{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17490/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17490","id":"gutenberg_17490","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17490","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Socrates, 470 BC-399 BC"],"text":"THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS OF SOCRATES.\nBY XENOPHON.\n\n\n_TRANSLATED BY EDWARD BYSSHE_.\n\nCASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:\nLONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE.\n1888.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nThis translation of Xenophon's \"Memorabilia of Socrates\" was first\npublished in 1712, and is here printed from the revised edition of 1722.\nIts author was Edward Bysshe, who had produced in 1702 \"The Art of\nEnglish Poetry,\" a well-known work that was near its fifth edition when\nits author published his translation of the \"Memorabilia.\" This was a\ntranslation that remained in good repute. There was another edition of\nit in 1758. Bysshe translated the title of the book into \"The Memorable\nThings of Socrates.\" I have changed \"Things\" into \"Thoughts,\" for\nwhether they be sayings or doings, the words and deeds of a wise man are\nalike expressions of his thought.\n\nXenophon is said to have been, when young, a pupil of Socrates. Two\nauthorities have recorded that in the flight from the battle of Delium in\nthe year B.C. 424, when Xenophon fell from his horse, Socrates picked him\nup and carried him on his back for a considerable distance. The time of\nXenophon's death is not known, but he was alive sixty-seven years after\nthe battle of Delium.\n\nWhen Cyrus the Younger was preparing war against his brother Artaxerxes\nMnemon, King of Persia, Xenophon went with him. After the death of Cyrus\non the plains of Cunaxa, the barbarian auxiliaries fled, and the Greeks\nwere left to return as they could from the far region between the Tigris\nand Euphrates. Xenophon had to take part in the conduct of the retreat,\nand tells the story of it in his \"Anabasis,\" a history of the expedition\nof the younger Cyrus and of the retreat of the Greeks. His return into\nGreece was in the year of the death of Socrates, B.C. 399, but his\nassociation was now with the Spartans, with whom he fought, B.C. 394, at\nCoroneia. Afterwards he settled, and lived for about twenty years, at\nScillus in Eleia with his wife and children. At Scillus he wrote\nprobably his \"Anabasis\" and some other of his books. At last he was\ndriven out by the Eleans. In the battle of Mantineia the Spartans and\nAthenians fought as allies, and Xenophon's two sons were in the battle;\nhe had sent them to Athens as fellow-combatants from Sparta. His\nbanishment from Athens was repealed by change of times, but it does not\nappear that he returned to Athens. He is said to have lived, and perhaps\ndied, at Corinth, after he had been driven from his home at Scillus.\n\nXenophon was a philosophic man of action. He could make his value felt\nin a council of war, take part in battle--one of his books is on the\nduties of a commander of cavalry--and show himself good sportsman in the\nhunting-field. He wrote a book upon the horse; a treatise also upon dogs\nand hunting. He believed in God, thought earnestly about social and\npolitical duties, and preferred Spartan institutions to those of Athens.\nHe wrote a life of his friend Agesilaus II., King of Sparta. He found\nexercise for his energetic mind in writing many books. In writing he was\nclear and to the point; his practical mind made his work interesting. His\n\"Anabasis\" is a true story as delightful as a fiction; his \"Cyropaedia\"\nis a fiction full of truths. He wrote \"Hellenica,\" that carried on the\nhistory of Greece from the point at which Thucydides closed his history\nuntil the battle of Mantineia. He wrote a dialogue between Hiero and\nSimonides upon the position of a king, and dealt with the administration\nof the little realm of a man's household in his \"OEconomicus,\" a dialogue\nbetween Socrates and Critobulus, which includes the praise of\nagriculture. He wrote also, like Plato, a symposium, in which\nphilosophers over their wine reason of love and friendship, and he paints\nthe character of Socrates.\n\nBut his best memorial of his old guide, philosopher, and friend is this\nwork, in which Xenophon brought together in simple and direct form the\nviews of life that had been made clear to himself by the teaching of\nSocrates. Xenophon is throughout opposing a plain tale to the false\naccusations against Socrates. He does not idealise, but he feels\nstrongly, and he shows clearly the worth of the wisdom that touches at\nevery point the actual conduct of the lives of men.\n\nH. M.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\n\nCHAPTER I. SOCRATES NOT A CONTEMNER OF THE GODS OF HIS COUNTRY, NOR AN\nINTRODUCER OF NEW ONES.\n\n\nI have often wondered by what show of argument the accusers of Socrates\ncould persuade the Athenians he had forfeited his life to the State. For\nthough the crimes laid unto his charge were indeed great--\"That he did\nnot acknowledge the gods of the Republic; that he introduced new\nones\"--and, farther, \"had debauched the youth;\" yet none of these could,\nin the least, be proved against him.\n\nFor, as to the first, \"That he did not worship the deities which the\nRepublic adored,\" how could this be made out against him, since, instead\nof paying no homage to the gods of his country, he was frequently seen to\nassist in sacrificing to them, both in his own family and in the public\ntemples?--perpetually worshipping them in the most public, solemn, and\nreligious manner.\n\nWhat, in my opinion, gave his accusers a specious pretext for alleging\nagainst him that he introduced new deities was this--that he had\nfrequently declared in public he had received counsel from a _divine\nvoice_, which he called his Demon. But this was no proof at all of the\nmatter. All that Socrates advanced about his demon was no more than what\nis daily advanced by those who believe in and practise divination; and if\nSocrates, because he said he received intelligence from his genius, must\nbe accused of introducing new divinities, so also must they; for is it\nnot certain that those who believe in divination, and practise that\nbelief, do observe the flight of birds, consult the entrails of victims,\nand remark even unexpected words and accidental occurrences? But they do\nnot, therefore, believe that either the birds whose flight they observe\nor the persons they meet accidentally know either their good or ill\nfortune--neither did Socrates--they only believe that the gods make use\nof these things to presage the future; and such, too, was the belief of\nSocrates. The vulgar, indeed, imagine it to be the very birds and things\nwhich present themselves to them that excite them to what is good for\nthem, or make them avoid what may hurt them; but, as for Socrates, he\nfreely owned that a demon was his monitor; and he frequently told his\nfriends beforehand what they should do, or not do, according to the\ninstructions he had received from his demon; and they who believed him,\nand followed his advice, always found advantage by it; as, on the\ncontrary, they who neglected his admonitions, never failed to repent\ntheir incredulity. Now, it cannot be denied but that he ought to have\ntaken care not to pass with his friends either for a liar or a visionary;\nand yet how could he avoid incurring that censure if the events had not\njustified the truth of the things he pretended were revealed to him? It\nis, therefore, manifest that he would not have spoken of things to come\nif he had not believed he said true; but how could he believe he said\ntrue, unless he believed that the gods, who alone ought to be trusted for\nthe knowledge of things to come, gave him notice of them? and, if he\nbelieved they did so, how can it be said that he acknowledged no gods?