The Hall (1-5)

Alexander longed to bathe in the Cydnus on seeing that the stream was fair and clear, safely deep, agreeably swift, delightful to swim in and cool in the height of summer; even with foreknowledge of the fever which he contracted from it, I do not think he would have abstained from his plunge. Then can it be that on seeing a hall beyond compare in the greatness of its size, the splendour of its beauty, the brilliance of its illumination, the lustre of its gilding and the gaiety of its pictures, a man would not long to compose speeches in it, if this were his business, to seek repute and win glory in it, to fill it with his voice and, as far as lay in him, to become part and parcel of its beauty? Or after looking it over carefully and admiring it, would he rather go away and leave it mute and voiceless, without according it a word of greeting or a particle of intercourse, as if he were dumb or else out of illwill had resolved to hold his tongue?

Heracles! such conduct would not be that of a connoisseur or a lover of beauty; it would be very vulgar, tasteless, even Philistine to despise what is sweetest, to reject what is fairest, and not to comprehend that in all that appeals to the eye, the same law does not hold for ordinary and for educated men. No, for the former it is enough to do the usual thing—just to see, to look about, to cast their eyes everywhere, to crane

And such a return does not consist simply in praising the hall. No doubt it was fitting - for Homer's island boy [*] to be astounded at the house of Menelaus and to compare its ivory and gold to the beautiful things in heaven because he had never seen anything else on earth that was beautiful. But to speak here, to collect an audience of cultured men and show one’s eloquence is also a form of praise. It is very delightful, I think, that the fairest of halls should be flung open for the harbourage of speech and should be full of praise and laudation; re-echoing softly like a cavern, following what is said, drawing out the concluding sounds of the voice and lingering on the last words; or, to put it better, committing to memory all that one says, like an appreciative hearer, and applauding the speaker and gracefully repeating his phrases. In some such way the rocks pipe in answer to the piping of the shepherds when the sound comes back again by repercussion and returns upon itself. The untaught think it is a maid who answers all who sing and shout,

To me, at least, it seems that a splendid hall excites the speaker's fancy and stirs it to speech, as if he were somehow prompted by what he sees. No doubt something of beauty flows through the eyes into the soul, and then fashions into the likeness of itself the words that it sends out. In the case of Achilles, the sight of his armour enhanced his anger at the Trojans, and when he put it on to try it, he was inspired and transported with the lust of battle.[*] Then are we to believe that the passion for speech is not enhanced by beautiful surroundings? Socrates was satisfied with a fine plane-tree and lush grass and a spring of clear water.not far from the Ilissus: sitting there, he plied his irony at the expense of Phaedrus of Myrrhinus, criticised the speech of Lysias, son of Cephalus, and invoked the Muses, believing that they would come to a sequestered spot and take part in the debate on love, and thinking no shame, old as he was, to invite maids to join him in amorous ditties. [*] May we not suppose that they would come to a place as beautiful as this, even without an invitation?

In truth, our shelter is not to be compared with mere shade or with the beauty of a plane-tree, not even if you pass over the one on the Ilissus and mention the Great King’s golden plane.[*] That was wonderful only on account of its cost; there was no