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These provide unfailing tests for the character of arts and their professors. Shall we take war time first, and see who will do best for himself and for his city under those conditions? Tyc. Ah, now comes the tug of war. It tickles me, this queer match between sponger and philosopher. Si. Well, to make the thing more natural, and enable you to take it seriously, let us picture the circumstances.
Well, I am afraid my profession would be rather a shock to you. Tyc. I like shocks. Si. Well, I will tell you some day. Tyc. Now, I say; or else I shall know you are ashamed of it. Si. Well, then, I sponge. Tyc. Why, what sane man would call sponging a profession? Si. I, for one.
If you care to listen, I will explain, though I have not got this properly into shape, as I remarked before. Tyc. Oh, a brief exposition will do, provided it is true. Si. I think, if you agree, we had better examine Art generically first; that will enable us to go into the question whether the specific arts really belong under it. Tyc. Well, what is Art? Of course you know that? Si. Quite well.
Again, I suppose you will pass Aristippus of Cyrene as a distinguished philosopher? Tyc. Assuredly. Si. Well, he was living there too at the same time and on the same terms. Dionysius reckoned him the best of all spongers; he had indeed a special gift that way; the prince used to send his cooks to him daily for instruction. He, I think, was really an ornament to the profession.
Then do not forget that, while the others have to be suspended during a journey or a voyage, this may be in full swing under those circumstances too. Tyc. No doubt about that. Si. Another point that strikes me is that other arts feel the need of this one, but not vice versa. Tyc. Well, but is the appropriation of what belongs to others no offence? Si. Of course it is. Tyc.
I can claim to be a practical master in the art by this time; whether I can give an account of my faith is another question. Tyc. What is it? Si. No, I do not think I have got up the theory of it sufficiently. For the present, rest assured that I have a profession, and cease your strictures on that head. Its nature you shall know another time. Tyc. No, no; I will not be put off like that. Si.
Cold hungry philosophers you may see any day, but never a cold hungry sponger; the man would not be a sponger, that is all, but a wretched pauper, no better than a philosopher. Tyc. Well, let that pass. And now what about those many points in which your art is superior to Rhetoric and Philosophy? Si. Human life, my dear sir, has its times and seasons; there is peace time and there is war time.
All ten are for you again. Only one dissentient, and he the same one as before. True to his envious principles, he must ever give his vote against his betters. The jurors may now leave the court. The remaining cases will come on to-morrow. Tychiades. Simon Tyc. I am curious about you, Simon.
Because spending has many worries inseparably attached to it; your cook disappoints you, and you must either have strained relations with him, or else purchase peace and quiet by feeding badly and missing your pleasure. Then similar difficulties attend your steward's management of the house. You must admit all this. Tyc. Oh, certainly, I agree. Si.
As to his happy condition, I need no more than allude to the wise Homer's words; he it is, and he alone, that 'planteth not, nor ploughs'; he 'reapeth where he hath not ploughed nor sown. Again, while knavery and folly are no bar to rhetoric, mathematics, or copper-working, no knave or fool can get on as a sponger. Tyc. Dear, dear, what an amazing profession!
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