\n\nHe likewise advised his friends to do, in the best manner they could, the\nthings that of necessity they were to do; but, as to those whose events\nwere doubtful, he sent them to the oracles to know whether they should\nengage in them or not. And he thought that they who design to govern\nwith success their families or whole cities had great need of receiving\ninstructions by the help of divinations; for though he indeed held that\nevery man may make choice of the condition of life in which he desires to\nlive, and that, by his industry, he may render himself excellent in it,\nwhether he apply himself to architecture or to agriculture, whether he\nthrow himself into politics or economy, whether he engage himself in the\npublic revenues or in the army, yet that in all these things the gods\nhave reserved to themselves the most important events, into which men of\nthemselves can in no wise penetrate. Thus he who makes a fine plantation\nof trees, knows not who shall gather the fruit; he who builds a house\ncannot tell who shall inhabit it; a general is not certain that he shall\nbe successful in his command, nor a Minister of State in his ministry; he\nwho marries a beautiful woman in hopes of being happy with her knows not\nbut that even she herself may be the cause of all his uneasinesses; and\nhe who enters into a grand alliance is uncertain whether they with whom\nhe allies himself will not at length be the cause of his ruin. This made\nhim frequently say that it is a great folly to imagine there is not a\nDivine Providence that presides over these things, and that they can in\nthe least depend on human prudence. He likewise held it to be a weakness\nto importune the gods with questions which we may resolve ourselves; as\nif we should ask them whether it be better to take a coachman who knows\nhow to drive than one who knows nothing of the matter? whether it be more\neligible to take an experienced pilot than one that is ignorant? In a\nword, he counted it a kind of impiety to consult the oracles concerning\nwhat might be numbered or weighed, because we ought to learn the things\nwhich the gods have been pleased to capacitate us to know; but that we\nought to have recourse to the oracles to be instructed in those that\nsurpass our knowledge, because the gods are wont to discover them to such\nmen as have rendered them propitious to themselves.\n\nSocrates stayed seldom at home. In the morning he went to the places\nappointed for walking and public exercises. He never failed to be at the\nhall, or courts of justice, at the usual hour of assembling there, and\nthe rest of the day he was at the places where the greatest companies\ngenerally met. There it was that he discoursed for the most part, and\nwhoever would hear him easily might; and yet no man ever observed the\nleast impiety either in his actions or his words. Nor did he amuse\nhimself to reason of the secrets of nature, or to search into the manner\nof the creation of what the sophists call the world, nor to dive into the\ncause of the motions of the celestial bodies. On the contrary, he\nexposed the folly of such as give themselves up to these contemplations;\nand he asked whether it was, after having acquired a perfect knowledge of\nhuman things, that they undertook to search into the divine, or if they\nthought themselves very wise in neglecting what concerned them to employ\nthemselves in things above them? He was astonished likewise that they\ndid not see it was impossible for men to comprehend anything of all those\nwonders, seeing they who have the reputation of being most knowing in\nthem are of quite different opinions, and can agree no better than so\nmany fools and madmen; for as some of these are not afraid of the most\ndangerous and frightful accidents, while others are in dread of what is\nnot to be feared, so, too, among those philosophers, some are of opinion\nthat there is no action but what may be done in public, nor word that may\nnot freely be spoken before the whole world, while others, on the\ncontrary, believe that we ought to avoid the conversation of men and keep\nin a perpetual solitude. Some have despised the temples and the altars,\nand have taught not to honour the gods, while others have been so\nsuperstitious as to worship wood, stones, and irrational creatures. And\nas to the knowledge of natural things, some have confessed but one only\nbeing; others have admitted an infinite number: some have believed that\nall things are in a perpetual motion; others that nothing moves: some\nhave held the world to be full of continual generations and corruptions;\nothers maintain that nothing is engendered or destroyed. He said besides\nthat he should be glad to know of those persons whether they were in\nhopes one day to put in practice what they learned, as men who know an\nart may practise it when they please either for their own advantage or\nfor the service of their friends; or whether they did imagine that, after\nthey found out the causes of all things that happen, they should be able\nto cause winds and rains, and to dispose the times and seasons as they\nhad occasion for them; or whether they contented themselves with the bare\nknowledge without expecting any farther advantage.\n\nThis was what he said of those who delight in such studies. As for his\npart, he meditated chiefly on what is useful and proper for man, and took\ndelight to argue of piety and impiety, of honesty and dishonesty, of\njustice and injustice, of wisdom and folly, of courage and cowardice, of\nthe State, and of the qualifications of a Minister of State, of the\nGovernment, and of those who are fit to govern; in short, he enlarged on\nthe like subjects, which it becomes men of condition to know, and of\nwhich none but slaves should be ignorant.\n\nIt is not strange, perhaps, that the judges of Socrates mistook his\nopinion in things concerning which he did not explain himself; but I am\nsurprised that they did not reflect on what he had said and done in the\nface of the whole world; for when he was one of the Senate, and had taken\nthe usual oath exactly to observe the laws, being in his turn vested with\nthe dignity of Epistate, he bravely withstood the populace, who, against\nall manner of reason, demanded that the nine captains, two of whom were\nErasinides and Thrasilus, should be put to death, he would never give\nconsent to this injustice, and was not daunted at the rage of the people,\nnor at the menaces of the men in power, choosing rather not to violate\nthe oath he had taken than to yield to the violence of the multitude, and\nshelter himself from the vengeance of those who threatened him. To this\npurpose he said that the gods watch over men more attentively than the\nvulgar imagine; for they believe there are some things which the gods\nobserve and others which they pass by unregarded; but he held that the\ngods observe all our actions and all our words, that they penetrate even\ninto our most secret thoughts, that they are present at all our\ndeliberations, and that they inspire us in all our affairs.\n\nIt is astonishing, therefore, to consider how the Athenians could suffer\nthemselves to be persuaded that Socrates entertained any unworthy\nthoughts of the Deity; he who never let slip one single word against the\nrespect due to the gods, nor was ever guilty of any action that savoured\nin the least of impiety; but who, on the contrary, has done and said\nthings that could not proceed but from a mind truly pious, and that are\nsufficient to gain a man an eternal reputation of piety and virtue.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. SOCRATES NOT A DEBAUCHER OF YOUTH.\n\n\nWhat surprises me yet more is, that some would believe that Socrates was\na debaucher of young men! Socrates the most sober and most chaste of all\nmen, who cheerfully supported both cold and heat; whom no inconvenience,\nno hardships, no labours could startle, and who had learned to wish for\nso little, that though he had scarce anything, he had always enough. Then\nhow could he teach impiety, injustice, gluttony, impurity, and luxury?\nAnd so far was he from doing so, that he reclaimed many persons from\nthose vices, inspiring them with the love of virtue, and putting them in\nhopes of coming to preferment in the world, provided they would take a\nlittle care of themselves. Yet he never promised any man to teach him to\nbe virtuous; but as he made a public profession of virtue, he created in\nthe minds of those who frequented him the hopes of becoming virtuous by\nhis example.\n\nHe neglected not his own body, and praised not those that neglected\ntheirs. In like manner, he blamed the custom of some who eat too much,\nand afterwards use violent exercises; but he approved of eating till\nnature be satisfied, and of a moderate exercise after it, believing that\nmethod to be an advantage to health, and proper to unbend and divert the\nmind. In his clothes he was neither nice nor costly; and what I say of\nhis clothes ought likewise to be understood of his whole way of living.