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diff --git a/17490-h/17490-h.htm b/17490-h/17490-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba8122f --- /dev/null +++ b/17490-h/17490-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5661 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates, by Xenophon</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates, by Xenophon</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Xenophon</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Edward Bysshe</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Henry Morley</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 10, 2006 [eBook #17490]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 23, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS OF SOCRATES ***</div> + +<h1>THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS OF SOCRATES.</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">BY XENOPHON.</h2> + +<h3><i>TRANSLATED BY EDWARD BYSSHE</i>.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +CASSELL & COMPANY, <span class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br/> +LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE.<br/> +1888. +</p> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + +<p> +This translation of Xenophon’s “Memorabilia of Socrates” was +first published in 1712, and is here printed from the revised edition of 1722. +Its author was Edward Bysshe, who had produced in 1702 “The Art of +English Poetry,” a well-known work that was near its fifth edition when +its author published his translation of the “Memorabilia.” This was +a translation that remained in good repute. There was another edition of it in +1758. Bysshe translated the title of the book into “The Memorable Things +of Socrates.” I have changed “Things” into +“Thoughts,” for whether they be sayings or doings, the words and +deeds of a wise man are alike expressions of his thought. +</p> + +<p> +Xenophon is said to have been, when young, a pupil of Socrates. Two authorities +have recorded that in the flight from the battle of Delium in the year <span +class="smcap">b.c.</span> 424, when Xenophon fell from his horse, Socrates +picked him up and carried him on his back for a considerable distance. The time +of Xenophon’s death is not known, but he was alive sixty-seven years +after the battle of Delium. +</p> + +<p> +When Cyrus the Younger was preparing war against his brother Artaxerxes Mnemon, +King of Persia, Xenophon went with him. After the death of Cyrus on the plains +of Cunaxa, the barbarian auxiliaries fled, and the Greeks were left to return +as they could from the far region between the Tigris and Euphrates. Xenophon +had to take part in the conduct of the retreat, and tells the story of it in +his “Anabasis,” a history of the expedition of the younger Cyrus +and of the retreat of the Greeks. His return into Greece was in the year of the +death of Socrates, <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> 399, but his association was +now with the Spartans, with whom he fought, <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> +394, at Coroneia. Afterwards he settled, and lived for about twenty years, at +Scillus in Eleia with his wife and children. At Scillus he wrote probably his +“Anabasis” and some other of his books. At last he was driven out +by the Eleans. In the battle of Mantineia the Spartans and Athenians fought as +allies, and Xenophon’s two sons were in the battle; he had sent them to +Athens as fellow-combatants from Sparta. His banishment from Athens was +repealed by change of times, but it does not appear that he returned to Athens. +He is said to have lived, and perhaps died, at Corinth, after he had been +driven from his home at Scillus. +</p> + +<p> +Xenophon was a philosophic man of action. He could make his value felt in a +council of war, take part in battle—one of his books is on the duties of +a commander of cavalry—and show himself good sportsman in the +hunting-field. He wrote a book upon the horse; a treatise also upon dogs and +hunting. He believed in God, thought earnestly about social and political +duties, and preferred Spartan institutions to those of Athens. He wrote a life +of his friend Agesilaus II., King of Sparta. He found exercise for his +energetic mind in writing many books. In writing he was clear and to the point; +his practical mind made his work interesting. His “Anabasis” is a +true story as delightful as a fiction; his “Cyropædia” is a +fiction full of truths. He wrote “Hellenica,” that carried on the +history of Greece from the point at which Thucydides closed his history until +the battle of Mantineia. He wrote a dialogue between Hiero and Simonides upon +the position of a king, and dealt with the administration of the little realm +of a man’s household in his “Œconomicus,” a dialogue +between Socrates and Critobulus, which includes the praise of agriculture. He +wrote also, like Plato, a symposium, in which philosophers over their wine +reason of love and friendship, and he paints the character of Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +But his best memorial of his old guide, philosopher, and friend is this work, +in which Xenophon brought together in simple and direct form the views of life +that had been made clear to himself by the teaching of Socrates. Xenophon is +throughout opposing a plain tale to the false accusations against Socrates. He +does not idealise, but he feels strongly, and he shows clearly the worth of the +wisdom that touches at every point the actual conduct of the lives of men. +</p> + +<p> +H. M. +</p> + +<h2>BOOK I.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I. SOCRATES NOT A CONTEMNER OF THE GODS OF HIS COUNTRY, NOR AN +INTRODUCER OF NEW ONES.</h3> + +<p> +I have often wondered by what show of argument the accusers of Socrates could +persuade the Athenians he had forfeited his life to the State. For though the +crimes laid unto his charge were indeed great—“That he did not +acknowledge the gods of the Republic; that he introduced new +ones”—and, farther, “had debauched the youth;” yet none +of these could, in the least, be proved against him. +</p> + +<p> +For, as to the first, “That he did not worship the deities which the +Republic adored,” how could this be made out against him, since, instead +of paying no homage to the gods of his country, he was frequently seen to +assist in sacrificing to them, both in his own family and in the public +temples?—perpetually worshipping them in the most public, solemn, and +religious manner. +</p> + +<p> +What, in my opinion, gave his accusers a specious pretext for alleging against +him that he introduced new deities was this—that he had frequently +declared in public he had received counsel from a <i>divine voice</i>, which he +called his Demon. But this was no proof at all of the matter. All that Socrates +advanced about his demon was no more than what is daily advanced by those who +believe in and practise divination; and if Socrates, because he said he +received intelligence from his genius, must be accused of introducing new +divinities, so also must they; for is it not certain that those who believe in +divination, and practise that belief, do observe the flight of birds, consult +the entrails of victims, and remark even unexpected words and accidental +occurrences? But they do not, therefore, believe that either the birds whose +flight they observe or the persons they meet accidentally know either their +good or ill fortune—neither did Socrates—they only believe that the +gods make use of these things to presage the future; and such, too, was the +belief of Socrates. The vulgar, indeed, imagine it to be the very birds and +things which present themselves to them that excite them to what is good for +them, or make them avoid what may hurt them; but, as for Socrates, he freely +owned that a demon was his monitor; and he frequently told his friends +beforehand what they should do, or not do, according to the instructions he had +received from his demon; and they who believed him, and followed his advice, +always found advantage by it; as, on the contrary, they who neglected his +admonitions, never failed to repent their incredulity. Now, it cannot be denied +but that he ought to have taken care not to pass with his friends either for a +liar or a visionary; and yet how could he avoid incurring that censure if the +events had not justified the truth of the things he pretended were revealed to +him? It is, therefore, manifest that he would not have spoken of things to come +if he had not believed he said true; but how could he believe he said true, +unless he believed that the gods, who alone ought to be trusted for the +knowledge of things to come, gave him notice of them? and, if he believed they +did so, how can it be said that he acknowledged no gods? +</p> + +<p> +He likewise advised his friends to do, in the best manner they could, the +things that of necessity they were to do; but, as to those whose events were +doubtful, he sent them to the oracles to know whether they should engage in +them or not. And he thought that they who design to govern with success their +families or whole cities had great need of receiving instructions by the help +of divinations; for though he indeed held that every man may make choice of the +condition of life in which he desires to live, and that, by his industry, he +may render himself excellent in it, whether he apply himself to architecture or +to agriculture, whether he throw himself into politics or economy, whether he +engage himself in the public revenues or in the army, yet that in all these +things the gods have reserved to themselves the most important events, into +which men of themselves can in no wise penetrate. Thus he who makes a fine +plantation of trees, knows not who shall gather the fruit; he who builds a +house cannot tell who shall inhabit it; a general is not certain that he shall +be successful in his command, nor a Minister of State in his ministry; he who +marries a beautiful woman in hopes of being happy with her knows not but that +even she herself may be the cause of all his uneasinesses; and he who enters +into a grand alliance is uncertain whether they with whom he allies himself +will not at length be the cause of his ruin. This made him frequently say that +it is a great folly to imagine there is not a Divine Providence that presides +over these things, and that they can in the least depend on human prudence. He +likewise held it to be a weakness to importune the gods with questions which we +may resolve ourselves; as if we should ask them whether it be better to take a +coachman who knows how to drive than one who knows nothing of the matter? +whether it be more eligible to take an experienced pilot than one that is +ignorant? In a word, he counted it a kind of impiety to consult the oracles +concerning what might be numbered or weighed, because we ought to learn the +things which the gods have been pleased to capacitate us to know; but that we +ought to have recourse to the oracles to be instructed in those that surpass +our knowledge, because the gods are wont to discover them to such men as have +rendered them propitious to themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Socrates stayed seldom at home. In the morning he went to the places appointed +for walking and public exercises. He never failed to be at the hall, or courts +of justice, at the usual hour of assembling there, and the rest of the day he +was at the places where the greatest companies generally met. There it was that +he discoursed for the most part, and whoever would hear him easily might; and +yet no man ever observed the least impiety either in his actions or his words. +Nor did he amuse himself to reason of the secrets of nature, or to search into +the manner of the creation of what the sophists call the world, nor to dive +into the cause of the motions of the celestial bodies. On the contrary, he +exposed the folly of such as give themselves up to these contemplations; and he +asked whether it was, after having acquired a perfect knowledge of human +things, that they undertook to search into the divine, or if they thought +themselves very wise in neglecting what concerned them to employ themselves in +things above them? He was astonished likewise that they did not see it was +impossible for men to comprehend anything of all those wonders, seeing they who +have the reputation of being most knowing in them are of quite different +opinions, and can agree no better than so many fools and madmen; for as some of +these are not afraid of the most dangerous and frightful accidents, while +others are in dread of what is not to be feared, so, too, among those +philosophers, some are of opinion that there is no action but what may be done +in public, nor word that may not freely be spoken before the whole world, while +others, on the contrary, believe that we ought to avoid the conversation of men +and keep in a perpetual solitude. Some have despised the temples and the +altars, and have taught not to honour the gods, while others have been so +superstitious as to worship wood, stones, and irrational creatures. And as to +the knowledge of natural things, some have confessed but one only being; others +have admitted an infinite number: some have believed that all things are in a +perpetual motion; others that nothing moves: some have held the world to be +full of continual generations and corruptions; others maintain that nothing is +engendered or destroyed. He said besides that he should be glad to know of +those persons whether they were in hopes one day to put in practice what they +learned, as men who know an art may practise it when they please either for +their own advantage or for the service of their friends; or whether they did +imagine that, after they found out the causes of all things that happen, they +should be able to cause winds and rains, and to dispose the times and seasons +as they had occasion for them; or whether they contented themselves with the +bare knowledge without expecting any farther advantage. +</p> + +<p> +This was what he said of those who delight in such studies. As for his part, he +meditated chiefly on what is useful and proper for man, and took delight to +argue of piety and impiety, of honesty and dishonesty, of justice and +injustice, of wisdom and folly, of courage and cowardice, of the State, and of +the qualifications of a Minister of State, of the Government, and of those who +are fit to govern; in short, he enlarged on the like subjects, which it becomes +men of condition to know, and of which none but slaves should be ignorant. +</p> + +<p> +It is not strange, perhaps, that the judges of Socrates mistook his opinion in +things concerning which he did not explain himself; but I am surprised that +they did not reflect on what he had said and done in the face of the whole +world; for when he was one of the Senate, and had taken the usual oath exactly +to observe the laws, being in his turn vested with the dignity of Epistate, he +bravely withstood the populace, who, against all manner of reason, demanded +that the nine captains, two of whom were Erasinides and Thrasilus, should be +put to death, he would never give consent to this injustice, and was not +daunted at the rage of the people, nor at the menaces of the men in power, +choosing rather not to violate the oath he had taken than to yield to the +violence of the multitude, and shelter himself from the vengeance of those who +threatened him. To this purpose he said that the gods watch over men more +attentively than the vulgar imagine; for they believe there are some things +which the gods observe and others which they pass by unregarded; but he held +that the gods observe all our actions and all our words, that they penetrate +even into our most secret thoughts, that they are present at all our +deliberations, and that they inspire us in all our affairs. +</p> + +<p> +It is astonishing, therefore, to consider how the Athenians could suffer +themselves to be persuaded that Socrates entertained any unworthy thoughts of +the Deity; he who never let slip one single word against the respect due to the +gods, nor was ever guilty of any action that savoured in the least of impiety; +but who, on the contrary, has done and said things that could not proceed but +from a mind truly pious, and that are sufficient to gain a man an eternal +reputation of piety and virtue. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II. SOCRATES NOT A DEBAUCHER OF YOUTH.</h3> + +<p> +What surprises me yet more is, that some would believe that Socrates was a +debaucher of young men! Socrates the most sober and most chaste of all men, who +cheerfully supported both cold and heat; whom no inconvenience, no hardships, +no labours could startle, and who had learned to wish for so little, that +though he had scarce anything, he had always enough. Then how could he teach +impiety, injustice, gluttony, impurity, and luxury? And so far was he from +doing so, that he reclaimed many persons from those vices, inspiring them with +the love of virtue, and putting them in hopes of coming to preferment in the +world, provided they would take a little care of themselves. Yet he never +promised any man to teach him to be virtuous; but as he made a public +profession of virtue, he created in the minds of those who frequented him the +hopes of becoming virtuous by his example. +</p> + +<p> +He neglected not his own body, and praised not those that neglected theirs. In +like manner, he blamed the custom of some who eat too much, and afterwards use +violent exercises; but he approved of eating till nature be satisfied, and of a +moderate exercise after it, believing that method to be an advantage to health, +and proper to unbend and divert the mind. In his clothes he was neither nice +nor costly; and what I say of his clothes ought likewise to be understood of +his whole way of living. Never any of his friends became covetous in his +conversation, and he reclaimed them from that sordid disposition, as well as +from all others; for he would accept of no gratuity from any who desired to +confer with him, and said that was the way to discover a noble and generous +heart, and that they who take rewards betray a meanness of soul, and sell their +own persons, because they impose on themselves a necessity of instructing those +from whom they receive a salary. He wondered, likewise, why a man, who promises +to teach virtue, should ask money; as if he believed not the greatest of all +gain to consist in the acquisition of a good friend, or, as if he feared, that +he who, by his means, should become virtuous, and be obliged to him for so +great a benefit, would not be sufficiently grateful for it. Quite different +from Socrates, who never boasted of any such thing, and who was most certain +that all who heard him and received his maxims would love him for ever, and be +capable of loving others also. After this, whosoever says that such a man +debauched the youth, must at the same time say that the study of virtue is +debauchery. +</p> + +<p> +But the accuser says that Socrates taught to despise the constitution that was +established in the Republic, because he affirmed it to be a folly to elect +magistrates by lots; since if anyone had occasion for a pilot, a musician, or +an architect, he would not trust to chance for any such person, though the +faults that can be committed by men in such capacities are far from being of so +great importance as those that are committed in the government of the Republic. +He says, therefore, that such arguments insensibly accustom the youth to +despise the laws, and render them more audacious and more violent. But, in my +opinion, such as study the art of prudence, and who believe they shall be able +to render themselves capable of giving good advice and counsel to their +fellow-citizens, seldom become men of violent tempers; because they know that +violence is hateful and full of danger; while, on the contrary, to win by +persuasion is full of love and safety. For they, whom we have compelled, brood +a secret hatred against us, believing we have done them wrong; but those whom +we have taken the trouble to persuade continue our friends, believing we have +done them a kindness. It is not, therefore, they who apply themselves to the +study of prudence that become violent, but those brutish intractable tempers +who have much power in their hands and but little judgment to manage +it.—He farther said that when a man desires to carry anything by force, +he must have many friends to assist him: as, on the contrary, he that can +persuade has need of none but himself, and is not subject to shed blood; for +who would rather choose to kill a man than to make use of his services, after +having gained his friendship and goodwill by mildness? +</p> + +<p> +The accuser adds, in proof of the ill tendency of the doctrine of Socrates, +that Critias and Alcibiades, who were two of his most intimate friends, were +very bad men, and did much mischief to their country. For Critias was the most +insatiable and cruel of all the thirty tyrants; and Alcibiades the most +dissolute, the most insolent, and the most audacious citizen that ever the +Republic had. As for me, I pretend not to justify them, and will only relate +for what reason they frequented Socrates. They were men of an unbounded +ambition, and who resolved, whatever it cost, to govern the State, and make +themselves be talked of. They had heard that Socrates lived very content upon +little or nothing, that he entirely commanded his passions, and that his +reasonings were so persuasive that he drew all men to which side he pleased. +Reflecting on this, and being of the temper we mentioned, can it be thought +that they desired the acquaintance of Socrates, because they were in love with +his way of life, and with his temperance, or because they believed that by +conversing with him they should render themselves capable of reasoning aright, +and of well-managing the public affairs? For my part, I believe that if the +gods had proposed to them to live always like him, or to die immediately, they +would rather have chosen a sudden death. And it is easy to judge this from +their actions; for as soon as they thought themselves more capable than their +companions, they forsook Socrates, whom they had frequented, only for the +purpose I mentioned, and threw themselves wholly into business. +</p> + +<p> +It may, perhaps, be objected that he ought not to have discoursed to his +friends of things relating to the government of the State, till after he had +taught them to live virtuously. I have nothing to say to this; but I observe +that all who profess teaching do generally two things: they work in presence of +their scholars, to show them how they ought to do, and they instruct them +likewise by word of mouth. Now, in either of these two ways, no man ever taught +to live well, like Socrates; for, in his whole life, he was an example of +untainted probity; and in his discourses he spoke of virtue and of all the +duties of man in a manner that made him admired of all his hearers. And I know +too very well that Critias and Alcibiades lived very virtuously as long as they +frequented him; not that they were afraid of him, but because they thought it +most conducive to their designs to live so at that time. +</p> + +<p> +Many who pretend to philosophy will here object, that a virtuous person is +always virtuous, and that when a man has once come to be good and temperate, he +will never afterwards become wicked nor dissolute; because habitudes that can +be acquired, when once they are so, can never more be effaced from the mind. +But I am not of this opinion; for as they who use no bodily exercises are +awkward and unwieldy in the actions of the body, so they who exercise not their +minds are incapable of the noble actions of the mind, and have not courage +enough to undertake anything worthy of praise, nor command enough over +themselves to abstain from things that are forbid. For this reason, parents, +though they be well enough assured of the good natural disposition of their +children, fail not to forbid them the conversation of the vicious, because it +is the ruin of worthy dispositions, whereas the conversation of good men is a +continual meditation of virtue. Thus a poet says, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“By those whom we frequent, we’re ever led:<br/> +Example is a law by all obeyed.<br/> +Thus with the good, we are to good inclined,<br/> +But vicious company corrupts the mind.” +</p> + +<p> +And another in like manner: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Virtue and vice in the same man are found,<br/> +And now they gain, and now they lose their ground.” +</p> + +<p> +And, in my opinion, they are in the right: for when I consider that they who +have learned verses by heart forget them unless they repeat them often, so I +believe that they who neglect the reasonings of philosophers, insensibly lose +the remembrance of them; and when they have let these excellent notions slip +out of their minds, they at the same time lose the idea of the things that +supported in the soul the love of temperance; and, having forgot those things, +what wonder is it if at length they forget temperance likewise? +</p> + +<p> +I observe, besides, that men who abandon themselves to the debauches of wine or +women find it more difficult to apply themselves to things that are profitable, +and to abstain from what is hurtful. For many who live frugally before they +fall in love become prodigal when that passion gets the mastery over them; +insomuch that after having wasted their estates, they are reduced to gain their +bread by methods they would have been ashamed of before. What hinders then, but +that a man, who has been once temperate, should be so no longer, and that he +who has led a good life at one time should not do so at another? I should +think, therefore, that the being of all virtues, and chiefly of temperance, +depends on the practice of them: for lust, that dwells in the same body with +the soul, incites it continually to despise this virtue, and to find out the +shortest way to gratify the senses only. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, whilst Alcibiades and Critias conversed with Socrates, they were able, +with so great an assistance, to tame their inclinations; but after they had +left him, Critias, being retired into Thessaly, ruined himself entirely in the +company of some libertines; and Alcibiades, seeing himself courted by several +women of quality, because of his beauty, and suffering himself to be corrupted +by soothing flatterers, who made their court to him, in consideration of the +credit he had in the city and with the allies; in a word, finding himself +respected by all the Athenians, and that no man disputed the first rank with +him, began to neglect himself, and acted like a great wrestler, who takes not +the trouble to exercise himself, when he no longer finds an adversary who dares +to contend with him. +</p> + +<p> +If we would examine, therefore, all that has happened to them; if we consider +how much the greatness of their birth, their interest, and their riches, had +puffed up their minds; if we reflect on the ill company they fell into, and the +many opportunities they had of debauching themselves, can we be surprised that, +after they had been so long absent from Socrates, they arrived at length to +that height of insolence to which they have been seen to arise? If they have +been guilty of crimes, the accuser will load Socrates with them, and not allow +him to be worthy of praise, for having kept them within the bounds of their +duty during their youth, when, in all appearance, they would have been the most +disorderly and least governable. This, however, is not the way we judge of +other things; for whoever pretended that a musician, a player on the lute, or +any other person that teaches, after he has made a good scholar, ought to be +blamed for his growing more ignorant under the care of another master? If a +young man gets an acquaintance that brings him into debauchery, ought his +father to lay the blame on the first friends of his son among whom he always +lived virtuously? Is it not true, on the contrary, that the more he finds that +this last friendship proves destructive to him, the more reason he will have to +praise his former acquaintance. And are the fathers themselves, who are daily +with their children, guilty of their faults, if they give them no ill example? +Thus they ought to have judged of Socrates; if he led an ill life, it was +reasonable to esteem him vicious; but if a good, was it just to accuse him of +crimes of which he was innocent? +</p> + +<p> +And yet he might have given his adversaries ground to accuse him, had he but +approved, or seemed to approve those vices in others, from which he kept +himself free: but Socrates abhorred vice, not only in himself, but in everyone +besides. To prove which, I need only relate his conduct toward Critias, a man +extremely addicted to debauchery. Socrates perceiving that this man had an +unnatural passion for Euthydemus, and that the violence of it would precipitate +him so far a length as to make him transgress the bounds of nature, shocked at +his behaviour, he exerted his utmost strength of reason and argument to +dissuade him from so wild a desire. And while the impetuosity of Critias’ +passion seemed to scorn all check or control, and the modest rebuke of Socrates +had been disregarded, the philosopher, out of an ardent zeal for virtue, broke +out in such language, as at once declared his own strong inward sense of +decency and order, and the monstrous shamefulness of Critias’ passion. +Which severe but just reprimand of Socrates, it is thought, was the foundation +of that grudge which he ever after bore him; for during the tyranny of the +Thirty, of which Critias was one, when, together with Charicles, he had the +care of the civil government of the city, he failed not to remember this +affront, and, in revenge of it, made a law to forbid teaching the art of +reasoning in Athens: and having nothing to reproach Socrates with in +particular, he laboured to render him odious by aspersing him with the usual +calumnies that are thrown on all philosophers: for I have never heard Socrates +say that he taught this art, nor seen any man who ever heard him say so; but +Critias had taken offence, and gave sufficient proofs of it: for after the +Thirty had caused to be put to death a great number of the citizens, and even +of the most eminent, and had let loose the reins to all sorts of violence and +rapine, Socrates said in a certain place that he wondered very much that a man +who keeps a herd of cattle, and by his ill conduct loses every day some of +them, and suffers the others to fall away, would not own himself to be a very +ill keeper of his herd; and that he should wonder yet more if a Minister of +State, who lessens every day the number of his citizens, and makes the others +more dissolute, was not ashamed of his ministry, and would not own himself to +be an ill magistrate. This was reported to Critias and Charicles, who forthwith +sent for Socrates, and showing him the law they had made, forbid him to +discourse with the young men. Upon which Socrates asked them whether they would +permit him to propose a question, that he might be informed of what he did not +understand in this prohibition; and his request being granted, he spoke in this +manner: “I am most ready to obey your laws; but that I may not transgress +through ignorance, I desire to know of you, whether you condemn the art of +reasoning, because you believe it consists in saying things well, or in saying +them ill? If for the former reason, we must then, from henceforward, abstain +from speaking as we ought; and if for the latter, it is plain that we ought to +endeavour to speak well.” At these words Charicles flew into a passion, +and said to him: “Since you pretend to be ignorant of things that are so +easily known, we forbid you to speak to the young men in any manner +whatever.” “It is enough,” answered Socrates; “but that +I may not be in a perpetual uncertainty, pray prescribe to me, till what age +men are young.” “Till they are capable of being members of the +Senate,” said Charicles: “in a word, speak to no man under thirty +years of age.” “How!” says Socrates, “if I would buy +anything of a tradesman who is not thirty years old am I forbid to ask him the +price of it?” “I mean not so,” answered Charicles: “but +I am not surprised that you ask me this question, for it is your custom to ask +many things that you know very well.” Socrates added: “And if a +young man ask me in the street where Charicles lodges, or whether I know where +Critias is, must I make him no answer?” “I mean not so +neither,” answered Charicles. Here Critias, interrupting their discourse, +said: “For the future, Socrates, you must have nothing to do with the +city tradesmen, the shoemakers, masons, smiths, and other mechanics, whom you +so often allege as examples of life; and who, I apprehend, are quite jaded with +your discourses.” “I must then likewise,” replied Socrates, +“omit the consequences I draw from those discourses; and have no more to +do with justice, piety, and the other duties of a good man.” “Yes, +yes,” said Charicles; “and I advise you to meddle no more with +those that tend herds of oxen; otherwise take care you lose not your +own.” And these last words made it appear that Critias and Charicles had +taken offence at the discourse which Socrates had held against their +government, when he compared them to a man that suffers his herd to fall to +ruin. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see how Critias frequented Socrates, and what opinion they had of each +other. I add, moreover, that we cannot learn anything of a man whom we do not +like: therefore if Critias and Alcibiades made no great improvement with +Socrates, it proceeded from this, that they never liked him. For at the very +time that they conversed with him, they always rather courted the conversation +of those who were employed in the public affairs, because they had no design +but to govern.—The following conference of Alcibiades, in particular, +which he had with Pericles, his governor—who was the chief man of the +city, whilst he was yet under twenty years of age—concerning the nature +of the laws, will confirm what I have now advanced. