than by fear, and by
emulation more than by envy, and by love of glory rather than by love of
riches, and generally speaking whether--to use the language of
musicians--it is in the Dorian more than in the Lydian measures that we
err either by excess or deficiency,[288] whether we are plainer in our
manner of living or more luxurious, whether we are slower in action or
quicker, whether we admire men and their discourses more than we should
or despise them. For as it is a good sign in diseases if they turn aside
from vital parts of the body, so in the case of people who are making
progress in virtue, when vice seems to shift to milder passions, it is a
sign it will soon die out. When Phrynis added to the seven chords two
chords more, the Ephors asked him which he preferred to let them cut
off, the upper or lower ones;[289] so we must cut off both above and
below, if we mean to attain, to the mean and to due proportion: for
progress in virtue first diminishes the excess and sharpness of the
passions,

"That sharpness for which madmen are so vehement,"

as Sophocles says.

Sec. XIV. I have already said that it is a very great indication of
progress in virtue to transfer our judgement to action, and not to let
our words remain merely words, but to make deeds of them. A
manifestation of this is in the first place emulation as regards what we
praise, and a zeal to do what we admire, and an unwillingness either to
do or allow what we censure. To illustrate my meaning by an example, it
is probable that all Athenians praised the daring and bravery of
Miltiades; but Themistocles alone said that the trophy of Miltiades
would not let him sleep, but woke him up of a night, and not only
praised and admired him, but manifestly emulated and imitated his
glorious actions. Small, therefore, can we think the progress we have
made, as long as our admiration for those who have done noble things is
barren, and does not of itself incite us to imitate them. For as there
is no strong love without jealousy, so there is no ardent and energetic
praise of virtue, which does not prick and goad one on, and make one not
envious but emulous of what is noble, and desirous to do something
similar. For not only at the discourses of a philosopher ought we, as
Alcibiades said,[290] to be moved in heart and shed tears, but the true
proficient in virtue, comparing his own deeds and actions with those of
the good and perfect man, and grieved at the same ti