\nNever any of his friends became covetous in his conversation, and he\nreclaimed them from that sordid disposition, as well as from all others;\nfor he would accept of no gratuity from any who desired to confer with\nhim, and said that was the way to discover a noble and generous heart,\nand that they who take rewards betray a meanness of soul, and sell their\nown persons, because they impose on themselves a necessity of instructing\nthose from whom they receive a salary. He wondered, likewise, why a man,\nwho promises to teach virtue, should ask money; as if he believed not the\ngreatest of all gain to consist in the acquisition of a good friend, or,\nas if he feared, that he who, by his means, should become virtuous, and\nbe obliged to him for so great a benefit, would not be sufficiently\ngrateful for it. Quite different from Socrates, who never boasted of any\nsuch thing, and who was most certain that all who heard him and received\nhis maxims would love him for ever, and be capable of loving others also.\nAfter this, whosoever says that such a man debauched the youth, must at\nthe same time say that the study of virtue is debauchery.\n\nBut the accuser says that Socrates taught to despise the constitution\nthat was established in the Republic, because he affirmed it to be a\nfolly to elect magistrates by lots; since if anyone had occasion for a\npilot, a musician, or an architect, he would not trust to chance for any\nsuch person, though the faults that can be committed by men in such\ncapacities are far from being of so great importance as those that are\ncommitted in the government of the Republic. He says, therefore, that\nsuch arguments insensibly accustom the youth to despise the laws, and\nrender them more audacious and more violent. But, in my opinion, such as\nstudy the art of prudence, and who believe they shall be able to render\nthemselves capable of giving good advice and counsel to their\nfellow-citizens, seldom become men of violent tempers; because they know\nthat violence is hateful and full of danger; while, on the contrary, to\nwin by persuasion is full of love and safety. For they, whom we have\ncompelled, brood a secret hatred against us, believing we have done them\nwrong; but those whom we have taken the trouble to persuade continue our\nfriends, believing we have done them a kindness. It is not, therefore,\nthey who apply themselves to the study of prudence that become violent,\nbut those brutish intractable tempers who have much power in their hands\nand but little judgment to manage it.--He farther said that when a man\ndesires to carry anything by force, he must have many friends to assist\nhim: as, on the contrary, he that can persuade has need of none but\nhimself, and is not subject to shed blood; for who would rather choose to\nkill a man than to make use of his services, after having gained his\nfriendship and goodwill by mildness?\n\nThe accuser adds, in proof of the ill tendency of the doctrine of\nSocrates, that Critias and Alcibiades, who were two of his most intimate\nfriends, were very bad men, and did much mischief to their country. For\nCritias was the most insatiable and cruel of all the thirty tyrants; and\nAlcibiades the most dissolute, the most insolent, and the most audacious\ncitizen that ever the Republic had. As for me, I pretend not to justify\nthem, and will only relate for what reason they frequented Socrates. They\nwere men of an unbounded ambition, and who resolved, whatever it cost, to\ngovern the State, and make themselves be talked of. They had heard that\nSocrates lived very content upon little or nothing, that he entirely\ncommanded his passions, and that his reasonings were so persuasive that\nhe drew all men to which side he pleased. Reflecting on this, and being\nof the temper we mentioned, can it be thought that they desired the\nacquaintance of Socrates, because they were in love with his way of life,\nand with his temperance, or because they believed that by conversing with\nhim they should render themselves capable of reasoning aright, and of\nwell-managing the public affairs? For my part, I believe that if the\ngods had proposed to them to live always like him, or to die immediately,\nthey would rather have chosen a sudden death. And it is easy to judge\nthis from their actions; for as soon as they thought themselves more\ncapable than their companions, they forsook Socrates, whom they had\nfrequented, only for the purpose I mentioned, and threw themselves wholly\ninto business.\n\nIt may, perhaps, be objected that he ought not to have discoursed to his\nfriends of things relating to the government of the State, till after he\nhad taught them to live virtuously. I have nothing to say to this; but I\nobserve that all who profess teaching do generally two things: they work\nin presence of their scholars, to show them how they ought to do, and\nthey instruct them likewise by word of mouth. Now, in either of these\ntwo ways, no man ever taught to live well, like Socrates; for, in his\nwhole life, he was an example of untainted probity; and in his discourses\nhe spoke of virtue and of all the duties of man in a manner that made him\nadmired of all his hearers. And I know too very well that Critias and\nAlcibiades lived very virtuously as long as they frequented him; not that\nthey were afraid of him, but because they thought it most conducive to\ntheir designs to live so at that time.\n\nMany who pretend to philosophy will here object, that a virtuous person\nis always virtuous, and that when a man has once come to be good and\ntemperate, he will never afterwards become wicked nor dissolute; because\nhabitudes that can be acquired, when once they are so, can never more be\neffaced from the mind. But I am not of this opinion; for as they who use\nno bodily exercises are awkward and unwieldy in the actions of the body,\nso they who exercise not their minds are incapable of the noble actions\nof the mind, and have not courage enough to undertake anything worthy of\npraise, nor command enough over themselves to abstain from things that\nare forbid. For this reason, parents, though they be well enough assured\nof the good natural disposition of their children, fail not to forbid\nthem the conversation of the vicious, because it is the ruin of worthy\ndispositions, whereas the conversation of good men is a continual\nmeditation of virtue. Thus a poet says,\n\n    \"By those whom we frequent, we're ever led:\n    Example is a law by all obeyed.\n    Thus with the good, we are to good inclined,\n    But vicious company corrupts the mind.\"\n\nAnd another in like manner:\n\n    \"Virtue and vice in the same man are found,\n    And now they gain, and now they lose their ground.\"\n\nAnd, in my opinion, they are in the right: for when I consider that they\nwho have learned verses by heart forget them unless they repeat them\noften, so I believe that they who neglect the reasonings of philosophers,\ninsensibly lose the remembrance of them; and when they have let these\nexcellent notions slip out of their minds, they at the same time lose the\nidea of the things that supported in the soul the love of temperance;\nand, having forgot those things, what wonder is it if at length they\nforget temperance likewise?\n\nI observe, besides, that men who abandon themselves to the debauches of\nwine or women find it more difficult to apply themselves to things that\nare profitable, and to abstain from what is hurtful. For many who live\nfrugally before they fall in love become prodigal when that passion gets\nthe mastery over them; insomuch that after having wasted their estates,\nthey are reduced to gain their bread by methods they would have been\nashamed of before. What hinders then, but that a man, who has been once\ntemperate, should be so no longer, and that he who has led a good life at\none time should not do so at another? I should think, therefore, that\nthe being of all virtues, and chiefly of temperance, depends on the\npractice of them: for lust, that dwells in the same body with the soul,\nincites it continually to despise this virtue, and to find out the\nshortest way to gratify the senses only.\n\nThus, whilst Alcibiades and Critias conversed with Socrates, they were\nable, with so great an assistance, to tame their inclinations; but after\nthey had left him, Critias, being retired into Thessaly, ruined himself\nentirely in the company of some libertines; and Alcibiades, seeing\nhimself courted by several women of quality, because of his beauty, and\nsuffering himself to be corrupted by soothing flatterers, who made their\ncourt to him, in consideration of the credit he had in the city and with\nthe allies; in a word, finding himself respected by all the Athenians,\nand that no man disputed the first rank with him, began to neglect\nhimself, and acted like a great wrestler, who takes not the trouble to\nexercise himself, when he no longer finds an adversary who dares to\ncontend with him.