The happiness of this sage lay entirely in his beautiful garden.  There the Scythian found him, pruning hook in hand, cutting away the useless wood from his fruit trees; lopping here, pruning there, trimming this and that, and everywhere aiding Nature, who repaid his care with usury.

“Why this wrecking?” asked the philosopher.  “Is it wisdom thus to mutilate these poor dwellers in your garden?  Drop that merciless tool, your pruning hook.  Leave the work to the scythe of time.  He will send them, soon enough, to the shores of the river of the departed.”

“I am taking away the superfluous,” answered the sage, “so that what is left may flourish the better.”

The Scythian returned to his cheerless abode and, taking a bill-hook, cut and trimmed every hour in the day, advising his neighbours to do likewise and prescribing to his friends the means and methods.  A universal cutting-down followed.  The handsomest boughs were lopped; his orchard mutilated beyond all reason.  The seasons were disregarded, and neither young moons nor old were noted.  In the end everything languished and died.

This Scythian philosopher resembles the indiscriminating Stoic who cuts away from the soul all passions and desires, good as well as bad, even to the most innocent wishes.  For my own part, I protest against such people strongly.  They take from the heart its greatest impulses and we cease to live before we are dead.

[Illustration]

XLVI

THE ELEPHANT AND JUPITER’S APE

(Book XII.—­No. 21)

Once in the olden times the elephant and the rhinoceros disputed as to which was the more important, and which should, therefore, have empire over the other animals.  They decided to settle the point by battle in an enclosed field.

The day was fixed, and all in readiness, when somebody came and informed them that Jupiter’s ape, bearing a caduceus, had been seen in the air.  The fact of his holding a caduceus[20] proved him to be acting as official messenger from Olympus, and the elephant immediately took it for granted that the ape came as ambassador with greetings to his highness.  Elated with this idea he waited for Gille, for that was the name of the ape, and thought him rather tardy in presenting his credentials.  But at length Master Gille did salute his excellency as he passed, and the elephant prepared himself for the message.  But not a word was forthcoming.

It was evident that the gods were not giving so much attention to these matters as the elephant supposed.

What does it matter to those in high places whether one is an elephant or a fly?

The would-be monarch was reduced to the necessity of opening the conversation himself.  “My cousin Jupiter,” he began, “will soon be able to watch a rather fine combat from his supreme throne, and his court will see some splendid sport.”