[4] Moreover, under the head of
man’s ways
1
would fall, no doubt, the activities of carpenters, copper-smiths, builders, and statuaries, wherein we see nothing brought to a successful conclusion accidentally or as it chances. That chance may sometimes contribute slightly to their success,
2
but that the arts through themselves bring to perfection the most and greatest of their works, is plainly suggested by this poet:
Into the highway come, all craftsmen folk, Who worship Labour, stern-eyed child of Zeus, With sacred baskets placed about.
3
For the arts have Labour, that is Athena, and not Chance as their coadjutor. Of just one artist,
4
however, it is related that in painting a horse he had succeeded in nearly every respect in the drawing and colours, but the frothy appearance of the foam from champing the bit, and the rush of the foamflecked breath, he had tried again and again to paint, but without success, and each time had wiped it out, until finally, in a rage, he threw his sponge just as it was, full of pigments, at the canvas, and this, as it struck, transferred its contents in some amazing manner to the canvas, and effected the desired result. This is the only recorded instance of a technical achievement due to chance. Rulers, weights, measures, and numbers are everywhere in use, so that the random and haphazard may find no place in any production. Indeed, the arts are said to be minor forms of intelligence, or rather offshoots of intelligence, and detached fragments of it interspersed amid life’s common necessities, as it is said in the allegory regarding fire, that it was divided into portions by Prometheus and scattered some here and some there. For thus, when intelligence is finely broken and divided, small portions and fragments of it have gone to their several stations. De fortuna. Plutarch. Frank Cole Babbitt (Translator). Cambridge, MA. 1928.
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