\n\nIf we would examine, therefore, all that has happened to them; if we\nconsider how much the greatness of their birth, their interest, and their\nriches, had puffed up their minds; if we reflect on the ill company they\nfell into, and the many opportunities they had of debauching themselves,\ncan we be surprised that, after they had been so long absent from\nSocrates, they arrived at length to that height of insolence to which\nthey have been seen to arise? If they have been guilty of crimes, the\naccuser will load Socrates with them, and not allow him to be worthy of\npraise, for having kept them within the bounds of their duty during their\nyouth, when, in all appearance, they would have been the most disorderly\nand least governable. This, however, is not the way we judge of other\nthings; for whoever pretended that a musician, a player on the lute, or\nany other person that teaches, after he has made a good scholar, ought to\nbe blamed for his growing more ignorant under the care of another master?\nIf a young man gets an acquaintance that brings him into debauchery,\nought his father to lay the blame on the first friends of his son among\nwhom he always lived virtuously? Is it not true, on the contrary, that\nthe more he finds that this last friendship proves destructive to him,\nthe more reason he will have to praise his former acquaintance. And are\nthe fathers themselves, who are daily with their children, guilty of\ntheir faults, if they give them no ill example? Thus they ought to have\njudged of Socrates; if he led an ill life, it was reasonable to esteem\nhim vicious; but if a good, was it just to accuse him of crimes of which\nhe was innocent?\n\nAnd yet he might have given his adversaries ground to accuse him, had he\nbut approved, or seemed to approve those vices in others, from which he\nkept himself free: but Socrates abhorred vice, not only in himself, but\nin everyone besides. To prove which, I need only relate his conduct\ntoward Critias, a man extremely addicted to debauchery. Socrates\nperceiving that this man had an unnatural passion for Euthydemus, and\nthat the violence of it would precipitate him so far a length as to make\nhim transgress the bounds of nature, shocked at his behaviour, he exerted\nhis utmost strength of reason and argument to dissuade him from so wild a\ndesire. And while the impetuosity of Critias' passion seemed to scorn\nall check or control, and the modest rebuke of Socrates had been\ndisregarded, the philosopher, out of an ardent zeal for virtue, broke out\nin such language, as at once declared his own strong inward sense of\ndecency and order, and the monstrous shamefulness of Critias' passion.\nWhich severe but just reprimand of Socrates, it is thought, was the\nfoundation of that grudge which he ever after bore him; for during the\ntyranny of the Thirty, of which Critias was one, when, together with\nCharicles, he had the care of the civil government of the city, he failed\nnot to remember this affront, and, in revenge of it, made a law to forbid\nteaching the art of reasoning in Athens: and having nothing to reproach\nSocrates with in particular, he laboured to render him odious by\naspersing him with the usual calumnies that are thrown on all\nphilosophers: for I have never heard Socrates say that he taught this\nart, nor seen any man who ever heard him say so; but Critias had taken\noffence, and gave sufficient proofs of it: for after the Thirty had\ncaused to be put to death a great number of the citizens, and even of the\nmost eminent, and had let loose the reins to all sorts of violence and\nrapine, Socrates said in a certain place that he wondered very much that\na man who keeps a herd of cattle, and by his ill conduct loses every day\nsome of them, and suffers the others to fall away, would not own himself\nto be a very ill keeper of his herd; and that he should wonder yet more\nif a Minister of State, who lessens every day the number of his citizens,\nand makes the others more dissolute, was not ashamed of his ministry, and\nwould not own himself to be an ill magistrate. This was reported to\nCritias and Charicles, who forthwith sent for Socrates, and showing him\nthe law they had made, forbid him to discourse with the young men. Upon\nwhich Socrates asked them whether they would permit him to propose a\nquestion, that he might be informed of what he did not understand in this\nprohibition; and his request being granted, he spoke in this manner: \"I\nam most ready to obey your laws; but that I may not transgress through\nignorance, I desire to know of you, whether you condemn the art of\nreasoning, because you believe it consists in saying things well, or in\nsaying them ill? If for the former reason, we must then, from\nhenceforward, abstain from speaking as we ought; and if for the latter,\nit is plain that we ought to endeavour to speak well.\" At these words\nCharicles flew into a passion, and said to him: \"Since you pretend to be\nignorant of things that are so easily known, we forbid you to speak to\nthe young men in any manner whatever.\" \"It is enough,\" answered\nSocrates; \"but that I may not be in a perpetual uncertainty, pray\nprescribe to me, till what age men are young.\" \"Till they are capable of\nbeing members of the Senate,\" said Charicles: \"in a word, speak to no man\nunder thirty years of age.\" \"How!\" says Socrates, \"if I would buy\nanything of a tradesman who is not thirty years old am I forbid to ask\nhim the price of it?\" \"I mean not so,\" answered Charicles: \"but I am not\nsurprised that you ask me this question, for it is your custom to ask\nmany things that you know very well.\" Socrates added: \"And if a young\nman ask me in the street where Charicles lodges, or whether I know where\nCritias is, must I make him no answer?\" \"I mean not so neither,\"\nanswered Charicles. Here Critias, interrupting their discourse, said:\n\"For the future, Socrates, you must have nothing to do with the city\ntradesmen, the shoemakers, masons, smiths, and other mechanics, whom you\nso often allege as examples of life; and who, I apprehend, are quite\njaded with your discourses.\" \"I must then likewise,\" replied Socrates,\n\"omit the consequences I draw from those discourses; and have no more to\ndo with justice, piety, and the other duties of a good man.\" \"Yes, yes,\"\nsaid Charicles; \"and I advise you to meddle no more with those that tend\nherds of oxen; otherwise take care you lose not your own.\" And these\nlast words made it appear that Critias and Charicles had taken offence at\nthe discourse which Socrates had held against their government, when he\ncompared them to a man that suffers his herd to fall to ruin.\n\nThus we see how Critias frequented Socrates, and what opinion they had of\neach other. I add, moreover, that we cannot learn anything of a man whom\nwe do not like: therefore if Critias and Alcibiades made no great\nimprovement with Socrates, it proceeded from this, that they never liked\nhim. For at the very time that they conversed with him, they always\nrather courted the conversation of those who were employed in the public\naffairs, because they had no design but to govern.--The following\nconference of Alcibiades, in particular, which he had with Pericles, his\ngovernor--who was the chief man of the city, whilst he was yet under\ntwenty years of age--concerning the nature of the laws, will confirm what\nI have now advanced.\n\n\"Pray,\" says Alcibiades, \"explain to me what the law is: for, as I hear\nmen praised who observe the laws, I imagine that this praise could not be\ngiven to those who know not what the law is.\" \"It is easy to satisfy\nyou,\" answered Pericles: \"the law is only what the people in a general\nassembly ordain, declaring what ought to be done, and what ought not to\nbe done.\" \"And tell me,\" added Alcibiades, \"do they ordain to do what is\ngood, or what is ill?\" \"Most certainly what is good.\" Alcibiades\npursued: \"And how would you call what a small number of citizens should\nordain, in states where the people is not the master, but all is ordered\nby the advice of a few persons, who possess the sovereignty?\" \"I would\ncall whatever they ordain a law; for laws are nothing else but the\nordinances of sovereigns.\" \"If a tyrant then ordain anything, will that\nbe a law?\" \"Yes, it will,\" said Pericles. \"But what then is violence\nand injustice?\" continued Alcibiades; \"is it not when the strongest makes\nhimself be obeyed by the weakest, not by consent, but by force only?\" \"In\nmy opinion it is.\" \"It follows then,\" says Alcibiades, \"that ordinances\nmade by a prince, without the consent of the citizens, will be absolutely\nunjust.\" \"I believe so,\" said Pericles; \"and cannot allow that the\nordinances of a prince, when they are made without the consent of the\npeople, should bear the name of laws.