hat state, or are done in that manner, are called
by one common name--honourable. And we shall presently see what knowledge
we have of all these things, and what is meant by the different names, and
what the power and nature of each is.

XXII. But at present we need only explain that these things which I call
honourable, (besides the fact of our living ourselves on their account,)
are also by their own nature deserving of being sought for their own sake.
Children show this, in whom nature is perceived as in a mirror. What
eagerness is there in them when contending together! how vigorous are
their contests! how elated are those who win! how ashamed those who are
beaten! how unwilling are they to be blamed! how eager to be praised! what
labours will they not endure to surpass their fellows! what a recollection
have they of those who are kind to them! how anxious are they to prove
their gratitude! and these qualities are most visible in the best
dispositions; in which all these honourable qualities which we appreciate
are filled up as it were by nature. But in children they are only
sketched.

Again, in more mature age, who is so unlike a man as not to be moved to a
dislike of baseness and approval of what is honourable? Who is there who
does not loathe a libidinous and licentious youth? who, on the contrary,
does not love modesty and constancy in that age, even though his own
interest is not at all concerned? Who does not detest Pullus Numitorius,
of Fregellae, the traitor, although he was of use to our own republic? who
does not praise Codrus, the saviour of his city, and the daughters of
Erectheus? Who does not detest the name of Tubulus? and love the dead
Aristides? Do we forget how much we are affected at hearing or reading
when we are brought to the knowledge of anything which has been done in a
pious, or friendly, or magnanimous spirit? Why should I speak of men like
ourselves, who have been born and brought up and trained to praise and
glory? What shouts of the common people and of the unlettered crowd are
excited in the theatres when this sentence is uttered--

I am Orestes:

and when, on the other hand, the other actor says--

No; it is I, 'tis I who am Orestes.

But when one of them is allowed to depart by the perplexed and bewildered
king, and they demand to die together, is this scene ever acted without
being accompanied by the most violent expressions of admiration? There is
no one, then