Letter 80: To the most illustrious Sarapion.

To the most illustrious Sarapion. People celebrate public festivals in various ways. I am sending you a hundred long-stalked dried figs from my own garden as a sweet token of this pleasant season -- a gift that offers a trifling pleasure if measured by its size, but perhaps a sufficient one if measured by its quality. Aristophanes held that figs are sweeter than anything except honey, and on second thought he was not sure even honey surpassed them, as he himself declares upon reflection. The historian Herodotus, for his part, thought it sufficient proof of a land's utter desolation to say: "They have neither figs nor any other good thing" -- as if there were no fruit superior to figs, and as if one needed nothing more wherever figs could be found. The wise Homer praises other fruits for their size, color, or beauty, but to the fig alone he grants the epithet of sweetness. He calls honey "pale," afraid of inadvertently calling it "sweet" -- a quality that in many cases actually turns bitter. But to the fig alone he assigns its proper praise, as to nectar, because it alone among all fruits is genuinely sweet. Hippocrates says that honey is sweet to the taste but invariably bitter in its digestion, and I do not doubt him, for everyone agrees that honey produces bile and transforms the bodily humors into the opposite of what the palate experienced. This actually confirms its fundamentally bitter nature, for it would not transform into bitterness if bitterness were not inherent in it from the beginning. The fig, however, is not only pleasant to the taste but superior in digestion as well. It is so beneficial to human beings that Aristotle calls it an antidote to every deadly poison and says that at banquets it is served both as an appetizer and as a dessert for no other reason than this -- as though it were some sacred charm wrapped around the potential harm of the other foods. Moreover, the fig is sacred to the gods and is placed upon every altar as an offering, and it is better than any frankincense for the preparation of incense. This is not merely my own claim, but anyone who has learned its use knows that this is the teaching of a wise man and a hierophant. The excellent Theophrastus, setting forth in his agricultural precepts the propagation of trees through cross-grafting and describing which plants yield to reciprocal grafting, praises the fig tree above all other plants as being receptive to the most varied and diverse kinds of growth. It alone among trees readily bears the shoots of every genus, if one cuts each of its branches and then fits into each stump a graft naturally suited to another kind, so that a single fig tree often suffices in appearance for an entire garden, sending forth from itself, as from the loveliest meadow, a varied and manifold splendor of fruits. Other tree fruits are short-lived and cannot endure storage, but the fig alone can last beyond a full year and survive until the birth of the next season's crop. And so Homer says that in the garden of Alcinous the fruits "grow old upon one another." In the case of other fruits this might seem merely a poetic myth, but in the case of the fig alone it accords with the plain evidence of truth, because the fig alone of all fruits persists through successive seasons. Such, then, is the gift I send you -- a fruit that the poets celebrate, the philosophers praise, the physicians recommend, and the priests consecrate. May it serve as a token of friendship between us, and may the sweetness of the fig be an emblem of the sweetness I wish for our continued correspondence.