\" \"And what the chief citizens\nordain, without procuring the consent of the greater number, is that\nlikewise a violence?\" \"There is no question of it,\" answered Pericles;\n\"and in general, every ordinance made without the consent of those who\nare to obey it, is a violence rather than a law.\" \"And is what the\npopulace decree, without the concurrence of the chiefs, to be counted a\nviolence likewise, and not a law?\" \"No doubt it is,\" said Pericles: \"but\nwhen I was of your age, I could resolve all these difficulties, because I\nmade it my business to inquire into them, as you do now.\" \"Would to\nGod,\" cried Alcibiades, \"I had been so happy as to have conversed with\nyou then, when you understood these matters better.\" To this purpose was\ntheir dialogue.\n\nCritias and Alcibiades, however, continued not long with Socrates, after\nthey believed they had improved themselves, and gained some advantages\nover the other citizens, for besides that they thought not his\nconversation very agreeable, they were displeased that he took upon him\nto reprimand them for their faults; and thus they threw themselves\nimmediately into the public affairs, having never had any other design\nbut that. The usual companions of Socrates were Crito, Chaerephon,\nChaerecrates, Simmias, Cebes, Phaedon, and some others; none of whom\nfrequented him that they might learn to speak eloquently, either in the\nassemblies of the people, or in the courts of justice before the judges;\nbut that they might become better men, and know how to behave themselves\ntowards their domestics, their relations, their friends, and their fellow-\ncitizens. All these persons led very innocent lives; and, whether we\nconsider them in their youth or examine their behaviour in a more\nadvanced age, we shall find that they never were guilty of any bad\naction, nay, that they never gave the least ground to suspect them of\nbeing so.\n\nBut the accuser says that Socrates encouraged children to despise their\nparents, making them believe that he was more capable to instruct them\nthan they; and telling them that as the laws permit a man to chain his\nown father if he can convict him of lunacy, so, in like manner, it is but\njust that a man of excellent sense should throw another into chains who\nhas not so much understanding. I cannot deny but that Socrates may have\nsaid something like this; but he meant it not in the sense in which the\naccuser would have it taken: and he fully discovered what his meaning by\nthese words was, when he said that he who should pretend to chain others\nbecause of their ignorance, ought, for the same reason, to submit to be\nchained himself by men who know more than he. Hence it is that he argued\nso often of the difference between folly and ignorance; and then he\nplainly said that fools and madmen ought to be chained indeed, as well\nfor their own interest as for that of their friends; but that they who\nare ignorant of things they should know, ought only to be instructed by\nthose that understand them.\n\nThe accuser goes on, that Socrates did not only teach men to despise\ntheir parents, but their other relations too; because he said that if a\nman be sick, or have a suit in law, it is not his relations, but the\nphysicians, or the advocates who are of use to him. He further alleged\nthat Socrates, speaking of friends, said it was to no purpose to bear\ngoodwill to any man, if it be not in our power to serve him; and that the\nonly friends whom we ought to value are they who know what is good for\nus, and can teach it to us: thus, says the accuser, Socrates, by\npersuading the youth that he was the wisest of all men, and the most\ncapable to set others in the right road to wisdom, made them believe that\nall the rest of mankind were nothing in comparison with him. I remember,\nindeed, to have heard him sometimes talk after this manner of parents,\nrelations, and friends; and he observed besides, if I mistake not, that\nwhen the soul, in which the understanding resides, is gone out of the\nbody, we soon bury the corpse; and even though it be that of our nearest\nrelation, we endeavour to put it out of our sight as soon as decently we\ncan. Farther, though every man loves his own body to a great degree, we\nscruple not nevertheless to take from it all that is superfluous, for\nthis reason we cut our hair and our nails, we take off our corns and our\nwarts, and we put ourselves into the surgeons' hands, and endure caustics\nand incisions; and after they have made us suffer a great deal of pain,\nwe think ourselves obliged to give them a reward: thus, too, we spit,\nbecause the spittle is of no use in the mouth, but on the contrary is\ntroublesome. But Socrates meant not by these, or the like sayings, to\nconclude that a man ought to bury his father alive, or that we ought to\ncut off our legs and arms; but he meant only to teach us that what is\nuseless is contemptible, and to exhort every man to improve and render\nhimself useful to others; to the end that if we desire to be esteemed by\nour father, our brother, or any other relation, we should not rely so\nmuch on our parentage and consanguinity, as not to endeavour to render\nourselves always useful to those whose esteem we desire to obtain.\n\nThe accuser says further against Socrates, that he was so malicious as to\nchoose out of the famous poets the passages that contained the worst\ninstructions, and that he made use of them in a sly manner, to inculcate\nthe vices of injustice and violence: as this verse of Hesiod,\n\n    \"Blame no employment, but blame idleness.\"\n\nAnd he pretends that Socrates alleged this passage to prove that the poet\nmeant to say that we ought not to count any employment unjust or\ndishonourable, if we can make any advantage of it. This, however, was\nfar from the thoughts of Socrates; but, as he had always taught that\nemployment and business are useful and honourable to men, and that\nidleness is an evil, he concluded that they who busy themselves about\nanything that is good are indeed employed; but that gamesters and\ndebauched persons, and all who have no occupations, but such as are\nhurtful and wicked, are idle. Now, in this sense, is it not true to\nsay:--\n\n    \"Blame no employment, but blame idleness\"?\n\nThe accuser likewise says that Socrates often repeated, out of Homer, a\nspeech of Ulysses; and from thence he concludes that Socrates taught that\nthe poet advised to beat the poor and abuse the common people. But it is\nplain Socrates could never have drawn such a wild and unnatural inference\nfrom those verses of the poet, because he would have argued against\nhimself, since he was as poor as anyone besides. What he meant,\ntherefore, was only this, that such as are neither men of counsel nor\nexecution, who are neither fit to advise in the city nor to serve in the\narmy, and are nevertheless proud and insolent, ought to be brought to\nreason, even though they be possessed of great riches. And this was the\ntrue meaning of Socrates, for he loved the men of low condition, and\nexpressed a great civility for all sorts of persons; insomuch that\nwhenever he was consulted, either by the Athenians or by foreigners, he\nwould never take anything of any man for the instructions he gave them,\nbut imparted his wisdom freely, and without reward, to all the world;\nwhile they, who became rich by his liberality, did not afterwards behave\nthemselves so generously, but sold very dear to others what had cost them\nnothing; and, not being of so obliging a temper as he, would not impart\ntheir knowledge to any who had it not in their power to reward them. In\nshort, Socrates has rendered the city of Athens famous throughout the\nwhole earth; and, as Lychas was said to be the honour of Sparta, because\nhe treated, at his own expense, all the foreigners who came to the feasts\nof the Gymnopaedies, so it may, with much greater reason, be said of\nSocrates that he was the glory of Athens, he who all his life made a\ncontinual distribution of his goodness and virtues, and who, keeping open\nfor all the world the treasures of an inestimable wealth, never sent any\nman out of his company but more virtuous, and more improved in the\nprinciples of honour, than formerly he was. Therefore, in my opinion, if\nhe had been treated according to his merit, they should have decreed him\npublic honours rather than have condemned him to an infamous death. For\nagainst whom have the laws ordained the punishment of death? Is it not\nfor thieves, for robbers, for men guilty of sacrilege, for those who sell\npersons that are free? But where, in all the world, can we find a man\nmore innocent of all those crimes than Socrates? Can it be said of him\nthat he ever held correspondence with the enemy, that he ever fomented\nany sedition, that he ever was the cause of a rebellion, or any other the\nlike mischiefs? Can any man lay to his charge that he ever detained his\nestate, or did him or it the least injury? Was he ever so much as\nsuspected of any of these things? How then is it possible he should be\nguilty of the crimes of which he was accused; since, instead of not\nbelieving in the gods, as the accuser says, it is manifest he was a\nsincere adorer of them? Instead of corrupting the youth, as he further\nalleges against him, he made it his chief care to deliver his friends\nfrom the power of every guilty passion, and to inspire them with an\nardent love for virtue, the glory, the ornament, and felicity of families\nas well as of states? And this being fact (and fact it is, for who can\ndeny it?), is it not certain that the Republic was extremely obliged to\nhim, and that she ought to have paid him the highest honours?