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray,” says Alcibiades, “explain to me what the law is: for, +as I hear men praised who observe the laws, I imagine that this praise could +not be given to those who know not what the law is.” “It is easy to +satisfy you,” answered Pericles: “the law is only what the people +in a general assembly ordain, declaring what ought to be done, and what ought +not to be done.” “And tell me,” added Alcibiades, “do +they ordain to do what is good, or what is ill?” “Most certainly +what is good.” Alcibiades pursued: “And how would you call what a +small number of citizens should ordain, in states where the people is not the +master, but all is ordered by the advice of a few persons, who possess the +sovereignty?” “I would call whatever they ordain a law; for laws +are nothing else but the ordinances of sovereigns.” “If a tyrant +then ordain anything, will that be a law?” “Yes, it will,” +said Pericles. “But what then is violence and injustice?” continued +Alcibiades; “is it not when the strongest makes himself be obeyed by the +weakest, not by consent, but by force only?” “In my opinion it +is.” “It follows then,” says Alcibiades, “that +ordinances made by a prince, without the consent of the citizens, will be +absolutely unjust.” “I believe so,” said Pericles; “and +cannot allow that the ordinances of a prince, when they are made without the +consent of the people, should bear the name of laws.” “And what the +chief citizens ordain, without procuring the consent of the greater number, is +that likewise a violence?” “There is no question of it,” +answered Pericles; “and in general, every ordinance made without the +consent of those who are to obey it, is a violence rather than a law.” +“And is what the populace decree, without the concurrence of the chiefs, +to be counted a violence likewise, and not a law?” “No doubt it +is,” said Pericles: “but when I was of your age, I could resolve +all these difficulties, because I made it my business to inquire into them, as +you do now.” “Would to God,” cried Alcibiades, “I had +been so happy as to have conversed with you then, when you understood these +matters better.” To this purpose was their dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +Critias and Alcibiades, however, continued not long with Socrates, after they +believed they had improved themselves, and gained some advantages over the +other citizens, for besides that they thought not his conversation very +agreeable, they were displeased that he took upon him to reprimand them for +their faults; and thus they threw themselves immediately into the public +affairs, having never had any other design but that. The usual companions of +Socrates were Crito, Chaerephon, Chaerecrates, Simmias, Cebes, Phædon, +and some others; none of whom frequented him that they might learn to speak +eloquently, either in the assemblies of the people, or in the courts of justice +before the judges; but that they might become better men, and know how to +behave themselves towards their domestics, their relations, their friends, and +their fellow-citizens. All these persons led very innocent lives; and, whether +we consider them in their youth or examine their behaviour in a more advanced +age, we shall find that they never were guilty of any bad action, nay, that +they never gave the least ground to suspect them of being so. +</p> + +<p> +But the accuser says that Socrates encouraged children to despise their +parents, making them believe that he was more capable to instruct them than +they; and telling them that as the laws permit a man to chain his own father if +he can convict him of lunacy, so, in like manner, it is but just that a man of +excellent sense should throw another into chains who has not so much +understanding. I cannot deny but that Socrates may have said something like +this; but he meant it not in the sense in which the accuser would have it +taken: and he fully discovered what his meaning by these words was, when he +said that he who should pretend to chain others because of their ignorance, +ought, for the same reason, to submit to be chained himself by men who know +more than he. Hence it is that he argued so often of the difference between +folly and ignorance; and then he plainly said that fools and madmen ought to be +chained indeed, as well for their own interest as for that of their friends; +but that they who are ignorant of things they should know, ought only to be +instructed by those that understand them. +</p> + +<p> +The accuser goes on, that Socrates did not only teach men to despise their +parents, but their other relations too; because he said that if a man be sick, +or have a suit in law, it is not his relations, but the physicians, or the +advocates who are of use to him. He further alleged that Socrates, speaking of +friends, said it was to no purpose to bear goodwill to any man, if it be not in +our power to serve him; and that the only friends whom we ought to value are +they who know what is good for us, and can teach it to us: thus, says the +accuser, Socrates, by persuading the youth that he was the wisest of all men, +and the most capable to set others in the right road to wisdom, made them +believe that all the rest of mankind were nothing in comparison with him. I +remember, indeed, to have heard him sometimes talk after this manner of +parents, relations, and friends; and he observed besides, if I mistake not, +that when the soul, in which the understanding resides, is gone out of the +body, we soon bury the corpse; and even though it be that of our nearest +relation, we endeavour to put it out of our sight as soon as decently we can. +Farther, though every man loves his own body to a great degree, we scruple not +nevertheless to take from it all that is superfluous, for this reason we cut +our hair and our nails, we take off our corns and our warts, and we put +ourselves into the surgeons’ hands, and endure caustics and incisions; +and after they have made us suffer a great deal of pain, we think ourselves +obliged to give them a reward: thus, too, we spit, because the spittle is of no +use in the mouth, but on the contrary is troublesome. But Socrates meant not by +these, or the like sayings, to conclude that a man ought to bury his father +alive, or that we ought to cut off our legs and arms; but he meant only to +teach us that what is useless is contemptible, and to exhort every man to +improve and render himself useful to others; to the end that if we desire to be +esteemed by our father, our brother, or any other relation, we should not rely +so much on our parentage and consanguinity, as not to endeavour to render +ourselves always useful to those whose esteem we desire to obtain. +</p> + +<p> +The accuser says further against Socrates, that he was so malicious as to +choose out of the famous poets the passages that contained the worst +instructions, and that he made use of them in a sly manner, to inculcate the +vices of injustice and violence: as this verse of Hesiod, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Blame no employment, but blame idleness.” +</p> + +<p> +And he pretends that Socrates alleged this passage to prove that the poet meant +to say that we ought not to count any employment unjust or dishonourable, if we +can make any advantage of it. This, however, was far from the thoughts of +Socrates; but, as he had always taught that employment and business are useful +and honourable to men, and that idleness is an evil, he concluded that they who +busy themselves about anything that is good are indeed employed; but that +gamesters and debauched persons, and all who have no occupations, but such as +are hurtful and wicked, are idle. Now, in this sense, is it not true to +say:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Blame no employment, but blame idleness”? +</p> + +<p> +The accuser likewise says that Socrates often repeated, out of Homer, a speech +of Ulysses; and from thence he concludes that Socrates taught that the poet +advised to beat the poor and abuse the common people. But it is plain Socrates +could never have drawn such a wild and unnatural inference from those verses of +the poet, because he would have argued against himself, since he was as poor as +anyone besides. What he meant, therefore, was only this, that such as are +neither men of counsel nor execution, who are neither fit to advise in the city +nor to serve in the army, and are nevertheless proud and insolent, ought to be +brought to reason, even though they be possessed of great riches. And this was +the true meaning of Socrates, for he loved the men of low condition, and +expressed a great civility for all sorts of persons; insomuch that whenever he +was consulted, either by the Athenians or by foreigners, he would never take +anything of any man for the instructions he gave them, but imparted his wisdom +freely, and without reward, to all the world; while they, who became rich by +his liberality, did not afterwards behave themselves so generously, but sold +very dear to others what had cost them nothing; and, not being of so obliging a +temper as he, would not impart their knowledge to any who had it not in their +power to reward them. In short, Socrates has rendered the city of Athens famous +throughout the whole earth; and, as Lychas was said to be the honour of Sparta, +because he treated, at his own expense, all the foreigners who came to the +feasts of the Gymnopaedies, so it may, with much greater reason, be said of +Socrates that he was the glory of Athens, he who all his life made a continual +distribution of his goodness and virtues, and who, keeping open for all the +world the treasures of an inestimable wealth, never sent any man out of his +company but more virtuous, and more improved in the principles of honour, than +formerly he was. Therefore, in my opinion, if he had been treated according to +his merit, they should have decreed him public honours rather than have +condemned him to an infamous death. For against whom have the laws ordained the +punishment of death? Is it not for thieves, for robbers, for men guilty of +sacrilege, for those who sell persons that are free? But where, in all the +world, can we find a man more innocent of all those crimes than Socrates? Can +it be said of him that he ever held correspondence with the enemy, that he ever +fomented any sedition, that he ever was the cause of a rebellion, or any other +the like mischiefs? Can any man lay to his charge that he ever detained his +estate, or did him or it the least injury? Was he ever so much as suspected of +any of these things? How then is it possible he should be guilty of the crimes +of which he was accused; since, instead of not believing in the gods, as the +accuser says, it is manifest he was a sincere adorer of them? Instead of +corrupting the youth, as he further alleges against him, he made it his chief +care to deliver his friends from the power of every guilty passion, and to +inspire them with an ardent love for virtue, the glory, the ornament, and +felicity of families as well as of states? And this being fact (and fact it is, +for who can deny it?), is it not certain that the Republic was extremely +obliged to him, and that she ought to have paid him the highest honours? +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III. HOW SOCRATES BEHAVED THROUGH THE WHOLE OF HIS LIFE.</h3> + +<p> +Having, therefore, observed myself that all who frequented him improved +themselves very much in his conversation, because he instructed them no less by +his example than by his discourses, I am resolved to set down, in this work, +all that I can recollect both of his actions and words. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, as to what relates to the service of the gods, he strictly +conformed to the advice of the oracle, who never gives any other answer to +those who inquire of him in what manner they ought to sacrifice to the gods, or +what honours they ought to render to the dead, than that everyone should +observe the customs of his own country. Thus in all the acts of religious +worship Socrates took particular care to do nothing contrary to the custom of +the Republic, and advised his friends to make that the rule of their devotion +to the gods, alleging it to be an argument of superstition and vanity to +dissent from the established worship. +</p> + +<p> +When he prayed to the gods he besought them only to give him what is good, +because they know better than we do what things are truly good for us; and he +said that men who pray for silver, or for gold, or for the sovereign authority, +made as foolish requests as if they prayed that they might play or fight, or +desired any other thing whose event is uncertain, and that might be likely to +turn to their disadvantage. +</p> + +<p> +When he offered sacrifices he did not believe that his poverty rendered them +despicable in the presence of the gods; and, while he offered according to his +ability, he thought he gave as much as the rich, who load the altars with +costly gifts, for he held that it would be an injustice in the gods to take +more delight in costly sacrifices than in poorer ones, because it would then +follow that the offerings of the wicked would for the most part be more +acceptable to them than the gifts of the good; and that, if this were so, we +ought not to desire to live one moment longer: he thought, therefore, that +nothing was so acceptable to the Deity as the homage that is paid him by souls +truly pious and innocent. To this purpose he often repeated these +verses:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Offer to heaven according to thy pow’r:<br/> +Th’ indulgent gracious gods require no more.” +</p> + +<p> +And not only in this, but in all the other occasions of life, he thought the +best advice he could give his friends was to do all things according to their +ability. +</p> + +<p> +When he believed that the gods had admonished him to do anything, it was as +impossible to make him take a contrary resolution as it would have been to have +prevailed with him in a journey to change a guide that was clear-sighted for +one that knew not the way, and was blind likewise. For this reason he pitied +their folly, who, to avoid the derision of men, live not according to the +admonitions and commands of the gods; and he beheld with contempt all the +subtilties of human prudence when he compared them with divine inspirations. +</p> + +<p> +His way of living was such that whoever follows it may be assured, with the +help of the gods, that he shall acquire a robust constitution and a health not +to be easily impaired; and this, too, without any great expense, for he was +content with so little that I believe there was not in all the world a man who +could work at all but might have earned enough to have maintained him. He +generally ate as long as he found pleasure in eating, and when he sat down to +table he desired no other sauce but a sound appetite. All sorts of drink were +alike pleasing to him, because he never drank but when he was thirsty; and if +sometimes he was invited to a feast, he easily avoided eating and drinking to +excess, which many find very difficult to do in those occasions. But he advised +those who had no government of themselves never to taste of things that tempt a +man to eat when he is no longer hungry, and that excite him to drink when his +thirst is already quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomach, causes +the headache, and puts the soul into disorder. And he said, between jest and +earnest, that he believed it was with such meats as those that Circe changed +men into swine, and that Ulysses avoided that transformation by the counsel of +Mercury, and because he had temperance enough to abstain from tasting them. +</p> + +<p> +As to love, his advice was to avoid carefully the company of beautiful persons, +saying it was very difficult to be near them and escape being taken in the +snare; and, having been told that Critobulus had given a kiss to the son of +Alcibiades, who was a very handsome youth, he held this discourse to Xenophon, +in the presence of Critobulus himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Xenophon, what opinion have you hitherto had of Critobulus? +Have you placed him in the rank of the temperate and judicious; or with the +debauched and imprudent?” “I have always looked upon him,” +answered Xenophon, “to be a very virtuous and prudent man.” +“Change your opinion,” replied Socrates, “and believe him +more rash than if he threw himself on the points of naked swords or leapt into +the fire.” “And what have you seen him do,” said Xenophon, +“that gives you reason to speak thus of him?” “Why, he had +the rashness,” answered Socrates, “to kiss the son of Alcibiades, +who is so beautiful and charming.” “And is this all?” said +Xenophon; “for my part, I think I could also willingly expose myself to +the same danger that he did.” “Wretch, that you are!” replied +Socrates. “Do you consider what happens to you after you have kissed a +beautiful face? Do you not lose your liberty? Do you not become a slave? Do you +not engage yourself in a vast expense to procure a sinful pleasure? Do you not +find yourself in an incapacity of doing what is good, and that you subject +yourself to the necessity of employing your whole time and person in the +pursuit of what you would despise, if your reason were not corrupted?” +“Good God!” cried Xenophon, “this is ascribing a wonderful +power to a kiss forsooth.” “And are you surprised at it?” +answered Socrates. “Are there not some small animals whose bite is so +venomous that it causes insufferable pain, and even the loss of the +senses?” “I know it very well,” said Xenophon, “but +these animals leave a poison behind them when they sting.” “And do +you think, you fool,” added Socrates, “that kisses of love are not +venomous, because you perceive not the poison? Know that a beautiful person is +a more dangerous animal than scorpions, because these cannot wound unless they +touch us; but beauty strikes at a distance: from what place soever we can but +behold her, she darts her venom upon us, and overthrows our judgment. And +perhaps for this reason the Loves are represented with bows and arrows, because +a beautiful face wounds us from afar. I advise you, therefore, Xenophon, when +you chance to see a beauty to fly from it, without looking behind you. And for +you, Critobulus, I think it convenient that you should enjoin yourself a +year’s absence, which will not be too long a time to heal you of your +wound.” +</p> + +<p> +As for such as have not strength enough to resist the power of love, he thought +that they ought to consider and use it as an action to which the soul would +never consent, were it not for the necessity of the body; and which, though it +be necessary, ought, nevertheless, to give us no inquietude. As for himself, +his continence was known to all men, and it was more easy for him to avoid +courting the most celebrated beauties, than it is for others to get away from +disagreeable objects. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see what was his way of life in eating, drinking, and in the affair of +love. He believed, however, that he tasted of those pleasures no less than they +who give themselves much trouble to enjoy them; but that he had not, like them, +so frequent occasions for sorrow and repentance. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV. SOCRATES PROVETH THE EXISTENCE OF A DEITY.</h3> + +<p> +If there be any who believe what some have written by conjecture, that Socrates +was indeed excellent in exciting men to virtue, but that he did not push them +forward to make any great progress in it, let such reflect a little on what he +said, not only when he endeavoured to refute those that boasted they knew all +things, but likewise in his familiar conversations, and let them judge +afterwards if he was incapable to advance his friends in the paths of virtue. +</p> + +<p> +I will, in the first place, relate a conference which he had with Aristodemus, +surnamed the Little, touching the Deity, for he had heard that he never +sacrificed to the gods; that he never addressed himself to them in prayer; that +he never consulted the oracles, and even laughed at those that practised these +things, he took him to talk in this manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Aristodemus, are there any persons whom you value on account of +their merit?” He answered, “Yes, certainly.” “Tell me +their names,” added Socrates. Aristodemus replied: “For epic poetry +I admire Homer as the most excellent; for dithyrambics, Melanippides; Sophocles +for tragedy; Polycletes for statuary; and Zeuxis for painting.” +“Which artists,” said Socrates, “do you think to be most +worthy of your esteem and admiration: they who make images without soul and +motion, or they who make animals that move of their own accord, and are endowed +with understanding?” “No doubt the last,” replied +Aristodemus, “provided they make them not by chance, but with judgment +and prudence.” Socrates went on: “As there are some things which we +cannot say why they were made, and others which are apparently good and useful, +tell me, my friend, whether of the two you rather take to be the work of +prudence than of hazard.” “It is reasonable,” said +Aristodemus, “to believe that the things which are good and useful are +the workmanship of reason and judgment.” “Do not you think +then,” replied Socrates, “that the first Former of mankind designed +their advantage when he gave them the several senses by which objects are +apprehended; eyes for things visible, and ears for sounds? Of what advantage +would agreeable scents have been to us if nostrils suited to their reception +had not been given? And for the pleasures of the taste, how could we ever have +enjoyed these, if the tongue had not been fitted to discern and relish them? +Further, does it not appear to you wisely provided that since the eye is of a +delicate make, it is guarded with the eyelid drawn back when the eye is used, +and covering it in sleep? How well does the hair at the extremity of the eyelid +keep out dust, and the eyebrow, by its prominency, prevent the sweat of the +forehead from running into the eye to its hurt. How wisely is the ear formed to +receive all sorts of sounds, and not to be filled with any to the exclusion of +others. Are not the fore teeth of all animals fitted to cut off proper portions +of food, and their grinders to reduce it to a convenient smallness? The mouth, +by which we take in the food we like, is fitly placed just beneath the nose and +eyes, the judges of its goodness; and what is offensive and disagreeable to our +senses is, for that reason, placed at a proper distance from them. In short, +these things being disposed in such order, and with so much care, can you +hesitate one moment to determine whether it be an effect of providence or of +chance?” “I doubt not of it in the least,” replied +Aristodemus, “and the more I fix my thoughts on the contemplation of +these things the more I am persuaded that all this is the masterpiece of a +great workman, who bears an extreme love to men.” “What say +you,” continued Socrates, “to this, that he gives all animals a +desire to engender and propagate their kind; that he inspires the mothers with +tenderness and affection to bring up their young; and that, from the very hour +of their birth, he infuses into them this great love of life and this mighty +aversion to death?” “I say,” replied Aristodemus, “that +it is an effect of his great care for their preservation.” “This is +not all,” said Socrates, “answer me yet farther; perhaps you would +rather interrogate me. You are not, I persuade myself, ignorant that you are +endowed with understanding; do you then think that there is not elsewhere an +intelligent being? Particularly, if you consider that your body is only a +little earth taken from that great mass which you behold. The moist that +composes you is only a small drop of that immense heap of water that makes the +sea; in a word, your body contains only a small part of all the elements, which +are elsewhere in great quantity. There is nothing then but your understanding +alone, which, by a wonderful piece of good fortune, must have come to you from +I know not whence, if there were none in another place; and can it then be said +that all this universe and all these so vast and numerous bodies have been +disposed in so much order, without the help of an intelligent Being, and by +mere chance?” “I find it very difficult to understand it +otherwise,” answered Aristodemus, “because I see not the gods, who, +you say, make and govern all things, as I see the artificers who do any piece +of work amongst us.” “Nor do you see your soul neither,” +answered Socrates, “which governs your body; but, because you do not see +it, will you from thence infer you do nothing at all by its direction, but that +everything you do is by mere chance?” Aristodemus now wavering said, +“I do not despise the Deity, but I conceive such an idea of his +magnificence and self-sufficiency, that I imagine him to have no need of me or +my services.” “You are quite wrong,” said Socrates, +“for by how much the gods, who are so magnificent, vouchsafe to regard +you, by so much you are bound to praise and adore them.” “It is +needless for me to tell you,” answered Aristodemus, “that, if I +believed the gods interested themselves in human affairs, I should not neglect +to worship them.” “How!” replied Socrates, “you do not +believe the gods take care of men, they who have not only given to man, in +common with other animals, the senses of seeing, hearing, and taste, but have +also given him to walk upright; a privilege which no other animal can boast of, +and which is of mighty use to him to look forward, to remote objects, to survey +with facility those above him, and to defend himself from any harm? Besides, +although the animals that walk have feet, which serve them for no other use +than to walk, yet, herein, have the gods distinguished man, in that, besides +feet, they have given him hands, the instruments of a thousand grand and useful +actions, on which account he not only excels, but is happier than all animals +besides. And, further, though all animals have tongues, yet none of them can +speak, like man’s; his tongue only can form words, by which he declares +his thoughts, and communicates them to others. Not to mention smaller instances +of their care, such as the concern they take of our pleasures, in confining men +to no certain season for the enjoying them, as they have done other animals. +</p> + +<p> +“But Providence taketh care, not only of our bodies, but of our souls: it +hath pleased the great Author of all, not only to give man so many advantages +for the body, but (which is the greatest gift of all, and the strongest proof +of his care) he hath breathed into him an intelligent soul, and that, too, the +most excellent of all, for which of the other animals has a soul that knows the +being of the Deity, by whom so many great and marvellous works are done? Is +there any species but man that serves and adores him? Which of the animals can, +like him, protect himself from hunger and thirst, from heat and cold? Which, +like him, can find remedies for diseases, can make use of his strength, and is +as capable of learning, that so perfectly retains the things he has seen, he +has heard, he has known? In a word, it is manifest that man is a god in +comparison with the other living species, considering the advantages he +naturally has over them, both of body and soul. For, if man had a body like to +that of an ox the subtilty of his understanding would avail him nothing, +because he would not be able to execute what he should project. On the other +hand, if that animal had a body like ours, yet, being devoid of understanding, +he would be no better than the rest of the brute species. Thus the gods have at +once united in your person the most excellent structure of body and the +greatest perfection of soul; and now can you still say, after all, that they +take no care of you? What would you have them do to convince you of the +contrary?” “I would have them,” answered Aristodemus, +“send on purpose to let me know expressly all that I ought to do or not +to do, in like manner as you say they do give you notice.” +“What!” said Socrates, “when they pronounce any oracle to all +the Athenians, do you think they do not address themselves to you too, when by +prodigies they make known to the Greeks the things that are to happen, are they +silent to you alone, and are you the only person they neglect? Do you think +that the gods would have instilled this notion into men, that it is they who +can make them happy or miserable, if it were not indeed in their power to do +so? And do you believe that the human race would have been thus long abused +without ever discovering the cheat? Do you not know that the most ancient and +wisest republics and people have been also the most pious, and that man, at the +age when his judgment is ripest, has then the greatest bent to the worship of +the Deity? +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Aristodemus, consider that your mind governs your body according +to its pleasure: in like manner we ought to believe that there is a mind +diffused throughout the whole universe that disposeth of all things according +to its counsels. You must not imagine that your weak sight can reach to objects +that are several leagues distant, and that the eye of God cannot, at one and +the same time, see all things. You must not imagine that your mind can reflect +on the affairs of Athens, of Egypt, and of Sicily, and that the providence of +God cannot, at one and the same moment, consider all things. As, therefore, you +may make trial of the gratitude of a man by doing him a kindness, and as you +may discover his prudence by consulting him in difficult affairs, so, if you +would be convinced how great is the power and goodness of God, apply yourself +sincerely to piety and his worship; then, my dear Aristodemus, you shall soon +be persuaded that the Deity sees all, hears all, is present everywhere, and, at +the same time, regulates and superintends all the events of the +universe.” +</p> + +<p> +By such discourses as these Socrates taught his friends never to commit any +injustice or dishonourable action, not only in the presence of men, but even in +secret, and when they are alone, since the Divinity hath always an eye over us, +and none of our actions can be hid from him. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V. THE PRAISE OF TEMPERANCE.</h3> + +<p> +And if temperance be a virtue in man, as undoubtedly it is, let us see whether +any improvement can be made by what he said of it. I will here give you one of +his discourses on that subject:— +</p> + +<p> +“If we were engaged in a war,” said he, “and were to choose a +general, would we make choice of a man given to wine or women, and who could +not support fatigues and hardships? Could we believe that such a commander +would be capable to defend us and to conquer our enemies? Or if we were lying +on our deathbed, and were to appoint a guardian and tutor for our children, to +take care to instruct our sons in the principles of virtue, to breed up our +daughters in the paths of honour and to be faithful in the management of their +fortunes, should we think a debauched person fit for that employment? Would we +trust our flocks and our granaries in the hands of a drunkard? Would we rely +upon him for the conduct of any enterprise; and, in short, if a present were +made us of such a slave, should we not make it a difficulty to accept him? If, +then, we have so great an aversion for debauchery in the person of the meanest +servant, ought we not ourselves to be very careful not to fall into the same +fault? Besides, a covetous man has the satisfaction of enriching himself, and, +though he take away another’s estate, he increases his own; but a +debauched man is both troublesome to others and injurious to himself. We may +say of him that he is hurtful to all the world, and yet more hurtful to +himself, if to ruin, not only his family, but his body and soul likewise, is to +be hurtful. Who, then, can take delight in the company of him who has no other +diversion than eating and drinking, and who is better pleased with the +conversation of a prostitute than of his friends? Ought we not, then, to +practise temperance above all things, seeing it is the foundation of all other +virtues; for without it what can we learn that is good, what do that is worthy +of praise? Is not the state of man who is plunged in voluptuousness a wretched +condition both for the body and soul? Certainly, in my opinion, a free person +ought to wish to have no such servants, and servants addicted to such brutal +irregularities ought earnestly to entreat Heaven that they may fall into the +hands of very indulgent masters, because their ruin will be otherwise almost +unavoidable.” +</p> + +<p> +This is what Socrates was wont to say upon this subject. But if he appeared to +be a lover of temperance in his discourses, he was yet a more exact observer of +it in his actions, showing himself to be not only invincible to the pleasures +of the senses, but even depriving himself of the satisfaction of getting an +estate; for he held that a man who accepts of money from others makes himself a +servant to all their humours, and becomes their slave in a manner no less +scandalous than other slaveries. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI. THE DISPUTE OF SOCRATES WITH ANTIPHON, THE SOPHIST.</h3> + +<p> +To this end it will not be amiss to relate, for the honour of Socrates, what +passed between him and the sophist Antiphon, who designed to seduce away his +hearers, and to that end came to him when they were with him, and, in their +presence, addressed himself to him in these words:—“I imagined, +Socrates, that philosophers were happier than other men; but, in my opinion, +your wisdom renders you more miserable, for you live at such a rate that no +footman would live with a master that treated him in the same manner. You eat +and drink poorly, you are clothed very meanly—the same suit serves you in +summer and winter—you go barefoot, and for all this you take no money, +though it is a pleasure to get it; for, after a man has acquired it, he lives +more genteely and more at his ease. If, therefore, as in all other sorts of +arts, apprentices endeavour to imitate their masters, should these who frequent +your conversation become like you, it is certain that you will have taught them +nothing but to make themselves miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +Socrates answered him in the following manner:—“You think, +Antiphon, I live so poorly that I believe you would rather die than live like +me. But what is it you find so strange and difficult in my way of living? You +blame me for not taking money; is it because they who take money are obliged to +do what they promise, and that I, who take none, entertain myself only with +whom I think fit? You despise my eating and drinking; is it because my diet is +not so good nor so nourishing as yours, or because it is more scarce and +dearer, or lastly, because your fare seems to you to be better? Know that a man +who likes what he eats needs no other <i>ragoût</i>, and that he who finds one +sort of drink pleasant wishes for no other. As to your objection of my clothes, +you appear to me, Antiphon, to judge quite amiss of the matter; for, do you not +know that we dress ourselves differently only because of the hot or cold +weather, and if we wear shoes it is because we would walk the easier? But, tell +me, did you ever observe that the cold hath hindered me from going abroad? Have +you ever seen me choose the cool and fresh shades in hot weather? And, though I +go barefoot, do not you see that I go wherever I will? Do you not know that +there are some persons of a very tender constitution, who, by constant +exercise, surmount the weakness of their nature, and at length endure fatigues +better than they who are naturally more robust, but have not taken pains to +exercise and harden themselves like the others? Thus, therefore, do not you +believe that I, who have all my life accustomed myself to bear patiently all +manner of fatigues, cannot now more easily submit to this than you, who have +never thought of the matter? If I have no keen desire after dainties, if I +sleep little, if I abandon not myself to any infamous amour, the reason is +because I spend my time more delightfully in things whose pleasure ends not in +the moment of enjoyment, and that make me hope besides to receive an +everlasting reward. Besides, you know very well, that when a man sees that his +affairs go ill he is not generally very gay; and that, on the contrary, they +who think to succeed in their designs, whether in agriculture, traffic, or any +other undertaking, are very contented in their minds. Now, do you think that +from anything whatsoever there can proceed a satisfaction equal to the inward +consciousness of improving daily in virtue, and acquiring the acquaintance and +friendship of the best of men? And if we were to serve our friends or our +country, would not a man who lives like me be more capable of it than one that +should follow that course of life which you take to be so charming? If it were +necessary to carry arms, which of the two would be the best soldier, he who +must always fare deliciously, or he who is satisfied with what he finds? If +they were to undergo a siege who would hold out longest, he who cannot live +without delicacies, or he who requires nothing but what may easily be had? One +would think, Antiphon, that you believe happiness to consist in good eating and +drinking, and in an expensive and splendid way of life. For my part, I am of +opinion that to have need of nothing at all is a divine perfection, and that to +have need but of little is to approach very near the Deity, and hence it +follows that, as there is nothing more excellent than the Deity, whatever +approaches nearest to it is likewise most near the supreme excellence.” +</p> + +<p> +Another time Antiphon addressed himself to Socrates: “I confess you are +an honest, well-meaning man, Socrates; but it is certain you know little or +nothing, and one would imagine you own this to be true, for you get nothing by +your teaching. And yet, I persuade myself, you would not part with your house, +or any of the furniture of it, without some gratuity, because you believe them +of some small value; nay, you would not part with them for less than they are +worth: if, therefore, you thought your teaching worth anything you would be +paid for it according to its value; in this, indeed, you show yourself honest, +because you will not, out of avarice, cheat any man, but at the same time you +discover, too, that you know but little, since all your knowledge is not worth +the buying.” +</p> + +<p> +Socrates answered him in this manner:—“There is a great resemblance +between beauty and the doctrine of philosophers; what is praiseworthy in the +one is so in the other, and both of them are subject to the same vice: for, if +a woman sells her beauty for money, we immediately call her a prostitute; but +if she knows that a man of worth and condition is fallen in love with her, and +if she makes him her friend, we say she is a prudent woman. It is just the same +with the doctrine of philosophers; they that sell it are sophists, and like the +public women, but if a philosopher observe a youth of excellent parts, and +teacheth him what he knows, in order to obtain his friendship, we say of him, +that he acts the part of a good and virtuous citizen. Thus as some delight in +fine horses, others in dogs, and others in birds; for my part all my delight is +to be with my virtuous friends. I teach them all the good I know, and recommend +them to all whom I believe capable to assist them in the way to perfection. We +all draw together, out of the same fountain, the precious treasures which the +ancient sages have left us; we run over their works, and if we find anything +excellent we take notice of it and select it: in short, we believe we have made +a great improvement when we begin to love one another.” This was the +answer he made, and when I heard him speak in this manner I thought him very +happy, and that he effectually stirred up his hearers to the love of virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Another time when Antiphon asked him why he did not concern himself with +affairs of State, seeing he thought himself capable to make others good +politicians? he returned this answer:—“Should I be more serviceable +to the State if I took an employment whose function would be wholly bounded in +my person, and take up all my time, than I am by instructing every one as I do, +and in furnishing the Republic with a great number of citizens who are capable +to serve her?” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII. IN WHAT MANNER SOCRATES DISSUADED MEN FROM SELF-CONCEIT AND +OSTENTATION.</h3> + +<p> +But let us now see whether by dissuading his friends from a vain ostentation he +did not exhort them to the pursuit of virtue. He frequently said that there was +no readier way to glory than to render oneself excellent, and not to affect to +appear so. To prove this he alleged the following example:—“Let us +suppose,” said he, “that any one would be thought a good musician, +without being so in reality; what course must he take? He must be careful to +imitate the great masters in everything that is not of their art; he must, like +them, have fine musical instruments; he must, like them, be followed by a great +number of persons wherever he goes, who must be always talking in his praise. +And yet he must not venture to sing in public: for then all men would +immediately perceive not only his ignorance, but his presumption and folly +likewise. And would it not be ridiculous in him to spend his estate to ruin his +reputation? In like manner, if any one would appear a great general, or a good +pilot, though he knew nothing of either, what would be the issue of it? If he +cannot make others believe it, it troubles him, and if he can persuade them to +think so he is yet more unhappy, because, if he be made choice of for the +steering of ships, or to command an army, he will acquit himself very ill of +his office, and perhaps be the cause of the loss of his best friends. It is not +less dangerous to appear to be rich, or brave, or strong, if we are not so +indeed, for this opinion of us may procure us employments that are above our +capacity, and if we fail to effect what was expected of us there is no +remission for our faults. And if it be a great cheat to wheedle one of your +neighbours out of any of his ready money or goods, and not restore them to him +afterwards, it is a much greater impudence and cheat for a worthless fellow to +persuade the world that he is capable to govern a Republic.” By these and +the like arguments he inspired a hatred of vanity and ostentation into the +minds of those who frequented him. +</p> + +<h2>BOOK II.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I. A CONFERENCE OF SOCRATES WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING PLEASURE AND +TEMPERANCE.