But you must not make the same mistake.
Experience will convince you that nothing can prevent you from arriving as a public speaker, in a single
day, and not a full day at that, by flying across the
mountains from Persia to Egypt! 
I wish first of all to paint you a picture in words,
like Cebes of old, and show you both the roads;
for there are two that lead to Lady Rhetoric, of
whom you seem to me exceedingly enamoured. So
let her be sitting upon a high place, very fair of
face and form, holding in her right hand the Horn
of Plenty, which runs over with all manner of fruits.
Beside her imagine, pray, that you see Wealth
standing, all golden and lovely. Let Fame, too,
and Power stand by; and let Compliments, resembling tiny Cupids, swarm all about her on the
wing in great numbers from every side. If you
have ever seen the Nile represented in a painting,
lying on the back of a crocodile or a hippopotamus,
such as are frequent in his stream, while tiny infants
play beside him—the Egyptians call them cubits—
the Compliments that surround Rhetoric are like
these. Evidently there were many copies of this picture about, and they were not all exactly alike. The Vatican has a treatment of the theme in sculpture, in which Nile rests upon a sphinx, and has about him sixteen ‘ cubits,” symbolizing the desired yearly rise of his stream. 
Now you, her lover, approach, desiring, of course,




 

to get upon the summit with all speed in order to
marry her when you get there, and to possess all
that she has—the Wealth, the Fame, the Compliments; for by law everything accrues to the
husband.
 
Then when you draw near the mountain,
at first you despair of climbing it, and the thing
seems to you just as Aornus A table-mountain captured by Alexander on his way to India, 11 stades high at its lowest point, according to Arrian (Alex. 4, 28). Cunningham identifies it ss Ranigat. Tomaschek considers the Greek name derived from Sanscrit avarana by popular etymology; but compare the Avestan name Upairi-saena (above the eagle). looked to the Macedonians when they observed that it was precipitous
on every side, truly far from easy even for a bird to
fly over, calling for a Dionysus or a Heracles if it
were ever going to be taken. 
That is how it seems to you at first; and then,
after a little, you see two roads. To be more exact,
one of them is but a path, narrow, briery, and rough,
promising great thirstiness and sweat; Hesiod has
been beforehand with us and has already described
it very carefully, so that I shall not need to do so. Works and Days, 286-292. 
The other, however, is level, flowery, and wellwatered, just as I described it a moment ago, not
to detain you by saying the same things over and
over when you might even now be a speaker.
 
But
I must add at least this much, that the rough, steep
road used not to have many tracks of wayfarers, and
whatever tracks there were, were very old. I myself, unlucky dog, got up by that road and did all
that hard work without any need; but as the other
was level and had no windings at all, I could see
from a distance what it was like without having
travelled it myself. You see, being still young, I
could not discern what was better, but believed that
poet Epicharmus. to be telling the truth when he said that





 

blessings were engendered of toil. The thought is expressed in Works and Days, 289: “The immortal gods have put sweat before virtue;” but Lucian’s wording is closer to the famous line of E icharmus quoted (just after the passage from Hesiod) in Xenophon’s Memorabilia, 2, 1, 20: “’Tis at the price of toil that the gods sell us all their blessings.” That was not
so, however; at all events, I notice that most
people are accorded greater returns without any
labour, through their felicitous choice of words and
ways. 
But, to resume—when you reach the starting-point, I am sure that you will be in doubt, and
indeed are even now in doubt, which road to follow.
I propose, therefore, to tell you how to do now
in order to mount to the highest peak with the
greatest ease, to be fortunate, to bring off the
marriage, and to be accounted wonderful by everyone. It is quite enough that I should have been
duped and should have worked hard. For you,
let everything grow “without sowing and without
ploughing,” as in the time of Cronus. The quotation is from Odyssey, 9,.109, but there is also an allusion to Hesiod’s description of the time of Cronus, the golden age, when the “‘grain-giving earth bore fruit of itself, in plenty and without stint” (Works and Days, 117-118). 
 

On the instant, then, you will be approached by
a vigorous man with hard muscles and a manly
stride, who shows heavy tan on his body, and is
bold-eyed and alert. He is the guide of the rough
road, and he will talk a lot of nonsense to you, the
poor simpleton. In exhorting you to follow him, he
will point out the footprints of Demosthenes and
of Plato, and one or two more—great prints, I grant
you, too great for men of nowadays, but for the
most part dim and indistinct through lapse of time;
and he will say that you will have good fortune and
will contract a lawful marriage with Rhetoric if you




 

follow these footprints like a rope-dancer; but if
you should make even a slight mis-step, or set your
foot out of them, or let your weight sway you
somewhat to one side, you will fall from the direct
road that leads to the marriage. Then he will tell
you to imitate those ancient worthies, and will set
you fusty models for your speeches, far from easy to
copy, resembling sculptures in the early manner
such as those of Hegesias and of Critius and Nesiotes Pre-Phidian sculptors, Hegesias famous for his Dioscuri, Critius and Nesiotes for their joint work, the Tyrant Slayers (Harmodius and Aristogeiton). 
—wasp-waisted, sinewy, hard, meticulously definite
in their contours. And he will say that hard work,
scant sleep, abstention from wine, and untidiness are
necessary and indispensable; it is impossible, says
he, to get over the road without them. What is
most vexatious of all, even the time which he
will prescribe to you for the journey will be very
long——many years, for he counts not by days and
months, but by whole Olympic cycles, i.e., of four years. so that you
will be foredone in advance as you listen and will
forswear your project, bidding a fond farewell to
the good fortune that you expected. Besides, he
demands no small fee for all these hardships; in
fact, he would not guide you unless he should get a
huge sum in advance.

 
That is what this man will say, the impostor, the
absolute old fogey, the antediluvian, who displays
dead men of a bygone age to serve as patterns, and
expects you to dig up long-buried speeches as if they
were something tremendously helpful, wanting you to
emulate the son of a sword-maker, and some other



 

fellow, the son of a school-master named Atrometus, The sword-maker’s son is Demosthenes, the schoolmaster’s Aeschines. 
and that too in times of peace, when no Philip is
making raids and no Alexander issuing orders—situations in which their speeches were perhaps considered
useful. He does not know what a short, easy road,
direct to Rhetoric, has recently been opened. But do
not you believe or heed him for fear he may give you
a neck-breaking tumble somewhere after he gets
you in charge, or may in the end make you prematurely old with your labours. No, if you are
unquestionably in love, and wish to marry Rhetoric
forthwith, while you are still in your prime, so that
she may be fond of you, do bid a long good-bye to
that hairy, unduly masculine fellow, leaving him to
climb up himself, all blown and dripping with sweat,
and lead up what others he can delude.