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. HOW SOCRATES BEHAVED THROUGH THE WHOLE OF HIS LIFE.\n\n\nHaving, therefore, observed myself that all who frequented him improved\nthemselves very much in his conversation, because he instructed them no\nless by his example than by his discourses, I am resolved to set down, in\nthis work, all that I can recollect both of his actions and words.\n\nFirst, then, as to what relates to the service of the gods, he strictly\nconformed to the advice of the oracle, who never gives any other answer\nto those who inquire of him in what manner they ought to sacrifice to the\ngods, or what honours they ought to render to the dead, than that\neveryone should observe the customs of his own country. Thus in all the\nacts of religious worship Socrates took particular care to do nothing\ncontrary to the custom of the Republic, and advised his friends to make\nthat the rule of their devotion to the gods, alleging it to be an\nargument of superstition and vanity to dissent from the established\nworship.\n\nWhen he prayed to the gods he besought them only to give him what is\ngood, because they know better than we do what things are truly good for\nus; and he said that men who pray for silver, or for gold, or for the\nsovereign authority, made as foolish requests as if they prayed that they\nmight play or fight, or desired any other thing whose event is uncertain,\nand that might be likely to turn to their disadvantage.\n\nWhen he offered sacrifices he did not believe that his poverty rendered\nthem despicable in the presence of the gods; and, while he offered\naccording to his ability, he thought he gave as much as the rich, who\nload the altars with costly gifts, for he held that it would be an\ninjustice in the gods to take more delight in costly sacrifices than in\npoorer ones, because it would then follow that the offerings of the\nwicked would for the most part be more acceptable to them than the gifts\nof the good; and that, if this were so, we ought not to desire to live\none moment longer: he thought, therefore, that nothing was so acceptable\nto the Deity as the homage that is paid him by souls truly pious and\ninnocent. To this purpose he often repeated these verses:--\n\n    \"Offer to heaven according to thy pow'r:\n    Th' indulgent gracious gods require no more.\"\n\nAnd not only in this, but in all the other occasions of life, he thought\nthe best advice he could give his friends was to do all things according\nto their ability.\n\nWhen he believed that the gods had admonished him to do anything, it was\nas impossible to make him take a contrary resolution as it would have\nbeen to have prevailed with him in a journey to change a guide that was\nclear-sighted for one that knew not the way, and was blind likewise. For\nthis reason he pitied their folly, who, to avoid the derision of men,\nlive not according to the admonitions and commands of the gods; and he\nbeheld with contempt all the subtilties of human prudence when he\ncompared them with divine inspirations.\n\nHis way of living was such that whoever follows it may be assured, with\nthe help of the gods, that he shall acquire a robust constitution and a\nhealth not to be easily impaired; and this, too, without any great\nexpense, for he was content with so little that I believe there was not\nin all the world a man who could work at all but might have earned enough\nto have maintained him. He generally ate as long as he found pleasure in\neating, and when he sat down to table he desired no other sauce but a\nsound appetite. All sorts of drink were alike pleasing to him, because\nhe never drank but when he was thirsty; and if sometimes he was invited\nto a feast, he easily avoided eating and drinking to excess, which many\nfind very difficult to do in those occasions. But he advised those who\nhad no government of themselves never to taste of things that tempt a man\nto eat when he is no longer hungry, and that excite him to drink when his\nthirst is already quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomach,\ncauses the headache, and puts the soul into disorder. And he said,\nbetween jest and earnest, that he believed it was with such meats as\nthose that Circe changed men into swine, and that Ulysses avoided that\ntransformation by the counsel of Mercury, and because he had temperance\nenough to abstain from tasting them.\n\nAs to love, his advice was to avoid carefully the company of beautiful\npersons, saying it was very difficult to be near them and escape being\ntaken in the snare; and, having been told that Critobulus had given a\nkiss to the son of Alcibiades, who was a very handsome youth, he held\nthis discourse to Xenophon, in the presence of Critobulus himself.\n\n\"Tell me, Xenophon, what opinion have you hitherto had of Critobulus?\nHave you placed him in the rank of the temperate and judicious; or with\nthe debauched and imprudent?\" \"I have always looked upon him,\" answered\nXenophon, \"to be a very virtuous and prudent man.\" \"Change your\nopinion,\" replied Socrates, \"and believe him more rash than if he threw\nhimself on the points of naked swords or leapt into the fire.\" \"And what\nhave you seen him do,\" said Xenophon, \"that gives you reason to speak\nthus of him?\" \"Why, he had the rashness,\" answered Socrates, \"to kiss\nthe son of Alcibiades, who is so beautiful and charming.\" \"And is this\nall?\" said Xenophon; \"for my part, I think I could also willingly expose\nmyself to the same danger that he did.\" \"Wretch, that you are!\" replied\nSocrates. \"Do you consider what happens to you after you have kissed a\nbeautiful face? Do you not lose your liberty? Do you not become a\nslave? Do you not engage yourself in a vast expense to procure a sinful\npleasure? Do you not find yourself in an incapacity of doing what is\ngood, and that you subject yourself to the necessity of employing your\nwhole time and person in the pursuit of what you would despise, if your\nreason were not corrupted?\" \"Good God!\" cried Xenophon, \"this is\nascribing a wonderful power to a kiss forsooth.\" \"And are you surprised\nat it?\" answered Socrates. \"Are there not some small animals whose bite\nis so venomous that it causes insufferable pain, and even the loss of the\nsenses?\" \"I know it very well,\" said Xenophon, \"but these animals leave\na poison behind them when they sting.\" \"And do you think, you fool,\"\nadded Socrates, \"that kisses of love are not venomous, because you\nperceive not the poison? Know that a beautiful person is a more\ndangerous animal than scorpions, because these cannot wound unless they\ntouch us; but beauty strikes at a distance: from what place soever we can\nbut behold her, she darts her venom upon us, and overthrows our judgment.\nAnd perhaps for this reason the Loves are represented with bows and\narrows, because a beautiful face wounds us from afar. I advise you,\ntherefore, Xenophon, when you chance to see a beauty to fly from it,\nwithout looking behind you. And for you, Critobulus, I think it\nconvenient that you should enjoin yourself a year's absence, which will\nnot be too long a time to heal you of your wound.\"\n\nAs for such as have not strength enough to resist the power of love, he\nthought that they ought to consider and use it as an action to which the\nsoul would never consent, were it not for the necessity of the body; and\nwhich, though it be necessary, ought, nevertheless, to give us no\ninquietude. As for himself, his continence was known to all men, and it\nwas more easy for him to avoid courting the most celebrated beauties,\nthan it is for others to get away from disagreeable objects.