To the most illustrious Sarapion 3 People observe the public festivals in various ways. But I am sending you a hundred long-stalked, dried, homegrown figs as a sweet token of this pleasant festal season. If you measure the gift by its size, the pleasure I offer you is trifling, but if measured by its beauty it will perhaps suffice. It is the opinion of Aristophanes1 that figs are sweeter than anything else except honey, and on second thoughts he does not allow that even honey is sweeter than figs. Herodotus2 the historian also, in order to describe a really barren desert thought it enough to say: "They have no figs or anything else that is good"; as though to say that among the fruits of the earth there is none to be ranked above figs, and that where men had figs they did not wholly lack something good. Again, the wise Homer praises other fruits for their size or colour or beauty, but to the fig alone he allows the epithet "sweet." 3 And he calls honey "yellow,"4 for fear he should inadvertently call "sweet" what is in fact often bitter; accordingly, to the fig alone 5 he assigns this epithet for its own, just as he does to nectar, because alone of all things it is sweet. Indeed Hippocrates6 says that honey, though it is sweet to the taste, is quite bitter to the digestion, and I can believe his statement; for all agree that it produces bile and turns the juices to the very opposite of its original flavour, which fact even more surely convicts it of being in its origin naturally bitter.7 For it would not change to this bitterness if in the beginning this quality had not belonged to it, from which it changed to the reverse. But the fig is not only sweet to taste but it is still better for digestion. And it is so beneficial to mankind that Aristotle1 even says that it is an antidote for every deadly poison, and that for no other reason than this is it served before other food as a first course at meals and then at the end for dessert, as though we embraced it in preference to any other sacred means of averting the injury caused by the things we eat. Moreover, that the fig is offered to the gods also, and is set on the altar in every sacrifice, and that it is better than any frankincense for making fragrant fumes, this is a statement not made by me alone,2 but whoever is acquainted with its use knows that it is the statement of a wise man, a hierophant. Again, the admirable Theophrastus3 in his precepts of agriculture, when he is describing the kinds of grafted trees and what sorts admit of being grafted on one another, commends the fig tree above all other plants, if I am not mistaken, as being able to receive various and different kinds, and as the only one of them all that easily bears a growth of any other sort, if you cut out every one of its boughs and then break off and insert a different engrafted stock into each of the cleft stumps; hence to look at it is often equivalent to a complete garden, since it returns you the variegated and manifold splendours of other fruits, as happens in the loveliest orchard. And whereas the fruits of other fruit-bearing trees are short-lived and cannot last for any time, the fig alone can survive beyond the year, and is present at the birth of the fruit that is to follow it. Hence Homer 1 also says that in the garden of Alcinous the fruits "wax old on" one another. Now in the case of other fruits this might perhaps seem to be a poetic fiction, but for the fig alone it would be consistent with the plain fact, because alone of all fruits it lasts for some time. Such, I think, is the nature of the fig in general, but the kind that grows with us is much better than others; so that in proportion as the fig is more valuable than other plants, our fig is more admirable than the fig in general; and while the latter in its kind surpasses all other fruits, it is in its turn excelled by ours, and again holds its own by comparison in both respects, first in being plainly superior, and secondly, in points where it seems to be inferior it wins on the general count. And it is quite natural that this should be so in our country alone. For it was fitting, I think, that the city which in very truth belongs to Zeus and is the eye of the whole East,—I mean sacred and most mighty Damascus,—2 which in all other respects bears the palm, for instance, for the beauty of its shrines and the size of its temples and for its exquisitely tempered climate and the splendour of its fountains, the number of its rivers and the fertility of its soil— I say it is fitting that she alone should keep up her reputation by the possession of a plant of this excellence and thus excite an excess of admiration. Accordingly our tree does not brook transplanting, nor does it overstep the natural boundaries of its growth, but as though by a law that governs the indigenous plant refuses to grow in colonies abroad. The same sorts of gold and silver are, I believe, produced in many places, but our country alone gives birth to a plant that cannot be grown anywhere else. And just like the wares of India, or Persian silks, or all that is produced and collected in the country of the Ethiopians but travels everywhere by the law of commerce, so, too, our native fig does not grow anywhere else on earth, but is exported by us to all parts, and there is no city or island to which it does not travel, because it is so much admired for its sweet flavour. Moreover it even adorns the imperial table and is the boast and ornament of every feast; and there is no cake or roll or pastry 1 or any kind of confectionery to match it as a sweetmeat wherever it comes; so far does it surpass in admirable qualities all other dainties, and moreover all figs from any other place. Again, other figs are either eaten in autumn, or are dried and go to the store-room, but the fig of our country alone can be used in both ways, and though it is good while on the tree it is far better when it has been dried. And should you see with your own eyes their beauty while they are still on the trees, and how from each one of the bi'anches they hang by long stalks like flower-buds, so to speak, or again, how with their fruit they completely encircle the tree, then you would say that by this circular series one above another they compose a splendid and varied picture even as a neck in its necklace. Then again, the manner in which they are taken from the tree and the means employed for preserving them for a long time involve quite as much outlay as the pleasure derived from their use. For they are not, like other kinds of figs, thrown together in one place, nor are they dried in the sun in heaps or promiscuously; but first they are gathered carefully by hand from the trees, then they are hung-on walls by means of sticks or thorny twigs, so that they may be