V. When this deed was noised abroad, the more generous of the Corinthians praised Timoleon for his abhorrence of wickedness and his greatness of soul, because, though of a kindly disposition, and fond of his own family, he had nevertheless preferred his country to his family, and truth and justice to his own advantage.  He had distinguished himself in his country’s cause both by saving his brother’s life, and by putting him to death when he plotted to reduce her to slavery.  However, those who could not endure to live in a democracy, and who were accustomed to look up to those in power, pretended to rejoice in the death of the tyrant, but by their abuse of Timoleon for having done an unholy and impious deed, reduced him to a state of great melancholy.  Hearing that his mother took it greatly to heart, and that she used harsh words and invoked terrible curses upon him, he went to her to try to bring her to another state of mind, but she would not endure the sight of him, but shut the door against him.  Then indeed he became very dejected, and disordered in his mind, so as to form an intention of destroying himself by starvation; but this his friends would not permit, but prevailed on him by force and entreaty so that he determined to live, but alone by himself.  He gave up all interest in public affairs, and at first did not even enter the city, but passed his time wandering in the wildest part of the country in an agony of mind.

VI.  Thus our judgments, if they do not borrow from reason and philosophy a fixity and steadiness of purpose in their acts, are easily swayed and influenced by the praise or blame of others, which make us distrust our own opinions.

For not only, it seems, must the deed itself be noble and just, but also the principle from which we do it must be stable and unchangeable, so that we may make up our minds and then act from conviction.  If we do not, then like those epicures who most eagerly seize upon the daintiest food and soonest become satiated and nauseate it, so we become filled with sorrow and remorse when the deed is done, because the splendid ideas of virtue and honour which led us to do it fade away in our minds on account of our own moral weakness.  A remorseful change of mind renders even a noble action base, whereas the determination which is grounded on knowledge and reason cannot change even if its actions fail.  Wherefore Phokion the Athenian, who opposed the measures of Leosthenes, when Leosthenes seemed to have succeeded, and he saw the Athenians sacrificing and priding themselves on their victory, said that he should have wished that he had himself done what had been done, but he should wish to have given the same counsel that he did give.  Aristeides the Lokrian, one of the companions of Plato, put this even more strongly when Dionysius the elder asked for one of his daughters in marriage.  “I had rather,” he said, “see the girl a corpse, than the consort of a despot.”  A short time afterwards when Dionysius put his sons to death and insultingly asked him whether he were still of the same mind about the disposal of his daughter, he answered, that he was grieved at what had happened, but had not changed his mind about what he had said.  And these words perhaps show a greater and more perfect virtue than Phokion’s.