30
Hardly had I caught a glimpse of “your doctrines when I conceived admiration for you, as was inevitable, and for all these men, who are the lawgivers of the higher life and lend a helping hand to those who aspire to it by giving advice which is extremely good and extremely helpful if one does not act contrary to it or falter, but fixedly regards the principles which you have established and tries to bring his life into harmony and agreement with them—a thing, to be sure, which very few, even of your own disciples, do!I give Fritzsche’s interpretation of this last clause, though I fear it strains the Greek and is foreign to Lucian’s thought. Another, and I think a better, solution is to excise the clause as an early gloss, reading jas and interpreting it more naturally, “a thing which very few, even in our own time, do.” Compare the late gloss in β: τί ταῦτατοῖς καθ' ἡμᾶς ἔοικε μονάχοις.
31
When I saw, however, that many were not in love with Philosophy, but simply coveted the reputation of the thing, and that although in all the obvious, commonplace matters which anyone can easily copy they were very like worthy men (in beard, I mean, and walk and garb), in their life and actions, however, they contradicted their outward appearance and reversed your practice and sullied the dignity of the profession, I became angry. The case seemed to me to be as if some actor in tragedy who was soft and womanish should act the part of Achilles or Theseus, or even Heracles himself, without either walking or speaking as a hero should, but showing off airs and graces in a mask of such dignity. Even Helen or Polyxena would never suffer such a man to resemble them too closely, let alone Heracles, the conquering hero, who, in my opinion, would very soon smash both man and mask with a few strokes of his club for making him out so disgracefully effeminate.