</h3> + +<p> +In the same manner, likewise, he encouraged his hearers by the following +arguments to support hunger and thirst, to resist the temptations of love, to +fly from laziness, and inure themselves to all manner of fatigues. For, being +told that one of them lived too luxuriously, he asked him this question: +“If you were entrusted, Aristippus, with the education of two young men, +one to be a prince and the other a private man, how would you educate them? Let +us begin with their nourishment, as being the foundation of all.” +“It is true,” said Aristippus, “that nourishment is the +foundation of our life, for a man must soon die if he be not nourished.” +“You would accustom both of them,” said Socrates, “to eat and +drink at a certain hour?” “It is likely I should?” “But +which of the two,” said Socrates, “would you teach to leave eating +before he was satisfied, to go about some earnest business?” “Him, +without doubt,” answered Aristippus, “whom I intended to render +capable to govern, to the end that under him the affairs of the Republic might +not suffer by delay.” “Which of the two,” continued Socrates, +“would you teach to abstain from drinking when he was thirsty, to sleep +but little, to go late to bed, to rise early, to watch whole nights, to live +chastely, to get the better of his favourite inclinations, and not to avoid +fatigues, but expose himself freely to them?” “The same +still,” replied Aristippus. “And if there be any art that teaches +to overcome our enemies, to which of the two is it rather reasonable to teach +it?” “To him to,” said Aristippus, “for without that +art all the rest would avail him nothing.” “I believe,” said +Socrates, “that a man, who has been educated in this manner, would not +suffer himself to be so easily surprised by his enemies as the most part of +animals do. For some perish by their gluttony, as those whom we allure with a +bait, or catch by offering them to drink, and who fall into the snares, +notwithstanding their fears and distrust. Others perish through their +lasciviousness, as quails and partridges, who suffer themselves to be decoyed +by the counterfeit voice of their females, and blindly following the amorous +warmth that transports them, fall miserably into the nets.” “You +say true,” said Aristippus. “Well, then,” pursued Socrates, +“is it not scandalous for a man to be taken in the same snares with +irrational animals? And does not this happen to adulterers, who skulk and hide +themselves in the chambers and closets of married women, though they know they +run a very great risk, and that the laws are very strict and rigorous against +those crimes? They know themselves to be watched, and that, if they are taken, +they shall not be let go with impunity. In a word, they see punishment and +infamy hanging over the heads of criminals like themselves. Besides, they are +not ignorant, that there are a thousand honourable diversions to deliver them +from those infamous passions, and yet they run hand over head into the midst of +these dangers, and what is this but to be wretched and desperate to the highest +degree?” “I think it so,” answered Aristippus. “What +say you to this,” continued Socrates, “that the most necessary and +most important affairs of life, as those of war and husbandry, are, with others +of little less consequence, performed in the fields and in the open air, and +that the greatest part of mankind accustom themselves so little to endure the +inclemency of the seasons, to suffer heat and cold? Is not this a great +neglect? and do you not think that a man who is to command others ought to +inure himself to all these hardships?” “I think he ought,” +answered Aristippus. “Therefore,” replied Socrates, “if they +who are patient and laborious, as we have said, are worthy to command, may we +not say that they who can do nothing of all this, ought never to pretend to any +office?” Aristippus agreed to it, and Socrates went on. +</p> + +<p> +“Since then you know the rank which either of these two sorts of men +ought to hold, amongst which would you have us place you?” +“Me!” said Aristippus; “why truly, not amongst those that +govern; for that is an office I would never choose. Let those rule who have a +mind for it; for my part, I envy not their condition. For, when I reflect that +we find it hard enough to supply our own wants, I do not approve of loading +ourselves, besides, with the necessities of a whole people; and that being +often compelled to go without many things that we desire, we should engage +ourselves in an employment that would render us liable to blame, if we did not +take care to supply others with everything they want: I think there is folly in +all this. For republics make use of their magistrates as I do of my slaves, who +shall get me my meat and drink, and all other necessaries, as I command, and +not presume to touch any of it themselves; so, too, the people will have those, +who govern the State, take care to provide them with plenty of all things, and +will not suffer them to do anything for their own advantage. I think, +therefore, that all who are pleased with a hurry of affairs, and in creating +business for others, are most fit to govern, provided they have been educated +and instructed in the manner we mentioned. But, for my part, I desire to lead a +more quiet and easy life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us,” said Socrates, “consider whether they who govern +lead more happy lives than their subjects: among the nations that are known to +us in Asia, the Syrians, the Phrygians, and the Lydians, are under the empire +of the Persians. In Europe, the Mæotians are subject to the Scythians; in +Africa, the Carthaginians reign over the rest of the Africans. Which now, in +your opinion, are the most happy? Let us look into Greece, where you are at +present. Whose condition, think you, is most to be desired, that of the nations +who rule, or of the people who are under the dominion of others?” +“I can never,” said Aristippus, “consent to be a slave; but +there is a way between both that leads neither to empire nor subjection, and +this is the road of liberty, in which I endeavour to walk, because it is the +shortest to arrive at true quiet and repose.” “If you had +said,” replied Socrates, “that this way, which leads neither to +empire nor subjection, is a way that leads far from all human society, you +would, perhaps, have said something; for, how can we live among men, and +neither command nor obey? Do you not observe that the mighty oppress the weak, +and use them as their slaves, after they have made them groan under the weight +of oppression, and given them just cause to complain of their cruel usage, in a +thousand instances, both general and particular? And if they find any who will +not submit to the yoke, they ravage their countries, spoil their corn, cut down +their trees, and attack them, in short, in such a manner that they are +compelled to yield themselves up to slavery, rather than undergo so unequal a +war? Among private men themselves, do not the stronger and more bold trample on +the weaker?” “To the end, therefore, that this may not happen to +me,” said Aristippus, “I confine myself not to any republic, but am +sometimes here, sometimes there, and think it best to be a stranger wherever I +am.” “This invention of yours,” replied Socrates, “is +very extraordinary. Travellers, I believe, are not now so much infested on the +roads by robbers as formerly, deterred, I suppose, by the fate of Sinnis, +Scyron, Procrustes, and the rest of that gang. What then? They who are settled +in their own country, and are concerned in the administration of the public +affairs, they have the laws in their favours, have their relations and friends +to assist them, have fortified towns and arms for their defence: over and +above, they have alliances with their neighbours: and yet all these favourable +circumstances cannot entirely shelter them from the attempts and surprises of +wicked men. But can you, who have none of these advantages, who are, for the +most part, travelling on the roads, often dangerous to most men, who never +enter a town, where you have not less credit than the meanest inhabitant, and +are as obscure as the wretches who prey on the properties of others; in these +circumstances, can you, I say, expect to be safe, merely because you are a +stranger, or perhaps have got passports from the States that promise you all +manner of safety coming or going, or should it be your hard fortune to be made +a slave, you would make such a bad one, that a master would be never the better +for you? For, who would suffer in his family a man who would not work, and yet +expected to live well? But let us see how masters use such servants. +</p> + +<p> +“When they are too lascivious, they compel them to fast till they have +brought them so low, that they have no great stomach to make love, if they are +thieves, they prevent them from stealing, by carefully locking up whatever they +could take: they chain them for fear they should run away: if they are dull and +lazy, then stripes and scourges are the rewards we give them. If you yourself, +my friend, had a worthless slave, would you not take the same measures with +him?” “I would treat such a fellow,” answered Aristippus, +“with all manner of severity, till I had brought him to serve me better. +But, Socrates, let us resume our former discourse.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what do they who are educated in the art of government, which you +seem to think a great happiness, differ from those who suffer through +necessity? For you say they must accustom themselves to hunger and thirst, to +endure cold and heat, to sleep little, and that they must voluntarily expose +themselves to a thousand other fatigues and hardships. Now, I cannot conceive +what difference there is between being whipped willingly and by force, and +tormenting one’s body either one way or the other, except that it is a +folly in a man to be willing to suffer pain.” “How,” said +Socrates, “you know not this difference between things voluntary and +constrained, that he who suffers hunger because he is pleased to do so may +likewise eat when he has a mind; and he who suffers thirst because he is +willing may also drink when he pleases. But it is not in the power of him who +suffers either of them through constraint and necessity to relieve himself by +eating and drinking the moment he desires it? Besides, he that voluntarily +embraceth any laborious exercise finds much comfort and content in the hope +that animates him. Thus the fatigues of hunting discourage not the hunters, +because they hope to take the game they pursue. And yet what they take, though +they think it a reward for all their toil, is certainly of very little value. +Ought not they, then, who labour to gain the friendship of good men, or to +overcome their enemies, or to render themselves capable of governing their +families, and of serving their country, ought not these, I say, joyfully to +undertake the trouble, and to rest content, conscious of the inward approbation +of their own minds, and the regard and esteem of the virtuous? And to convince +you that it is good to impose labours on ourselves, it is a maxim among those +who instruct youth that the exercises which are easily performed at the first +attempt, and which we immediately take delight in, are not capable to form the +body to that vigour and strength that is requisite in great undertakings, nor +of imprinting in the soul any considerable knowledge: but that those which +require patience, application, labour, and assiduity, prepare the way to +illustrious actions and great achievements. This is the opinion of good judges, +and of Hesiod in particular, who says somewhere— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘To Vice, in crowded ranks, the course we steer,<br/> +The road is smooth, and her abode is near;<br/> +But Virtue’s heights are reached with sweat and pain,<br/> +For thus did the immortal powers ordain.<br/> +A long and rough ascent leads to her gate,<br/> +Nor, till the summit’s gained, doth toil abate.’ +</p> + +<p> +And to the same purpose Epicharmus:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The gods confer their blessings at the price<br/> +Of labour—.” +</p> + +<p> +Who remarks in another place— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Thou son of sloth, avoid the charms of ease,<br/> +Lest pain succeed—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the same opinion is Prodicus, in the book he has written of the life +of Hercules, where Virtue and Pleasure make their court to that hero under the +appearance of two beautiful women. His words, as near as I can remember, are as +follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“‘When Hercules,’ says the moralist, ‘had arrived at +that part of his youth in which young men commonly choose for themselves, and +show, by the result of their choice, whether they will, through the succeeding +stages of their lives, enter into and walk in the path of virtue or that of +vice, he went out into a solitary place fit for contemplation, there to +consider with himself which of those two paths he should pursue. +</p> + +<p> +“‘As he was sitting there in suspense he saw two women of a larger +stature than ordinary approaching towards him. One of them had a genteel and +amiable aspect; her beauty was natural and easy, her person and shape clean and +handsome, her eyes cast towards the ground with an agreeable reserve, her +motion and behaviour full of modesty, and her raiment white as snow. The other +wanted all the native beauty and proportion of the former; her person was +swelled, by luxury and ease, to a size quite disproportioned and uncomely. She +had painted her complexion, that it might seem fairer and more ruddy than it +really was, and endeavoured to appear more graceful than ordinary in her mien, +by a mixture of affectation in all her gestures. Her eyes were full of +confidence, and her dress transparent, that the conceited beauty of her person +might appear through it to advantage. She cast her eyes frequently upon +herself, then turned them on those that were present, to see whether any one +regarded her, and now and then looked on the figure she made in her own shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“‘As they drew nearer, the former continued the same composed pace, +while the latter, striving to get before her, ran up to Hercules, and addressed +herself to him in the following manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“I perceive, my dear Hercules, you are in doubt which path in life you +should pursue. If, then, you will be my friend and follow me, I will lead you +to a path the most easy and most delightful, wherein you shall taste all the +sweets of life, and live exempt from every trouble. You shall neither be +concerned in war nor in the affairs of the world, but shall only consider how +to gratify all your senses—your taste with the finest dainties and most +delicious drink, your sight with the most agreeable objects, your scent with +the richest perfumes and fragrancy of odours, how you may enjoy the embraces of +the fair, repose on the softest beds, render your slumbers sweet and easy, and +by what means enjoy, without even the smallest care, all those glorious and +mighty blessings. +</p> + +<p> +“And, for fear you suspect that the sources whence you are to derive +those invaluable blessings might at some time or other fail, and that you +might, of course, be obliged to acquire them at the expense of your mind and +the united labour and fatigue of your body, I beforehand assure you that you +shall freely enjoy all from the industry of others, undergo neither hardship +nor drudgery, but have everything at your command that can afford you any +pleasure or advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hercules, hearing the lady make him such offers, desired to know +her name, to which she answered, “My friends, and those who are well +acquainted with me, and whom I have conducted, call me Happiness; but my +enemies, and those who would injure my reputation, have given me the name of +Pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘In the meantime, the other lady approached, and in her turn +accosted him in this manner:—“I also am come to you, Hercules, to +offer my assistance; I, who am well acquainted with your divine extraction and +have observed the excellence of your nature, even from your childhood, from +which I have reason to hope that, if you would follow the path that leadeth to +my residence, you will undertake the greatest enterprises and achieve the most +glorious actions, and that I shall thereby become more honourable and +illustrious among mortals. But before I invite you into my society and +friendship I will be open and sincere with you, and must lay down this as an +established truth, that there is nothing truly valuable which can be purchased +without pains and labour. The gods have set a price upon every real and noble +pleasure. If you would gain the favour of the Deity you must be at the pains of +worshipping Him; if you would be beloved by your friends you must study to +oblige them; if you would be honoured by any city you must be of service to it; +and if you would be admired by all Greece, on account of your probity and +valour, you must exert yourself to do her some eminent service. If you would +render your fields fruitful, and fill your arms with corn, you must labour to +cultivate the soil accordingly. Would you grow rich by your herds, a proper +care must be taken of them; would you extend your dominions by arms, and be +rendered capable of setting at liberty your captive friends, and bringing your +enemies to subjection, you must not only learn of those that are experienced in +the art of war, but exercise yourself also in the use of military affairs; and +if you would excel in the strength of your body you must keep your body in due +subjection to your mind, and exercise it with labour and pains.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Here Pleasure broke in upon her discourse—“Do you +see, my dear Hercules, through what long and difficult ways this woman would +lead you to her promised delights? Follow me, and I will show you a much +shorter and more easy way to happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” replied the Goddess of Virtue, whose visage glowed with a +passion made up of scorn and pity, “what happiness can you bestow, or +what pleasure can you taste, who would never do anything to acquire it? You who +will take your fill of all pleasures before you feel an appetite for any; you +eat before you are hungry, you drink before you are athirst; and, that you may +please your taste, must have the finest artists to prepare your viands; the +richest wines that you may drink with pleasure, and to give your wine the finer +taste, you search every place for ice and snow luxuriously to cool it in the +heat of summer. Then, to make your slumbers uninterrupted, you must have the +softest down and the easiest couches, and a gentle ascent of steps to save you +from any the least disturbance in mounting up to them. And all little enough, +heaven knows! for you have not prepared yourself for sleep by anything you have +done, but seek after it only because you have nothing to do. It is the same in +the enjoyments of love, in which you rather force than follow your +inclinations, and are obliged to use arts, and even to pervert nature, to keep +your passions alive. Thus is it that you instruct your followers—kept +awake for the greatest part of the night by debaucheries, and consuming in +drowsiness all the most useful part of the day. Though immortal, you are an +outcast from the gods, and despised by good men. Never have you heard that most +agreeable of all sounds, your own praise, nor ever have you beheld the most +pleasing of all objects, any good work of your own hands. Who would ever give +any credit to anything that you say? Who would assist you in your necessity, or +what man of sense would ever venture to be of your mad parties? Such as do +follow you are robbed of their strength when they are young, void of wisdom +when they grow old. In their youth they are bred up in indolence and all manner +of delicacy, and pass their old age with difficulties and distress, full of +shame for what they have done, and oppressed with the burden of what they are +to do, squanderers of pleasures in their youth, and hoarders up of afflictions +for their old age. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, my conversation is with the gods, and with good men, +and there is nothing excellent performed by either without my influence. I am +respected above all things by the gods and by the best of mortals, and it is +just I should. I am an agreeable companion to the artisan, a faithful security +to masters of families, a kind assistant to servants, a useful associate in the +arts of peace, a faithful ally in the labours of war, and the best uniter of +all friendships. +</p> + +<p> +“My votaries, too, enjoy a pleasure in everything they either eat or +drink, even without having laboured for it, because they wait for the demand of +their appetites. Their sleep is sweeter than that of the indolent and inactive; +and they are neither overburdened with it when they awake, nor do they, for the +sake of it, omit the necessary duties of life. My young men have the pleasure +of being praised by those who are in years, and those who are in years of being +honoured by those who are young. They look back with comfort on their past +actions, and delight themselves in their present employments. By my means they +are favoured by the gods, beloved by their friends, and honoured by their +country; and when the appointed period of their lives is come they are not lost +in a dishonourable oblivion, but live and flourish in the praises of mankind, +even to the latest posterity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, my dear Hercules, who are descended of divine ancestors, you may +acquire, by virtuous toil and industry, this most desirable state of perfect +happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such was the discourse, my friend, which the goddess had with Hercules, +according to Prodicus. You may believe that he embellished the thoughts with +more noble expressions than I do. I heartily wish, my dear Aristippus, that you +should make such an improvement of those divine instructions, as that you too +may make such a happy choice as may render you happy during the future course +of your life.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II. SOCRATES’ DISCOURSE WITH HIS ELDEST SON LAMPROCLES +CONCERNING THE RESPECT DUE TO PARENTS.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a rage with his mother, spoke +to him in this manner:—“Come hither, my son. Have you ever heard of +a certain sort of men, who are called ungrateful?” “Very +often,” answered the young man. “And do you know,” said +Socrates, “why they are called so?” “We call a man +ungrateful,” answered Lamprocles, “who, having received a kindness, +does not return the like if occasion offers.” “I think, +therefore,” said Socrates, “ingratitude is a kind of +injustice?” “I think so too,” answered Lamprocles. Socrates +went on:—“Have you never considered of what nature this injustice +is? For since it is an injustice to treat our friends ill, and on the contrary, +a piece of justice to make our enemies smart for their conduct, may it be said, +with like reason, that it is an injustice to be ungrateful towards our friends, +and that it is just to be ungrateful towards our enemies.” “On +mature consideration,” answered Lamprocles, “I think it is criminal +to do injustice to either of them.” “If, then,” pursued +Socrates, “ingratitude be an injustice, it follows that the greater the +favours are which we have received, the greater is the injustice in not +acknowledging them.” Lamprocles granted this consequence, and Socrates +continued—“Can there be any stricter obligations than those that +children are laid under to their parents? For it is they who gave them a being, +and who have put them in a condition to behold all the wonders of Nature, and +to partake of the many good things exhibited before them by the bounty of +Providence, and which are so delightful, that there is not anything that all +men more dread than to leave them; insomuch that all governments have ordained +death to be the punishment of the most enormous crimes, because there is +nothing can more effectually put a stop to the rage of the wicked than the +apprehension of death. In the affair of marriage, it is not merely the +gratification of the appetite which Nature has so strongly implanted in both +sexes for their preservation that we regard; no, that passion can be satisfied +in a less expensive manner, even in our streets, and other places; but when we +design to enter into that state, we make choice of a woman of such a form and +shape, by whom we may expect to have fine children, and of such a temper and +disposition as to assure us of future happiness. When that is finished, it is +then the chief care of the husband to maintain his wife, and to provide for his +children things useful for life in the greatest abundance he can. On the part +of the wife, many are her anxieties and troubles for the preservation of her +offspring during the time of her pregnancy; she gives it then part of her +nourishment and life; and after having suffered the sharpest pangs at the +moment of its birth, she then gives it suck, and continues her care and love to +it. All this she does to the poor helpless infant, so void of reason, that it +knows not even her that is so good to it, nor can ask her for its own +necessities. Full of tenderness for the welfare and happiness of her babe, her +whole time, day and night, is spent in pleasing it, without the least prospect +of any recompense for all her fatigue. After this, when the children are come +to an age fit to be instructed, the fathers teach them all the good things they +can for the conduct of their life; and if they know any man more capable to +instruct them than themselves, they send them to him, without regard to the +expense, thus indicating by their whole conduct, what sincere pleasure it would +afford them to see their children turn out men of virtue and probity.” +“Undoubtedly,” answered Lamprocles, “if my mother had done +all this, and an hundred times as much, no man could suffer her +ill-humours?” “Do not you think,” said Socrates, “that +the anger of a beast is much more difficult to support than that of a +mother?” “Not of a mother like her,” said Lamprocles. +Socrates continued, “What strange thing has she done to you? Has she bit +you, has she kicked you, as beasts do when they are angry?” “She +has a tongue that no mortal can suffer,” answered Lamprocles. “And +you,” replied Socrates, “how many crosses did you give her in your +infancy by your continual bawling and importunate actions? how much trouble by +night and by day? how much affliction in your illnesses?” “At +worst,” answered Lamprocles, “I never did nor said anything that +might make her blush.” “Alas!” said Socrates, “is it +more difficult for you to hear in patience the hasty expressions of your +mother, than it is for the comedians to hear what they say to one another on +the stage when they fall into the most injurious reproaches? For they easily +suffer it, knowing well that when one reviles another, he reviles him not with +intent to injure him; and when one threatens another, he threatens not with +design to do him any harm. You who are fully convinced likewise of the +intentions of your mother, and who know very well that the hard words she gives +you do not proceed from hate, but that she has a great affection for you, how +can you, then, be angry with her? Is it because you imagine that she wishes you +ill?” “Not in the least,” answered Lamprocles; “I never +had such a thought.” “What!” continued Socrates; “a +mother that loves you; a mother who, in your sickness, does all she can to +recover your health, who takes care that you want for nothing, who makes so +many vows to heaven for you; you say this is an ill mother? In truth, if you +cannot live with her, I will say you cannot live at your ease. Tell me, in +short, do you believe you ought to have any reverence or respect for any one +whatever? Or do you not care for any man’s favour and goodwill, neither +for that of a general, suppose, or of any other magistrate?” “On +the contrary,” said Lamprocles, “I am very careful to gain the +goodwill of all men.” “Perhaps you would endeavour to acquire the +goodwill of your neighbour, to the end he might do you kind offices, such as +giving you fire when you want it, or, when any misfortune befalls you, speedily +relieve you?” “Yes, I would.” “And if you were +travelling with any man, either by sea or land, would you count it a matter of +indifference whether you were loved by him or not?” “No, +indeed.” “Are you then so abandoned, Lamprocles,” replied +Socrates, “that you would take pains to acquire the goodwill of those +persons, and yet will do nothing to your mother, who loves you incomparably +better than they? Know you not that the Republic concerns not herself with +common instances of ingratitude; that she takes no cognisance of such crimes, +and that she neglects to punish those who do not return the civilities they +receive? But if any one be disrespectful to his parents there is a punishment +provided for such ingratitude; the laws reject him as an outlaw, and will not +allow him to be received into any public office, because it is a maxim commonly +received amongst us, that a sacrifice, when offered by an impious hand, cannot +be acceptable to the gods, nor profitable to the Republic. Nobody can believe, +that a person of such a character can be capable to perform any great or worthy +action, or to act the part of a righteous judge. The same punishment is +ordained likewise for those who, after the death of their parents, neglect to +honour their funerals: and this is particularly examined into in the inquiry +that is made into the lives of such as stand candidates for offices. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will beseech Heaven to pardon you +the offences committed against your mother, to the end that the favours of the +Deity may be still continued to you, and that you may not forfeit them by an +ungrateful behaviour. Take care, likewise, that the public may not discover the +contempt you show her, for then would you be blamed and abandoned by all the +world; for, if it were suspected that you did not gratefully resent the +benefits conferred on you by your parents, no man could believe you would be +grateful for any kind actions that others might do you.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III. SOCRATES RECONCILES CHAEREPHON AND CHAERECRATES, TWO BROTHERS +WHO WERE FORMERLY AT VARIANCE.</h3> + +<p> +Two brothers, whose names were Chaerephon and Chaerecrates, were at enmity with +each other. Socrates was acquainted with them, and had a great mind to make +them friends. Meeting therefore with Chaerecrates, he accosted him +thus:—“Are you, too, one of those who prefer the being rich to the +having a brother, and who do not consider that riches, being inanimate things, +have need of being defended, whereas a brother is himself a good defence, and, +after all, that there is more money than brothers? For is it not extravagant in +such men to imagine that a brother does them wrong because they enjoy not his +estate? Why say they not likewise, that all the world does them wrong, because +they are not in possession of what belongs to the rest of mankind? But they +believe, with great reason, that it is better to live in society and to be +ensured of a moderate estate than to have the sole possession of all that is +their neighbours’, and to be exposed to the dangers that are inseparable +from solitude. Nevertheless, they are not of the same opinion as to the company +of their brothers. If they are rich they buy themselves slaves to serve them, +they procure themselves friends to stand by them; but for their brothers they +neglect them; as if a brother were not so fit to make a friend of as another +person. And yet it is of great efficacy towards the begetting and establishing +of friendships to have been born of the same parents and brought up together, +since even beasts, we see, retain some inclination for those who have come from +the same dams, and have been bred up and nourished together. Besides, a man who +has a brother is the more regarded for it, and men are more cautious to offend +him.” Chaerecrates answered him thus:— +</p> + +<p> +“You are indeed in the right to say that a good brother is a great +happiness; and, unless there be a very strong cause of dissension, I think that +brothers ought a little to bear with one another, and not part on a slight +occasion; but when a brother fails in all things, and is quite the reverse of +what he ought to be, would you have a man do what is impossible and continue in +good amity with such a person?” Socrates replied, “Does your +brother give offence to all the world as well as to you? Does nobody speak well +of him?” “That,” said Chaerecrates, “is one of the +chief causes of the hatred I bear him, for he is sly enough to please others; +but whenever we two happen to meet you would think his sole design were to fall +out with me.” Socrates replied, “Does not this proceed from what I +am going to say? When any man would make use of a horse, and knows not how to +govern him, he can expect nothing from him but trouble. Thus, if we know not in +what manner to behave ourselves toward our brother, do you think we can expect +anything from him but uneasiness?” “Why do you imagine,” said +Chaerecrates, “that I am ignorant in what manner I ought to carry myself +to a brother, since I can show him as much love and respect, both in my words +and actions, as he can show me in his? But when I see a man endeavour to +disoblige me all manner of ways, shall I express any goodwill for that man? No; +this is what I cannot do, and will not so much as endeavour it.” “I +am astonished to hear you talk after this manner,” said Socrates; +“pray tell me, if you had a dog that were good to keep your flocks, who +should fawn on your shepherds, and grin his teeth and snarl whenever you come +in his way, whether, instead of being angry with him, you would not make much +of him to bring him to know you? Now, you say that a good brother is a great +happiness; you confess that you know how to oblige, and yet you put it not in +practice to reconcile yourself with Chaerephon.” “I fear I have not +skill enough to compass it.” “I think,” said Socrates, +“there will be no need of any extraordinary skill in the matter; and am +certain that you have enough to engage him to wish you well, and to have a +great value for you.” “Pray,” cried Chaerecrates, “if +you know any art I have to make myself beloved, let me know it immediately, for +hitherto I never perceived any such thing.” “Answer me,” said +Socrates. “If you desired that one of your friends should invite you to +his feast when he offered a sacrifice, what course would you take?” +“I would begin first to invite him to mine.” “And if you +would engage him to take care of your affairs in your absence on a journey, +what would you do?” “I would first, during his absence, take care +of his.” “And if you would have a foreigner entertain you in his +family when you come into his country, what method would you take?” +“I would make him welcome at my house when he came to this town, and +would endeavour to further the dispatch of his business, that he might do me +the like favour when I should be in the city where he lives.” +“Strange,” said Socrates, “that you, who know the common +methods of ingratiating yourself, will not be at the pains of practising them. +Why do you scruple to begin to practise those methods? Is it because you are +afraid that, should you begin with your brother, and first do him a kindness, +you would appear to be of a mean-spirited and cringing disposition? Believe me, +my friend, you will never, on that account, appear such. On the contrary, I +take it to be the part of an heroic and generous soul to prevent our friends +with kindness and our enemies with valour. Indeed, had I thought that +Chaerephon had been more proper than you to propose the reconciliation, I would +have endeavoured to have persuaded him to prevent you; but I take you to be +more fit to manage this matter, and believe you will bring it to pass rather +than he.” “What you say is absurd and unworthy of you,” +replied Chaerecrates. “Would you have me break the ice; I, who am the +younger brother? Do you forget that among all nations the honour to begin is +reserved to the elder?” “How do you mean?” said Socrates. +“Must not a younger brother give the precedency to the older? Must he not +rise up when he comes in, give him the best place, and hold his peace to let +him speak? Delay, therefore, no longer to do what I desire you; go and try to +appease your brother. He will receive you with open arms; it is enough that he +is a friend to honour, and of a generous temper, for as there is no readier way +to gain the goodwill of the mean and poor than by being liberal to them, so +nothing has more influence on the mind of a man of honour and note than to +treat him with respect and friendship.” Chaerecrates objected: “But +when I have done what you say, if my brother should not be better tempered, +what then?” “What harm would it be to you?” said Socrates. +“It will show your goodness, and that you love him, and make him appear +to be ill-natured, and not deserving to be obliged by any man. But I am of +opinion this will not happen, and when he sees that you attack him with +civilities and good offices, I am certain he will endeavour to get the better +of you in so kind and generous a contention. You are now in the most wretched +condition imaginable. It is as if the hands which God has given us reciprocally +to aid each other were employed only to hinder one another, or as if the feet, +which by the divine providence were made to assist each other to walk, were +busied only in preventing one another from going forward. Would it not, then, +be a great ignorance, and at the same time a great misfortune, to turn to our +disadvantage what was made only for our utility? Now, it is certain that God +has given us brothers only for our good; and that two brothers are a greater +advantage to one another than it can be to either of them to have two hands, +two feet, two eyes, and other the like members, which are double in our body, +and which Nature has designed as brothers. For the hands cannot at the same +time reach two things several fathoms distant from one another; the feet cannot +stretch themselves from the end of one fathom to another; the eyes, which seem +to discover from so far, cannot, at the same time, see the fore and hind-part +of one and the same object; but when two brothers are good friends, no distance +of place can hinder them from serving each other.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV. A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES CONCERNING FRIENDSHIP.</h3> + +<p> +I remember likewise a discourse which I have heard him make concerning +friendship, and that may be of great use to instruct us by what means we ought +to procure ourselves friends, and in what manner we should live with them. He +said “that most men agree that a true friend is a precious treasure, and +that nevertheless there is nothing about which we give ourselves so little +trouble as to make men our friends. We take care,” said he, “to buy +houses, lands, slaves, flocks, and household goods, and when we have them we +endeavour to keep them, but though a friend is allowed to be capable of +affording us a far greater happiness than any or all of these, yet how few are +solicitous to procure themselves a friend, or, when they have, to secure his +friendship? Nay, some men are so stupid as to prefer their very slaves to their +friends. How else can we account for their want of concern about the latter +when either in distress or sickness, and at the same time their extreme anxiety +for the recovery of the former when in the same condition? For then immediately +physicians are sent for, and all remedies that can be thought of applied to +their relief. Should both of them happen to die, they will regret more the loss +of their slave than of their friend, and shed more tears over the grave of the +former than of the latter. They take care of everything but their friends; they +will examine into and take great notice of the smallest trifle in their +affairs, which perhaps stand in no need of their care, but neglect their +friends that do. In short, though they have many estates, they know them all; +but though they have but few friends, yet they know not the number of them; +insomuch that if they are desired to name them, they are puzzled immediately, +so little are their friends in their thoughts. Nevertheless, there is nothing +comparable to a good friend; no slave is so affectionate to our person or +interest; no horse can render us so great service; in a word, nothing is so +useful to us in all occasions. For a true friend supplies all the wants and +answers all the demands of another, either in the conduct of his private +affairs or in the management of the public. If, for instance, his friend be +obliged to do a kindness to any man, he puts him in the way of it; if he be +assaulted with any danger he immediately flies to his relief. At one time he +gives him part of his estate, at another he assists him with the labour of his +hands; sometimes he helps him to persuade, sometimes he aids him to compel; in +prosperity he heightens his delight by rejoicing with him; in adversity he +diminisheth his sorrows by bearing a share of them. The use a man may make of +his hands, his eyes, his ears, his feet, is nothing at all when compared with +the service one friend may render another. For often what we cannot do for our +own advantage, what we have not seen, nor thought, nor heard of, when our own +interests were concerned, what we have not pursued for ourselves, a friend has +done for his friend. How foolish were it to be at so much trouble in +cultivating a small orchard of trees, because we expect some fruit from it, and +yet be at no pains to cultivate that which is instead of a whole estate—I +mean Friendship—a soil the most glorious and fertile where we are sure to +gather the fairest and best of fruit!” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V. OF THE WORTH AND VALUE OF FRIENDS.</h3> + +<p> +To what I have advanced above I shall here relate another discourse of his, as +far as I can remember, in which he exhorted his hearers to examine themselves, +that they might know what value their friends might set upon them; for seeing a +man who had abandoned his friend in extreme poverty, he asked Antisthenes this +question in presence of that very man and several others: “Can we set a +price upon friends as we do upon slaves? One slave may be worth twenty crowns, +another not worth five; such a one will cost fifty crowns, another will yield a +hundred. Nay, I am told that Nicias, the son of Niceratus, gave even six +hundred crowns for one slave to be inspector of his silver mines. Do you think +we might likewise set prices upon friends?” “I believe we +may,” answered Antisthenes; “for there are some men by whom I would +rather choose to be loved than to have twenty crowns; others for whose +affection I would not spend five. I know some, too, for whose friendship I +would give all I am worth.” “If it be so,” said Socrates, +“it would be well that each man should consider how much he can be worth +to his friends, and that he should endeavour to render himself as valuable as +he can in their regard, to the end they might not abandon him; for when I hear +one complain that his friend has betrayed him; another that he, whom he thought +faithful, has preferred a small gain to the preservation of his friendship, I +reflect on these stories, and ask whether, as we sell a good-for-nothing slave +for what we can get for him, we are not likewise tempted to get rid of an +ill-friend when we are offered more for him than he is worth? because I do not +see men part with their slaves if they be good, nor abandon their friends if +they be faithful.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI. OF THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS.</h3> + +<p> +The following conversation of Socrates with Critobulus may teach us how we +ought to try friends, and with whom it is good to contract +friendship:—“If we were to choose a friend,” said Socrates to +him, “what precaution ought we to take? Ought we not to look out for a +man who is not given to luxury, to drunkenness, to women, nor to idleness? For +with these vices he could never be very useful to his friend nor to +himself.” “That is certain,” answered Critobulus. +“Then,” said Socrates, “if we found a man that loved to live +great, though he had not an estate to support the expense, and who having daily +occasion to employ the purses of his friends should show by his actions that +whatever you lend him is so much lost, and that if you do not lend him he will +take it ill of you, do you not think that such a man would be very improper to +make a friend of?” “There is no doubt of it,” said +Critobulus. “And if we found another,” continued Socrates, +“who was saving of what he had, but who, on the other hand, was so +covetous that it would be quite unfit to have anything to do with him, because +he would always be very ready to receive and never to give again?” +“In my opinion,” said Critobulus, “this would be a worse +friend than the former. And if we should find a man who was so carried away +with the desire of enriching himself that he applied his mind to nothing else, +but getting all he could scrape together?” “We ought not to have +anything to do with him neither,” answered Critobulus, “for he +would be good to no man but himself.” “If we found a quarrelsome +man,” continued Socrates, “who was every day like to engage all his +friends in new broils and squabbles, what would you think of him?” +“That he ought to be avoided,” answered Critobulus. “And if a +man,” said Socrates, “were free from all these faults, and were +only of a humour to desire to receive kindnesses, but never to concern himself +to return them, what would you think of him?” “That neither he, +too, would be proper to make a friend of,” replied Critobulus; “and +indeed, after having rejected so many, I can scarce tell whom we should +take.” “We ought to take,” said Socrates, “a man who +were the reverse of all those we have mentioned, who would be temperate in his +manners, faithful in his promises, and sincere in all his actions; who would +think it a point of honour not to be outdone in civilities so that it would be +of advantage to have to do with him.” “But how can we be certain of +all this,” said Critobulus, “before we have tried him?” +“When we would give our judgment of statuaries, we have no regard,” +replied Socrates, “to what they say of themselves, but consider their +works; and he who has already made good statues is the person of whom we have +the best opinion for those he shall make for the future. Apply this to the +question you asked me, and be assured that a man who has served his former +friends well will be likely to show no less affection for those that come +after; as we may strongly conjecture that a groom, whom we have formerly seen +dress horses very well, is capable of dressing others.” +“But,” said Critobulus, “when we have found a man worthy of +our choice, how ought we to contract a friendship with him?” “In +the first place,” answered Socrates, “we must inquire whether the +gods approve of it.” “But supposing they do not dissuade us, how +are we to take this precious prey?” “Not by hunting, as we catch +hares,” said Socrates; “nor in nets, as we take birds, nor by +force, as we take our enemies; for it is very difficult to gain any man’s +friendship against his will, or stop him by force, and detain him in prison as +a slave, seeing such ill-usage would oblige him rather to wish us ill than to +love us.” “What, then, ought we to do?” pursued Critobulus. +“It is reported,” replied Socrates, “that there are some +words so powerful that they who know them make themselves loved by pronouncing +them, and that there are likewise other charms for the same purpose.” +“And where can one learn these words?” added Critobulus. +“Have you not read in Homer,” answered Socrates, “what the +Syrens said to enchant Ulysses? The beginning of it is thus— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘Oh, stay! oh, pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay!’ +</p> + +<p> +“You say true,” continued Critobulus; “but did not they say +as much to the others, to stop them too?” “Not at all,” said +Socrates, “they enchanted with these words only the generous men who were +in love with virtue.” “I begin to understand you,” said +Critobulus, “and seeing this charm, which is so powerful to enchant and +captivate the mind, is nothing but praise, you mean that we ought to praise a +man in such a manner that he may not distrust we laugh at him; otherwise, +instead of gaining his affection, we shall incur his hate; for it would be +insupportable to a man, who knows he is little and weak, to be praised for his +graceful appearance, for being well-shaped, and of a robust +constitution.” “But do you know no other charms?” +“No,” answered Socrates; “but I have indeed heard it said, +that Pericles knew a great many, by means of which he charmed the Republic, and +gained the favour and esteem of all.” Critobulus continued, “What +was it that Themistocles did to make himself so esteemed?” “He used +no other charms,” said Socrates, “than the eminent services he +rendered to the State.” “Which is as much as to say,” replied +Critobulus, “that to gain the friendship of the great, we must render +ourselves capable to perform great actions.” +</p> + +<p> +“And could you think it possible,” said Socrates, “that any +one should share in the friendship of men of merit without being possessed of +one good quality?” “Why not?” answered Critobulus; “I +have seen despicable rhetoricians beloved by the most famous orators, and +persons who knew nothing of war live in familiarity with great generals.” +“But have you seen men who are fit for nothing (for that is the question +we speak of) get any friends of consequence?” “I confess I have +not,” answered Critobulus; “nevertheless, since it is impossible +for a man of no worth whatever to have the friendship of men of condition and +merit, tell me whether the man who acquires the character of worth and merit +obtains, at the same time, the friendship of all who possess that excellent +character?” “The reason, I suppose, why you ask this +question,” answered Socrates, “is because you frequently observe +dissensions among those who equally cherish honour, and would all of them +rather die than commit a base action; and you are surprised, that instead of +living in friendship, they disagree among themselves, and are sometimes more +difficult to reconcile than the vilest of all man.” “This is a +misfortune,” added Critobulus, “that arrives not among private men +only; for dissensions, nay, even wars, will happen sometimes, to break out in +the best-governed republics, where virtue is in the highest repute, and where +vice is held in the utmost contempt. Now, when I revolve these considerations +in my mind, I know not where to go in search of friends; for it is impossible, +we see, for the wicked to cultivate a true friendship among themselves. Can +there subsist a true and lasting friendship amongst the ungrateful, the idle, +the covetous, the treacherous, and the dissolute? No, for persons of such a +character will mutually expose themselves to hatred and contempt; to hatred, +because of the hurtful effects of their vices; to contempt, on account of the +deformity of them. Neither, on the other hand, can we expect, as you have well +observed, to find friendship between a virtuous man and a person of the +opposite character. For how can they who commit crimes be in good amity with +those that abhor them? But what puzzles me most, my dear Socrates, is to see +men of merit and virtue harassing one another, and endeavouring, to the utmost +of their power, to crush and ruin their antagonists, when, in different +interests, both are contending for the most lucrative posts of the Republic. I +am quite at a loss to account for such a conduct on the principles of +friendship; for when I daily observe the noblest affections of the mind rooted +up by the sordid views of interest, I am in a great doubt whether there is any +real friendship and affection in the world.” “My dear +friend,” replied Socrates, “this matter is very intricate; for, if +I mistake not, Nature has placed in men the principles both of friendship and +dissension. Of friendship, because they have need of one another, they have +compassion of their miseries, they relieve one another in their necessities, +and they are grateful for the assistances which they lend one another: of +dissension, because one and the same thing being agreeable to many they contend +to have it, and endeavour to prejudice and thwart one another in their designs. +Thus strife and anger beget war, avarice stifles benevolence, envy produces +hate. But friendship overcoming all these difficulties, finds out the virtuous, +and unites them together. For, out of a motive of virtue they choose rather to +live quietly in a mean condition, than to gain the empire of the whole earth by +the calamities of war. When they are pinched with hunger or thirst, they endure +them with constancy, till they can relieve themselves without being troublesome +to any one. When at any time their desires for the enjoyments of love grow +violent and headstrong, then reason, or self-government, lays hold on the +reins, checks the impetuosity of the passion, keeps it within due bounds, and +will not allow them to transgress the great rule of their duty. They enjoy what +is lawfully their own, and are so far from usurping the rights and properties +of others, that they even give them part of what they have. They agree their +differences in such a manner, that all are gainers, and no man has reason to +complain. They are never transported with anger so far as to commit any action +of which they may afterwards repent. Envy is a passion they are ignorant of, +because they live in a mutual communication of what they possess, and consider +what belongs to their friends as things in their own possession. From hence you +see that the virtuous do not only not oppose, but that they aid one another in +the employments of the Republic; for they who seek for honours and great +offices, only to have an opportunity of enriching themselves, and exercising a +cruel tyranny, or to live an easy and effeminate life, are certainly very +wicked and unjust, nor can they ever hope to live in friendship with any man. +</p> + +<p> +“But why should he who desires not any authority, but only the better to +defend himself from the wicked, or to assist his friends, or be serviceable to +his country; why should such a man, I say, not agree with another, whose +intentions are the same with his own? Is it because he would be less capable to +serve the Republic, if he had virtuous associates in the administration of +affairs? If, in the tournaments and other games, the most strong were permitted +to enter into a league against the weaker, they would infallibly be victors in +all the courses, and win all the prizes; for which reason they are not suffered +to do so. Therefore, in affairs of State, since no man is hindered from joining +with whom he pleases, to do good to the Republic, is it not more advantageous, +when we concern ourselves in the government, to make friendship with men of +honour and probity, who are generally, too, the most knowing and capable, and +to have them for our associates than to make them our adversaries? For it is +manifest, that when a man is engaged in a combat, he ought to have some to +assist him, and that he will have need of a great many, if those whom he +opposes be valiant and powerful. Besides, he must be liberal, and give presents +to those who espouse his quarrel, to encourage them to make a more resolute and +vigorous defence. Now, it is beyond all dispute, that it is much better to +oblige the good, though they are but a few, than the wicked, of whom there is a +great number, because the former are easily gained over to your side; whereas +the latter are hardly won by the best favours, and those in the greatest +abundance, too, to espouse your interest. +</p> + +<p> +“However it be, Critobulus, take courage, endeavour only to become +virtuous, and then boldly pursue the friendship of honest men; this is a sort +of chase in which I may be helpful to you, because I am naturally inclined to +love. I attack briskly those I love, and lay out all my skill to make myself +beloved by them. I endeavour to kindle in their minds a flame like mine, and to +make them desire my company, as ardently as I long for theirs. You stand in +need of this address when you would contract a friendship with any one. Hide +not, then, the secrets of your soul from me, but let me know who they are for +whom you have a regard: for, having made it my study to please those who were +agreeable to me, I believe that, by long experience, I have now got some +considerable insight into the pursuits and ways of men.” “I have +longed a great while,” said Critobulus, “to learn this art, +especially if it may be employed to gain me the friendship of those whose +persons are not only comely and genteel, but whose minds are replenished and +adorned with all virtue.” Socrates replied: “But my method forbids +to use violence, and I am of opinion that all men fled from the wretch Scylla, +because she detained them by force: whereas the Syrens did no violence to any +man, and employed only their tuneful voices to detain those who passed near +them, so that all stopped to hear, and suffered themselves to be insensibly +charmed by the music of their songs.” “Be sure,” said +Critobulus, “that I will use no violence to them whose friendship I would +gain, and therefore delay no longer to teach me your art.” “Will +you give me your word likewise,” said Socrates, “that you will not +even give them a kiss?” “I promise you,” said Critobulus, +“I will not, unless they are very beautiful persons.” “You +mistake the matter,” replied Socrates; “the beautiful permit not +those liberties; but the ugly grant them freely enough, because they know very +well that should any beauty be ascribed to them, it is only in consideration of +that of the soul.” “I will not transgress in this point,” +said Critobulus; “only impart to me the secret you know to gain +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you would contract a friendship with any one,” said Socrates, +“you must give me leave to tell him that you have a great esteem for him, +and that you desire to be his friend.” “With all my heart,” +answered Critobulus; “for sure no man can wish ill to a man who esteems +him.” “And if I add besides,” continued Socrates, “that +because you set a great value on his merit you have much affection for his +person, will you not take it amiss?” “Not at all,” said +Critobulus; “for I am sensible we have a great kindness for those who +bear us goodwill.” “I may, then,” said Socrates, “speak +in that manner to those whom you desire to love: but will you likewise give me +leave to advance that your greatest pleasure is to have good friends, that you +take great care of them, that you behold their good actions with as much joy as +if you yourself had performed them, and that you rejoice at their good fortune +as much as at your own: that you are never weary when you are serving them, and +that you believe it the glory of a man of honour to surpass his friends in +benefits, and his enemies in valour? By this means I think I shall be very +useful to you in procuring you good friends.” “Why do you ask me +leave,” said Critobulus, “as if you might not say of me whatever +you please?” “No, indeed,” answered Socrates, “for I +remember what Aspasia once said, that match-makers are successful in their +business when they tell truth of the persons in whose behalf they court, but +that the marriages made by their lies are unfortunate, because they who are +deceived hate one another, and hate yet more the person that put them together. +And therefore, for the same reason, I think I ought not to tell lies in your +praise.” “You are then so far only my friend,” replied +Critobulus, “that if I have any good qualities to make myself be +esteemed, you will assist me; if not, you will invent nothing in my +behalf.” “And do you think,” said Socrates, “that I +should do you more service in giving you false praises, that are not your due, +than by exhorting you to merit the praise of all men? If you doubt of this, +consider the consequences of it. If, for instance, I should tell the owner of a +ship that you are an excellent pilot, and he upon that should give you the +conduct of the vessel, what hopes could you have that you should not perish? Or +if I should say, publicly, that you are an experienced general, or a great +politician, and if you, by that character which I should unjustly have obtained +for you, should be promoted to the supreme magistracy, to what dangers would +you expose your own life, and the fortune of the State? Or if I should make any +private person believe that you were a good economist, and he should trust you +afterwards with the care of his family, would not you be the ruin of his +estate, and expose yourself to ridicule and contempt? Which is as much as to +say, Critobulus, that the shortest and surest way to live with honour in the +world is to be in reality what we would appear to be: and if you observe, you +will find that all human virtues increase and strengthen themselves by the +practice and experience of them. Take my advice, then, and labour to acquire +them: but if you are of a different opinion, pray let me know it.” +“I might well be ashamed,” answered Critobulus, “to +contradict you: for no good nor solid objection can be brought against so +rational an assertion.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII. SOCRATES SHOWETH ARISTARCHUS HOW TO GET RID OF POVERTY.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates had an extreme tenderness for his friends, and if through imprudence +they fell into any misfortune, he endeavoured to comfort them by his good +counsels; if they laboured under poverty he did all he could to relieve them, +teaching all men that they ought mutually to assist one another in necessity. I +will set down some examples of his behaviour in these occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Meeting Aristarchus, who looked very dejected, he said to him, “I see, +Aristarchus, that something troubles you, but impart the cause of your grief to +your friends, and perhaps we may comfort you.” “Indeed,” said +he, “I am in great affliction; for since the late troubles, many persons +having fled for shelter to the Piraeus, it has so fallen out that my sisters, +nieces, and cousins have all thrown themselves upon me, so that I have no less +than fourteen of them to maintain. You know very well that we receive no profit +of our lands, the enemies being masters of the open country; our houses in the +city are uninhabited, there being at present very little company in Athens; +nobody will buy any goods; no man will lend money upon any interest whatever, +and I believe we may as soon take it up in the middle of the streets as find +where to borrow it. And I am much concerned that I shall not be able to assist +my relations whom I see ready to perish, while it is impossible for me to +maintain them in the present scarcity of all things.” Socrates having +heard him patiently, said to him, “How comes it to pass that Ceramon, who +has so many persons in his family, finds means not only to maintain them, but +likewise to enrich himself by the profit he makes of them, and that you are +afraid of starving to death, because you have a great many in your +family?” “The reason,” answered Aristarchus, “is this, +Ceramon has none but slaves to take care of, and I am to provide for persons +who are free.” Socrates went on: “For which have you most esteem, +for Ceramon’s slaves, or for the persons who are at your house?” +“There is no comparison between them,” said Aristarchus. “Is +it not then a shameful thing,” replied Socrates, “that Ceramon +should grow rich by means of those whom you acknowledge to be of less value, +and that you should grow poor and be reduced to straits, though you keep men of +condition in your house, whom you value more?” “By no means,” +said Aristarchus, “there is a wide difference betwixt the two; the slaves +that Ceramon keeps follow some trades, but the persons I have with me have had +a liberal education and follow none.” “May not he,” replied +Socrates, “who knows how to do anything that is useful be said to know a +trade?” “Yes, certainly.” “And are not,” +continued Socrates, “oatmeal, bread, the clothes of men and women, +cassocks, coats, and other the like manufactures, things very useful?” +“Without doubt.” “And do not the persons at your house know +how to make any of these things?” “On the contrary,” said +Aristarchus, “I believe they know how to make all of them.” +“What are you then afraid of,” added Socrates? “Why do you +complain of poverty, since you know how to get rich? Do not you observe how +wealthy Nausicides is become, what numerous herds he is master of, and what +vast sums he lends the Republic? Now what made this man so rich? Why, nothing +but one of those manufactures we mentioned, that of making oatmeal. You see, +too, that Cirthes keeps all his family, and lives at his ease upon what he has +got by being a baker. And how doth Demeas, of the village of Colyttus, get his +livelihood? By making cassocks. What makes Menon live so comfortably? His cloak +manufacture. And are not most of the inhabitants of Megara in good +circumstances enough by the trade which they drive of coats and short +jackets?” “I grant all this,” said Aristarchus, “but +still there is a difference betwixt these persons and me: for, whereas, they +have with them some barbarians whom they have bought, and compel to work what +brings them in gain; I, for my part, keep only ladies and gentlemen at my +house, persons who are free, and some of them my own relations. Now would you +have me to set them to work?” “And because they are free and your +relations,” said Socrates, “do you think they ought to do nothing +but eat and sleep? Do you observe that they, who live thus idle and at their +ease, lead more comfortable lives than others? Do you think them more content, +more cheerful, that is to say, more happy than those who employ themselves in +any of those manufactures we have mentioned, or in whatever else tends to the +utility or convenience of life? Do you imagine that idleness and laziness +contribute toward our learning things necessary; that they can enable us to +retain those things we have already learnt; that they help to strengthen the +body or keep it in health; that they can assist us to get riches, or keep what +we have got already; and do you believe that labour and industry are good for +nothing? Why did your ladies learn what you say they know. Did they believe +them to be useless things, and had they resolved never to put them in practice? +Or, on the contrary, was it with design to employ themselves in those matters, +and to get something by them? Is it a greater piece of wisdom to sit still and +do nothing, than to busy oneself in things that are of use in life, and that +turn to account? And is it not more reasonable for a man to work than to be +with his arms across, thinking how he shall do to live? Shall I tell you my +mind, Aristarchus? Well, then, I am of opinion that in the condition you are in +you cannot love your guests, nor they you for this reason, that you, on the one +hand, feel they are a burden to you, and they, on the other, perceive you +uneasy and discontented on their account. And it is to be feared that the +discontent will increase on both sides, and that the sense of past favours will +wear off; but when you set them to work you will begin to love them, because +they will bring you some profit; and when they find that you regard them with +more complacency they will not fail to have more love for you. The remembrance +of your kindnesses will be more grateful to them, and the obligations they have +to you will be the greater. In a word, you will be kinder relations and better +friends. Indeed, if what they were to do was a thing worthy of blame, it would +be better to die than to think of it; but what they can do is honourable, and +becoming of their sex, and whoever knows how to do a thing well will acquit +himself of it with honour and pleasure. Therefore defer no longer to make the +proposal to them, since it will be so advantageous to all of you, and be +assured they will receive it with joy and pleasure.” “Good God! +what a fine scheme you have proposed! Indeed, I cannot but approve of it; nay, +it has made such a wonderful impression on my mind, that whereas I was lately +against borrowing money at all, because I saw that when I had spent it I should +not be in a condition to repay it, I am now resolved to go try where I can take +some up upon any terms, to buy tools and other materials to set ourselves to +work.” +</p> + +<p> +What was proposed was forthwith executed. Aristarchus bought what he wanted; he +laid in a provision of wool, and the ladies worked from morning to night. This +occupation diverted their melancholy, and, instead of the uneasiness there was +before between them and Aristarchus, they began to live in a reciprocal +satisfaction. The ladies loved him as their protector, and he considered them +as persons who were very useful and necessary to him. +</p> + +<p> +To conclude, some time afterwards Aristarchus came to see Socrates, and related +the whole matter to him with great content, and told him the women began to +complain that none but he was idle. “Why do you not put them in +mind,” said Socrates, “of the fable of the dog? For, in the days +when beasts could speak, according to the fable, the sheep said to her master, +‘You are a strange man; we yield you wool, lambs, and cheeses, and yet +you give us nothing but what we can get upon the ground; and the dog, who +brings you in no profit, is kindly used, for you feed him with the same bread +you eat yourself.’ The dog, overhearing this complaint, answered her: +‘It is not without reason that I am used so well. It is I who protect +you; it is I who hinder thieves from taking you away, and wolves from sucking +your blood. If I were not always keeping watch about you, you would not dare so +much as to go to feed.’ This answer was the reason that the sheep yielded +freely to the dog the honour they pretended to before. In like manner do you +also let these ladies know that it is you who are their guardian and protector, +and that you watch over them for their safety with as much care as a faithful +and courageous dog watcheth over a herd committed to his charge. Tell them that +because of you no man dares hurt them, and that it is by your means that they +live at ease and in safety.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES PERSUADES EUTHERUS TO ABANDON HIS FORMER WAY OF +LIVING, AND TO BETAKE HIMSELF TO SOME MORE USEFUL AND HONOURABLE +EMPLOYMENT.</h3> + +<p> +Another time, meeting with Eutherus, one of his old friends, whom he had not +seen for a great while before, he inquired of him from whence he came? +“At present,” answered Eutherus, “I come not from abroad; but +towards the end of the war I returned from a voyage I had made, for, after +having lost all the estate I had upon the frontiers, and my father having left +me nothing in Attica, I was forced to work for my living, and I believe it +better to do so than to be troublesome to others; besides, I can no longer +borrow anything, because I have nothing left to mortgage.” “And how +much longer,” said Socrates, “do you think you shall be able to +work for your living?” “Alas! but a short while,” answered +Eutherus. “Nevertheless,” replied Socrates, “when you come to +be old it will cost you something to maintain yourself, and yet you will not +then be able to earn anything.” “You say very true.” +“You had best, then,” continued Socrates, “employ yourself +now in business that will enable you to lay by something for your old age, and +get into the service of some rich man, who has occasion for an economist, to +have the inspection over his workmen, to gather in his fruits, to preserve what +belongs to him, that he may reward you for the service you do him.” +“I should find it very difficult,” replied Eutherus, “to +submit to be a slave.” “Yet,” said Socrates, “the +magistrates in republics, and all that are in employments, are not, therefore, +reputed slaves; on the contrary, they are esteemed honourable.” “Be +that as it will,” said Eutherus, “I can never think of entering +into any office where I might be liable to blame, for I would not like to be +censured by another.” “But where,” said Socrates, “will +you find any employment in which a man is absolutely perfect, and altogether +free from blame? For it is very difficult to be so exact as not to fail +sometimes, and even though we should not have failed, it is hard to escape the +censure of bad judges; and I should think it a very odd and surprising thing if +in that very employment wherein you say you are now engaged you were so +dexterous and expert as that no man should find anything amiss. +</p> + +<p> +“What you are, therefore, to observe is to avoid those who make it their +business to find fault without reason, and to have to do with more equitable +persons; to undertake what you can actually perform, to reject what you find +yourself unfit to do; and when you have taken in hand to do anything, to +accomplish it in a manner the most excellent and perfect you can. Thus you will +be less subject to be blamed, will find relief to your poverty, lead an easier +life, be out of danger, and will sufficiently provide for the necessities of +your old age.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX. IN WHAT MANNER SOCRATES TAUGHT HIS FRIEND CRITO TO RID HIMSELF +OF SOME INFORMERS, WHO TOOK THE ADVANTAGE OF HIS EASY TEMPER.</h3> + +<p> +One day Crito, happening to meet Socrates, complained to him that it was very +difficult for a man who would keep what he had to live in Athens; +“for,” said he, “I am now sued by some men, though I never +did them the least injury, but only because they know that I had rather give +them a little money than embroil myself in the troubles of law.” Socrates +said to him, “Do you keep dogs to hinder the wolves from coming at your +flocks?” “You need not doubt but I do,” answered Crito. +“Ought you not likewise,” replied Socrates, “to keep a man +who were able to drive away all those that trouble you without cause?” +“I would with all my heart,” said Crito, “but that I fear +that in the end he, too, would turn against me.” “Why so?” +said Socrates; “is it not better to serve a man like you, and to receive +favours from him, than to have him for an enemy? You may be certain that there +are in this city many men who would think themselves very happy to be honoured +with your friendship.” +</p> + +<p> +After this they happened to see a certain person name Archedemus, who was a man +of very good parts, eloquent, and extremely skilful in the management of +affairs; but withal very poor and in a low condition, for he was not of that +sordid disposition to take all he could get, by what means soever, but he was a +lover of justice and of honest men, and abhorred to make rich, or to raise +himself by informing and backbiting; for he held that nothing was more base +than that wretched practice of those miscreants called sycophants or informers. +Crito cast an eye upon him, and as often as they brought him any corn, or wine, +or oil, or any other thing from his country-houses, he sent him some of it; +when he offered sacrifices he invited him to the feasts, and showed him many +civilities of the like nature. Archedemus, seeing the doors of that house open +to him at all times, and that he always found so favourable a reception, laid +aside all his former dependences, and trusted himself wholly to Crito; then he +made it his business immediately to inquire into the characters of those +sycophants who had slandered Crito or informed against him, and found them to +be guilty of many crimes, and that they had a great number of enemies. This +encouraged him to take them to task, and he prosecuted one of them for a crime +which would have subjected him to a corporal punishment, or at least to a +pecuniary mulct. This fellow, who knew his case to be bad, and that he could +not justify himself, employed all sorts of stratagems to get rid of Archedemus, +who nevertheless would not quit his hold till the other had discharged Crito, +and given him money besides, in name of trouble and charges. He managed several +of his affairs with like success, which made Crito be thought happy in having +him; and as when a shepherd has an excellent dog, the other shepherds are glad +to bring their flocks near his that they may be safe likewise, so several of +Crito’s friends began to make their court to him, and begged him to lend +them Archedemus to defend them. He, for his part, was glad to oblige Crito; and +it was observed at length that not only Crito lived undisturbed, but all his +friends likewise; and if any one reproached Archedemus that self-interest had +made him his master’s creature, and to adore him and be so faithful and +zealous in his service he would answer him thus:—“Which of the two +do you think most dishonourable—to do services to men of quality from +whom we have received favours, and to enter into their friendship to declare +war against bad men, or to endeavour to prejudice men of honour, and to make +them our enemies, that bad men may be our friends?” From thenceforward +Crito contracted a strict friendship with Archedemus, and all his friends had +likewise a great respect for him. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X. SOCRATES ADVISES DIODORUS TO DO JUSTICE TO THE MERIT OF +HERMOGENES, AND TO ACCEPT OF HIS SERVICE AND FRIENDSHIP.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates, meeting one day with Diodorus, addressed him thus:—“If +one of your slaves ran away, would you give yourself any trouble to find +him?” “Yes, certainly,” answered he; “and I would give +public notice, and promise a reward to any that brought him to me.” +“And if one of them were sick, would you take care of him, and send for +physicians to endeavour to save his life?” “Without doubt I +would.” “And if you saw,” replied Socrates, “one of +your friends—that is to say, a person who renders you a thousand times +more service than a slave, reduced to extreme want—ought you not to +relieve him? I speak this to you on account of Hermogenes. You very well know +he is not ungrateful, and that he would scorn to receive the least favour from +you and not return you the like. You know likewise that a great number of +slaves are not to be valued like one man who serves willingly, who serves with +zeal and affection, and who is not only capable of doing what he is desired, +but who can likewise of himself think of many things that may be of service to +us; who reasons well, who foresees what may happen, and from whom we may expect +to receive good advice. Now, the best managers hold it as a maxim that when we +find anything of value to be sold cheap we ought to buy it. Think of it, +therefore, for as times now go you may procure yourself many friends at a cheap +rate.” “You say right,” replied Diodorus, “and +therefore pray send Hermogenes to me.” “Excuse me in that,” +answered Socrates, “you would do as well to go to him yourself as to send +for him.” +</p> + +<p> +This discourse was the reason that Diodorus went to Hermogenes, and for a small +gratification obliged him to be his friend; after which Hermogenes took +particular care to please Diodorus, and sought all opportunities of serving him +and of giving him content. +</p> + +<h2>BOOK III.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I. OF THE QUALIFICATIONS OF A GENERAL.