bleached by exposure to the direct rays of the sun while they are also safe from the attacks of animals and small birds, since the protection of the prickles furnishes them with a sort of bodyguard. So far my letter to you deals with their origin, sweetness, beauty, confection, and use, and is in lighter vein. Now to consider the number one hundred,1 which is more honourable than any other and contains in itself the perfection of all numbers, as one may learn from the following considerations. I am indeed well aware that there is a saying of wise men of old that an odd number is to be preferred to an even, and they declare that the source of increase is that which does not couple. For in a pair the one term being equal to the other remains of the same quality, but when there are two numbers the third produces oddness. But for my part, even though the statement is somewhat bold, I would nevertheless say this: Numbers surely depend on a generative principle, and can carry on consecutive increase through the whole series. But I hold that it is far more just to assign the cause of that increase to the even than to the odd number. For the number one is not odd, when it has no number in respect to which it were odd. But its coupling with two produces twofold oddness,1 and the number three, coming from the two, naturally proceeds as increase. Then again when we add two to two, the result is the higher stage of the number four, and, in a word, their conjunction, while making oddness clear in each of their two elements, is constituted in the number two. This being granted, I should say, of course, that when the first decad is revolving on itself in a circle,2 the whole series progresses to the number one hundred, so that by the number one the increase amounts to ten, and the decad in turn is added each time to itself, and the total is reached in the number one hundred. And starting again from this point, with the hundreds, the whole series of numbers derive their power, by the activity of the number one, except that it is the number two 3 when combined with it that ever produces the odd and again recalls it to itself, until again it concludes with a second hundred the sum of all the numbers, and, making it complete, proceeds again from it to another and under the denomination of hundreds continually carries forward the sum to the conception of infinity. So I think that Homer too in his poems does not lightly or idly assign to Zeus the hundred-tasselled aegis,4 but in a lofty and obscure saying he hinted at this that to the most perfect god he attached the most perfect number, that number by which alone beyond all the others he would most fittingly be adorned, or because the whole universe which he has comprehended in the shape of an aegis, by reason of the roundness of that image, no other number than the hundred describes, and so with the round number one hundred he harmonises the conception of the intelligible world as a whole. Again, on the same principle he makes Briareus with his hundred hands the assessor of Zeus and allows him to rival his father's might, as though he expressed the perfection of his strength by means of the perfect number. Again, Pindar1 the Theban, when he celebrates the destruction of Typhoeus in his odes of victory, and ascribes to the most mighty ruler of the gods power over this most mighty giant, rises to the highest pitch of praise simply because with one blow he was able to lay low the hundred-headed giant, as