The Lover of Lies, or the Doubter Tychiades (16-20)

For my part, I should like to ask you what you say to those who free possessed men from their terrors by exorcising the spirits so manifestly. I need not discuss this: everyone knows about the Syrian from Palestine, the adept in it,[*] how many he. takes in hand who fall down in the light of the moon and roll their eyes and fill their mouths with foam ; nevertheless, he restores them to health and sends them, away normal in mind, delivering them from their straits for a large fee. When he stands beside them as they lie there and asks: ‘Whence came you into his body?’ the patient himself is silent, but the spirit answers in Greek or in the language of whatever foreign country he comes from, telling how and whence he entered into the man; whereupon, by adjuring the spirit and if he does not obey, threatening him, he drives him out. Indeed, I actually saw one coming out, black and smoky in colour.” “It is nothing much,” I remarked, “for you, Ion, to see that kind of sight, when even the ‘ forms’? that the father of your school, Plato, points out are plain to you, a hazy object of vision to the rest of us, whose eyes are weak.”

“Why, is Ion the only one who has seen that kind of sight?” said Eucrates. “Have not many others encountered spirits, some at night and some by day? For myself, I have seen such things, not merely once but almost hundreds of times. At first I was disturbed by them, but now, of course, because of

“Anyhow,” said Eucrates, “the affair of the statue was observed every night by everybody in the house, boys, young men and old men, and you could hear about it not only from me but from all our people.”” “Statue!” said I, ‘what do you mean?”

“Have you not observed on coming in,’ said he, “avery fine statue set up in the hall, the work of Demetrius, the maker of portrait-statues ?” “Do you mean the discus-thrower,”’ said I, “the one bent over in the position of the throw, with his head turned back toward the hand that holds the discus, with one leg slightly bent, looking as if he would spring up all at once with the cast?” “Not that one,” said he, “for that is one of Myron’s works, the discus-thrower you speak of. Neither do I mean the one beside it, the one binding his head with the fillet, the handsome Jad, for that is Polycleitus’ work. Never mind those to the right as you come in, among which stand the tyrant-slayers, modelled’ by Critius and Nesiotes; but if you noticed one beside the fountain, pot-bellied, bald on the forehead, half bared by the hang of his cloak, with some of the hairs of his beard wind-blown and his veins prominent, the image of a real man, that is the one I mean;

“Yes,” I said, “I saw one to the right of the spout, wearing fillets and withered wreaths, his breast covered with gilt leaves.” “I myself puton the gilt leaves,’ said Eucrates, “when he cured me of the ague that was torturing me to death every other day.” “Really, is our excellent Pellichus a doctor also?” said I. “Do not mock,” Eucrates replied, “or before long the man will punish you. I know what virtue there is in this statue that you make fun of. Don’t you suppose that he can send fevers upon whomsoever he will, since it is possible for him to send them away?” “May the manikin be gracious and kindly,” said I, “since he is so manful. But what else does everyone in the house see him doing ?”

“As soon as night comes,” he said, “he gets down from the pedestal on which he stands and goes all about the house; we all encounter him, sometimes singing, and he has never harmed anybody. One has but to turn aside, and he passes without molesting in any way those who saw him. Upon my word, he often takes baths and disports himself all night, so that the water can be heard splashing.” “See here, then,” said I, “perhaps the statue is not Pellichus but Talos the Cretan, the son of Minos; he was a

“See here, Tychiades,” said he, “‘perhaps you will be sorry for your joke later on. I know what happened to the man who stole the obols that we offer him on the first of each month.” “It ought to have been something very dreadful,” said Ion, “since he committed a sacrilege. How was he punished, Eucrates? I should like to hear about it, no matter how much Tychiades here is going to doubt it.”

“A number of obols,” he said, “were lying at his feet, and some other small coins of silver had been stuck to his thigh with wax, and leaves of silver, votive offerings or payment for a cure from one or another of those who through him had ceased to be subject to fever. We had a plaguy Libyan servant, a groom; the fellow undertook to steal and did steal everything that was there, at night, after waiting until the statue had descended. But as soon as Pellichus came back and discovered that he had been robbed, mark how he punished and exposed the Libyan! The unhappy man ran about the hall the whole night long unable to get out, just as if he had been thrown into a labyrinth, until finally he was caught in possession of the stolen property when daycame. He got a sound thrashing then, on being caught, and he did not long survive the incident, dying a rogue’s death from being flogged, he said, every night, so that welts showed on his body the