</h3> + +<p> +Let us now see how Socrates was serviceable to those who were desirous to +qualify themselves for employments of trust and honour, by advising them to +apply themselves diligently to the study of their duty, that they might acquire +a perfect knowledge of it. +</p> + +<p> +Having heard that there was arrived at Athens one Dionysodorus, who undertook +to teach the art of war, he made the following discourse to one of his friends, +who pretended to one of the highest posts in the army:— +</p> + +<p> +“It were a scandalous thing,” said Socrates to him, “for a +man who aims to be chief over others, to neglect to learn how to command, when +so fair an opportunity offers; nay, I think he would rather deserve to be +punished, than the man who should undertake to make a statue without having +learnt the sculptor’s trade; for as in war the whole fortune of the +Republic is trusted to the general, it is to be presumed that his good conduct +will procure success, and that his faults will be followed with great losses. +And, therefore, a man who should neglect to make himself capable of such an +employment, and yet pretend to it, ought to be severely punished.” By +these reasons he persuaded this young man to get himself instructed. +</p> + +<p> +After the youth had imagined that he had acquired some knowledge of the art, he +returned to pay Socrates a visit, who, jesting him, addressed the company that +were present in this manner:—“Do not you think, gentlemen, that as +Homer, when speaking of Agamemnon, gives him the surname of venerable, we ought +also to bestow the same epithet on this young man, who justly deserveth to be +called by that name, since, like him, he has learned how to command? For, as a +man who can play on the lute is a player on that instrument, though he never +toucheth it; and as he who is knowing in the art of physic is a physician, +though he never practise; so this young man, having learned to command is +become a general, though not a man of us should ever give our voice to make him +so. On the contrary, it is in vain for him who knows not how to command, to get +himself chosen; he will not be one jot a better general for it, no more than he +who knows nothing of physic is a better physician, because he has the +reputation of being one.” Then turning towards the young man, he went +on—“But because it may happen that one of us may have the honour of +commanding a regiment or a company in the troops that are to compose your army, +to the end we may not be entirely ignorant of the military art, pray tell us by +what he began to instruct you.” “By what he ended,” answered +the young man; “for he showed me only the order that ought to be observed +in an army, either in marching, encamping, or fighting.” “But what +is that,” said Socrates, “in comparison of the many other duties +incumbent on a general? He must, besides, take care for the preparations of +war; he must furnish the soldiers with necessary ammunition and provisions; he +must be inventive, laborious, diligent, patient, quick of apprehension; he must +be mild and rigorous together; he must be open and close; he must know to +preserve his own, and take what is another’s; he must be prodigal and a +ravager; he must be liberal and covetous; he must be wary, and yet +enterprising. I confess that he ought to know likewise how to draw up his +troops in order of battle; and, indeed, order and discipline are the most +important things in an army, and without them it is impossible to have any +other service of the troops than of a confused heap of stones, bricks, timber, +and tiles; but when everything is in its due place, as in a building, when the +foundations and the covering are made of materials that will not grow rotten, +and which no wet can damage, such as are stones and tiles, and when the bricks +and timber are employed in their due places in the body of the edifice, they +altogether make a house, which we value among our most considerable +enjoyments.” Here the young man, interrupting him, said:— +</p> + +<p> +“This comparison puts me in mind of another thing that generals ought to +observe; which is, to place their best soldiers in the first and last ranks, +and the others in the middle; that those in the first rank may draw them on, +and those in the last push them forward.” “He has taught you +too,” said Socrates, “how to know the good and the bad soldiers +asunder, otherwise this rule can be of no use to you; for if you were to reckon +money upon a table, and were ordered to lay the best at the two ends, and the +worst in the middle, how could you do this, if you had not been shown how to +distinguish between the good and the bad?” “Indeed,” replied +the young man, “he did not teach me what you mention; and, I suppose, we +must learn of ourselves to discern the good soldiers from the bad.” +“If you please,” continued Socrates, “let us consider how a +general ought to govern himself in this matter. If it were to take any money, +ought he not to make the most covetous march in the front? If it were an action +of great peril, ought he not to send the most ambitious, because they are the +men who, out of a desire of glory, rush into the midst of dangers? And as for +them, you would not be much troubled to know them, for they are forward enough +in discovering themselves. But tell me, when this master showed you the +different ways of ordering an army, did he teach you when to make use of one +way, and when of another?” “Not at all,” answered he. +“And yet,” replied Socrates, “the same order is not always to +be observed, nor the same commands given, but to be changed according to the +different occasions.” “He taught me nothing of that,” said +the young man. “Go to him, then,” added Socrates, “and ask +him concerning it; for if he know anything of the matter, and have ever so +little honour, he will be ashamed to have taken your money and send you away so +ill-instructed.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II. THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PRINCE.</h3> + +<p> +Another time he asked a general, whom the Athenians had lately chosen, why +Homer calls Agamemnon the pastor of the people? “Is it not,” said +he, “because as a shepherd ought to take care of his flocks, that they be +well and want for nothing; so a general ought to take care to keep his soldiers +always in a good condition, to see they be supplied with provisions, and to +bring to a happy issue the design that made them take arms, which is to +overcome their enemies, and to live more happily afterwards? And why does the +same poet praise Agamemnon likewise for being— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘At once a gracious prince and generous warrior’? +</p> + +<p> +For is it not true, that to gain a prince the character of being generous and a +warrior too, it is not sufficient to be brave in his own person, and to fight +with intrepidity; but he must likewise animate the whole army, and be the cause +that every soldier behave himself like him? and to gain the reputation of a +good and gracious prince, it is not enough to have secured his private affairs, +he must also take care that plenty and happiness be seen in all places of his +dominions. For kings are not chosen to take care of themselves only, but to +render happy the people who choose them. All people engage in war only to +secure their own quiet, and choose commanders that they may have guides to +conduct them to the end which they propose to themselves. A general, therefore, +ought to prepare the way of good fortune to those who raise him to that +dignity; this is the most glorious success he can desire, as nothing can be +more ignominious to him than to do the contrary.” +</p> + +<p> +We see by this discourse that Socrates, designing to give the idea of a good +prince, required scarce anything of him but to render his subjects happy. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III. ON THE BUSINESS OF A GENERAL OF HORSE.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates at another time, as I well remember, had the following conference with +a general of the cavalry:— +</p> + +<p> +“What was your reason,” said Socrates, “to desire this +office? I cannot think it was that you might march first at the head of the +troops, for the horse-archers are to march before you. Nor can I believe it was +to make yourself be known, for no men are more generally known than madmen. +Perhaps it was because you thought you could mend what was amiss in the +cavalry, and make the troops better than they are, to the end that if the +Republic should have occasion to use them, you might be able to do your country +some eminent service.” “That is my design,” answered the +other. “It were well you could do this,” said Socrates, “but +does not your office oblige you to have an eye on the horses and +troopers?” “Most certainly.” “What course will you then +take,” continued Socrates, “to get good horses?” “It is +not my business to look to that,” replied the general; “every +trooper must take care for himself.” “And what,” said +Socrates, “if they bring you horses whose feet and legs are good for +nothing, or that are so weak and lean that they cannot keep up with the others, +or so restive and vicious that it would be impossible to make them keep their +ranks, what good could you expect from such cavalry? What service would you be +able to do the State?” “You are much in the right, Socrates, and I +promise you I will take care what horses are in my troops.” “And +will you not have an eye likewise on the troopers?” “Yes,” +answered he. “In my opinion then,” answered Socrates, “the +first thing you ought to do is to make them learn to get a horseback.” +“No doubt of it,” replied the general, “for by that means +they would the more easily escape, if they should happen to be thrown off their +horses.” Socrates went on: “You ought also to make them exercise, +sometimes here, sometimes there, and particularly in places like those where +the enemy generally is, that they may be good horsemen in all sorts of +countries; for when you are to fight you will not send to bid the enemy come to +you in the plain, where you used to exercise your horse. You must train them +up, likewise, to lance the spear; and if you would make them very brave +fellows, you must inspire them with a principle of honour, and inflame them +with rage against the enemy.” “Fear not,” said he, +“that I will spare my labour.” “But have you,” resumed +Socrates, “thought on the means to make yourself obeyed? for without that +all your brave troopers will avail you nothing.” “It is +true,” said he, “but how shall I gain that point of them?” +“Know you not,” said Socrates, “that in all things men +readily obey those whom they believe most capable? Thus in our sickness we most +willingly submit to the prescriptions of the best physicians; at sea, to the +most I skilful pilot; and in affairs of agriculture, to him who has most +experience in it.” “All this I grant you.” “It is then +to be presumed, that in the conduct of the cavalry he who makes it appear that +he understands it best will be the person whom the others will be best pleased +to obey.” “But if I let them see that I am most worthy to command, +will that be sufficient to make them obey me?” “Yes, +certainly,” said Socrates, “if you can persuade them besides that +their honour and safety depend on that obedience.” “And how shall I +be able to make them sensible of this?” “With less trouble,” +answered Socrates, “than it would be to prove that it is better to be +virtuous than vicious.” “Then a general,” added the other, +“ought to study the art of speaking well?” “Do you +imagine,” said Socrates, “that he will be able to execute his +office without speaking a word? It is by speech that we know what the laws +command us to learn for the conduct of our lives. No excellent knowledge can be +attained without the use of speech; the best method to instruct is by +discourse, and they who are thoroughly versed in the sciences speak with the +applause of all the world. But have you observed,” continued he, +“that in all sorts of occasions the Athenians distinguish themselves +above all the Greeks, and that no Republic can show such youths as that of +Athens? For example: when we send from hence a choir of musicians to the Temple +of Apollo in the Isle of Delos, it is certain that none comparable to them are +sent from other cities; not that the Athenians have better voices than the +others, nor that their bodies are more robust and better made, but the reason +is because they are more fond of honour, and this desire of honour is what +excites men to excellent actions. Do not you think, therefore, that if good +care were taken of our cavalry, it would excel that of other nations, in the +beauty of arms and horses, in order of good discipline, and in bravery in +fight; provided the Athenians were persuaded that this would be a means to +acquire them glory and renown?” “I am of your opinion.” +“Go, then, and take care of your troops,” said Socrates, +“make them serviceable to you, that you may be so to the Republic.” +“Your advice is good,” said he, “and I will immediately +follow it.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV. A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH NICOMACHIDES, IN WHICH HE SHOWETH +THAT A MAN SKILFUL IN HIS OWN PROPER BUSINESS, AND WHO MANAGES HIS AFFAIRS WITH +PRUDENCE AND SAGACITY, MAY MAK<span class="smcap">E, WHEN</span> OCCASION +OFFERS, A GOOD GENERAL.</h3> + +<p> +Another time, Socrates meeting Nicomachides, who was coming from the assembly +where they had chosen the magistrates, asked him, “of whom they had made +choice to command the army?” Nicomachides answered: “Alas! the +Athenians would not chose me; me! who have spent all my life in arms, and have +gone through all the degrees of a soldier; who have been first a private +sentinel, then a captain, next a colonel of horse, and who am covered all over +with wounds that I have received in battles” (at these words he bared his +breast, and showed the large scars which were remaining in several places of +his body); “but they have chosen Antisthenes, who has never served in the +infantry, who even in the cavalry never did anything remarkable, and whose only +talent consists in knowing how to get money.” “So much the +better,” said Socrates, “for then the army will be well +paid.” “A merchant,” replied Nicomachides, “knows how +to get money as well as he; and does it follow from thence that he is fit to be +a general?” “You take no notice,” replied Socrates, +“that Antisthenes is fond of honour, and desirous to excel all others in +whatever he undertakes, which is a very necessary qualification in a general. +Have you not observed, that whenever he gave a comedy to the people, he always +gained the prize?” “There is a wide difference,” answered +Nicomachides, “between commanding an army and giving orders concerning a +comedy.” “But,” said Socrates, “though Antisthenes +understands not music, nor the laws of the stage, yet he found out those who +were skilful in both, and by their means succeeded extremely well.” +“And when he is at the head of the army,” continued Nicomachides, +“I suppose you will have him to find out too some to give orders, and +some to fight for him?” “Why not?” replied Socrates, +“for if in the affairs of war he take the same care to provide himself +with persons skilful in that art, and fit to advise him, as he did in the +affair of the plays, I see not what should hinder him from gaining the victory +in the former as well as in the latter. And it is very likely that he will be +better pleased to expend his treasure to obtain an entire victory over the +enemy, which will redound to the honour and interest of the whole Republic, +than to be at a great expense for shows, to overcome his citizens in +magnificence, and to gain a victory, which can be honourable to none but +himself and those of his tribe.” “We must then infer,” said +Nicomachides, “that a man who knows well how to give a comedy knows well +how to command an army?” “Let us rather conclude,” answered +Socrates, “that every man who has judgment enough to know the things that +are necessary for his designs, and can procure them, can never fail of success, +whether he concern himself with the stage, or govern a State, or command an +army, or manage a family.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” resumed Nicomachides, “I could never have thought +you would have told me, too, that a good economist would make a good +general.” “Come, then,” said Socrates, “let us examine +wherein consists the duty of the one and of the other, and see what relation +there is between those two conditions. Must not both of them keep those that +are under them in submission and obedience?” “I grant it.” +“Must not both of them take care to employ every one in the business he +is fit for? Must he not punish those who do amiss and reward those that do +well? Must they not make themselves be esteemed by those they command? Ought +they not alike to strengthen themselves with friends to assist them upon +occasion? Ought they not to know how to preserve what belongs to them, and to +be diligent and indefatigable in the performance of their duty?” “I +own,” answered Nicomachides, “that all you have said concerns them +equally; but if they were to fight it would not be the same as to both of +them.” “Why?” said Socrates. “Have not both of them +enemies?” “They have.” “And would it not be the +advantage of both to get the better of them?” “I allow it,” +said Nicomachides; “but what will economy be good for when they are to +come to blows?” “It is then it will be most necessary,” +replied Socrates. “For when the good economist sees that the greatest +profit he can get is to overcome, and that the greatest loss he can suffer is +to be beaten, he will prepare himself with all the advantages that can procure +him the victory, and will carefully avoid whatever might be the cause of his +defeat. Thus, when he sees his army well provided with all things, and in a +condition that seems to promise a good success, he will give his enemies +battle; but when he wants anything he will avoid coming to an engagement with +them. Thus you see how economy may be of use to him; and therefore, +Nicomachides, despise not those who apply themselves to it; for between the +conduct of a family and that of a State the sole difference is that of a +greater or lesser number; for as to all besides there is much conformity +between them. The sum of what I have advanced is this, that without men there +could not be any policy or any economy, that they are often executed by the +same persons, and that they who are called to the government of the Republic +are the very same whom great men employ for their private affairs. Lastly, that +they who make use of proper persons for their several businesses are successful +in their economy and in politics; and that, on the contrary, they who fail in +this point commit great faults both in one and the other.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN SOCRATES AND PERICLES CONCERNING THE THEN +PRESENT STATE OF THE REPUBLIC OF ATHENS, IN WHICH SOCRATES LAYS DOWN A METHOD +BY WHICH THE ATHENIANS MAY RECOVER THE<span class="smcap">IR ANCI</span>ENT +LUSTRE AND REPUTATION.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates one day being in company with Pericles, the son of the great Pericles, +introduced the following discourse:— +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that when you command the army the Republic will be more +successful and gain more glory in their wars than formerly.” “I +should be glad of it,” answered Pericles, “but I see little +likelihood of it.” “We may bring this matter to the test,” +said Socrates. “Is it not true that the Bœotians are not more +numerous than the Athenians?” “I know it.” “Nor are +they either braver or stronger?” “True, they are not.” +“Do you believe that they agree better among themselves?” +“Quite the contrary,” said Pericles; “for there is a great +misunderstanding between most of the Bœotians and the Thebans, because of +the great hardships the latter put upon the former, and we have nothing of this +among us.” “But the Bœotians,” replied Socrates, +“are wonderfully ambitions and obliging; and these are the qualities that +naturally push men on to expose themselves for the sake of glory and of their +country.” “The Athenians,” answered Pericles, “come not +short of them in either of those qualities.” “It is true,” +replied Socrates, “that there is no nation whose ancestors have done +braver actions, and in greater number, than those of the Athenians. And these +domestic examples excite us to courage, and create in us a true love of virtue +and bravery.” “Notwithstanding all this,” continued Pericles, +“you see that after the defeat of Tolmides at Lebadia, where we lost a +thousand men, and after another misfortune that happened to Hippocrates before +Delium, the greatness of the Athenians is sunk so low, and the courage of the +Bœotians so increased, that they, who even in their own country durst not +look the Athenians in the face without the assistance of the Lacedemonians and +of the other States of the Peloponnesus, now threaten Attica with their single +forces. And that the Athenians, who before ravaged Bœotia when it was not +defended by foreign troops, begin to fear, in their turn, that the +Bœotians will put Attica to fire and sword.” “In my +opinion,” answered Socrates, “a governor ought to be well pleased +to find a republic in such a condition, for fear makes a people more careful, +more obedient, and more submissive. Whereas a too great security is attended +with carelessness, luxury, and disobedience. This is plainly seen in men who +are at sea. When they fear not anything, there is nothing in the ship but +confusion and disorder; but when they apprehend that they shall be attacked by +pirates, or that a tempest is hanging over their head, they not only do +whatever they are commanded, but even observe a profound silence, waiting the +order of their captain, and are as decent and orderly in their behaviour and +motions as those who dance at a public entertainment.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall yield, then,” replied Pericles, “that the Athenians +are obedient. But how shall we do to create in them an emulation to imitate the +virtue of their ancestors to equal their reputation and to restore the +happiness of their age in this present one?” “If we would have +them,” answered Socrates, “make themselves masters of an estate, +which is in the possession of others, we need only tell them that it is +descended to them from their forefathers, and they will immediately be for +having it again. If we would encourage them to take the first rank among the +virtuous, we must persuade them that it is their due from all antiquity, and +that if they will take care to preserve to themselves this advantage they will +infallibly likewise surpass others in power. We must frequently represent to +them that the most ancient of their predecessors were highly esteemed on +account of their great virtue.” “You would be understood,” +said Pericles, “to speak of the contention of two of the divinities +concerning the patronage of the city of Athens, of which the citizens, in the +days of Cecrops, were chosen arbitrators on account of their virtue.” +“You are in the right,” said Socrates; “but I would have them +be put in mind likewise of the birth and nourishment of Erictheus, and of the +war that was in his time against the neighbouring nations; as also of that +which was made in favour of the descendants of Hercules against the people of +Peloponnesus, and, in short, of all the other wars that were in the days of +Theseus, in which our ancestors were always reputed the most valiant men of +their age. If you think fit, they may likewise be told what the descendants of +these ancients and our predecessors of the last age have done. They may be +represented to them as resisting sometimes with their own forces only the +nations whom all Asia obeyed, whose dominions extended into Europe as far as +Macedonia, and who had inherited a potent empire from their fathers, together +with formidable forces, and who were already renowned for many great exploits. +Sometimes you must relate to them the victories they gained by sea and land in +conjunction with the Lacedemonians, who are likewise reputed a very brave +people. They should be told also that great commotions being arisen among the +Greeks, and the most part of them having changed their places of abode, the +Athenians always continued in their country, that they have been chosen by +several people to arbitrate their differences, and that the oppressed have +always fled to them for protection.” “When I reflect on all +this,” said Pericles, “I am surprised to see the Republic so much +fallen off from what it was.” “In my opinion,” replied +Socrates, “she has behaved herself like those persons who, for having too +great advantage over their rivals, begin to neglect themselves, and grow in the +end pusillanimous, for after the Athenians saw themselves raised above the +other Greeks they indulged themselves in indolence, and became at length +degenerate.” +</p> + +<p> +“What course must they take now,” said Pericles, “to regain +the lustre of their ancient virtue?” “They need only call to +mind,” replied Socrates, “what were the exercises and the +discipline of their ancestors, and if, like them, they apply themselves to +those practices, they will no doubt arrive at their perfection; or if they will +not govern themselves by that example, let them imitate the nations that are +now uppermost; let them observe the same conduct, follow the same customs, and +be assured they will equal, if not surpass them, if they labour to do +so.” “You seem to be of opinion, my dear Socrates, that virtue is +much estranged from our Republic? And, indeed, when will the Athenians respect +old age as they of Sparta do, since they begin, even by their own fathers, to +deride men advanced in years? When, too, will they use themselves to the manly +exercises of that Republic, since they not only neglect the good disposition +and activity of body, but laugh at those who endeavour to acquire them? When +will they be obedient to the magistrates, they who make it a glory to despise +them? When will they be in perfect unity, they who, instead of assisting, daily +prejudice one another, and who envy one another more than they do all the rest +of mankind? They are every day quarrelling in the public and private +assemblies; they are every day suing one another, and had rather find their own +advantage in the ruin of their neighbours than get an honest gain by +reciprocally assisting one another. The magistrates mind not the Government of +the Republic any farther than their own interests are concerned, and, +therefore, they use their utmost endeavours to be in office and authority; and +for this reason in the administration of the State there is so much ignorance +and malice, and such animosities, and so many different parties among private +persons. And I much fear that this mischief will get such a head that at length +there will be no remedy against it, and that the Republic will sink under the +weight of its misfortunes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fear it not,” said Socrates, “and do not believe that the +Athenians labour under an incurable disease. Do you not observe how skilful and +obedient they are at sea, that in the combats for prizes they exactly obey the +orders of those that preside there, and in the comedies how readily they comply +with what they are bid to do?” “I see it well,” answered +Pericles, “and cannot but wonder that they are so ready to obey in these +and the like occasions, and that the military men, who ought to be the chosen +part of the citizens, are so mutinous and refractory.” “And what +say you,” pursued Socrates, “to the Senate of the Areopagus; are +they not all of them persons of great worth? Do you know any judges who +discharge their office with more integrity, and who more exactly observe the +laws, who more faithfully render justice to private men, and who more worthily +acquit themselves of all manner of affairs?” “I blame them +not,” said Pericles. “Despair not, then, of the Athenians,” +added Socrates, “as of an untractable people.” “But it is in +war,” replied Pericles, “that much discipline is required, and much +modesty and obedience, and these things the Athenians wholly want in that +occasion.” “Perhaps, too,” continued Socrates, “they +who command them know little of their own duty. Do you not take notice that no +man undertakes to govern a company of musicians, or of comedians, or of +dancers, or of wrestlers, unless he be capable of it; and that all who take +such employments upon them can give an account where they have learnt the +exercises of which they are become masters? Our misfortunes in war, then, I +very much apprehend, must be owing in a great measure to the bad education of +our generals. +</p> + +<p> +“I know very well that you are not of this number, and that you have +improved to your advantage the time you have spent in learning the art of war +and other laudable exercises. I imagine, likewise, that in the memoirs of your +father, the great Pericles, you have found many rare stratagems, and that by +your diligence you have also collected up and down a great number of others. +Nor do I doubt but that you frequently meditate on these matters, that nothing +may be wanting in you that may be of use to a general. Insomuch, that if you +find yourself in doubt of anything, you immediately have recourse to those that +know it, and spare neither presents nor civilities to incline them to assist +you and to teach you the things of which you are ignorant.” “Alas! +Socrates,” said Pericles, “you flatter me, and flatter me for many +things that, I am afraid, I am deficient in; but by that you instruct me in my +duty.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this Socrates, interrupting him—“I will,” said he, +“give you an advice. Have you not observed that in the high mountains, +which are the frontiers of Attica, and divide it from Bœotia, the roads +through which you must of necessity pass to go from one country to the other +are very rough and narrow?” “Yes, I have.” “Tell me, +besides, have you never heard say that the Mysians and the Pisidians, who are +in possession of advantageous places where they dwell in the dominions of the +King of Persia, arm themselves lightly, and make continual inroads upon the +neighbouring provinces, and by that means are very troublesome to that +king’s subjects, and preserve their own liberty?” “I have +heard so.” “It is probable, too,” continued Socrates, +“that if the Athenians would possess themselves of the mountains that are +between Bœotia and Attica, and if they took care to send thither some +young men with arms proper for inroaders, our enemies would be much prejudiced +by them, and all those mountains would be as a great rampart to cover our +country from their insults.” “I believe what you say,” +answered Pericles, “and take all the advices you have given me to be very +good.” “If you think them so,” replied Socrates, +“endeavour, my friend, to put them in practice; for if any of them +succeed you will receive the honour, and the Republic the profit; and even +though they should not meet with success the Republic would have no +inconvenience to apprehend, nor you the least dishonour.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI. SOCRATES DISSUADES GLAUCON, A VERY FORWARD YOUTH, FROM TAKING +UPON HIM THE GOVERNMENT OF THE REPUBLIC, FOR WHICH HE WAS UNFIT.</h3> + +<p> +A young man whose name was Glaucon, the son of Ariston, had so fixed it in his +head to govern the Republic, that before he was twenty years of age he +frequently presented himself before the people to discourse of affairs of +state; nor was it in the power of his relations or friends to dissuade him from +that design, though all the world laughed at him for it, and though sometimes +he was dragged from the tribunal by force. Socrates had a kindness for him, +upon account of Plato and Charmidas, and he only it was who made him change his +resolution. He met him, and accosted him in so winning a manner, that he first +obliged him to hearken to his discourse. He began with him thus:— +</p> + +<p> +“You have a mind, then, to govern the Republic, my friend?” +“I have so,” answered Glaucon. “You cannot,” replied +Socrates, “have a more noble design; for if you can accomplish it you +will be absolute. You will be able to serve your friends, you will raise your +family, you will extend the bounds of your country, you will be known not only +in Athens but through all Greece, and perhaps your renown will fly even to the +barbarous nations, as did that of Themistocles. In short, wherever you come you +will be respected and admired.” +</p> + +<p> +These words soothed up Glaucon, and won him to give ear to Socrates, who went +on in this manner:—“But it is certain, my dear friend, that if you +desire to be honoured, you must be useful to the State.” +“Certainly,” said Glaucon. “I conjure you, then, to tell +me,” replied Socrates, “what is the first service that you desire +to render the State?” Glaucon was considering what to answer, when +Socrates continued:—“If you intended to make the fortune of one of +your friends, you would endeavour to make him rich, and thus perhaps you will +make it your business to enrich the Republic.” “I would,” +answered Glaucon. “Would not the way to enrich the Republic,” +replied Socrates, “be to increase its revenue?” “It is very +likely it would,” said Glaucon. “Tell me, then, in what consists +the revenue of the State, and to how much it may amount? I presume you have +particularly studied this matter, to the end that if anything should be lost on +one hand, you might know where to make it good on another, and that if a fund +should fail on a sudden, you might immediately be able to settle another in its +place.” “I protest,” answered Glaucon, “I have never +thought of this.” “Tell me at least the expenses of the Republic, +for no doubt you intend to retrench the superfluous.” “I never +thought of this neither,” said Glaucon. “You had best, then, put +off to another time your design of enriching the Republic, which you can never +be able to do while you are ignorant both of its expense and revenue.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another way to enrich a State,” said Glaucon, “of +which you take no notice, and that is by the ruin of its enemies.” +“You are in the right,” answered Socrates; “but to this end +it is necessary to be stronger than they, otherwise we should run the hazard of +losing what we have. He, therefore, who talks of undertaking a war, ought to +know the strength on both sides, to the end that if his party be the stronger, +he may boldly advise for war, and that if it be the weaker, he may dissuade the +people from engaging themselves in so dangerous an enterprise.” +“All this is true.” “Tell me, then,” continued +Socrates, “how strong our forces are by sea and land, and how strong are +our enemies?” “Indeed,” said Glaucon, “I cannot tell +you that on a sudden.” “If you have a list of them in writing, pray +show it me, I should be glad to hear it read.” “I never took a list +of them.” “I see, then,” said Socrates, “that we shall +not engage in war so soon; for it is like that the greatness of the undertaking +will hinder you from maturely weighing all the consequences of it in the +beginning of your government. But,” continued he, “you have thought +of the defence of the country, you know what garrisons are necessary, and what +are not; you know what number of troops is sufficient in one garrison, and not +sufficient in another; you will cause the necessary garrisons to be reinforced, +and will disband those that are useless?” “I should be of +opinion,” said Glaucon, “to leave none of them on foot, because +they ruin a country, on pretence of defending it.” “But,” +Socrates objected, “if all the garrisons were taken away, there would be +nothing to hinder the first comer from carrying off what he pleased. But how +come you to know that the garrisons behave themselves so ill? Have you been +upon the place, have you seen them?” “Not at all; but I suspect it +to be so.” “When, therefore, we are certain of it,” said +Socrates, “and can speak upon better grounds than simple conjectures, we +will propose this advice to the Senate.” “It will be very proper to +do so,” said Glaucon. +</p> + +<p> +“It comes into my mind too,” continued Socrates, “that you +have never been at the mines of silver, to examine why they bring not in so +much now as they did formerly.” “You say true, I have never been +there.” “Indeed, they say the place is very unhealthy, and that may +excuse you.” “You rally me now,” said Glaucon. Socrates +added, “But I believe you have at least observed how much corn our lands +produce, how long it will serve to supply our city, and how much more we shall +want for the whole year, to the end you may not be surprised with a scarcity of +bread, but may give timely orders for the necessary provisions.” +“There is a deal to do,” said Glaucon, “if we must take care +of all these things.” “There is so,” replied Socrates; +“and it is even impossible to manage our own families well unless we know +all that is wanting, and take care to provide it. As you see, therefore, that +our city is composed of above ten thousand families, and it being a difficult +task to watch over them all at once, why did you not first try to retrieve your +uncle’s affairs, which are running to decay, that after having given a +proof of your care, faithfulness, and capacity in that smaller trust, you might +have taken upon you a greater? But now, when you find yourself incapable of +aiding a private man, how can you think of behaving yourself so as to be useful +to a whole people? Ought a man who has not strength enough to carry a hundred +pound weight undertake to carry a burden that is much heavier?” “I +would have done good service to my uncle,” said Glaucon, “if he +would have taken my advice.” “How!” replied Socrates; +“have you hitherto been unable to govern your uncle, who is but one +person, and do you imagine, when you have failed in that, to govern the whole +Athenians, whose minds are so fickle and inconstant? Take heed, my dear +Glaucon, take heed, lest a too great desire of glory should render you +despised. Consider how dangerous it is to speak and employ ourselves about +things we do not understand. What a figure do those forward and rash people +make in the world who do so: and you yourself may judge whether they acquire +more esteem than blame, whether they are more admired than contemned. Think, on +the contrary, with how much honour a man is regarded who understands perfectly +what he says and what he does, and then you will confess that renown and +applause have always been the recompense of true merit, and shame the reward of +ignorance and temerity. If, therefore, you would be honoured, endeavour to be a +man of true merit, for if you enter upon the government of the Republic with a +mind more sagacious than usual, I shall not wonder if you succeed in all your +designs.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII. SOCRATES PERSUADETH CHARMIDAS, A PERSON OF MERIT AND GREAT +CAPACITY, BUT VERY MODEST AND DIFFIDENT OF HIMSELF, TO UNDERTAKE THE GOVERNMENT +OF THE REPUBLIC.