though no other giant was held worthy to fight hand to hand with Zeus than he whom, alone of all the rest, his mother had armed with a hundred heads; and as though no other of the gods save Zeus only were worthy to win a victory by the destruction of so great a giant. Simonides2 also, the lyric poet, thinks it enough for his praise of Apollo that he should call the god "Hekatos" 3 and adorn him with this title rather than with any other sacred symbol; for this reason, that he overcame the Python, the serpent, with a hundred shafts, as he says, and the god himself took more pleasure in being addressed as "Hekatos" than as "the Pythian," as if he were thus invoked by the symbolic expression of his complete title. Then again, the island Crete which nurtured Zeus, has received as her reward, as though it were her fee for sheltering Zeus, the honour of cities to the number of one hundred. Homer1 too praises Thebes the hundred-gated for no other reason than this that there was a marvellous beauty in her hundred gates. I say nothing of the hecatombs of the gods and temples a hundred feet long, altars with a hundred steps, rooms that hold a hundred men, fields of a hundred acres and other things divine and human which are classed together because they have this number for their epithet. It is a number, moreover, that has the power to adorn official rank both for war and peace, and while it lends brilliance to a company of a hundred soldiers it also confers distinction on the title of judges 2 when their number is one hundred. And I could say more than this, but the etiquette of letter-writing deters me. But do you be indulgent to my discourse, for what I have said already is more than enough. And if my essay has in your judgement even a mediocre elegance it shall surely go forth for others to read, after receiving the testimonial of your vote; but if it need another hand to make it fulfil its aim, who better than you should know how to polish the manuscript to the point of elegance and make it smooth so as to give pleasure to the eye? 3 Sarapion is otherwise unknown. 1 Quoted in Athenaeus, Deipnosophists 652f; Fragg. Incert. Fab. 7. 2 1. 71.  3 Odyssey 7. 116.  4 Odyssey 10. 234. 5 Homer does however call honey " sweet" in Odyssey 20. 69. 6 De internis affectionibus 84A; Hippocrates is speaking of honey that has been cooked. 7 Oration 8. 241a, Julian says that honey is made from the bitterest herbs. 1 Aristotle, Frag. 105, Rose. 2 A Julianic commonplace, cf. note on Vol. 2 Fragment of a Letter 299c, and above, p. 222. 3 Enquiry into Plants 2. 5. 6. 1 Odyssey 7. 120. 2 Julian, as far as we know, never visited Damascus. 1 An echo of Demosthenes, On the Crown 260. 1 He was sending one hundred figs. 1 i.e. 1 is now odd in relation to 2, and their combination results in 3, an odd number. 2 i.e. when ten is multiplied by ten. 3 The writer, who probably could not have explained his cryptic language, insists on the superiority of the dyad, even and feminine, to the odd number 1, regarded as the male principle. 4 The epithet is not used in our Homer of the aegis of Zeus, but of the aegis of Athene and the girdle of Hera. 1 Pindar, Olympian Ode 4. 1; Pythian 1. 16. 2 Simonides, frag. 26, Bergk. 3 This epithet means "Far-Darter" and is misinterpreted by the writer of this letter to mean "Hundredth." 1 Iliad 9. 383; Aeneid 3. 106. 2 The centumviri.

