never be given to philosophy, whose votaries can pass every period of life without annoyance. But on other philosophical subjects I have said much, and hope to revert to them often; this book, on Old Age, I send specially to you. I put what I have to say, not, like Aristo of Chios,[1] into the mouth of Tithonus[2] (for a fictitious character cannot speak with authority), but into that of the aged Cato, that the discourse may gain authority from his name. With him I introduce Laelius and Scipio, admiring the ease with which he bears old age, and I give his answers to them. If I make him talk more learnedly than he was wont to do in his books, you may ascribe it to the Greek literature and philosophy, of which, as is well known, he was very studious in his latter years. But what need is there of a longer preface? For, as it were in Cato's own words, you shall forthwith hear all that I think and feel about old age.
- ↑ Latin, Chius. Aristo, or Ariston, of Chios, was a Stoic philosopher, and an immediate disciple of Zeno. Some authorities read Ceus and there was an Ariston, a Peripatetic philosopher, of Ceos, of whose many writings only a few fragments have been preserved. The two are often confounded, even by ancient writers, and either of them may have written the treatise or dialogue on old age here referred to.
- ↑ The son of Eos, or Aurora, who obtained for him, from Zeus, the gift of immortality, but forgot to stipulate for that of eternal youth. He shrivelled in old age by slow degrees; his voice became a mere chirp, and he at length dwindled into a cricket. Can this myth mean that the son of the morning, the early riser, has the promise of long life?