</h3> + +<p> +As Socrates, who was ever watchful for the interests of his country, and +consulted the good of every one with whom he conversed, took care, on the one +hand, to dissuade persons who had no capacity for it, however bent they were +upon the thing, from entering upon any offices of trust, so he was ever +mindful, on the other, to persuade those that were bashful and diffident to +take upon themselves the government of the Republic, provided he knew they had +proper talents and abilities for it. In confirmation whereof we shall here +relate a conversation of his with Charmidas, the son of Glaucon. Socrates, who +knew him to be a man of sense and merit, and more capable to govern the +Republic than any that were then in that post, but withal a person very +diffident of himself—one that dreaded the people, and was mightily averse +from engaging himself in public business—addressed himself to him in this +manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Charmidas, if you knew any man who could gain the prizes in the +public games, and by that means render himself illustrious, and acquire glory +to his country, what would you say of him if he refused to offer himself to the +combat?” “I would say,” answered Charmidas, “that he +was a mean-spirited, effeminate fellow.” “And if a man were capable +of governing a Republic, of increasing its power by his advices, and of raising +himself by this means to a high degree of honour, would you not brand him +likewise with meanness of soul if he would not present himself to be +employed?” “Perhaps I might,” said Charmidas; “but why +do you ask me this question?” “Because you are capable,” +replied Socrates, “of managing the affairs of the Republic, and yet you +avoid doing so, though in the quality of a citizen you are obliged to take care +of the commonwealth.” “And wherein have you observed this capacity +in me?” “When I have seen you in conversation with the Ministers of +State,” answered Socrates; “for if they impart any affairs to you, +I see you give them good advice, and when they commit any errors you make them +judicious remonstrances.” “But there is a very great difference, my +dear Socrates,” replied Charmidas, “between discoursing in private +and contending in a public manner before the people.” “And +yet,” replied Socrates, “a skilful arithmetician can calculate as +well in presence of several persons as when alone; and they who can play well +upon the lute in their closets play likewise well in company.” “But +you know,” said Charmidas, “that fear and shame, which are so +natural to man, affect us more in public assemblies than in private +companies.” “Is it possible,” said Socrates, “that you +can converse so unconcernedly with men of parts and authority, and that you +should not have assurance enough to speak to fools? Are you afraid to present +yourself before dyers, shoemakers, masons, smiths, labourers, and brokers? for +of such are composed the popular assemblies. This is the same thing as to be +the most expert in a fencing-school, and to fear the thrust of an unskilful +person who never handled a foil. Thus you, though you speak boldly in the +presence of the chief men of the Republic, among whom there might perhaps be +found some who would despise you, dare not, nevertheless, speak in the presence +of an illiterate multitude, who know nothing of the affairs of state, and who +are not capable of despising you, and you fear to be laughed at by them.” +“Do they not usually,” said Charmidas, “laugh at those who +speak best?” “So likewise,” said Socrates, “do the men +of quality with whom you converse every day; and I am surprised that you have +eloquence and persuasive sense sufficient to bring these to reason, and that +you think not yourself capable even to approach the others. Learn to know +yourself better, Charmidas, and take care not to fall into a fault that is +almost general; for all men inquire curiously enough into the affairs of +others, but they never enter into their own bosoms to examine themselves as +they ought. +</p> + +<p> +“Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter, consider yourself +with more attention, and let not slip the occasions of serving the Republic, +and of rendering it, if possible, more flourishing than it is. This will be a +blessing, whose influence will descend not only on the other citizens, but on +your best friends and yourself.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES’ DISPUTE WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING THE GOOD +AND BEAUTIFUL.</h3> + +<p> +One day Aristippus proposed a captious question to Socrates, meaning to +surprise him; and this by way of revenge, for his having before put him to a +stand: but Socrates answered him warily, and as a person who has no other +design in his conversations than the improvement of his hearers. +</p> + +<p> +The question which Aristippus asked him was whether he knew in the world any +good thing, and if Socrates had answered him that meat, or drink, or riches, or +health, or strength, or courage are good things, he would forthwith have shown +him that it may happen that they are very bad. He therefore gave him such an +answer as he ought; and because he knew very well that when we feel any +indisposition we earnestly desire to find a remedy for it, he said to him: +“Do you ask me, for example, whether I know anything that is good for a +fever?” “No,” said Aristippus. “Or for sore +eyes?” said Socrates. “Neither.” “Do you mean anything +that is good against hunger?” “Not in the least,” answered +Aristippus. “I promise you,” said Socrates, “that if you ask +me for a good thing that is good for nothing, I know no such thing, nor have +anything to do with it.” +</p> + +<p> +Aristippus pressed him yet further, and asked him whether he knew any beautiful +thing. “I know a great many,” said Socrates. “Are they all +like one another?” continued Aristippus. “Not in the least,” +answered Socrates, “for they are very different from one another.” +“And how is it possible that two beautiful things should be contrary one +to the other?” “This,” said Socrates, “is seen every +day in men: a beautiful make and disposition of body for running is very +different from a beautiful make and disposition for wrestling: the excellence +and beauty of a buckler is to cover well him that wears it. On the contrary, +the excellence and beauty of a dart is to be light and piercing.” +“You answer me,” said Aristippus, “as you answered me before, +when I asked you whether you knew any good thing.” “And do you +think,” replied Socrates, “that the good and the beautiful are +different? Know you not that the things that are beautiful are good likewise in +the same sense? It would be false to say of virtue that in certain occasions it +is beautiful, and in others good. When we speak of men of honour we join the +two qualities, and call them excellent and good. In our bodies beauty and +goodness relate always to the same end. In a word, all things that are of any +use in the world are esteemed beautiful and good, with regard to the subject +for which they are proper.” “At this rate you might find beauty in +a basket to carry dung,” said Aristippus. “Yes, if it be well made +for that use,” answered Socrates; “and, on the contrary, I would +say that a buckler of gold was ugly if it was ill-made.” “Would you +say,” pursued Aristippus, “that the same thing may be beautiful and +ugly at once?” “I would say that it might be good and bad. Often +what is good for hunger is bad for a fever; and what is good for a fever is +very bad for hunger; often what is beautiful to be done in running is ugly to +be done in wrestling; and what is beautiful to do in wrestling is ugly in +running. For all things are reputed beautiful and good when they are compared +with those which they suit or become, as they are esteemed ugly and bad when +compared with those they do not become.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see that when Socrates said that beautiful houses were the most +convenient, he taught plainly enough in what manner we ought to build them, and +he reasoned thus: “Ought not he who builds a house to study chiefly how +to make it most pleasant and most convenient?” This proposition being +granted, he pursued: “Is it not a pleasure to have a house that is cool +in summer and warm in winter? And does not this happen in buildings that front +towards the south? For the beams of the sun enter into the apartments in +winter, and only pass over the covering in summer. For this reason the houses +that front towards the south ought to be very high, that they may receive the +sun in winter; and, on the contrary, those that front towards the north ought +to be very low, that they may be less exposed to the cold winds of that +quarter.” In short, he used to say, that he had a very beautiful and very +agreeable house, who could live there with ease during all the seasons of the +year, and keep there in safety all that he has; but that for painting and other +ornaments, there was more trouble in them than pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +He said further that retired places, and such as could be seen from afar, were +very proper to erect altars and build temples in; for though we are at a +distance from them, yet it is a satisfaction to pray in sight of the holy +places, and as they are apart from the haunts of men, innocent souls find more +devotion in approaching them. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX. SOCRATES RETURNS SUITABLE ANSWERS TO A VARIETY OF QUESTIONS +PROPOSED TO HIM.</h3> + +<p> +Another time being asked whether courage can be learnt as an art or was a gift +of Nature, he answered: “In my opinion, as we see many bodies that are +naturally more vigorous than others, and that better endure fatigue, so there +are some souls that are naturally more brave, and look dangers in the face with +greater resolution. For I see some men, who live under the same laws, who are +brought up in the same customs, and who are not all equally valiant. +Nevertheless, I believe that education and exercise add much to natural +courage. Whence comes it to pass that the Scythians and the Thracians durst not +face the Lacedemonians with pikes and targets; and, on the contrary, that the +Lacedemonians would not fight against the Thracians with shields and darts, nor +against the Scythians with bows? I see it to be the same in all other things, +and that when some men are better inclined by nature for certain things than +other men are, they very much advance and perfect themselves in those things by +study and diligence. This shows that they who are most favoured by Nature, as +well as those to whom she has been less indulgent, ought to apply themselves +assiduously to the things by which they would gain themselves a +reputation.” +</p> + +<p> +He allowed no difference between knowledge and temperance; and he held that he +who knows what is good and embraces it, who knows what is bad and avoids it, is +learned and temperate; and when he was asked whether he believed that they who +know very well what ought to be done, but do quite otherwise, were learned and +temperate? “On the contrary,” answered he, “they are very +ignorant and very stupid, for, in my opinion, every man who, in the great +number of possible things that offer themselves to him, can discern what is +most advantageous for him to do, never fails to do it; but all who govern not +themselves well and as they ought, are neither learned nor men of good +morals.” +</p> + +<p> +He said likewise that justice and every other virtue is only a science, because +all the actions of justice and of the other virtues are good and honourable; +and that all who know the beauty of these actions think nothing more charming; +as, on the contrary, they who are ignorant of them cannot perform any one +virtuous action, or, if they attempt to do it, are sure to perform it in a +wrong manner. So that the persons only who possess this science can do just and +good actions; but all just and good actions are done by the means of virtue, +therefore justice and virtue is only a science. +</p> + +<p> +He said, moreover, that folly is contrary to knowledge, and yet he did not +allow ignorance to be a folly; but that not to know oneself, or to imagine one +knows what he does not know, is a weakness next to folly. And he observed that +among the vulgar a man is not accused of folly for being mistaken in things +that are unknown to most of the world, but for mistaking in things which no man +mistakes that knows anything at all; as if any man should think himself so tall +as to be obliged to stoop when he came in at the gates of the city; or if he +thought himself so strong as to undertake to carry away whole houses on his +back, or to do any other thing visibly impossible, the people would say that he +had lost his wits, which they do not say of those who commit only some slight +extravagances; and as they give the name of love to a violent affection only, +so they give the name of folly only to an extraordinary disorder of the mind. +</p> + +<p> +Reflecting on the nature of envy, he said that it is a certain grief of mind, +which proceeds, not from the misfortune of friends or good fortune of enemies, +but (which is very surprising) only from the prosperity of friends. +“For,” said he, “those may be truly said to be envious who +cannot endure to see their friends happy.” But, some wondering whether it +were possible for a man to be grieved at the good fortune of his friend, he +justified the truth of what he had advanced, by telling them plainly that there +are some men so variously affected towards their friends, that, while they are +in calamity and distress, they will compassionate and succour them, but when +they are well and in prosperity will fret at and envy them. “But +this,” he said, “is a fault from which wise and good men are free, +and never to be found but in weak and wicked minds.” +</p> + +<p> +As to idleness, he said that he had observed that most men were always in +action, for they who play at dice, or who serve to make others laugh, are doing +something, but in effect they are idle, because they might employ themselves +more usefully. To which he added, that no man finds leisure to quit a good +employment for an ill one, and that if he did he would deserve the greater +blame, in that he wanted not something to do before. +</p> + +<p> +He said likewise that the sceptre makes not the king, and that princes and +governors are not they whom chance or the choice of the people has raised to +those dignities, nor those who have established themselves in them by fraud or +force, but they who know how to command; for if it were allowed that it is the +duty of a prince to command, as it is the duty of a subject to obey, he showed +in consequence of it that in a ship, where there are several persons, the +honour of commanding it is given to him who is most capable of it, and that all +obey him, without excepting even the owner of the vessel; that likewise in +husbandry, he to whom the land belongs obeys his own servants, if they +understand agriculture better than himself; that thus the sick obey the +physicians, and they who learn exercises, their masters; nay, that even women +are masters of the men in working with the needle, because they understand it +better than they; in short, that in all things which require care and industry +men govern themselves when they think they are capable of doing so; otherwise, +they leave themselves to the conduct of such as they judge to have more +capacity, and take care to have them near at hand for that purpose. And if any +man made him this objection, that a tyrant is at liberty not to believe the +best advices, he answered, “Why do you say he is at liberty not to do so, +seeing he will bear the smart of it? for every man who shuts his ears to good +counsel commits a fault, and this fault is always attended with some +damage.” And if it were said that a tyrant is permitted to put to death +the men of the best parts and understanding in his State, he replied again, +“Do you think he is not punished in losing his chief supports, or that he +will be quit for a slight punishment? Is to govern in this manner the way to +preserve himself? or rather, is it not the certain means to hasten his own +ruin?” +</p> + +<p> +Being asked what was the best study for man to apply himself to, he answered, +“To do well;” and being asked farther whether good fortune was the +effect of study, “On the contrary,” said he, “I think good +fortune and study to be two opposite things; for what I call good fortune is, +when a man meets with what is necessary for him, without the trouble of seeking +it; but when he meets with any good success after a tedious search and labour, +it is an effect of study. This is what I call to do well; and I think that all +who take delight in this study are for the most part successful, and gain the +esteem of men, and the affection of the Deity. Such are they as have rendered +themselves excellent in economy, in physic, and in politics; but he who knows +not any one thing perfectly is neither useful to men, nor beloved by the +gods.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X. SOCRATES, IN CONVERSATION WITH SEVERAL ARTIFICERS, A PAINTER, A +STATUARY, AND AN ARMOURER, SHOWETH HIS SKILL AND GOOD TASTE IN THE FINER +ARTS.</h3> + +<p> +As Socrates studied to be useful in all his conversations, so he never happened +to be in company even with tradesmen but he always said something that might be +of service to them. Going once into the shop of the painter Parrhasius, he +entertained himself with him in the following manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“Is not painting,” said he, “a representation of all we see? +For with a few colours you represent on a canvas mountains and caverns, light +and obscurity; you cause to be observed the difference between soft things and +hard, between things smooth and rough; you give youth and old age to bodies; +and when you would represent a perfect beauty, it being impossible to find a +body but what has some defect, your way is to regard several, and taking what +is beautiful from each of them, you make one that is accomplished in all its +parts.” “We do so,” said Parrhasius. “Can you represent +likewise,” said Socrates, “what is most charming and most lovely in +the person, I mean the inclination?” “How think you,” +answered Parrhasius, “we can paint what cannot be expressed by any +proportion, nor with any colour, and that has nothing in common with any of +those things you mentioned, and which the pencil can imitate; in a word, a +thing that cannot be seen?” “Do not the very looks of men,” +replied Socrates, “confess either hatred or friendship?” “In +my opinion they do,” said Parrhasius. “You can then make hatred and +friendship appear in the eyes?” “I own we can.” “Do you +think likewise,” continued Socrates, “that they who concern +themselves either in the adversity or prosperity of friends, keep the same look +with those who are wholly unconcerned for either?” “By no +means,” said he, “for during the prosperity of our friends, our +looks are gay and full of joy, but in their adversity we look cloudy and +dejected.” “This, then, may be painted likewise?” “It +may.” “Besides,” said Socrates, “magnificence, +generosity, meanness of mind, cowardice, modesty, prudence, insolence, +rusticity, all appear in the looks of a man, whether sitting or +standing.” “You say true.” “And cannot the pencil +imitate all this likewise?” “It may.” “And in which do +you take most pleasure,” said Socrates, “in regarding the picture +of a man whose external appearance discovereth a good natural disposition, and +bespeaks an honest man, or of one who wears in his face the marks of a vicious +inclination?” “There is no comparison between them,” said +Parrhasius. +</p> + +<p> +Another time, talking with Clito the sculptor, he said to him, “I wonder +not that you make so great a difference between the statue of a man who is +running a race and that of one who stands his ground to wait for his antagonist +with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to play a prize at all sorts of +defence; but what ravishes the beholders is, that your statues seem to be +alive. I would fain know by what art you imprint upon them this wonderful +vivacity?” Clito, surprised at this question, stood considering what to +answer, when Socrates went on:—“Perhaps you take great care to make +them resemble the living persons, and this is the reason that they seem to live +likewise.” “It is so,” said Clito. “You must +then,” replied Socrates, “observe very exactly in the different +postures of the body what are the natural dispositions of all the parts, for +when some of them stoop down, the others raise themselves up; when some are +contracted, the others stretch themselves out; when some are stiff with +straining, others relax themselves; and when you imitate all this, you make +your statues approach very near the life.” “You say true,” +said Clito. “Is it not true likewise,” replied Socrates, +“that it is a great satisfaction to beholders to see all the passions of +a man who is in action well expressed? Thus, in the statue of a gladiator who +is fighting, you must imitate the sternness of look with which he threatens his +enemy; on the contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of gaiety and +content.” “There is no doubt of what you say.” “We may +then conclude,” said Socrates, “that it is the part of an excellent +statuary to express the various affections and passions of the soul, by +representing such-and-such motions and postures of the body as are commonly +exerted in real life whenever the mind is so-and-so affected.” +</p> + +<p> +Another time, Socrates being in the shop of Pistias the armourer, who showed +him some corselets that were very well made: “I admire,” said +Socrates to him, “the invention of these arms that cover the body in the +places where it has most need of being defended, and nevertheless are no +hindrance to the motions of the hands and arms; but tell me why you sell the +suits of armour you make dearer than the other workmen of the city, since they +are not stronger nor of better-tempered or more valuable metal?” “I +sell them dearer than others,” answered Pistias, “because they are +better made than theirs.” “In what does this make consist?” +said Socrates, “in the weight, or in the largeness of the arms? And yet +you make them not all of the same weight nor of the same size, but to fit every +man.” “They must be fit,” said Pistias, “otherwise they +would be of no use.” “But do you not know,” replied Socrates, +“that some bodies are well-shaped and others not?” “I know it +well.” “How, then,” continued Socrates, “can you make a +well-shaped suit of armour for an ill-shaped body?” “It will be +sufficient if they are fit for him,” answered Pistias; “for what is +fit is well made.” “You are of opinion, then,” added +Socrates, “that one cannot judge whether a thing be well made, +considering it merely in itself, but in regard to the person who is to use it; +as if you said that a buckler is well made for him whom it fits, and in like +manner of a suit of clothes and any other thing whatsoever. But I think there +is another convenience in having a suit of armour well made.” “What +do you take that to be?” said Pistias. “I think,” answered +Socrates, “a suit of armour that is well made does not load the bearer so +much as one ill made, even though it weigh as much. For ill-made arms, by +pressing too much upon the shoulders, or hanging cumbrous on some other part, +become almost insupportable, and greatly incommode the person that weareth +them. But those arms which, as they ought, distribute an equal weight to all +the parts of the body, that join upon the neck, the shoulders, the breast, the +back, and the hips, may be said to be glued to the body, and to weigh nothing +at all.” “For this,” said Pistias, “I value the arms I +make. It is true that some choose rather to part with their money for arms that +are gilt and finely carved, but if with all this they fit not easy upon them, I +think they buy a rich inconveniency.” Socrates went on:—“But +since the body is not always in the same posture, but sometimes bends, and +sometimes raises itself straight, how can arms that are very fit be convenient +and easy?” “They never can,” said Pistias. “Your +opinion therefore is,” said Socrates, “that the best arms are not +those that are most fit, and fit closest to the body, but those that do not +incommode the person that wears them.” “You, too, are of the same +opinion,” replied Pistias, “and you understand the matter +aright.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI. DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH THEODOTA, AN ATHENIAN LADY, OF NO +GOOD CHARACTER; WHEREIN HE ENDEAVOURETH, IN THE MOST ARTFUL AND ENGAGING +MANNER, TO WIN HER OVER FROM THE CRIMIN<span class="smcap">AL PLEA</span>SURES +TO WHICH SHE WAS ADDICTED UNTO THE SUBLIMER AND MORE INNOCENT DELIGHTS OF +PHILOSOPHY AND VIRTUE.</h3> + +<p> +There was at Athens a very beautiful lady called Theodota, who had the +character of a loose dame. Some person was speaking of her in presence of +Socrates, and saying that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world; +that all the painters went to see her, to draw her picture, and that they were +very well received at her house. “I think,” said Socrates, +“we ought to go see her too, for we shall be better able to judge of her +beauty after we have seen her ourselves than upon the bare relation of +others.” The person who began the discourse encouraged the matter, and +that very moment they all went to Theodota’s house. They found her with a +painter who was drawing her picture; and having considered her at leisure when +the painter had done, Socrates began thus:—“Do you think that we +are more obliged to Theodota for having afforded us the sight of her beauty +than she is to us for coming to see her? If all the advantage be on her side, +it must be owned that she is obliged to us; if it be on ours, it must be +confessed that we are so to her.” Some of the company saying there was +reason to think so, Socrates continued in these words:—“Has she not +already had the advantage of receiving the praises we have given her? But it +will be yet a much greater to her when we make known her merit in all the +companies we come into; but as for ourselves, what do we carry from hence +except a desire to enjoy the things we have seen? We go hence with souls full +of love and uneasiness; and from this time forward we must obey Theodota in all +she pleases to enjoin us.” “If it be so,” said Theodota, +“I must return you many thanks for your coming hither.” Meanwhile +Socrates took notice that she was magnificently apparelled, and that her mother +appeared likewise like a woman of condition. He saw a great number of women +attendants elegantly dressed, and that the whole house was richly furnished. He +took occasion from hence to inform himself of her circumstances in the world, +and to ask her whether she had an estate in land or houses in the city, or +slaves, whose labour supplied the expenses of her family. “I have +nothing,” answered she, “of all this; my friends are my revenue. I +subsist by their liberality.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon which Socrates remarked that “friendship was one of the greatest +blessings in life, for that a good friend could stand one in stead of all +possessions whatever.” And he advised Theodota to try all her art to +procure to herself some lovers and friends that might render her happy. The +lady asking Socrates whether there were any artifices to be used for that +purpose, he answered, “there were,” and proceeded to mention +several:—“Some for attracting the regard of the men, some for +insinuating into their hearts; others for securing their affections and +managing their passions.” Whereupon Theodota, whose soul then lay open to +any impression, mistaking the virtuous design of Socrates in the whole of this +discourse for an intention of another sort, cried out in raptures, “Ah! +Socrates, why will not you help me to friends?” “I will,” +replied Socrates, “if you can persuade me to do so.” “And +what means must I use to persuade you?” “You must invent the +means,” said Socrates, “if you want me to serve you.” +“Then come to see me often,” added Theodota. Socrates laughed at +the simplicity of the woman, and in raillery said to her, “I have not +leisure enough to come and see you; I have both public and private affairs +which take up too much of my time. Besides, I have mistresses who will not +suffer me to be from them neither day nor night, and who against myself make +use of the very charms and sorceries that I have taught them.” “And +have you any knowledge in those things, too?” said she. “Why do +Apollodorus and Antisthenes,” answered Socrates, “never leave me? +why do Cebes and Simmias forsake Thebes for my company? This they would not do +if I were not master of some charm.” “Lend it me,” said +Theodota, “that I may employ it against you, and charm you to come to +me.” “No,” said Socrates, “but I will charm you, and +make you come to me.” “I will,” said Theodota, “if you +will promise to make me welcome.” “I promise you I will,” +answered Socrates, “provided there be nobody with me whom I love better +than you.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII. OF THE NECESSITY OF EXERCISE TO HEALTH AND STRENGTH OF +BODY.</h3> + +<p> +Among others who frequented Socrates, there was a young man whose name was +Epigenes, and who was very awkward in his person and behaviour, and had +contracted an ill habit of body, having never learnt nor used any exercise. +Socrates reproached him for it, and told him that it was unworthy of any man to +be so negligent of himself. Epigenes slightly answered that he was under no +obligation to do better. “You are no less obliged to it,” replied +Socrates, “than they who train themselves up for the Olympic Games. For +do you believe that to fight for one’s life against the enemies of the +Republic, which we are all obliged to do when the Athenians please to command +us, is a less important occasion than to contend with antagonists for a prize? +How many men are there who, for want of strength, perish in fights; or have +recourse to dishonourable means to seek their safety? Some are taken prisoners, +and remain in slavery all the rest of their days, or are forced to pay so great +a ransom, as makes them live poor and miserable ever afterwards: others are ill +thought of, and their weakness is imputed to cowardice. And do you value so +little all these misfortunes, which constantly attend an ill habit of body, and +do they seem to you so slight? In my opinion, there are no fatigues in the +exercises but what are more easy and more agreeable. But perhaps you despise +the advantages of a good disposition of body: nevertheless, they are +considerable; for men in that condition enjoy a perfect health, they are robust +and active, they come off from combats with honour, they escape from dangers, +they succour their friends, they render great services to their country. For +these reasons they are well received wherever they come, they are in good +reputation with all men, they attain to the highest offices, they live the more +honourably and the more at ease, and they leave their posterity the most noble +examples. If, therefore, you do not practise the military exercises in public, +you ought not to neglect the doing so in private, but to apply yourself to them +with all possible diligence. +</p> + +<p> +“To have the body active and healthy can be hurtful to you in no +occasions: and since we cannot do anything without the body, it is certain that +a good constitution will be of great advantage to us in all our undertakings. +Even in study, where there seems to be least need of it, we know many persons +who could never make any great progress for want of health. Forgetfulness, +melancholy, loss of appetite, and folly, are the diseases that generally +proceed from the indisposition of the body; and these diseases sometimes seize +the mind with so great violence, that they wipe out even the least remembrance +of what we knew before. But in health we have nothing like this to fear, and +consequently there is no toil which a judicious man would not willingly undergo +to avoid all these misfortunes. And, indeed, it is shameful for a man to grow +old before he has tried his own strength, and seen to what degree of dexterity +and perfection he can attain, which he can never know if he give himself over +for useless; because dexterity and strength come not of themselves, but by +practice and exercise.” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII. SEVERAL APOPHTHEGMS OF SOCRATES.</h3> + +<p> +A certain man being vexed that he had saluted one who did not return his +civility, Socrates said to him, “It is ridiculous in you to be +unconcerned when you meet a sick man in the way, and to be vexed for having met +a rude fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +2. Another was saying that he had lost his appetite and could eat nothing. +Socrates, having heard it, told him he could teach him a remedy for that. The +man asking what it was, “Fast,” said he, “for some time, and +I will warrant you will be in better health, spend less money, and eat with +more satisfaction afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +3. Another complained that the water which came into the cistern was warm, and +nevertheless he was forced to drink it. “You ought to be glad of +it,” said Socrates, “for it is a bath ready for you, whenever you +have a mind to bathe yourself.” “It is too cold to bathe in,” +replied the other. “Do your servants,” said Socrates, “find +any inconvenience in drinking it, or in bathing in it?” “No, but I +wonder how they can suffer it.” “Is it,” continued Socrates, +“warmer to drink than that of the temple of Æsculapius?” +“It is not near so warm.” “You see, then,” said +Socrates, “that you are harder to please than your own servants, or even +than the sick themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +4. A master having beaten his servant most cruelly, Socrates asked him why he +was so angry with him. The master answered, “Because he is a drunkard, a +lazy fellow who loves money, and is always idle.” “Suppose he be +so,” said Socrates: “but be your own judge, and tell me, which of +you two deserves rather to be punished for those faults?” +</p> + +<p> +5. Another made a difficulty of undertaking a journey to Olympia. “What +is the reason,” said Socrates to him, “that you are so much afraid +of walking, you, who walk up and down about your house almost all day long? You +ought to look upon this journey to be only a walk, and to think that you will +walk away the morning till dinner-time, and the afternoon till supper, and thus +you will insensibly find yourself at your journey’s end. For it is +certain that in five or six days’ time you go more ground in walking up +and down than you need to do in going from Athens to Olympia. I will tell you +one thing more: it is much better to set out a day too soon than a day too +late; for it is troublesome to be forced to go long journeys; and on the +contrary, it is a great ease to have the advantage of a day beforehand. You +were better therefore to hasten your departure than be obliged to make haste +upon the road.” +</p> + +<p> +6. Another telling him that he had been a great journey, and was extremely +weary, Socrates asked whether he had carried anything. The other answered that +he had carried nothing but his cloak. “Were you alone?” said +Socrates. “No; I had a slave with me.” “Was not he +loaded?” continued Socrates. “Yes, for he carried all my +things.” “And how did he find himself upon the road?” +“Much better than I.” “And if you had been to carry what he +did, what would have become of you?” “Alas!” said he, +“I should never have been able to have done it.” “Is it not a +shame,” added Socrates, “in a man like you, who have gone through +all the exercises, not to be able to undergo as much fatigue as his +slave?” +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV. SOCRATES PROPOSETH SOME REGULATIONS FOR THE BETTER MANAGEMENT +OF THEIR PUBLIC FEASTS.</h3> + +<p> +Socrates having observed that in public suppers every one brought his own dish +of meat, and that sometimes some brought more and others less, was wont, when +this happened, to bid a servant set the least dish in the middle of the table, +and to give some of it to all the company. No man could, in civility, refuse +it, nor exempt himself from doing the like with his own dish, insomuch that +every man had a taste of the whole, and all fared alike. This in some measure +banished luxury and expensiveness from these feasts. For they who would have +laid out a great deal of money in delicacies cared no longer to do so, because +they would have been as much for others as for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Being one day in these assemblies, and seeing a young man who ate his meat +without bread, he took occasion to rally him for it upon a question that was +started touching the imposing of names. “Can we give any reasons,” +said he, “why a man is called flesh-eater—that is to say, a +devourer of flesh?—for every man eats flesh when he has it; and I do not +believe it to be upon that account that a man is called so.” “Nor I +neither,” said one of the company. “But,” continued Socrates, +“if a man takes delight to eat his meat without bread, do you not take +him to be, indeed, a flesh-eater?” “I should think it difficult to +find another who better would deserve that name.” Upon which somebody +else taking the word said, “What think you of him who, with a little +bread only, eats a great deal of flesh?” “I should,” replied +Socrates, “judge him, too, to be a flesh-eater; and whereas others ask of +the gods in their prayers to give them an abundance of fruits, such men in +their petitions it is likely would pray only for abundance of flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man whom Socrates had in mind, suspecting that he spoke upon his +account, took some bread, but continued still to eat a great deal of flesh with +it. Socrates perceived him, and showing him with his finger to those that sat +next to him, said to them, “Take notice of your neighbour, and see +whether it be the meat that makes him eat his bread, or the bread that makes +him eat his meat.” +</p> + +<p> +In a like occasion, seeing a man sop the same morsel of meat in several sauces, +he said, “Is it possible to make a sauce that will cost more, and be not +so good, as one that is made by taking out of several different sauces at once? +For there being more ingredients than usual, no doubt it costs more; but then +because we mix things together, which the cooks never used to mingle, because +they agree not well with one another, we certainly spoil the whole; and is it +not a jest to be curious in having good cooks, and at the same time to be so +fantastical as to alter the relish of the dishes they have dressed? Besides, +when we have once got a habit of eating thus of several dishes at once, we are +not so well satisfied when we have no longer that variety. Whereas a man who +contents himself to eat but of one dish at a time finds no great inconvenience +in having but one dish of meat for his dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +He made likewise this remark: that to express what the other Greeks called +“to eat a meal,” the Athenians said “to make good +cheer;” and that the word “good” shows us that we ought to +eat such things only as will neither disorder the body nor the mind, which are +easily had, and purchased without great expense. From whence he inferred that +they alone who live temperately and soberly can truly be said to make good +cheer—that is to say, to eat well. +</p> + +<h2>BOOK IV.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I. THAT PERSONS OF GOOD NATURAL PARTS, AS WELL AS THOSE WHO HAVE +PLENTIFUL FORTUNES, OUGHT NOT TO THINK THEMSELVES ABOVE INSTRUCTION. ON THE +CONTRARY, THE ONE OUGHT, BY THE AID OF LEA<span class="smcap">RNING, </span>TO +IMPROVE THEIR GENIUS; THE OTHER, BY THE ACQUISITION OF KNOWLEDGE, TO RENDER +THEMSELVES VALUABLE.</h3> + +<p> +There was always, as we have already remarked, some improvement to be made with +Socrates; and it must be owned that his company and conversation were very +edifying, since even now, when he is no more among us, it is still of advantage +to his friends to call him to their remembrance. And, indeed, whether he spoke +to divert himself, or whether he spoke seriously, he always let slip some +remarkable instructions for the benefit of all that heard him. +</p> + +<p> +He used often to say he was in love, but it was easy to see it was not with the +beauty of one’s person that he was taken, but with the virtues of his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +The marks of a good genius, he said, were these—a good judgment, a +retentive memory, and an ardent desire of useful knowledge; that is to say, +when a person readily learns what he is taught, and strongly retains what he +has learnt, as also when he is curious to know all that is necessary to the +good government either of a family or of a republic; in a word, when one +desires to obtain a thorough knowledge of mankind and of whatever relates to +human affairs. And his opinion was that when these good natural parts are +cultivated as they ought, such men are not only happy themselves, and govern +their families prudently, but are capable likewise to render others happy, and +to make republics flourish. +</p> + +<p> +On the one hand, therefore, whenever he met with any who believed themselves +men of parts, and for that reason neglected to be instructed, he proved to them +that men of the best natural parts are they who have most need of instruction; +and to this purpose he alleged the example of a high-mettled horse, who, having +more courage and more strength than others, does us very great service, if he +be broke and managed in his youth; but if that be neglected, he grows so +vicious and unruly that we know not what to do with him. Thus also dogs of a +good breed, and that by nature are the most strong and mettlesome, are +excellent for game, if they are well taught; otherwise they are apt to become +high rangers and at no command. In like manner among men they who are blessed +with the greatest advantages of Nature, to whom she has given the most courage +and the greatest strength to enable them to succeed in their undertakings, are +likewise the most virtuous, and do more good than others, when they meet with a +good education; but if they remain without instruction they fall into an excess +of ill, and become most pernicious to themselves and others. Merely for want of +knowing their duty they often engage themselves in very wicked designs; and +being imperious and violent, it is very difficult to keep them within bounds +and to make them change their resolution, which is the reason they do a great +deal of mischief. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, when he saw any of those men who pique themselves on their +estates, and who believe because they are men of high condition that they are +above instruction, or have no need of it, because their riches alone are +sufficient to gain them the esteem of the world, and to make them succeed in +all their undertakings, he endeavoured to convince them of their error, and to +show them that they, too, have need of instruction. He told them that that man +is a fool who imagines with himself that he can know the things that are useful +from those that are hurtful, without having ever learnt the difference; or who, +not discerning between them, fondly thinks that because he has wherewithal to +buy whatever he has a mind to, he can therefore do whatever may lend to his +advantage; or who, judging himself incapable to do what is useful for himself, +thinks, nevertheless, that he is well in the world, and in a safe and happy +condition of life. That it is likewise a folly for a man to persuade himself +that, being rich and having no merit, he will pass for a man of parts; or that, +not having the reputation of being a man of parts, he shall nevertheless be +esteemed. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II. CONFERENCE BETWEEN SOCRATES AND EUTHYDEMUS, IN WHICH HE +CONVINCES THAT YOUNG MAN, WHO HAD A GREAT OPINION OF HIMSELF, THAT HE KNEW +NOTHING.</h3> + +<p> +When Socrates, on the other hand, found any who soothe themselves up in the +belief that they are well instructed, and who boast of their own sufficiency, +he never failed to chastise the vanity of such persons. Of his conduct in this +particular I will relate the following instance— +</p> + +<p> +He had been told that Euthydemus had bought up several works of the most +celebrated poets and sophists, and that this acquisition had so puffed him up +with arrogance, that he already esteemed himself the greatest man for learning +and parts of any of the age, and pretended to no less than being the first man +of the city, either for negotiating or for discoursing in public. Nevertheless, +he was still so young that he was not admitted into the assemblies of the +people, and if he had any affair to solicit he generally came and placed +himself in one of the shops that were near the courts of justice. Socrates, +having observed his station, failed not to go thither likewise with two or +three of his friends; and there, being fallen into discourse, this question was +started: Whether it was by the improving conversation of philosophers or by the +strength of his natural parts only, that Themistocles surpassed all his +countrymen in wisdom and valour, and advanced himself to such a high rank and +to so great esteem, that all the Republic cast their eyes upon him whenever +their affairs required the conduct of a man of bravery and wisdom? Socrates, +who had a mind to reflect upon Euthydemus, answered that “a man must be +very stupid to believe that mechanic arts (which are comparatively things but +of small importance) cannot be learnt without masters; and yet that the art of +governing of States, which is a thing of the greatest moment and that requires +the greatest effort of human prudence, comes of itself into the mind.” +And this was all that passed in this first interview. +</p> + +<p> +After this Socrates, observing that Euthydemus always avoided being in his +company, lest he should be taken for one of his admirers, attacked him more +openly; and once when he happened to be where he was, addressed himself to the +rest of the company in these words:—“Certainly, gentlemen, by what +may be conjectured from the studies of this young man, it is very likely that +when he shall have attained the age that permits him to be present in the +assemblies of the people, if any important affair come to be debated there, he +will not fail to give his judgment of it; and in my opinion he would introduce +his harangue by a very pleasant exordium, if he should begin with giving them +to understand that he had never learnt anything of any man whatsoever; he must +address himself to them in words to this purpose:— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Gentlemen, I have never been taught anything, I never frequented +the conversation of men of parts, I never gave myself the trouble to look out +for a master that was able to instruct me. On the contrary, gentlemen, I have +not only had an aversion to learn from others, but I should even have been very +sorry to have it believed I had done so; nevertheless, I will venture to tell +you what chance shall suggest to me in this present occasion.’ At this +rate they who present themselves to be received physicians might introduce a +like discourse as thus:—‘Gentlemen, I have never had any master to +teach me this science; for, indeed, I would never learn it, nor even have the +repute of having learnt it; nevertheless, admit me a physician, and I will +endeavour to become learned in the art by making experiments on your own +bodies.’” +</p> + +<p> +All the company fell a-laughing at this pleasant preface, and from that time +Euthydemus never avoided Socrates’ company as he had done before; but he +never offered to speak, believing that his silence would be an argument of his +modesty. Socrates, being desirous to rally him out of that mistaken notion, +spoke to him in this manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder that they who desire to learn to play upon the lute, or to ride +well, do not endeavour to learn it alone by themselves; but that they look out +for masters, resolved to do everything they bid them, and to believe all they +say, there being no other way to arrive at perfection in those arts; and that +they who hope one day to govern the Republic, and to declaim before the people, +imagine they can become fit to do so of themselves all of a sudden. +Nevertheless, it must be owned that these employments are more difficult than +the others, since among the great number of persons who push themselves into +office so few discharge their duty as they ought. This shows us that more +labour and diligence is required in such as would capacitate themselves for +those offices than for anything else.” +</p> + +<p> +By these discourses, Socrates having prepared the mind of Euthydemus to hearken +to what he intended to say to him, and to enter into conference with him, he +came another time by himself into the same shop, and taking a seat next to this +young man—“I have heard,” said he to him, “that you +have been curious in buying a great many good books.” “I +have,” said Euthydemus, “and continue to do so every day, designing +to have as many as I can get.” “I commend you very much,” +said Socrates, “for choosing rather to hoard up a treasure of learning +and knowledge than of money. For you testify by so doing that you are not of +opinion that riches, or silver and gold, can render one more valuable, that is +to say, a wiser or a better man; but that it is only the writings and precepts +of the philosophers and other fine writers that are the true riches, because +they enrich with virtue the minds of those that possess them.” Euthydemus +was pleased to hear him say this, believing that he approved his method; and +Socrates, perceiving his satisfaction, went on: “But what is your design +of making a collection of so many books? Do you intend to be a physician? There +are many books in that science.” “That is not my design,” +said Euthydemus. “Will you be an architect, then?” said Socrates, +“for that art requires a learned man. Or do you study geometry or +astrology?” “None of them.” “Do you mean to be a +reciter of heroic verses?” continued Socrates, “for I have been +told that you have all Homer’s works.” “Not in the +least,” answered Euthydemus, “for I have observed that men of that +profession know indeed a great many verses by heart, but for anything else they +are for the most part very impertinent.” “Perhaps you are in love +with that noble science that makes politicians and economists, and that renders +men capable to govern, and to be useful to others and to themselves?” +“That is what I endeavour to learn,” said Euthydemus, “and +what I passionately desire to know.” “It is a sublime +science,” replied Socrates; “it is that we call the royal science, +because it truly is the science of kings. But have you weighed this point, +whether a man can excel in that science without being an honest man?” +“I have,” said the young man, “and am even of opinion that +none but honest men can be good citizens.” “And are you an honest +man?” said Socrates. “I hope I am,” answered Euthydemus, +“as honest a man as another.” “Tell me,” said Socrates, +“can we know who are honest men by what they do, as we know what trade a +man is of by his work?” “We may.” “Then,” said +Socrates, “as architects show us their works, can honest men show us +theirs likewise?” “No doubt of it,” replied Euthydemus; +“and it is no difficult task to show you which are the works of justice, +and which those of injustice, that we so often hear mentioned.” +“Shall we,” said Socrates, “make two characters, the one (J) +to signify justice, the other (I) to denote injustice; and write under one of +them all the works that belong to justice, and under the other all that belong +to injustice?” “Do,” said Euthydemus, “if you think +fit.” +</p> + +<p> +Socrates, having done what he proposed, continued thus his +discourse:—“Do not men tell lies?” “Very often,” +answered Euthydemus. “Under which head shall we put lying?” +“Under that of injustice,” said Euthydemus. “Do not men +sometimes cheat?” “Most certainly.” “Where shall we put +cheating?” said Socrates. “Under injustice.” “And doing +wrong to one’s neighbour?” “There too.” “And +selling of free persons into slavery?” “Still in the same +place.” “And shall we write none of all these,” said +Socrates, “under the head of justice?” “Not one of +them,” answered Euthydemus; “it would be strange if we did.” +“But what,” replied Socrates, “when a general plunders an +enemy’s city, and makes slaves of all the inhabitants, shall we say that +he commits an injustice?” “By no means.” “Shall we own, +then, that he does an act of justice?” “Without doubt.” +“And when he circumvents his enemies in the war, does he not do +well?” “Very well.” “And when he ravages their land, +and takes away their cattle and their corn, does he not do justly?” +“It is certain he does,” said Euthydemus; “and when I +answered you that all these actions were unjust, I thought you had spoken of +them in regard only of friend to friend.” “We must, +therefore,” replied Socrates, “put among the actions of justice +those very actions we have ascribed to injustice, and we will only establish +this distinction, that it is just to behave ourselves so towards our enemies; +but that to treat our friends thus is an injustice, because we ought to live +with them uprightly, and without any deceit.” “I think so,” +said Euthydemus. “But,” continued Socrates, “when a general +sees that his troops begin to be disheartened, if he make them believe that a +great reinforcement is coming to him, and by that stratagem inspires fresh +courage into the soldiers, under what head shall we put this lie?” +“Under the head of justice,” answered Euthydemus. “And when a +child will not take the physic that he has great need of, and his father makes +it be given him in a mess of broth, and by that means the child recovers his +health, to which shall we ascribe this deceit?” “To justice +likewise.” “And if a man, who sees his friend in despair, and fears +he will kill himself, hides his sword from him, or takes it out of his hands by +force, what shall we say of this violence?” “That it is +just,” replied Euthydemus. “Observe what you say,” continued +Socrates; “for it follows from your answers that we are not always +obliged to live with our friends uprightly, and without any deceit, as we +agreed we were.” “No; certainly we are not, and if I may be +permitted to retract what I said, I change my opinion very freely.” +“It is better,” said Socrates, “to change an opinion than to +persist in a wrong one. But there is still one point which we must not pass +over without inquiry, and this relates to those whose deceits are prejudicial +to their friends; for I ask you, which are most unjust, they who with +premeditate design cheat their friends, or they who do it through +inadvertency?” “Indeed,” said Euthydemus, “I know not +what to answer, nor what to believe, for you have so fully refuted what I have +said, that what appeared to me before in one light appears to me now in +another. Nevertheless, I will venture to say that he is the most unjust who +deceives his friend deliberately.” “Do you think,” said +Socrates, “that one may learn to be just and honest, as well as we learn +to read and write?” “I think we may.” “Which,” +added Socrates, “do you take to be the most ignorant, he who reads wrong +on purpose, or he who reads wrong because he can read no better?” +“The last of them,” answered Euthydemus; “for the other who +mistakes for pleasure need not mistake when he pleases.” +“Then,” inferred Socrates, “he who reads wrong deliberately +knows how to read; but he who reads wrong without design is an ignorant +man.” “You say true.” “Tell me likewise,” pursued +Socrates, “which knows best what ought to be done, and what belongs to +justice, he who lies and cheats with premeditate design, or he who deceives +without intention to deceive?” “It is most plain,” said +Euthydemus, “that it is he who deceives with premeditate design.” +“But you said,” replied Socrates, “that he who can read is +more learned than he who cannot read?” “I did so.” +“Therefore he who best knows which are the duties of justice is more just +than he that knows them not.” “It seems to be so,” answered +Euthydemus, “and I know not well how I came to say what I did.” +“Indeed,” said Socrates, “you often change your opinion, and +contradict what you say; and what would you yourself think of any man who +pretended to tell the truth, and yet never said the same thing; who, in +pointing out to you the same road, should show you sometimes east, sometimes +west, and who, in telling the same sum, should find more money at one time than +another; what would you think of such a man?” “He would make all +men think,” answered Euthydemus, “that he knew nothing of what he +pretended to know.” +</p> + +<p> +Socrates urged him yet further, and asked him: “Have you ever heard say +that some men have abject and servile minds?” “I have.” +“Is it said of them because they are learned or because they are +ignorant?” “Surely because they are ignorant.” +“Perhaps,” said Socrates, “it is because they understand not +the trade of a smith?” “Not in the least for that.” “Is +it because they know not how to build a house, or to make shoes?” +“By no means,” said Euthydemus; “for most who are skilled in +such professions have likewise abject and servile minds.” “This +character, then,” pursued Socrates, “must be given to those who are +ignorant of the noble sciences, and who know not what is just nor what is +honourable?” “I believe so.” “We ought, therefore, +Euthydemus, to do all we can to avoid falling into that ignominious ignorance +that sinks us down so low.” “Alas, Socrates!” cried he out, +“I will not lie for the matter; I thought I knew something in philosophy, +and that I had learnt whatever was requisite to be known by a man who desired +to make a practice of virtue; but judge how much I am afflicted to see that, +after all my labours, I am not able to answer you concerning things which I +ought chiefly to know; and yet I am at a loss what method to pursue in order to +render myself more capable and knowing in the things I desire to +understand.” Upon this, Socrates asked him whether he had ever been at +Delphi, and Euthydemus answered that he had been there twice. “Did you +not take notice,” said Socrates, “that somewhere on the front of +the temple there is this inscription, ‘<span class="smcap">Know +thyself</span>’?” “I remember,” answered he, “I +have read it there.” “It is not enough,” replied Socrates, +“to have read it. Have you been the better for this admonition? Have you +given yourself the trouble to consider what you are?” “I think I +know that well enough,” replied the young man, “for I should have +found it very difficult to have known any other thing if I had not known +myself.” “But for a man to know himself well,” said Socrates, +“it is not enough that he knows his own name; for, as a man that buys a +horse cannot be certain that he knows what he is before he has ridden him, to +see whether he be quiet or restive, whether he be mettlesome or dull, whether +he be fleet or heavy—in short, before he has made trial of all that is +good and bad in him—in like manner, a man cannot say that he knows +himself before he has tried what he is fit for, and what he is able to +do.” “It is true,” said Euthydemus, “that whoever knows +not his own strength knows not himself.” “But,” continued +Socrates, “who sees not of how great advantage this knowledge is to man, +and how dangerous it is to be mistaken in this affair? for he who knows himself +knows likewise what is good for himself. He sees what he is able to do, and +what he is not able to do; by applying himself to things that he can do, he +gets his bread with pleasure, and is happy; and by not attempting to do the +things he cannot do, he avoids the danger of falling into errors, and of seeing +himself miserable. By knowing himself, he knows likewise how to judge of +others, and to make use of their services for his own advantage, either to +procure himself some good, or to protect himself from some misfortune; but he +who knows not himself, and is mistaken in the opinion he has of his own +abilities, mistakes likewise in the knowledge of others, and in the conduct of +his own affairs. He is ignorant of what is necessary for him, he knows not what +he undertakes, nor comprehends the means he makes use of, and this is the +reason that success never attends his enterprises, and that he always falls +into misfortunes. But the man who sees clear into his own designs generally +obtains the end he proposes to himself, and at the same time gains reputation +and honour. For this reason, even his equals are well pleased to follow his +advices; and they whose affairs are in disorder implore his assistance, and +throw themselves into his hands, depending upon his prudence to retrieve their +affairs, and to restore them to their former good condition. But he who +undertakes he knows not what, generally makes an ill choice, and succeeds yet +worse; and the present damage is not the only punishment he undergoes for his +temerity. He is disgraced for ever; all men laugh at him, all men despise and +speak ill of him. Consider likewise what happens to Republics who mistake their +own strength, and declare war against States more powerful than themselves; +some are utterly ruined, others lose their liberty, and are compelled to +receive laws from the conquerors.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am fully satisfied,” said Euthydemus, “that a great deal +depends on the knowledge of oneself. I hope you will now tell me by what a man +must begin to examine himself.” “You know,” said Socrates, +“what things are good and what are bad?” “Indeed,” +answered Euthydemus, “if I knew not that, I were the most ignorant of all +men.” “Then tell me your thoughts of this matter,” said +Socrates. “First,” said Euthydemus, “I hold that health is a +good and sickness an evil, and that whatever contributes to either of them +partakes of the same qualities. Thus nourishment and the exercises that keep +the body in health are very good; and, on the contrary, those that cause +diseases are hurtful.” “But would it not be better to say,” +replied Socrates, “that health and sickness are both good when they are +the causes of any good, and that they are both bad when they are the causes of +any ill?” “And when can it ever happen,” said Euthydemus, +“that health is the cause of any ill, and sickness the cause of any +good?” “This may happen,” answered Socrates, “when +troops are raised for any enterprise that proves fatal; when men are embarked +who are destined to perish at sea; for men who are in health may be involved in +these misfortunes, when they who, by reason of their infirmities, are left at +home, will be exempted from the mischiefs in which the others perish.” +“You say true,” said Euthydemus, “but you see, too, that men +who are in health are present in fortunate occasions, while they who are +confined to their beds cannot be there.” “It must therefore be +granted,” said Socrates, “that these things which are sometimes +useful and sometimes hurtful are not rather good than bad.” “That +is, indeed, the consequence of your argument,” replied Euthydemus; +“but it cannot be denied that knowledge is a good thing; for what is +there in which a knowing man has not the advantage of an ignorant one?” +“And have you not read,” said Socrates, “what happened to +Dædalus for his knowing so many excellent arts, and how, being fallen +into the hands of Minos, he was detained by force, and saw himself at once +banished from his country and stripped of his liberty? To complete his +misfortune, flying away with his son, he was the occasion of his being +miserably lost, and could not, after all, escape in his own person; for, +falling into the hands of barbarians, he was again made a slave. Know you not +likewise the adventure of Palamedes, who was so envied by Ulysses for his great +capacity, and who perished wretchedly by the calumnious artifices of that +rival? How many great men likewise has the King of Persia caused to be seized +and carried away because of their admirable parts, and who are now languishing +under him in a perpetual slavery?” “But, granting this to be as you +say,” added Euthydemus, “you will certainly allow good fortune to +be a good?” “I will,” said Socrates, “provided this +good fortune consists in things that are undoubtedly good.” “And +how can it be that the things which compose good fortune should not be +infallibly good?” “They are,” answered Socrates, +“unless you reckon among them beauty and strength of body, riches, +honours, and other things of that nature.” “And how can a man be +happy without them?” “Rather,” said Socrates, “how can +a man be happy with things that are the causes of so many misfortunes? For many +are daily corrupted because of their beauty; many who presume too much on their +own strength are oppressed under the burden of their undertakings. Among the +rich, some are lost in luxury, and others fall into the snares of those that +wait for their estates. And lastly, the reputation and honours that are +acquired in Republics are often the cause of their ruin who possess +them.” “Certainly,” said Euthydemus, “if I am in the +wrong to praise good fortune, I know not what we ought to ask of the +Deity.” “Perhaps, too,” replied Socrates, “you have +never considered it, because you think you know it well enough. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued he, changing the subject of their discourse, +“seeing you are preparing yourself to enter upon the government of our +Republic, where the people are master, without doubt you have reflected on the +nature of this State, and know what a democracy is?” “You ought to +believe I do.” “And do you think it possible,” said Socrates, +“to know what a democracy or popular State is without knowing what the +people is?” “I do not think I can.” “And what is the +people?” said Socrates. “Under that name,” answered +Euthydemus, “I mean the poor citizens.” “You know, then, who +are the poor?” “I do,” said Euthydemus. “Do you know, +too, who are the rich?” “I know that too.” “Tell me, +then, who are the rich and who are the poor?” “I take the +poor,” answered Euthydemus, “to be those who have not enough to +supply their necessary expenses, and the rich to be they who have more than +they have occasion for.” “But have you observed,” replied +Socrates, “that there are certain persons who, though they have very +little, have nevertheless enough, and even lay up some small matter out of it; +and, on the contrary, there are others who never have enough how great soever +their estates and possessions are?” “You put me in mind,” +said Euthydemus, “of something very much to the purpose, for I have seen +even some princes so necessitous that they have been compelled to take away +their subjects’ estates, and to commit many injustices.” “We +must, then,” said Socrates, “place such princes in the rank of the +poor, and those who have but small estates, yet manage them well, in the number +of the rich.” “I must give consent to all you say,” answered +Euthydemus, “for I am too ignorant to contradict you; and I think it will +be best for me, from henceforward, to hold my peace, for I am almost ready to +confess that I know nothing at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Having said this, he withdrew, full of confusion and self-contempt, beginning +to be conscious to himself that he was indeed a person of little or no account +at all. Nor was he the only person whom Socrates had thus convinced of their +ignorance and insufficiency, several of whom never came more to see him, and +valued him the less for it. But Euthydemus did not act like them. On the +contrary, he believed it impossible for him to improve his parts but by +frequently conversing with Socrates, insomuch that he never left him, unless +some business of moment called him away, and he even took delight to imitate +some of his actions. Socrates, seeing him thus altered from what he was, was +tender of saying anything to him that might irritate or discourage him; but +took care to speak more freely and plainly to him of the things he ought to +know and apply himself to. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III. PROOFS OF A KIND SUPERINTENDING PROVIDENCE.—WHAT RETURNS +OF GRATITUDE AND DUTY MEN OUGHT TO MAKE TO GOD FOR HIS FAVOURS.—AN HONEST +AND GOOD LIFE THE BEST SONG OF THANKSGIVI<span class="smcap">NG OR T</span>HE +MOST ACCEPTABLE SACRIFICE TO THE DEITY.</h3> + +<p> +As Socrates considered virtue and piety as the two grand pillars of a State, +and was fully persuaded that all other qualifications whatever, without the +knowledge and practice of these, would, instead of enabling men to do good, +serve, on the contrary, to render them more wicked and more capable of doing +mischief. For that reason he never pressed his friends to enter into any public +office until he had first instructed them in their duty to God and mankind. +But, above all, he endeavoured to instil into their minds pious sentiments of +the Deity, frequently displaying before them high and noble descriptions of the +Divine power, wisdom, and goodness. But seeing several have already written +what they had heard him say in divers occasions upon this subject, I will +content myself with relating some things which he said to Euthydemus when I +myself was present. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you never reflected, Euthydemus, on the great goodness of the Deity +in giving to men whatever they want?” “Indeed, I never have,” +answered he. “You see,” replied Socrates, “how very necessary +light is for us, and how the gods give it us.” “You say +true,” answered Euthydemus, “and without light we should be like +the blind.” “But because we have need of repose they have given us +the night to rest in; the night, which, of all times, is the fittest for +repose.” “You are in the right,” said Euthydemus, “and +we ought to render them many praises for it.” “Moreover,” +continued Socrates, “as the sun is a luminous body, and by the brightness +of his beams discovers to us all visible things, and shows us the hours of the +day; and as, on the contrary, the night is dusky and obscure, they have made +the stars to appear, which, during the absence of the day, mark the hours to +us, by which means we can do many things we have occasion for. They have +likewise made the moon to shine, which not only shows us the hours of the +night, but teaches us to know the time of the month.” “All this is +true,” said Euthydemus. “Have you not taken notice likewise that +having need of nourishment, they supply us with it by the means of the earth? +How excellently the seasons are ordered for the fruits of the earth, of which +we have such an abundance, and so great a variety, that we find, not only +wherewith to supply our real wants but to satisfy even luxury itself.” +“This goodness of the gods,” cried Euthydemus, “is an +evidence of the great love they bear to men.” “What say you,” +continued Socrates, “to their having given us water, which is so +necessary for all things? For it is that which assists the earth to produce the +fruits, and that contributes, with the influences from above, to bring them to +maturity; it helps to nourish us, and by being mingled with what we eat, makes +it more easily got ready, more useful, and more delightful; in short, being of +so universal an use, is it not an admirable providence that has made it so +common? What say you to their having given us fire, which defends us from cold, +which lights us when it is dark, which is necessary to us in all trades, and +which we cannot be without in the most excellent and useful inventions of +men?” “Without exaggeration,” said Euthydemus, “this +goodness is immense.” “What say you, besides,” pursued +Socrates, “to see that after the winter the sun comes back to us, and +that proportionably as he brings the new fruits to maturity, he withers and +dries those whose season is going over; that after having done us this service +he retires that his heat may not incommode us; and then, when he is gone back +to a certain point, which he cannot transgress, without putting us in danger of +dying with cold, he returns again to retake his place in this part of the +heavens, where his presence is most advantageous to us? And because we should +not be able to support either cold or heat, if we passed in an instant from one +extreme to the other, do you not admire that this planet approaches us and +withdraws himself from us by so just and slow degrees, that we arrive at the +two extremes without almost perceiving the change?” “All these +things,” said Euthydemus, “make me doubt whether the gods have +anything to do but to serve mankind. One thing puts me to a stand, that the +irrational animals participate of all these advantages with us.” +“How!” said Socrates, “and do you then doubt whether the +animals themselves are in the world for any other end than for the service of +man? What other animals do, like us, make use of horses, of oxen, of dogs, of +goats, and of the rest? Nay, I am of opinion, that man receives not so much +advantage from the earth as from the animals; for the greatest part of mankind +live not on the fruits of the earth, but nourish themselves with milk, cheese, +and the flesh of beasts; they get the mastery over them, they make them tame, +and use them to their great advantage in war and for the other necessities of +life.” “I own it,” said Euthydemus, “for some of them +are much stronger than man, and yet are so obedient to him, that he does with +them whatever he pleases.” +</p> + +<p> +“Admire yet further the goodness of the gods,” said Socrates, +“and consider, that as there is in the world an infinite number of +excellent and useful things, but of very different natures, they have given us +external senses, which correspond to each of those sensible objects, and by +means of which senses we can perceive and enjoy all of them. They have, +besides, endued us with reason and understanding, which enableth us to discern +between those things that the senses discover to us, to inquire into the +different natures of things useful and things hurtful, and so to know by +experience which to choose and which to reject. They have likewise given us +speech, by means whereof we communicate our thoughts to each other, and +instruct one another in the knowledge of whatever is excellent and good; by +which also we publish our laws and govern States. In fine, as we cannot always +foresee what is to happen to us, nor know what it will be best for us to do, +the gods offer us likewise their assistance by the means of the oracles; they +discover the future to us when we go to consult them, and teach us how to +behave ourselves in the affairs of life.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Euthydemus, interrupting him, said, “And indeed these gods are in +this respect more favourable to you than to the rest of mankind, since, without +expecting you to consult them, they give you notice of what you ought or ought +not to do.” “You will allow, therefore, that I told you +true,” said Socrates, “when I told you there were gods, and that +they take great care of men; but expect not that they will appear to you, and +present themselves before your eyes. Let it suffice you to behold their works, +and to adore them, and be persuaded that this is the way by which they manifest +themselves to men, for among all the gods that are so liberal to us there is +not one who renders himself visible to confer on us his favours. And that +Supreme God, who built the universe, and who supports this great work, whose +every part is accomplished in beauty and goodness; He, who is the cause that +none of its parts grow old with time, and that they preserve themselves always +in an immortal vigour, who is the cause, besides, that they inviolably obey His +laws with a readiness that surpasses our imagination; He, I say, is visible +enough in the so many wondrous works of which He is author, but our eyes cannot +penetrate even into His throne to behold Him in these great occupations, and in +that manner it is that He is always invisible. Do but consider that the sun, +who seems to be exposed to the sight of all the world, does not suffer us to +gaze fixedly upon him, and whoever has the temerity to undertake it is punished +with sudden blindness. Besides, whatever the gods make use of is invisible; the +thunder is lanced from above, it shatters all it finds in its way, but we see +it not fall, we see it not strike, we see it not return. The winds are +invisible, though we see the desolations they daily make, and easily feel when +they grow boisterous. If there be anything in man that partakes of the divine +nature it is his soul, which, beyond all dispute, guides and governs him, and +yet we cannot see it. Let all this, therefore, teach you not to neglect or +disbelieve the Deity, because He is invisible; learn to know His presence and +power from the visible effects of it in the world around you; be persuaded of +the universal care and providence of the all-surrounding Deity from the +blessings He showers down upon all His creatures, and be sure to worship and +serve this God in a becoming manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure,” said Euthydemus, “I shall never derogate from +the respect due to the gods; and I am even troubled that every man cannot +sufficiently acknowledge the benefits he receives from them.” “Be +not afflicted at that,” said Socrates, “for you know what answer +the Delphian Oracle is wont to return to those who inquire what they ought to +do in order to make an acceptable sacrifice. ‘Follow the custom of your +country,’ says he to them. Now, it is a custom received in all places for +every man to sacrifice to them according to his power; and by consequence there +is no better nor more pious a way of honouring the gods than that, since they +themselves ordain and approve it. It is indeed a truth that we ought not to +spare anything of what we are able to offer, for that would be a manifest +contempt. When, therefore, a man has done all that is in his power to do, he +ought to fear nothing and hope all; for, from whence can we reasonably hope for +more, than from those in whose power it is to do us the greatest good? And by +what other way can we more easily obtain it, than by making ourselves +acceptable to them? And how can we better make ourselves acceptable to them, +than by doing their will?” +</p> + +<p> +This is what Socrates taught, and by this doctrine, which was always +accompanied with an exemplary devotion, he greatly advanced his friends in +piety. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV. INSTANCES OF THE INVIOLABLE INTEGRITY OF SOCRATES.—HIS +CONVERSATION WITH HIPPIAS CONCERNING JUSTICE.</h3> + +<p> +Concerning justice, it cannot be said that Socrates concealed his opinion of +it, for he plainly revealed his sentiments by his actions, as well in public as +in private, making it his business to serve every man, and to obey the +magistrates and the laws; insomuch, that as well in the army as in the city, +his obedience and uprightness rendered him remarkable above all others. He +fully discovered the integrity of his soul, when he presided in the assemblies +of the people; he would never pass a decree that was contrary to the laws; he +alone defended the cause of justice against the efforts of the multitude, and +opposed a violence which no man but himself was able to resist. Again, when the +Thirty commanded him anything that was unjust, he did not obey them. Thus, when +they forbid him to speak to the young men, he regarded not their inhibition, +and when they gave orders to him, as well as to some other citizens, to bring +before them a certain man, whom they intended to put to death, he alone would +do nothing in it, because that order was unjust. In like manner when he was +accused by Melitus, though in such occasions others endeavour to gain their +judges by flatteries and ignominious solicitations, which often procure them +their pardon, he would not put in practice any of these mean artifices that are +repugnant to the laws, and yet he might very easily have got himself acquitted, +if he could have prevailed with himself to comply in the least with the custom, +but he chose rather to die in an exact observance of the laws, than to save his +life by acting contrary to them, for he utterly abhorred all mean or indirect +practices; and this was the answer he gave to several of his friends who +advised him to the contrary. +</p> + +<p> +Since I am now illustrating the character of Socrates with regard to justice, I +will, at the same time, relate a conversation I remember he had with Hippias of +Elis on that subject. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long while that Hippias had not been at Athens; and being arrived +there, he happened to come to a place where Socrates was discoursing with some +persons, and telling them that if any one had a mind to learn a trade, there +wanted not masters to teach him; nay, that if one would have a horse trained up +there were persons enough to undertake it; but that if one desired to learn to +be a good man, or to have his son, or any of his family taught to be so, it +would be difficult to know to whom to apply himself. Hippias rallying him, +said:—“What! Socrates, you are still repeating the same things I +heard you say so long ago.” “Nay, more,” replied Socrates, +“and always upon the same subject; but you, perhaps, being learned as you +are, do not always say the same thing upon the same subject.” +“Indeed,” said Hippias, “I always endeavour to say something +new.” “Is it possible,” replied Socrates? “Pray tell me +if you were asked how many letters there are in my name, and which they are, +would you answer sometimes in one manner and sometimes in another? Or if you +were asked whether twice five be not ten, would you not always say the same +thing?” “In subjects like those,” said Hippias, “I +should be obliged to say the same thing as well as you; but since we are upon +the theme of justice, I believe I can now say some things of it, against which, +neither you nor any man else can make any objection.” “Good +God!” cried Socrates, “what a mighty boast is here! Upon my word, +Hippias, you have made an admirable discovery! and you have reason to value +yourself upon it; for, let me tell you, if you can establish one single opinion +of justice, the judges will be no longer divided in their sentiments, there +will be no more quarrels, no more suits at law, no more seditions among +citizens, no more wars between republics. Indeed, it much troubles me to leave +you before you have taught me this secret, which you say you have +discovered.” “I give you my word,” answered Hippias, +“that I will tell you nothing of it, till you have first declared your +own opinion concerning justice; for it is your old way to interrogate others, +and then to laugh at them by refuting what they have said; but you never make +known your own opinions, that you may not be obliged to give a reason for +them.” “Why do you lay this to my charge,” said Socrates, +“since I am continually showing to all the world what are the things I +believe to be just?” “How do you show it?” said Hippias. +“If I explain it not by my words,” answered Socrates, “my +actions speak it sufficiently; and do you think that actions deserve not rather +to be believed than words?” “Much rather,” said Hippias, +“because many may say one thing, and do another; nay, we see that, in +fact, many who preach up justice to others are very unjust themselves; but this +cannot be said of a man whose every action is good, and that never in his life +did an unjust thing.” “Have you known, then,” said Socrates, +“that I have accused any man out of malice, that I have sown dissension +among friends, that I have raised seditions in the Republic; in short, that I +have committed any other sort of injustice?” “Not in the +least,” said he. “Well, then,” added Socrates, “do you +not take him to be just who commits no manner of injustice?” “It is +plain, now,’” said Hippias, “that you intend to get loose, +and that you will not speak your mind freely, nor give us an exact definition +of justice. For all this while you have only shown what just men do not, but +not what they do.” “I should have thought,” said Socrates, +“I had given at once a good definition, and a clear instance of justice, +when I called it an aversion from doing injustice. But since you will not allow +it to be so, see whether this will satisfy you: I say, then, that justice +‘is nothing but the observance of the laws.’” “You +mean,” said Hippias, “that to observe the laws is to be +just?” “Yes,” answered Socrates. “I cannot comprehend +your thought,” said Hippias. “Do you not know,” pursued +Socrates, “what the laws in a State are?” “The laws,” +answered Hippias, “are what the citizens have ordained by an universal +consent.” “Then,” inferred Socrates, “he who lives +conformably to those ordinances observes the laws; and he who acts contrary to +them is a transgressor of the laws.” “You say true.” +“Is it not likewise true,” continued Socrates, “that he who +obeys these ordinances does justly, and that he obeys them not does +unjustly?” “Yes.” “But,” said Socrates, “he +who acts justly is just, and he who acts unjustly is unjust?” +“Without doubt.” “Therefore,” said Socrates, +“whosoever observes the laws is just, and whosoever observes them not is +unjust.” “But how can it be imagined,” objected Hippias, +“that the laws are a good thing, and that it is good to obey them, since +even they that made them mend, alter, and repeal them so often?” To this +Socrates answered, “When you blame those who obey the laws, because they +are subject to be abrogated, you do the same thing as if you laughed at your +enemies for keeping themselves in a good posture of defence during the war, +because you might tell them that the peace will one day be made: and thus you +would condemn those who generously expose their lives for the service of their +country. Do you know,” added he, “that Lycurgus could never have +rendered the Republic of Sparta more excellent than other States if he had not +made it his chief care to incline the citizens most exactly to observe the +laws? This, too, is what all good magistrates aim at, because a Republic that +is obedient to the laws is happy in peace, and invincible in war. Moreover, you +know that concord is a great happiness in a State. It is daily recommended to +the people; and it is an established custom all over Greece to make the +citizens swear to live in good understanding with one another, and each of them +takes an oath to do so. Now, I do not believe that this unity is exacted of +them, only that they might choose the same company of comedians, or of +musicians, nor that they might give their approbation to the same poets, or all +take delight in the same diversions, but that they may all unanimously obey the +laws, because that obedience is the security and the happiness of the State. +Concord, therefore, is so necessary, that without it good polity and authority +cannot subsist in any State, nor good economy and order in any family. +</p> + +<p> +“In our private capacity, likewise, how advantageous is it to obey the +laws? By what means can we more certainly avoid punishments, and deserve +rewards? What more prudent conduct can we observe, always to gain our suits at +law, and never to be cast! To whom should we with greater confidence trust our +estates or our children, than to him who makes a conscience of observing the +laws? Who can deserve more of his country? whom can she more safely entrust +with public posts, and on whom can she more justly bestow the highest honours, +than on the good and honest man? Who will discharge himself better of his duty +towards his father or his mother, towards his relations or his domestics, +towards his friends, his fellow-citizens, or his guests? To whom will the enemy +rather trust for the observing of a truce, or for the performance of a treaty +of peace? With whom would we rather choose to make an alliance? To whom will +the allies more readily give the command of their armies, or the government of +their towns? From whom can we rather hope for a grateful return of a kindness +than from a man who strictly obeys the laws? and, by consequence, to whom will +men be more ready to do good turns, than to him of whose gratitude they are +certain? With whom will men be better pleased to contract a friendship, and, +consequently, against whom will men be less inclined to commit acts of +hostility, than against that person who has everybody for his well-wisher and +friend, and few or none for his ill-wishers or enemies? These, Hippias, are the +advantages of observing the laws. And now, having shown you that the observance +of the laws is the same thing with justice, if you are of another opinion, pray +let me know it.” “Indeed, Socrates,” answered Hippias, +“what you have said of justice agrees exactly with my sentiments of +it.” “Have you never heard,” continued Socrates, “of +certain laws that are not written?” “You mean the laws,” +answered Hippias, “which are received all over the earth.” +“Do you think, then,” added Socrates, “that it was all +mankind that made them?” “That is impossible,” said Hippias, +“because all men cannot be assembled in the same place, and they speak +not all of them the same language.” “Who, then, do you think gave +us these laws?” “The gods,” answered Hippias; “for the +first command to all men is to adore the gods.” “And is it not +likewise commanded everywhere to honour one’s father and mother?” +“Yes, certainly,” said Hippias. Socrates went on:—“And +that fathers and mothers should not marry with their own children, is not that +too a general command?” “No,” answered Hippias, “this +last law is not a Divine law, because I see some persons transgress it.” +“They observe not the others better,” said Socrates; “but +take notice, that no man violates with impunity a law established by the gods. +There are unavoidable punishments annexed to this crime; but we easily secure +ourselves from the rigour of human laws, after we have transgressed them, +either by keeping ourselves hid, or defending ourselves by open force.” +“And what is this punishment,” said Hippias, “which it is +impossible for fathers, who marry with their own children, to avoid?” +“It is very great,” said Socrates; “for what can be more +afflicting to men, who desire to have children than to have very bad +ones?” “And how do you know,” pursued Hippias, “that +they will have bad children? What shall hinder them, if they are virtuous +themselves, from having children that are so likewise?” “It is not +enough,” answered Socrates, “that the father and the mother be +virtuous: they must, besides, be both of them in the vigour and perfection of +their age. Now, do you believe, that the seed of persons who are too young, or +who are already in their declining age, is equal to that of persons who are in +their full strength?” “It is not likely that it is,” said +Hippias. “And which is the best?” pursued Socrates. “Without +doubt,” said Hippias, “that of a man in his strength.” +“It follows, then,” continued Socrates, “that the seed of +persons who are not yet come to their full strength, or who are past it, is not +good.” “In all appearance it is not.” “In those ages, +then, we ought not to get children?” said Socrates. “I think +so.” “Such, therefore, as indulge their lust in such untimely +fruition will have very weakly children?” “I grant they +will.” “And are not weakly children bad ones?” “They +are,” said Hippias. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, further,” said Socrates, “is it not an universal +law to do good to those who have done good to us?” “Yes,” +said Hippias, “but many offend against this law.” “And they +are punished for it,” replied Socrates, “seeing their best friends +abandon them, and that they are obliged to follow those who have an aversion +for them. For are not they the best friends who do kindnesses whenever they are +desired? And if he who has received a favour neglect to acknowledge it, or +return it ill, does he not incur their hate by his ingratitude? And yet, +finding his advantage in preserving their goodwill, is it not to them that he +makes his court with most assiduity?” “It is evident,” said +Hippias, “that it is the gods who have ordered these things; for, when I +consider that each law carries with it the punishment of the transgressor, I +confess it to be the work of a more excellent legislator than man.” +“And do you think,” said Socrates, “that the gods make laws +that are unjust?” “On the contrary,” answered Hippias, +“it is very difficult for any but the gods to make laws that are +just.” “Therefore, Hippias,” said Socrates, “according +to the gods themselves ‘to obey the laws is to be just.’” +</p> + +<p> +This is what Socrates said on the subject of justice, and his actions being +conformable to his words, he from day to day created a greater love of justice +in the minds of those who frequented him. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V. OF THE MISCHIEFS OF INTEMPERANCE, AND THE ADVANTAGES OF +SOBRIETY.</h3> + +<p> +I will now set down the arguments that Socrates used to bring his friends to +the practice of good actions, for being of opinion that temperance is a great +advantage to such as desire to do anything that is excellent, he first showed +them, by his way of living, that no man was more advanced than himself in the +exercise of that virtue; and in his conferences he exhorted his hearers above +all things to the practice of it, and his thoughts being continually employed +in the means of arriving to be virtuous, he made it likewise the subject of all +his discourses. +</p> + +<p> +I remember that talking once with Euthydemus concerning temperance he delivered +himself to this effect:—“In your opinion, Euthydemus, is liberty a +very valuable thing?” “To be valued above all things,” +answered Euthydemus. “Do you believe that a man who is a slave to sensual +pleasures, and finds himself incapable of doing good, enjoys his +liberty?” “Not in the least.” “You allow, then, that to +do good is to be free, and that to be prevented from doing it, by any obstacle +whatever, is not to be free?” “I think so,” said Euthydemus. +“You believe, then,” said Socrates, “that debauched persons +are not free?” “I do.” “Do you believe likewise,” +continued Socrates, “that debauchery does not only hinder from doing +good, but compels to do ill?” “I think it does.” “What +would you say, then, of a master who should hinder you from applying yourself +to what is honest, and force you to undertake some infamous occupation?” +“I would say he was a very wicked master,” answered Euthydemus. +“And which is the worst of all slaveries?” added Socrates. +“To serve ill masters,” said Euthydemus. “Therefore,” +inferred Socrates, “the debauched are in a miserable slavery.” +“No doubt of it.” “Is it not debauchery, likewise,” +said Socrates, “that deprives men of their wisdom, the noblest gift of +the gods, and drives them into ignorance and stupidity, and all manner of +disorders? It robs them of leisure to apply themselves to things profitable, +while it drowns them in sensual pleasures; and it seizes their minds to that +degree that, though they often know which is the best way, they are miserably +engaged in the worst.” “They are so.” “Nor can we +expect to find temperance nor modesty in a debauched person, since the actions +of temperance and debauchery are entirely opposite.” “There is no +doubt of it,” said Euthydemus. “I do not think neither,” +added Socrates, “that it is possible to imagine anything that makes men +neglect their duty more than debauchery.” “You say true.” +“Is there anything more pernicious to man,” said Socrates, +“than that which robs him of his judgment, makes him embrace and cherish +things that are hurtful, avoid and neglect what is profitable, and lead a life +contrary to that of good men?” “There is nothing,” said +Euthydemus. Socrates went on:—“And may we not ascribe the contrary +effects to temperance?” “Without doubt.” “And is it not +likely to be true that the cause of the contrary effects is good?” +“Most certainly.” “It follows, then, my dear +Euthydemus,” said Socrates, “that temperance is a very good +thing?” “Undoubtedly it is.” “But have you +reflected,” pursued Socrates, “that debauchery, which pretends to +lead men to pleasures, cannot conduct them thither, but deceives them, leaving +them in disappointment, satiety, and disgust? and have you considered that +temperance and sobriety alone give us the true taste of pleasures? For it is +the nature of debauchery not to endure hunger nor thirst, nor the fatigue of +being long awake, nor the vehement desires of love, which, nevertheless, are +the true dispositions to eat and drink with delight, and to find an exquisite +pleasure in the soft approaches of sleep, and in the enjoyments of love. This +is the reason that the intemperate find less satisfaction in these actions, +which are necessary and frequently done. But temperance, which accustoms us to +wait for the necessity, is the only thing that makes us feel an extreme +pleasure in these occasions.” “You are in the right,” said +Euthydemus. “It is this virtue, too,” said Socrates, “that +puts men in a condition of bringing to a state of perfection both the mind and +the body, of rendering themselves capable of well governing their families, of +being serviceable to their friends and their country, and of overcoming their +enemies, which is not only very agreeable on account of the advantages, but +very desirable likewise for the satisfaction that attends it. But the debauched +know none of this, for what share can they pretend to in virtuous actions, they +whose minds are wholly taken up in the pursuit of present pleasures?” +“According to what you say,” replied Euthydemus, “a man given +to voluptuousness is unfit for any virtue.” “And what difference is +there,” said Socrates, “between an irrational animal and a +voluptuous man, who has no regard to what is best, but blindly pursues what is +most delightful? It belongs to the temperate only to inquire what things are +best and what not, and then, after having found out the difference by +experience and reasoning, to embrace the good and avoid the bad, which renders +them at once most happy, most virtuous, and most prudent.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the sum of this conference with Euthydemus. Now Socrates said that +conferences were so called because the custom was to meet and confer together, +in order to distinguish things according to their different species, and he +advised the frequent holding of these conferences, because it is an exercise +that improves and makes men truly great, teaches them to become excellent +politicians, and ripens the judgment and understanding. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI. SOCRATES’ FRIENDS ATTAIN, BY FREQUENTING HIS +CONVERSATION, AN EXCELLENT WAY OF REASONING.—THE METHOD HE OBSERVED IN +ARGUING SHOWN IN SEVERAL INSTANCES.—OF THE DIFFERENT SORTS OF GO<span +class="smcap">VERNMEN</span>T.—HOW SOCRATES DEFENDED HIS OPINIONS.</h3> + +<p> +I will show, in the next place, how Socrates’ friends learnt to reason so +well by frequenting his conversation. He held that they who perfectly +understand the nature of things can explain themselves very well concerning +them, but that a man who has not that knowledge often deceives himself and +others likewise. He therefore perpetually conferred with his friends without +ever being weary of that exercise. It would be very difficult to relate how he +defined every particular thing. I will therefore mention only what I think +sufficient to show what method he observed in reasoning. And, in the first +place, let us see how he argues concerning piety. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” said he to Euthydemus, “what piety is?” +“It is a very excellent thing,” answered Euthydemus. “And who +is a pious man?” said Socrates. “A man who serves the gods.” +“Is it lawful,” added Socrates, “to serve the gods in what +manner we please?” “By no means,” said Euthydemus; +“there are laws made for that purpose, which must be kept.” +“He, then, who keeps these laws will know how he ought to serve the +gods?” “I think so.” “And is it not true,” +continued Socrates, “that he who knows one way of serving the gods +believes there is no better a way than his?” “That is +certain.” “And will he not be careful how he does otherwise?” +“I believe he will.” “He, then, who knows the laws that ought +to be observed in the service of the gods, will serve them according to the +laws?” “Without doubt.” “But he who serves the gods as +the laws direct, serves them as he ought?” “True, he does.” +“And he who serves the gods as he ought is pious?” “There can +be no doubt of it.” “Thus, then,” said Socrates, “we +have the true definition of a pious man: He who knows in what manner he ought +to serve the gods?” “I think so,” said Euthydemus. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me further,” continued Socrates, “is it lawful for men +to behave themselves to one another as they please?” “In +nowise,” answered Euthydemus; “there are also certain laws which +they ought to observe among themselves.” “And do they,” said +Socrates, “who live together according to those laws, live as they +ought?” “Yes.” “And do they who live as they ought live +well?” “Certainly they do.” “And does he who knows how +to live well with men understand well how to govern his affairs?” +“It is likely that he may.” “Now, do you believe,” said +Socrates, “that some men obey the laws without knowing what the laws +command?” “I do not believe it.” “And when a man knows +what he ought to do, do you think he believes that he ought not to do +it?” “I do not think so.” “And do you know any men who +do otherwise than they believe they ought to do?” “None at +all.” “They, then, who know the laws that men ought to observe +among themselves, do what those laws command?” “I believe +so.” “And do they who do what the laws command, do what is +just?” “Most surely.” “And they who do what is just are +just likewise?” “None but they are so.” “We may, +therefore, well conclude,” said Socrates, “that the just are they +who know the laws that men ought to observe among themselves?” “I +grant it,” said Euthydemus. +</p> + +<p> +“And as for wisdom,” pursued Socrates, “what shall we say it +is? Tell me whether are men said to be wise in regard to the things they know, +or in regard to those they do not know?” “There can be no +doubt,” answered Euthydemus, “but that it is in consideration of +what they know; for how can a man be wise in things he knows not?” +“Then,” said Socrates, “men are wise on account of their +knowledge?” “It cannot be otherwise.” “Is wisdom +anything but what renders us wise?” “No.” “Wisdom +therefore is only knowledge?” “I think so.” “And do you +believe,” said Socrates, “that it is in the power of a man to know +everything?” “Not so much as even the hundredth part.” +“It is, then, impossible,” said Socrates, “to find a man who +is wise in all things?” “Indeed it is,” said Euthydemus. +“It follows, then,” said Socrates, “that every man is wise in +what he knows?” “I believe so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But can we, by this same way of comparison, judge of the nature of +good?” “As how?” said Euthydemus. “Do you think,” +said Socrates, “that the same thing is profitable to all men?” +“By no means.” “Do you believe that the same thing may be +profitable to one and hurtful to another?” “I think it may.” +“Then is it not the good that is profitable?” “Yes, +certainly.” “Therefore, ‘what is profitable is a good to him +to whom it is profitable.’” “That is true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not the same with what is beautiful? For, can you say that a body +or a vessel is beautiful and proper for all the world?” “By no +means.” “You will say, then, that it is beautiful in regard to the +thing for which it is proper?” “Yes.” “But tell me +whether what is reputed beautiful for one thing has the same relation to +another as to that to which it is proper?” “No.” “Then +‘whatever is of any use is reputed beautiful in regard to the thing to +which that use relates?’” “I think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what say you of courage?” added Socrates. “Is it an +excellent thing?” “Very excellent,” answered Euthydemus. +“But do you believe it to be of use in occasions of little moment?” +“Yes; but it is necessary in great affairs.” “Do you think it +of great advantage in dangers,” continued Socrates, “not to +perceive the peril we are in?” “I am not of that opinion.” +“At that rate,” said Socrates, “they who are not frightened +because they see not the danger are in nowise valiant.” “There is +no doubt of it,” said Euthydemus, “for otherwise there would be +some fools, and even cowards, who must be accounted brave.” “And +what are they who fear what is not to be feared?” “They are less +brave than the others,” answered Euthydemus. “They +therefore,” said Socrates, “who show themselves valiant in +dangerous occasions, are they whom you call brave; and they who behave +themselves in them unworthily, are they whom you call cowards?” +“Very right.” “Do you think,” added Socrates, +“that any men are valiant in such occasions except they who know how to +behave themselves in them?” “I do not think there are.” +“And are not they, who behave themselves unworthily, the same as they who +know not how to behave themselves?” “I believe they are.” +“And does not every man behave himself as he believes he ought to +do?” “Without doubt.” “Shall we say, then, that they +who behave themselves ill know how they ought to behave themselves?” +“By no means.” “They, therefore, who know how to behave +themselves, are they who behave themselves well?” “They and no +others.” “Let us conclude, then,” said Socrates, “that +they who know how to behave themselves well in dangers and difficult occasions +are the brave, and that they who know not how to do so are the cowards.” +“That is my opinion,” said Euthydemus. +</p> + +<p> +Socrates was wont to say, that a kingly government and a tyrannical government +were indeed two sorts of monarchy, and that there was this difference between +them; that, under a kingly government, the subjects obeyed willingly, and that +everything was done according to the laws of the State; but that, under a +tyrannical government, the people obeyed by force, and that all the laws were +reduced to the sole will of the sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +Concerning the other sorts of government, he said: That when the offices of a +Republic are given to the good citizens, this sort of State was called +aristocracy, or government of good men; when, on the contrary, the magistrates +were chosen according to their revenues, it was called a plutocracy, or +government of the rich; and when all the people are admitted, without +distinction, to bear employments, it is a democracy, or popular government. +</p> + +<p> +If any one opposed the opinion of Socrates, on any affair whatever, without +giving a convincing reason, his custom was to bring back the discourse to the +first proposition, and to begin by that to search for the truth. For example: +if Socrates had commended any particular person, and any stander-by had named +another, and pretended that he was more valiant, or more experienced in +affairs, he would have defended his opinion in the following manner:— +</p> + +<p> +“You pretend,” would he have said, “that he of whom you speak +is a better citizen than the person whom I was praising. Let us consider what +is the duty of a good citizen, and what man is most esteemed in a Republic. +Will you not grant me, that in relation to the management of the public +revenue, he is in the highest esteem who, while he has that office, saves the +Republic most money? In regard to the war, it is he who gains most victories +over the enemies. If we are to enter into a treaty with other States, it is he +who can dexterously win over to the party of the Republic those who before +opposed its interests. If we are to have regard to what passes in the +assemblies of the people, it is he who breaks the cabals, who appeases the +seditious, who maintains concord and unity among the citizens.” This +being granted him, he applied these general rules to the dispute in question, +and made the truth plainly appear, even to the eyes of those who contradicted +him. As for himself, when he undertook to discourse of anything, he always +began by the most common and universally received propositions, and was wont to +say, that the strength of the argumentation consisted in so doing. And, indeed, +of all the men I have ever seen, I know none who could so easily bring others +to own the truth of what he had a mind to prove to them. And he said that +Homer, speaking of Ulysses, called him “the certain or never-failing +orator,” because he had the art of supporting his arguments upon +principles that were acknowledged by all men. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII. METHOD TO BE OBSERVED IN STUDY.—ARTS AND SCIENCES NO +FURTHER USEFUL, THAN THEY CONTRIBUTE TO RENDER MEN WISER, BETTER, OR +HAPPIER.—VAIN AND UNPROFITABLE KNOWLEDGE TO BE REJECTED.</h3> + +<p> +I presume now, that what I have said has been a sufficient evidence of the +frankness and sincerity with which Socrates conversed with his friends, and +made known his opinions to them. It remains now that I should say something of +the extreme care Socrates showed for the advancement of his friends, and how +much he had at heart that they might not be ignorant of anything that could be +useful to them, to the end they might not want the assistance of others in +their own affairs. For this reason, he applied himself to examine in what each +of them was knowing; then, if he thought it in his power to teach them anything +that an honest and worthy man ought to know, he taught them such things with +incredible readiness and affection; if not, he carried them himself to masters +who were able to instruct them. But he resolved within himself how far a person +who was well-educated in his studies ought to learn everything. +</p> + +<p> +Thus for geometry he said, that we ought to know enough of it not to be imposed +upon in measure when we buy or sell land, when we divide an inheritance into +shares, or measure out the work of a labourer, and that it was so easy to know +this, that if a man applied himself ever so little to the practice of such +things, he would soon learn even the extent and circumference of the whole +earth, and how to measure it; but he did not approve that a man should dive +into the very bottom of this science, and puzzle his brains with I know not +what figures, though he himself was expert in it, for he said he could not see +what all those niceties and inventions were good for, which take up the whole +life of a man, and distract him from other more necessary studies. +</p> + +<p> +In like manner he was of opinion that a man should employ some time in +astronomy, that he might know by the stars the hour of the night, what day of +the month it is, and what season of the year we are in, in order that we might +know when to relieve a sentinel in the night, and when it is best to venture +out to sea, or undertake a journey, and, in short, that we might know how to do +everything in its proper season. He said that all this was easily learnt by +conversing with seamen, or with such as go a-hunting by night, or others who +profess to know these things; but he dissuaded very much from penetrating +farther into this science, as even to know what planets are not in the same +declination, to explain all their different motions, to know how far distant +they are from the earth, in how long time they make their revolutions, and what +are their several influences, for he thought these sciences wholly useless, not +that he was ignorant of them himself, but because they take up all our time, +and divert us from better employments. In fine, he could not allow of a too +curious inquiry into the wonderful workmanship of the Deity in the disposition +of the universe, that being a secret which the mind cannot comprehend, and +because it is not an action acceptable to God to endeavour to discover what He +would hide from us. He held, likewise, that it was dangerous to perplex the +mind with these sublime speculations, as Anaxagoras had done, who pretended to +be very knowing in them, for in teaching that the sun was the same thing as +fire, he does not consider that fire does not dazzle the eyes, but that it is +impossible to support the splendour of the sun. He did not reflect, neither, +that the sun blackens the sky, which fire does not; nor lastly, that the heat +of the sun is necessary to the earth, in order to the production of trees and +fruits, but that the heat of fire burns and kills them. When he said, too, that +the sun was only a stone set on fire, he did not consider that a stone glitters +not in the fire, and cannot last long in it without consuming, whereas the sun +lasts always, and is an inexhaustible source of light. +</p> + +<p> +Socrates advised, likewise, to learn arithmetic, but not to amuse ourselves +with the vain curiosities of that science, having established this rule in all +his studies and in all his conferences, never to go beyond what is useful. +</p> + +<p> +He exhorted his friends to take care of their health, and to that purpose to +consult with the learned; and to observe, besides, each in his own particular, +what meat, what drink, and what exercise is best for him, and how to use them +to preserve himself in health. For when a man has thus studied his own +constitution, he cannot have a better physician than himself. +</p> + +<p> +If any one desired to attempt or to learn things that were above the power or +capacity of human nature, he advised him to apply himself to divination; for he +who knows by what means the gods generally signify their mind to men, or how it +is they used to give them counsel and aid, such a person never fails to obtain +from the Deity all that direction and assistance that is necessary for him. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII. BEHAVIOUR OF SOCRATES FROM THE TIME OF HIS CONDEMNATION TO +HIS DEATH.—HIS CHARACTER SUMMED UP IN A FEW WORDS.</h3> + +<p> +To conclude: if, because Socrates was condemned to death, any one should +believe that he was a liar to say that he had a good demon that guided him, and +gave him instructions what he should or should not do, let him consider, in the +first place, that he was arrived to such an age that if he had not died when he +did, he could not have lived much longer; that by dying when he did he avoided +the most toilsome part of life, in which the mind loses much of its vigour; and +that in amends for it he discovered to the whole world the greatness of his +soul, acquired to himself an immortal glory, by the defence he made before his +judges, in behaving himself with a sincerity, courage, and probity that were +indeed wonderful, and in receiving his sentence with a patience and resolution +of mind never to be equalled; for it is agreed by all that no man ever suffered +death with greater constancy than Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +He lived thirty days after his condemnation, because the Delian feasts happened +in that month, and the law forbids to put any man to death till the consecrated +vessel that is sent to the Isle of Delos be come back to Athens. During that +time his friends, who saw him continually, found no change in him; but that he +always retained that tranquillity of mind and agreeableness of temper which +before had made all the world admire him. Now, certainly no man can die with +greater constancy than this; this is doubtless the most glorious death that can +be imagined; but if it be the most glorious, it is the most happy; and if it be +the most happy, it is the most acceptable to the Deity. +</p> + +<p> +Hermogenes has told me, that being with him a little after Melitus had accused +him, he observed, that he seemed to decline speaking of that affair: from +whence he took occasion to tell him that it would not be amiss for him to think +of what he should answer in his own justification. To which Socrates replied: +“Do you believe I have done anything else all my life than think of +it?” And Hermogenes asking him what he meant by saying so? Socrates told +him that he had made it the whole business of his life to examine what was just +and what unjust; that he had always cherished justice and hated injustice, and +that he did not believe there was any better way to justify himself. +</p> + +<p> +Hermogenes said further to him—“Do you not know that judges have +often condemned the innocent to death, only because their answers offended +them, and that, on the contrary, they have often acquitted the guilty?” +“I know it very well,” answered Socrates; “but I assure you, +that having set myself to think what I should say to my judges, the demon that +advises me dissuaded me from it.” At which Hermogenes seeming surprised, +Socrates said to him, “Why are you surprised that this God thinks it +better for me to leave this world than to continue longer in it? Sure, you are +not ignorant that I have lived as well and as pleasantly as any man, if to live +well be, as I take it, to have no concern but for virtue, and if to live +pleasantly be to find that we have made some progress in it. Now, I have good +reason to believe that this is my happy case, that I have always had a steady +regard for virtue, and made progress in it, because I perceive that my mind, at +this time, doth not misgive me, nay, I have the sincere testimony of my +conscience that I have done my duty; and in this belief I strengthen myself by +the conversation I have had with others, and by comparing myself with them. My +friends, too, have believed the same thing of me, not because they wish me +well, for in that sense every friend would think as much of his friend, but +because they thought they advanced in virtue by my conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“If I were to live longer, perhaps I should fall into the inconveniences +of old age: perhaps my sight should grow dim, my hearing fail me, my judgment +become weak, and I should have more trouble to learn, more to retain what I had +learnt; perhaps, too, after all, I should find myself incapable of doing the +good I had done before. And if, to complete my misery, I should have no sense +of my wretchedness, would not life be a burden to me? And, on the other hand, +say I had a sense of it, would it not afflict me beyond measure? As things now +stand, if I die innocent the shame will fall on those who are the cause of my +death, since all sort of iniquity is attended with shame. But who will ever +blame me because others have not confessed my innocence, nor done me justice? +Past experience lets us see that they who suffer injustice, and they who commit +it, leave not a like reputation behind them after their death. And thus, if I +die on this occasion, I am most certain that posterity will more honour my +memory than theirs who condemn me; for it will be said of me, that I never did +any wrong, never gave any ill advice to any man; but that I laboured all my +life long to excite to virtue those who frequented me.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the answer that Socrates gave to Hermogenes, and to several others. In +a word, all good men who knew Socrates daily regret his loss to this very hour, +reflecting on the advantage and improvement they made in his company. +</p> + +<p> +For my own part, having found him to be the man I have described, that is to +say, so pious as to do nothing without the advice of the Deity; so just as +never to have in the least injured any man, and to have done very signal +services to many; so chaste and temperate as never to have preferred delight +and pleasure before modesty and honesty; so prudent as never to have mistaken +in the discernment of good and evil, and never to have had need of the advice +of others, to form a right judgment of either; moreover, most capable to +deliberate and resolve in all sorts of affairs, most capable to examine into +men, to reprehend them for their vices, and to excite them to virtue; having, I +say, found all these perfections in Socrates, I have always esteemed him the +most virtuous and most happy of all men; and if any one be not of my opinion, +let him take the pains to compare him with other men, and judge of him +afterwards. +</p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS OF SOCRATES ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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