[Πρός: Σαραπίωνι τῷ λαμπροτάτῳ] Ἄλλοι μὲν ἄλλως τὰς πανηγύρεις νομίζουσιν, ἐγὼ δὲ ἡδύ σοι γλυκείας ἑορτῆς σύνθημα τῶν ἐπιχωρίων ἰσχάδων μακροκέντρους ἑκατὸν ἐκπέμπω, τῷ μὲν τοῦ δώρου μεγέθει μικράν, τῷ κάλλει δὲ ἴσως ἀρκοῦσαν ἡδονὴν μνηστεύων. Ἀριστοφάνει μὲν οὖν δοκεῖ εἶναι πλὴν μέλιτος τῶν ἄλλων γλυκύτερον τὰς ἰσχάδας, καὶ οὐδὲ τοῦτ’ ἀνέχεται τῶν ἰσχάδων εἶναι γλυκύτερον, ὡς αὐτὸς ἐπικρίνας λέγει· Ἡροδότῳ δὲ ἄρα τῷ συγγραφεῖ πρὸς ἐπίδειξιν ἐρημίας ἀληθοῦς ἤρκεσεν εἰπόντι "Παρ’ οἷς οὔτε σῦκά ἐστιν οὔτε ἄλλο ἀγαθὸν οὐδέν," ὡς ἄρ’ οὔτε ἄλλου τινὸς ἐν καρποῖς ἀγαθοῦ προτέρου τῶν σύκων ὄντος, οὔτε ἔτι πάντως ἀγαθοῦ δέον τοῖς παρ’ οἷς ἂν ᾖ τὸ σῦκον. Ὅμηρος δὲ ὁ σοφὸς τὰ μὲν ἄλλα τῶν καρπῶν εἰς μέγεθος ἢ χρόαν ἢ κάλλος ἐπαινεῖ, μόνῳ δὲ τῷ σύκῳ τὴν τῆς γλυκύτητος ἐπωνυμίαν συγχωρεῖ. καὶ τὸ μέλι χλωρὸν καλεῖ, δεδιὼς μὴ λάθῃ γλυκὺ προσειπών, ὃ καὶ πικρὸν εἶναι πολλαχοῦ συμβαίνει· τῷ σύκῳ δὲ ἄρα μόνῳ ἀποδίδωσι τὴν οἰκείαν εὐφημίαν, ὥσ περτῷ νέκταρι, διότι καὶ μόνον γλυκὺ τῶν ἄλλων ἐστί. καὶ μέλι μὲν Ἱπποκράτης φησὶ γλυκὺ μὲν εἶναι τὴν αἴσθησιν, πικρὸν δὲ πάντως τὴν ἀνάδοσιν, καὶ οὐκ ἀπιστῶ τῷ λόγῳ· χολῆς γὰρ αὐτὸ ποιητικὸν εἶναι ξύμπαντες ὁμολογοῦσι καὶ τρέπειν τοὺς χυμοὺς εἰς τοὐναντίον τῆς γεύσεως. ὃ δὴ καὶ μᾶλλον τῆς ἐκ φύσεως αὐτοῦ πικρότητος κατηγορεῖ τὴν γένεσιν· οὐ γὰρ ἂν εἰς τοῦτο μετέβαλλεν ὃ πικρόν ἐστιν, εἰ μὴ καὶ πάντως αὐτῷ προσῆν ἐξ ἀρχῆς τοῦτο, ἀφ’ οὗ πρὸς τὸ ἕτερον μετέπιπτε. σῦκον δὲ οὐκ αἰσθήσει μόνον ἡδύ, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀναδόσει κρεῖττόν ἐστιν. οὕτω δέ ἐστιν ἀνθρώποις ὠφέλιμον, ὥστε καὶ ἀλεξιφάρμακον αὐτὸ παντὸς ὀλεθρίου φαρμάκου φησὶν Ἀριστοτέλης εἶναι, κἀν τοῖς δείπνοις οὐκ ἄλλου τινὸς ἢ τούτου χάριν τῶν ἐδεσμάτων προπαρατίθεσθαί τε καὶ ἐπιτραγηματίζεσθαι, καθάπερ ἀντ’ ἄλλης τινὸς ἀλεξήσεως ἱερᾶς ταῖς τῶν βρωμάτων ἀδικίαις περιπτυσσόμενον. καὶ μὴν ὅτι καὶ θεοῖς τὸ σῦκον ἀνάκειται, καὶ θυσίας ἐστὶν ἁπάσης ἐμβώμιον, καὶ ὅτι παντὸς λιβανωτοῦ κρεῖττον ἐς θυμιάματος σκευασίαν ἐστίν, οὐκ ἐμὸς ἴδιος οὗτος ὁ λόγος, ἀλλ’ ὅστις τὴν χρείαν αὐτοῦ ἔμαθεν, οἶδεν ὡς ἀνδρὸς σοφοῦ καὶ ἱεροφάντου λόγος ἐστί. Θεόφραστος δὲ ὁ καλὸς ἐν γεωργίας παραγγέλμασι τὰς τῶν ἑτεροφύτων δένδρων γενέσεις ἐκτιθεὶς καὶ ὅσα ἀλληλούχοις ἐγκεντρίσεσιν εἴκει, πάντων, οἶμαι, τῶν φυτῶν μᾶλλον ἐπαινεῖ τῆς συκῆς τὸ δένδρον ὡς ἂν ποικίλης καὶ διαφόρου γενέσεως δεκτικὸν καὶ μόνον τῶν ἄλλων εὔκολον παντοίου γένους ἐνεγκεῖν βλάστην, εἴ τις αὐτοῦ τῶν κλάδων ἐκτεμὼν ἕκαστον, εἶτα ἐκρήξας ἄλλην ἐς ἄλλο τῶν πρέμνων ἐμφυῆ γονὴν ἐναρμόσειεν, ὡς ἀρκεῖν ἤδη πολλάκις αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀνθ’ ὁλοκλήρου κήπου τὴν ὄψιν, οἷον ἐν λειμῶνι χαριεστάτῳ ποικίλην τινὰ καὶ πολυειδῆ τῶν καρπῶν ἀφ’ ἑαυτοῦ τὴν ἀγλαΐαν ἀντιπεπομφότος. καὶ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα τῶν ἀκροδρύων ἐστὶν ὀλιγοχρόνια καὶ τὴν μονὴν οὐκ ἀνέχεται, μόνῳ δὲ τῷ σύκῳ καὶ ὑπερενιαυτίζειν ἔξεστι καὶ τῇ τοῦ μέλλοντος καρποῦ γενέσει συνενεχθῆναι. ὥστε φησὶ καὶ Ὅμηρος ἐν Ἀλκίνου κήπῳ τοὺς καρποὺς ἀλλήλοις ἐπιγηράσκειν. ἐπὶ μὲν οὖν τῶν ἄλλων ἴσως ἂν μῦθος ποιητικὸς εἶναι δόξειε· μόνῳ δὲ τῷ σύκῳ πρὸς τὸ τῆς ἀληθείας ἐναργὲς ἂν συμφέροιτο, διότι καὶ μόνον τῶν ἄλλων καρπῶν ἐστὶ μονιμώτερον. τοιαύτην δὲ ἔχον, οἶμαι, τὸ σῦκον τὴν φύσιν, πολλῷ κρεῖττόν ἐστι παρ’ ἡμῖν τὴν γένεσιν, ὡς εἶναι τῶν μὲν ἄλλων φυτῶν αὐτὸ τιμιώτερον, αὐτοῦ δὲ τοῦ σύκου τὸ παρ’ ἡμῖν θαυμασιώτερον, καὶ νικᾶν μὲν αὐτὸ τῶν ἄλλων τὴν γένεσιν, αὖθις δ’ ὑπὸ τοῦ παρ’ ἡμῖν ἡττᾶσθαι καὶ τῇ πρὸς ἑκάτερον ἐγκρίσει πάλιν σώζεσθαι, κρατοῦντι μὲν ἐοικός, οἷς δ’ αὖ κρατεῖσθαι δοκεῖ, πάλιν ἐς τὸ καθόλου νικῶντι. καὶ τοῦτο οὐκ ἀπεικότως παρ’ ἡμῖν μόνοις συμβαίνει· ἔδει