ed, who have had no trouble themselves, and who look upon the
misfortunes of others without any suffering of their own, the feeling of
pity is itself a source of pleasure. For what man of us is not
delighted, though feeling a certain compassion too, with the death-scene
of Epaminondas at Mantinea? He, you know, did not allow the dart to be
drawn from his body until he had been told, in answer to his question,
that his shield was safe, so that in spite of the agony of his wound he
died calmly and with glory. Whose interest is not roused and sustained
by the banishment and return of Themistocles?[490] Truly the mere
chronological record of the annals has very little charm for us--little
more than the entries in the _fasti_: but the doubtful and varied
fortunes of a man, frequently of eminent character, involve feelings of
wonder, suspense, joy, sorrow, hope, fear: if these fortunes are crowned
with a glorious death, the imagination is satisfied with the most
fascinating delight which reading can give. Therefore it will be more in
accordance with my wishes if you come to the resolution to separate from
the main body of your narrative, in which you embrace a continuous
history of events, what I may call the drama of my actions and fortunes:
for it includes varied acts, and shifting scenes both of policy and
circumstance. Nor am I afraid of appearing to lay snares for your favour
by flattering suggestions, when I declare that I desire to be
complimented and mentioned with praise by you above all other writers.
For you are not the man to be ignorant of your own powers, or not to be
sure that those who withhold their admiration of you are more to be
accounted jealous, than those who praise you flatterers. Nor, again, am
I so senseless as to wish to be consecrated to an eternity of fame by
one who, in so consecrating me, does not also gain for himself the glory
which rightfully belongs to genius. For the famous Alexander himself did
not wish to be painted by Apelles, and to have his statue made by
Lysippus above all others, merely from personal favour to them, but
because he thought that their art would be a glory at once to them and
to himself. And, indeed, those artists used to make images of the person
known to strangers: but if such had never existed, illustrious men would
yet be no less illustrious. The Spartan Agesilaus, who would not allow a
portrait of himself to be painted or a statue made, deserves to be
quoted as an ex