Sigalion in the Shield of Croesiades or Apologetic Dialogue for the Mystery of Detected Syncretism

ne admittant; erunt tamen aliæ aliorum, quibus ego ut con-
vivis malo quam placuisse coquis, arrectæ; si minus propitiæ
futuræ ac annuentes, tamen veribibulæ, æqui studiosæ saltem
audiendi cupidiores: ita enim nunc seculum est, ut δεινὸν illud
disputandi genus qui nunc sunt homines pragmatici, contro-
versiarum Theologicarum alioquin non satis gnari, non eâ fa-
cilitate ac patientiâ ad judicium admittant, quam vetus illud
Academicum, dialogisticum, ænigmaticum, magisq; tectum,
quod quà parabolicum ipsi Salvatori placuit, quà nomine oc-
cultato rem rei, rationem rationi committit, Hieronymum
habet præeuntem in Epistolâ Ctesiphonteâ) solidum diem in
duas scenas partiri, Crœsum q; redivivum rogare, ne majestate
suâ indignum censeat, cum Solone iterum confabulari, atque
Tarsensem Sophum arbitrum contentionis audire: Id qui-
dem mane agemus; à meridie gemino ac simillimo dialogo,
Crœsum Solonem & Paulinæ disciplinæ Alumnum braccatos
ac Teutonicâ veste indutos producere: ubi pro se ipso vindicem
linguam armabit Crœsus Teuto, potest enim loqui, ac ætatem
habet; nec turpe illi videbitur, veritati Solonicæ Paulinæ ces-
sisse, & felicius recantasse. Age Crœsiade confideamus, quof-
que Sigalion ludos facturus est, avidâ aure excipiamus.

Nature (as Valerius Maximus writes in book 5, chapter 4, example 6) instructed the son of Croesus (not the other one whom those who read authors with a biased eye call Atys, whose fate Herodotus narrates in book 1, chapter 34 and following) to use his voice to protect the safety of his father, despite his lack of speech. For when Sardis was captured by Cyrus, and one of the Persians, unaware of the man's identity, rushed to kill him—as if forgetting the speechlessness fate had granted him at birth—the son cried out to prevent the killing of King Croesus. By his shout (which Herodotus records as, "Man, do not kill Croesus"), he stayed the blade already pressed to his father’s throat. Thus, he who had lived mutely until that time found his voice for his parent's salvation. Everyone praises this piety. But if the son’s tongue had been unbridled, and if he had cast insults at the Persian who was about to spare him—saying "Man, you are inept, improvident, and I will not say dishonest"—would he have escaped with impunity? If he had wished to respond in kind, would he not have needed Sigalion to curb his biting tongue and say: "You, who were mute until now, if you do not know how to use your tongue properly, be silent!" I have need of such an advocate now to restrain the immodesty of those who are all too ready to challenge others with a biting, vinegar-dipped pen, rather than striving to settle disputes. I say to them: one who might have remained a philosopher could do so by keeping silent.