γὰρ, οἶμαι, τὴν Διὸς πόλιν ἀληθῶς καὶ τὸν τῆς ἑῴας ἁπάσης ὀφθαλμόν· τὴν ἱερὰν καὶ μεγίστην Δαμασκὸν λέγω· τοῖς τε ἄλλοις σύμπασιν, οἷον ἱερῶν κάλλει καὶ νεῶν μεγέθει καὶ ὡρῶν εὐκρασίᾳ καὶ πηγῶν ἀγλαΐᾳ, καὶ ποταμῶν πλήθει καὶ γῆς εὐφορίᾳ νικῶσαν μόνην ἄρα καὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ φυτῷ πρὸς τὴν τοῦ θαύματος ὑπεροχὴν ἀρκέσαι. οὐδὲν οὖν ἀνέχεται μεταβολῆς τὸ δένδρον, οὐδὲ ὑπερβαίνει τοὺς ἐπιχωρίους ὅρους τῆς βλάστης, ἀλλ’ αὐτόχθονος φυτοῦ νόμῳ τὴν ἐξ ἀποικίας γένεσιν ἀρνεῖται. καὶ χρυσὸς μὲν, οἶμαι, καὶ ἄργυρος ὁ αὐτὸς πολλαχοῦ φύεται, μόνη δὲ ἡ παρ’ ἡμῖν χώρα τίκτει φυτὸν ἀλλαχοῦ φῦναι μὴ δυνάμενον. ὥσπερ δὲ τὰ ἐξ Ἰνδῶν ἀγώγιμα καὶ οἱ Περσικοὶ σῆρες ἢ ὅσα ἐν τῇ Αἰθιόπων γῇ τίκτεται μὲν καὶ λέγεται, τῷ δὲ τῆς ἐμπορίας νόμῳ πανταχοῦ διαβαίνει· οὕτω δὴ καὶ τὸ παρ’ ἡμῖν σῦκον, ἀλλαχοῦ τῆς γῆς οὐ γινόμενον, πανταχοῦ παρ’ ἡμῶν στέλλεται, καὶ οὔτε πόλις οὔτε νῆσός ἐστιν, ἣν οὐκ ἐπέρχεται τῷ τῆς ἡδονῆς θαύματι. ἀλλὰ καὶ τράπεζαν βασιλικὴν κοσμεῖ, καὶ παντὸς δείπνου σεμνόν ἐστιν ἐγκαλλώπισμα, καὶ οὔτ’ ἔνθρυπτον οὔτε στρεπτὸν οὔτε νεήλατον οὔτε ἄλλο καρυκείας γένος ἥδυσμα ἴσον ἧ ἂν ἀφίκηται· τοσοῦτον αὐτῷ τῶν τε ἄλλων ἐδεσμάτων καὶ δὴ καὶ τῶν ἑκασταχοῦ σύκων περίεστι τοῦ θαύματος. καὶ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα τῶν σύκων ἢ ὀπωρινὴν ἔχει τὴν βρῶσιν ἢ τερσαινόμενα ἐς τὸ ταμεῖον ἔρχεται, τὸ δὲ παρ’ ἡμῖν μόνον ἀμφοτερίζει τῇ χρείᾳ, καὶ καλὸν μέν ἐστιν ἐπιδένδριον, πολλῷ δὲ κάλλιον, εἰ ἐς τὴν τερσιὰν ἔλθοι. εἰ δὲ καὶ τὴν ὥραν αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐν τοῖς δένδροις ὀφθαλμῷ λάβοις, καὶ ὅπως ἑκάστου τῶν πρέμνων ἐπιμήκεσι τοῖς κέντροις οἱονεὶ καλύκων δίκην ἀπήρτηται, ἢ ὅπως ἐν κύκλῳ περιθεῖ τῷ καρπῷ τὸ δένδρον, ἄλλας ἐπ’ ἄλλαις ἐν στόιχῳ περιφερεῖ πολυειδεῖς ἀγλαΐας μηχανᾶσθαι φαίης ἂν αὐτὸ καθάπερ ἐν ὅρμῳ δέρης. αἱ δὲ τῶν δένδρων ἐξαιρέσεις αὐτοῦ καὶ ἡ πρὸς χρονίαν μονὴν ἐπιτέχνησις οὐκ ἐλάττονα τῆς ἐς τὴν χρείαν ἡδονῆς ἔχει τὴν φιλοτιμίαν· οὐ γὰρ ὥσπερ τὰ ἄλλα τῶν σύκων ὁμοῦ καὶ κατὰ ταὐτὸν ἔρριπται, οὐδὲ σωρηδὸν ἢ χύδην ἡλίῳ τερσαίνεται, ἀλλὰ πρῶτον μὲν ἠρέμα τῶν δένδρων αὐτὰ ταῖς χερσὶν ἀποδρέπουσιν, ἔπειτα ὅρπηξιν ἢ ῥάβδοις ἀκανθώδεσι τῶν τοίχων ἀπαρτῶσιν, ἵνα λευκαίνηται μὲν ἡλίῳ καθαρῷ προσομιλοῦντα, μένῃ δ’ ἀνεπιβούλευτα τῶν ζῴων καὶ τῶν ὀρνιθίων, οἱονεὶ τῶν κέντρων τῇ ἀλεξήσει δορυφορούμενα. καὶ περὶ μὲν γενέσεως αὐτῶν καὶ γλυκύτητος καὶ ὥρας καὶ ποιήσεως καὶ χρείας ταῦτά σοι παρ’ ἡμῶν ἡ ἐπιστολὴ προσπαίζει. Ὅ γε μὴν τῶν ἑκατὸν ἀριθμὸς ὡς ἔστι τῶν ἄλλων τιμιώτερος καὶ τὸ τέλεον ἐν αὑτῷ τῶν ἀριθμῶν περιγράφων, μάθοι ἄν τις θεωρῶν τῇδε. καὶ οὐκ ἀγνοῶ μὲν ὡς παλαιῶν καὶ σοφῶν ἀνδρῶν ὁ λόγος, τοῦ ἀρτίου τὸν περιττὸν προκεῖσθαι, οὐδὲ ὡς ἀρχήν φασιν αὐξήσεως εἶναι τὸ μὴ συνδυάζον· τὸ γὰρ ὅμοιον θατέρῳ μένειν ὁποῖον καὶ τὸ ἕτερον, δυοῖν δὲ γενομένοιν τὸν τρίτον εἶναι τὴν περιττότητα. ἐγὼ δ’ ἄν, εἰ καὶ τολμηρότερος ὁ λόγος ἐστί, φαίην ὅμως· ἀρχῆς μὲν εἰσιν οἱ ἀριθμοὶ πάντως ἐξηρτημένοι, καὶ τὸ προσεχὲς τῆς αὐξήσεως διὰ παντὸς ἂν κομίζοιντο. πολλῷ γε μὴν οἶμαι δικαιότερον τῷ ἀρτίῳ μᾶλλον ἢ τῷ περιττῷ τὴν τῆς αὐξήσεως αἰτίαν προσκεῖσθαι. ὁ μὲν γὰρ εἷς ἀριθμὸς οὐκ ἂν εἴη περιττός, οὐκ ἔχων ὅτου περιττὸς γένοιτο· ἡ δὲ τῆς δυάδος συζυγία τίκτει διπλῆν τὴν περιττότητα, κἀκ τῶν δυοῖν ἀριθμῶν ὁ τρίτος εἰκότως εἰς αὔξησιν ἔρχεται. πάλιν τε ἐν τῇ τῆς ἑτέρας δυάδος μίξει τῆς τετράδος τὴν ὑπεροχὴν λαμβάνει, καὶ ὅλως ἡ πρὸς ἄλληλα κοινωνία τὴν ἐξ ἑκατέρου περιττότητα φαίνουσα εἰς τὸν τῆς δυάδος ἀριθμὸν περικλείεται. δεδομένου δὴ τούτου, φαίην ἂν, οἶμαι, τῆς πρώτης δεκάδος