“Nevertheless it is hard,” you reply, “to lose a son whom you have reared to young manhood just when his mother, just when his father was finding him their stay and pride.” Who will deny that it is hard? But it is the common lot. To this end were you born — to lose, to perish, to hope, to fear, to disquiet yourself and others, both to fear death and to long for it, and, worst of all, never to know the real terms of your existence.
Suppose a man should be planning a visit to Syracuse and someone should say to him: “First inform yourself of all the disagreeable and all the pleasurable features of your future journey, and then set sail. The things that may fill you with wonder are these. First, you will see the island itself, cut off from Italy by a narrow strait, but once evidently joined to the mainland; there the sea suddenly broke through, and
Severed Sicily from Hesperia’s side.39
Next, you will see Charybdis — for it will be possible for you to skirt this greediest of whirlpools, so famous in story — resting quietly so long as there is no wind from the south, but whenever a gale blows from that quarter, sucking down ships into its huge and deep maw. You will see the fountain of Arethusa, oft famed in song, with its bright gleaming pool, transparent to the very bottom, and pouring forth its icy waters — whether it found them there where they first had birth, or yielded up a river that had plunged beneath the earth40 and, gliding intact beneath so many seas, had been kept from the contamination of less pure water. You will see a harbor,41 of all havens the most peaceful — whether those that Nature has set to give shelter to ships or that man’s hand has improved — and so safe that not even the fury of the most violent storms can have access there. You will see where the might of Athens was broken, where so many thousands of captives were confined in that natural prison,42 hewn out of solid rock to immeasurable depth — you will see the great city itself, occupying a broader extent of territory than many a metropolis can boast, where the winters are the balmiest, and not a single day passes without the appearance of the sun. But, having learned of all these things, you will discover that the blessings of its winter climate are ruined by oppressive and unwholesome summers. You will find there the tyrant Dionysius, that destroyer of freedom, justice, and law, greedy of power, even after knowing Plato, and of even after exile!43 Some he will burn, some he will flog, some for a slight offense he will order to be beheaded, he will call for males and females to satisfy his lust, and to enjoy two at one time of his shameful victims will ill suffice for his royal excesses. You have now heard what may attract, what repel you — now, then, either set sail or stay at home! If after such a warning anyone should declare that he desired to enter Syracuse, against whom but himself could he find just cause for complaint, since he would not have stumbled upon those conditions, but have come into them purposely and with full knowledge?
To all of us Nature says: “I deceive no one. If you bear sons, it may be that they will be handsome, it may be that they will be ugly; perchance they will be born dumb. Some one of them, it may be, will be the savior of his country, or as likely its betrayer. It is not beyond hope that they will win so much esteem that out of regard for them none will venture to speak evil of you; yet bear in mind, too, that they may sink to such great infamy that they themselves will become your curse. There is nothing to forbid that they should perform the last sad rites for you, and that those who deliver your panegyric should be your children, but, too, hold yourself ready to place your son upon the pyre, be he lad or man or graybeard; for years have nothing to do with the matter, since every funeral is untimely at which a parent follows the bier.” If, after these conditions have been set forth, you bring forth children, you must free the gods from all blame; for they have made you no promises.