Zeuxis thought that this picture would send his viewers into raptures over his skill when they saw it. They certainly applauded it—what else could they do when they met a sight so lovely to gaze upon? But everyone’s warmest praise went to the points they praised in me too just recently; it was the strangeness of the idea, and the freshness of the sentiment of the work, quite unprecedented, that struck them. So when Zeuxis saw that the novelty of the subject was taking their attention and distracting them from the technique of the work, and that the accuracy of detail was taking second place, he said to his pupil: “Come on, Micio, cover up the picture and all of you pick it up and take it home. These spectators are praising only the mere clay of my work, but as to the effects of light, they do not worry much whether they are beautiful and skilfully executed, and the novelty of the subject goes for more than the accuracy of its parts.”
 That is what Zeuxis said, with too much anger perhaps. Antiochus—the one called the Saviour—is
said to have had a similar experience in the battle against the Galatians. If you agree I’ll tell you this story too. He knew that they were bold fighters and saw that there were many of them, and that their phalanx was compact and firm, with their bronze-clad warriors in the van and heavy-armed troops in the rear to a depth of twenty-four ranks, and that on either flank there were 20,000 cavalry,



 

while in the centre were eighty scythed chariots and twice as many two-horse chariots ready to make a sally. Antiochus then thought little of his chances of defeating such an invincible array. His own force had been hurriedly prepared and was not impressive or strong enough for the engagement. He had very few men, mostly targeteers and light-armed troops—light infantry made up over half of his force. Consequently he thought it prudent to make an immediate truce and to come to some honourable arrangement for putting an end to the war.