τὴν εἰς αὑτὴν περιφέρειαν ἀνακυκλούσης εἰς τὸν τῆς ἑκατοντάδος ἀριθμὸν τὸ ὅλον διαβαίνειν, ὡς τῷ μὲν ἑνὶ τὴν αὔξησιν ἂν εἰς δέκα συντείνειν, πάλιν δ’ αὖ τὴν δεκάδα δι’ αὑτῆς ἀνιοῦσαν εἰς τὸν τῶν ἑκατὸν ἀριθμὸν συντελεῖσθαι. κἀντεῦθεν αὖ πάλιν ἐξ ἑκατοντάδων τὸ ὅλον τῶν ἀριθμῶν τὴν δύναμιν καρποῦσθαι, μήτε τοῦ ἑνὸς ἠρεμοῦντος, εἰ μή τι τῆς δυάδος ἐν τῇ μίξει τὸ περιττὸν ἀεὶ τικτούσης τε καὶ εἰς ἑαυτὴν αὖθις ἀνακαλουμένης, ἄχρις ἂν ἑτέρᾳ πάλιν ἑκατοντάδι τῶν ἀριθμῶν τὸ συναγόμενον κατακλείσῃ, καὶ τὸ τέλεον αὐτῷ προσάπτουσα πάλιν ἐξ αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὸ ἕτερον ἑρπύσῃ, ταῖς τῶν ἑκατοντάδων ἐπηγορίαις ἀεὶ τὸ ὅλον εἰς τὸ τῆς καταλήψεως ἄπειρον ἀναφέρουσα. δοκεῖ δέ μοι καὶ Ὅμηρος οὐχ ἁπλῶς οὐδὲ ἀργῶς ἐν τοῖς ἔπεσι τὴν ἑκατονταθύσανον αἰγίδα τῷ Διὶ περιθεῖναι, ἀλλά τινι κρείττονι καὶ ἀπορρήτῳ λόγῳ τοῦτο αἰνίττεσθαι λέγων, ὡς ἄρα τῷ τελεωτάτῳ θεῷ τὸν τελεώτατον ἀριθμὸν περιάψειε καὶ ᾧ μόνῳ παρὰ τοὺς ἄλλους ἂν δικαιότερον κοσμοῖτο, ἢ ὅτι τὸν ξύμπαντα κόσμον, ὃν εἰς αἰγίδος σχῆμα τῷ τῆς εἰκόνος περιφερεῖ ξυνείληφεν, οὐκ ἄλλος πως ἢ ὁ τῶν ἑκατὸν ἀριθμὸς περιγράφει, τῇ κατὰ κύκλον ἑκατοντάδι τὴν ἐς τὸ ὅλον τοῦ νοητοῦ κατανόησιν ἐφαρμόττων. ὁ δ’ αὐτὸς λόγος οὗτος καὶ τὸν ἑκατοντάχειρα, τὸν Βριάρεω, καθίζει πάρεδρον τῷ Διί, καὶ πρὸς τὴν τοῦ πατρὸς ἁμιλλᾶσθαι συγχωρεῖ δύναμιν, οἷον ἐν τῷ τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ τελέῳ τὸ τέλεον αὐτῷ τῆς ἰσχύος ἀποδιδούς. καὶ μὴν καὶ Πίνδαρος ὁ Θηβαῖος τὴν ἀναίρεσιν τὴν Τυφωέως ἐν ἐπινικίοις κηρύττων καὶ τὸ τοῦ μεγίστου τούτου γίγαντος κράτος τῷ μεγίστῳ βασιλεῖ τῶν θεῶν περιτιθεὶς οὐχ ἑτέρωθεν αὐτῷ τῆς εὐφημίας κρατύνει τὴν ὑπερβολὴν ἢ ὅτι τὸν γίγαντα τὸν ἑκατοντακέφαλον ἑνὶ βλήματι καθελεῖν ἤρκεσεν, ὡς οὔτε τινὸς ἄλλου εἰς χεῖρα τοῦ Διὸς ἐλθεῖν ἀντιμάχου γίγαντος νομισθέντος ἢ ὃν ἡ μήτηρ μόνον τῶν ἄλλων ἑκατὸν κεφαλαῖς ὥπλισεν, οὔτε ἑτέρου τινὸς θεῶν ἢ μόνου Διὸς ἀξιονικοτέρου πρὸς τὴν τοῦ τοσούτου γίγαντος καθαίρεσιν ὄντος. Σιμωνίδῃ δὲ ἄρα τῷ μελικῷ πρὸς τὴν Ἀπόλλωνος εὐφημίαν ἀρκεῖ τὸν θεὸν Ἕκατον προσειπόντι καὶ καθάπερ ἀντ’ ἄλλου τινὸς ἱεροῦ γνωρίσματος αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν κοσμῆσαι, διότι τὸν Πύθωνα, τὸν δράκοντα, βέλεσιν ἑκατόν, ὥς φησιν, ἐχειρώσατο, καὶ μᾶλλον αὐτὸν Ἕκατον ἢ Πύθιον χαίρειν προσαγορευόμενον, οἷον ὁλοκλήρου τινὸς ἐπωνυμίας συμβόλῳ προσφωνούμενον. ἥ γε μὴν τὸν Δία θρεψαμένη νῆσος, ἡ Κρήτη, καθάπερ τροφεῖα τῆς Διὸς ὑποδοχῆς ἀντιλαβοῦσα τῷ τῶν ἑκατὸν πόλεων ἀριθμῷ τετίμηται. καὶ Θήβας δὲ ἄρα τὰς ἑκατονταπύλους οὐκ ἄλλου τινὸς ἢ τούτου χάριν ἐπαινεῖ Ὅμηρος, διότι ταῖς πύλαις ταῖς ἑκατὸν κάλλος ἦν θαυμαστόν. καὶ σιωπῶ θεῶν ἑκατόμβας καὶ νεὼς ἑκατονταπέδους καὶ βωμοὺς ἑκατοντακρήπιδας καὶ τοὺς ἑκατονταδόχους ἀνδρῶνας καὶ τὰς ἀρούρας δὲ τὰς ἑκατονταπλέθρους καὶ ὅσα ἄλλα θεῖά τε καὶ ἀνθρώπινα τῇ τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ τοῦδε προσηγορίᾳ συνείληπται. ὅ γε μὲν ἀριθμὸς οὗτος οἶδε καὶ στρατιωτικὴν ὁμοῦ καὶ εἰρηνικὴν τάξιν κοσμῆσαι, καὶ φαιδρύνει μὲν τὴν ἑκατόντανδρον λοχαγίαν, τιμᾷ δὲ ἥδε καὶ δικαστῶν ἐς τὸ ἴσον ἥκουσαν ἐπωνυμίαν. καί με καὶ πλείω τούτων ἔχοντα λέγειν ὁ τῆς ἐπιστολῆς ἐπιστρέφει νόμος· σὺ δὲ ἀλλὰ συγγνώμην ἔχειν τῷ λόγῳ, διότι καὶ ταῦτα πλείω τῶν ἱκανῶν εἴρηται. καὶ εἰ μὲν ἔχει μέτριον ἐπὶ σοὶ κριτῇ κάλλος τὸ ἐγχείρημα, πάντως καὶ πρὸς τοὺς ἄλλους ἔκφορον ἔσται, τῆς παρὰ σοῦ ψήφου τὴν μαρτυρίαν δεξάμενον· εἰ δὲ χειρὸς ἑτέρας προσδεῖται πρὸς τὸ τοῦ σκοποῦ συμπλήρωμα, τίς ἂν σοῦ κάλλιον εἰδείη τὴν γραφὴν εἰς κάλλος ἀκριβώσας πρὸς τὴν τῆς θέας ἡδονὴν ἀπολεᾶναι;