\n\nThus we see what was his way of life in eating, drinking, and in the\naffair of love. He believed, however, that he tasted of those pleasures\nno less than they who give themselves much trouble to enjoy them; but\nthat he had not, like them, so frequent occasions for sorrow and\nrepentance.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. SOCRATES PROVETH THE EXISTENCE OF A DEITY.\n\n\nIf there be any who believe what some have written by conjecture, that\nSocrates was indeed excellent in exciting men to virtue, but that he did\nnot push them forward to make any great progress in it, let such reflect\na little on what he said, not only when he endeavoured to refute those\nthat boasted they knew all things, but likewise in his familiar\nconversations, and let them judge afterwards if he was incapable to\nadvance his friends in the paths of virtue.\n\nI will, in the first place, relate a conference which he had with\nAristodemus, surnamed the Little, touching the Deity, for he had heard\nthat he never sacrificed to the gods; that he never addressed himself to\nthem in prayer; that he never consulted the oracles, and even laughed at\nthose that practised these things, he took him to talk in this manner:--\n\n\"Tell me, Aristodemus, are there any persons whom you value on account of\ntheir merit?\" He answered, \"Yes, certainly.\" \"Tell me their names,\"\nadded Socrates. Aristodemus replied: \"For epic poetry I admire Homer as\nthe most excellent; for dithyrambics, Melanippides; Sophocles for\ntragedy; Polycletes for statuary; and Zeuxis for painting.\" \"Which\nartists,\" said Socrates, \"do you think to be most worthy of your esteem\nand admiration: they who make images without soul and motion, or they who\nmake animals that move of their own accord, and are endowed with\nunderstanding?\" \"No doubt the last,\" replied Aristodemus, \"provided they\nmake them not by chance, but with judgment and prudence.\" Socrates went\non: \"As there are some things which we cannot say why they were made, and\nothers which are apparently good and useful, tell me, my friend, whether\nof the two you rather take to be the work of prudence than of hazard.\"\n\"It is reasonable,\" said Aristodemus, \"to believe that the things which\nare good and useful are the workmanship of reason and judgment.\" \"Do not\nyou think then,\" replied Socrates, \"that the first Former of mankind\ndesigned their advantage when he gave them the several senses by which\nobjects are apprehended; eyes for things visible, and ears for sounds? Of\nwhat advantage would agreeable scents have been to us if nostrils suited\nto their reception had not been given? And for the pleasures of the\ntaste, how could we ever have enjoyed these, if the tongue had not been\nfitted to discern and relish them? Further, does it not appear to you\nwisely provided that since the eye is of a delicate make, it is guarded\nwith the eyelid drawn back when the eye is used, and covering it in\nsleep? How well does the hair at the extremity of the eyelid keep out\ndust, and the eyebrow, by its prominency, prevent the sweat of the\nforehead from running into the eye to its hurt. How wisely is the ear\nformed to receive all sorts of sounds, and not to be filled with any to\nthe exclusion of others. Are not the fore teeth of all animals fitted to\ncut off proper portions of food, and their grinders to reduce it to a\nconvenient smallness? The mouth, by which we take in the food we like,\nis fitly placed just beneath the nose and eyes, the judges of its\ngoodness; and what is offensive and disagreeable to our senses is, for\nthat reason, placed at a proper distance from them. In short, these\nthings being disposed in such order, and with so much care, can you\nhesitate one moment to determine whether it be an effect of providence or\nof chance?\" \"I doubt not of it in the least,\" replied Aristodemus, \"and\nthe more I fix my thoughts on the contemplation of these things the more\nI am persuaded that all this is the masterpiece of a great workman, who\nbears an extreme love to men.\" \"What say you,\" continued Socrates, \"to\nthis, that he gives all animals a desire to engender and propagate their\nkind; that he inspires the mothers with tenderness and affection to bring\nup their young; and that, from the very hour of their birth, he infuses\ninto them this great love of life and this mighty aversion to death?\" \"I\nsay,\" replied Aristodemus, \"that it is an effect of his great care for\ntheir preservation.\" \"This is not all,\" said Socrates, \"answer me yet\nfarther; perhaps you would rather interrogate me. You are not, I\npersuade myself, ignorant that you are endowed with understanding; do you\nthen think that there is not elsewhere an intelligent being?\nParticularly, if you consider that your body is only a little earth taken\nfrom that great mass which you behold. The moist that composes you is\nonly a small drop of that immense heap of water that makes the sea; in a\nword, your body contains only a small part of all the elements, which are\nelsewhere in great quantity. There is nothing then but your\nunderstanding alone, which, by a wonderful piece of good fortune, must\nhave come to you from I know not whence, if there were none in another\nplace; and can it then be said that all this universe and all these so\nvast and numerous bodies have been disposed in so much order, without the\nhelp of an intelligent Being, and by mere chance?\" \"I find it very\ndifficult to understand it otherwise,\" answered Aristodemus, \"because I\nsee not the gods, who, you say, make and govern all things, as I see the\nartificers who do any piece of work amongst us.\" \"Nor do you see your\nsoul neither,\" answered Socrates, \"which governs your body; but, because\nyou do not see it, will you from thence infer you do nothing at all by\nits direction, but that everything you do is by mere chance?\" Aristodemus\nnow wavering said, \"I do not despise the Deity, but I conceive such an\nidea of his magnificence and self-sufficiency, that I imagine him to have\nno need of me or my services.\" \"You are quite wrong,\" said Socrates,\n\"for by how much the gods, who are so magnificent, vouchsafe to regard\nyou, by so much you are bound to praise and adore them.\" \"It is needless\nfor me to tell you,\" answered Aristodemus, \"that, if I believed the gods\ninterested themselves in human affairs, I should not neglect to worship\nthem.\" \"How!\" replied Socrates, \"you do not believe the gods take care\nof men, they who have not only given to man, in common with other\nanimals, the senses of seeing, hearing, and taste, but have also given\nhim to walk upright; a privilege which no other animal can boast of, and\nwhich is of mighty use to him to look forward, to remote objects, to\nsurvey with facility those above him, and to defend himself from any\nharm? Besides, although the animals that walk have feet, which serve\nthem for no other use than to walk, yet, herein, have the gods\ndistinguished man, in that, besides feet, they have given him hands, the\ninstruments of a thousand grand and useful actions, on which account he\nnot only excels, but is happier than all animals besides. And, further,\nthough all animals have tongues, yet none of them can speak, like man's;\nhis tongue only can form words, by which he declares his thoughts, and\ncommunicates them to others. Not to mention smaller instances of their\ncare, such as the concern they take of our pleasures, in confining men to\nno certain season for the enjoying them, as they have done other animals.\n\n\"But Providence taketh care, not only of our bodies, but of our souls: it\nhath pleased the great Author of all, not only to give man so many\nadvantages for the body, but (which is the greatest gift of all, and the\nstrongest proof of his care) he hath breathed into him an intelligent\nsoul, and that, too, the most excellent of all, for which of the other\nanimals has a soul that knows the being of the Deity, by whom so many\ngreat and marvellous works are done? Is there any species but man that\nserves and adores him? Which of the animals can, like him, protect\nhimself from hunger and thirst, from heat and cold? Which, like him, can\nfind remedies for diseases, can make use of his strength, and is as\ncapable of learning, that so perfectly retains the things he has seen, he\nhas heard, he has known? In a word, it is manifest that man is a god in\ncomparison with the other living species, considering the advantages he\nnaturally has over them, both of body and soul. For, if man had a body\nlike to that of an ox the subtilty of his understanding would avail him\nnothing, because he would not be able to execute what he should project.