves me to be lavish with money, and even profuse, but sparing and frugal in paying honour to others. That it behoves me, and those like me, by no means to rise up in the presence of others, nor to make way for them, nor to let them lead me, hither and thither, nor to bare the head or bow the knee to them; not as if any one could deserve to be shown such honours from me, but that so I shall conciliate to myself the favour of men, shall catch the breeze of popularity, and shall obtain that honour which we always so greatly have borne in men’s mouths and hearts! It is in this education that the difference exists between those who are nobles, and those who are not; since the noble has been rightly accustomed to be educated to excel in all these matters, whilst the common people (ignobiles), trained to rustic manners, in none of these things.
Flex. And what thinks your excellency, my lord, of such a method of education?
Grym. What indeed! Why, it is by far the highest, and worthy of my race.
Flex. What else then do you seek to learn from me?
Grym. In my opinion, nothing further would remain to be learned, had not my father hurried me hither to you. My father ordered me, or rather rigidly enjoined me, to come to you; so that if there was anything of a more hidden kind, and more sacred as if of mysteries, by which I might get more honour for myself, then that you might, as a favour to him, not feel it a burden to expound it, that thus our family, so honourable and exalted, may ascend still higher, since there are not a few new men who, relying on their opulence, have come to light, and seized upon dignities and honours so that they even dare to vie with the old standing and honours of our race.
Flex. Shameful thing!
Grym. Is it not?
Flex. This would be visible to a blind man!
Grym. Certainly. These new men march about with a long company of followers, themselves in gold-decked clothes or clothes of flowered velvet, or clothes gay as those of Attalus, so that we seem nothing before them, for we are clothed in velvet to hide our poverty. If you will undertake this labour, the reward for thy labour will be that thou wilt be received by my father in the number of our family, and wilt be admitted to his favour and mine, and in process of time, wilt receive some promotion from us. Thou wilt always be amongst our clients and, as it were, under our protection.
Flex. What could be a greater reward or more to be desired? But tell me now, if thou uncoverest the head or givest way or addressest any one blandly, why art thou pleasing to them with whom thou hast dealings?
Grym. Just because I meet them in this way.
Flex. All these externalities are only the signs which denote that there is something in the heart, on account of which they love you, for no one loves them for themselves.
Grym. Why should not everybody love those things which are of honourable bearing, especially in my grade of nobility?
Flex. Thou hast not yet advanced to that degree that it should be permitted to thee to say so, and thou thinkest that thou hast arrived at the very highest.
Grym. I have no necessity to get knowledge and education. My forefathers have left me enough to live upon. And even if this were lacking, I should not seek my living by those arts, or by any means so low, but with the point of the lance and with drawn sword.
Flex. This is high-spirited and fierce, as if indeed because you are of noble rank you would not be a man.
Grym. Fine words, those!
Flex. Which part of you is it that makes you a man!
Grym. Myself as a whole.
Flex. Is it by your body, in having which you don’t differ from a beast?
Grym. By no means.
Flex. Not then yourself as a whole, but therefore by your reason and your mind?
Grym. What then?
Flex. If, therefore, you permit your mind to be uncultivated and boorish but cherish your body and take thought for it alone, don’t you transfer yourself from the human, into the brute, condition? But let us return to the topic on which we began to speak, for this digression, if I gave way to it, would lead us a long way from our purpose. If thou, therefore, yieldest place, and uncoverest thy head, for what do others take you?
Grym. For a noble, nobly instructed and brought up.
Flex. You are too uncouth. Did you hear nothing at home about the mind, about honesty, about modesty, and moderation?
Grym. In the church, sometimes, I have heard of these things from preachers.
Flex. When those who meet you see what is done by you, they judge that you are a modest, honest young man, approving of your actions towards them, judging modestly and thinking humbly of yourself. Thence the opinion of benevolence and graciousness is formed of you.
Grym. Please be more explicit.
Flex. If people knew that you were so proud that you looked down on them all with contempt, that you bared your head and bent your knee to them, not because that honour was due to them, but because it redounded to your honour to do it, do you think there would be any one who would take pleasure in you, or would love you for your honours sprung from such false dissimulation?
Grym. For why?
Flex. Because you do honour to yourself, and take pleasure in it—not to them. For who will consider himself indebted to you for that which you do for your sake? Or shall I receive your honour not for itself, but as an outlay which thou offerest for a good opinion of thyself, not as due to my merits?
Grym. So it seems.
The Teaching of the Better View of Education—Right Government of Oneself
Flex. Therefore, benevolence is won if people believe that honour is paid to them, not that thou shouldst be held more courtly and noble. This will not happen, unless they have the opinion of thee, that thou esteemest them higher than thyself and holdest them worthy of thy honour.
Grym. But this does not happen.
Flex. If it does not happen, then they must be deceived on this point, or else thou wilt never obtain what thou so keenly desirest.
Grym. By what way can you persuade me to think so?
Flex. Easily. Apply your mind carefully to what I say.
Grym. Go on, I beg. For I am sent on this very account to you, and you shall always be amongst our clientèle.
Flex. Ah, that apple is too raw for me!
Grym. What do you whisper?
Flex. I say the only way will be for you to be what you wish to be thought to be.
Grym. How so?
Flex. If you wish to make anything warm, do you then bring it to an imaginary fire?
Grym. No, but to a real fire.
Flex. If you wish to cleave anything in two, will you use a picture of a sword depicted on tapestry?
Grym. No, an iron sword.
Flex. Is there not the same strength with real things as with artificial ones?
Grym. Apparently there is a difference.
Flex. Nor wilt thou effect the same with a simulated moderation as with real modesty, for falsity at some time or other shows itself for what it is; truth is always the same. In fictitious modesty you say something sometimes or do something, publicly or privately, when you forget yourself (for you are not able always and everywhere to be on your guard), whereby you are caught in your pretences. And as formerly men loved you, since they did not yet know you, afterwards, and for a long time afterwards, they hate you when they have got to know you.
Grym. How shall I note this modesty so as to be able to appropriate it as thou teachest?
Flex. If thou wilt persuade thyself of what is actually the case, that other people are better than thou art.
Gorg. Better indeed! Where are these people? I suppose in Heaven, for on earth there are very few equal; better, no one!
Grym. So I have heard often of my father and my uncle.
Flex. The circumstance that you do not understand the significance of words leads you far from the knowledge of truth. Tell us, what do you call good, so that we may know if there is a better than thyself?
Grym. What do I know of the good? The good comes from being the offspring of good parents.