\nOn the other hand, if that animal had a body like ours, yet, being devoid\nof understanding, he would be no better than the rest of the brute\nspecies. Thus the gods have at once united in your person the most\nexcellent structure of body and the greatest perfection of soul; and now\ncan you still say, after all, that they take no care of you? What would\nyou have them do to convince you of the contrary?\" \"I would have them,\"\nanswered Aristodemus, \"send on purpose to let me know expressly all that\nI ought to do or not to do, in like manner as you say they do give you\nnotice.\" \"What!\" said Socrates, \"when they pronounce any oracle to all\nthe Athenians, do you think they do not address themselves to you too,\nwhen by prodigies they make known to the Greeks the things that are to\nhappen, are they silent to you alone, and are you the only person they\nneglect? Do you think that the gods would have instilled this notion\ninto men, that it is they who can make them happy or miserable, if it\nwere not indeed in their power to do so? And do you believe that the\nhuman race would have been thus long abused without ever discovering the\ncheat? Do you not know that the most ancient and wisest republics and\npeople have been also the most pious, and that man, at the age when his\njudgment is ripest, has then the greatest bent to the worship of the\nDeity?\n\n\"My dear Aristodemus, consider that your mind governs your body according\nto its pleasure: in like manner we ought to believe that there is a mind\ndiffused throughout the whole universe that disposeth of all things\naccording to its counsels. You must not imagine that your weak sight can\nreach to objects that are several leagues distant, and that the eye of\nGod cannot, at one and the same time, see all things. You must not\nimagine that your mind can reflect on the affairs of Athens, of Egypt,\nand of Sicily, and that the providence of God cannot, at one and the same\nmoment, consider all things. As, therefore, you may make trial of the\ngratitude of a man by doing him a kindness, and as you may discover his\nprudence by consulting him in difficult affairs, so, if you would be\nconvinced how great is the power and goodness of God, apply yourself\nsincerely to piety and his worship; then, my dear Aristodemus, you shall\nsoon be persuaded that the Deity sees all, hears all, is present\neverywhere, and, at the same time, regulates and superintends all the\nevents of the universe.\"\n\nBy such discourses as these Socrates taught his friends never to commit\nany injustice or dishonourable action, not only in the presence of men,\nbut even in secret, and when they are alone, since the Divinity hath\nalways an eye over us, and none of our actions can be hid from him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. THE PRAISE OF TEMPERANCE.\n\n\nAnd if temperance be a virtue in man, as undoubtedly it is, let us see\nwhether any improvement can be made by what he said of it. I will here\ngive you one of his discourses on that subject:--\n\n\"If we were engaged in a war,\" said he, \"and were to choose a general,\nwould we make choice of a man given to wine or women, and who could not\nsupport fatigues and hardships? Could we believe that such a commander\nwould be capable to defend us and to conquer our enemies? Or if we were\nlying on our deathbed, and were to appoint a guardian and tutor for our\nchildren, to take care to instruct our sons in the principles of virtue,\nto breed up our daughters in the paths of honour and to be faithful in\nthe management of their fortunes, should we think a debauched person fit\nfor that employment? Would we trust our flocks and our granaries in the\nhands of a drunkard? Would we rely upon him for the conduct of any\nenterprise; and, in short, if a present were made us of such a slave,\nshould we not make it a difficulty to accept him? If, then, we have so\ngreat an aversion for debauchery in the person of the meanest servant,\nought we not ourselves to be very careful not to fall into the same\nfault? Besides, a covetous man has the satisfaction of enriching\nhimself, and, though he take away another's estate, he increases his own;\nbut a debauched man is both troublesome to others and injurious to\nhimself. We may say of him that he is hurtful to all the world, and yet\nmore hurtful to himself, if to ruin, not only his family, but his body\nand soul likewise, is to be hurtful. Who, then, can take delight in the\ncompany of him who has no other diversion than eating and drinking, and\nwho is better pleased with the conversation of a prostitute than of his\nfriends? Ought we not, then, to practise temperance above all things,\nseeing it is the foundation of all other virtues; for without it what can\nwe learn that is good, what do that is worthy of praise? Is not the\nstate of man who is plunged in voluptuousness a wretched condition both\nfor the body and soul? Certainly, in my opinion, a free person ought to\nwish to have no such servants, and servants addicted to such brutal\nirregularities ought earnestly to entreat Heaven that they may fall into\nthe hands of very indulgent masters, because their ruin will be otherwise\nalmost unavoidable.\"\n\nThis is what Socrates was wont to say upon this subject. But if he\nappeared to be a lover of temperance in his discourses, he was yet a more\nexact observer of it in his actions, showing himself to be not only\ninvincible to the pleasures of the senses, but even depriving himself of\nthe satisfaction of getting an estate; for he held that a man who accepts\nof money from others makes himself a servant to all their humours, and\nbecomes their slave in a manner no less scandalous than other slaveries.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. THE DISPUTE OF SOCRATES WITH ANTIPHON, THE SOPHIST.\n\n\nTo this end it will not be amiss to relate, for the honour of Socrates,\nwhat passed between him and the sophist Antiphon, who designed to seduce\naway his hearers, and to that end came to him when they were with him,\nand, in their presence, addressed himself to him in these words:--\"I\nimagined, Socrates, that philosophers were happier than other men; but,\nin my opinion, your wisdom renders you more miserable, for you live at\nsuch a rate that no footman would live with a master that treated him in\nthe same manner. You eat and drink poorly, you are clothed very\nmeanly--the same suit serves you in summer and winter--you go barefoot,\nand for all this you take no money, though it is a pleasure to get it;\nfor, after a man has acquired it, he lives more genteely and more at his\nease. If, therefore, as in all other sorts of arts, apprentices\nendeavour to imitate their masters, should these who frequent your\nconversation become like you, it is certain that you will have taught\nthem nothing but to make themselves miserable.\"\n\nSocrates answered him in the following manner:--\"You think, Antiphon, I\nlive so poorly that I believe you would rather die than live like me. But\nwhat is it you find so strange and difficult in my way of living? You\nblame me for not taking money; is it because they who take money are\nobliged to do what they promise, and that I, who take none, entertain\nmyself only with whom I think fit? You despise my eating and drinking;\nis it because my diet is not so good nor so nourishing as yours, or\nbecause it is more scarce and dearer, or lastly, because your fare seems\nto you to be better? Know that a man who likes what he eats needs no\nother _ragout_, and that he who finds one sort of drink pleasant wishes\nfor no other. As to your objection of my clothes, you appear to me,\nAntiphon, to judge quite amiss of the matter; for, do you not know that\nwe dress ourselves differently only because of the hot or cold weather,\nand if we wear shoes it is because we would walk the easier? But, tell\nme, did you ever observe that the cold hath hindered me from going\nabroad? Have you ever seen me choose the cool and fresh shades in hot\nweather? And, though I go barefoot, do not you see that I go wherever I\nwill? Do you not know that there are some persons of a very tender\nconstitution, who, by constant exercise, surmount the weakness of their\nnature, and at length endure fatigues better than they who are naturally\nmore robust, but have not taken pains to exercise and harden themselves\nlike the others? Thus, therefore, do not you believe that I, who have\nall my life accustomed myself to bear patiently all manner of fatigues,\ncannot now more easily submit to this than you, who have never thought of\nthe matter? If I have no keen desire after dainties, if I sleep little,\nif I abandon not myself to any infamous amour, the reason is because I\nspend my time more delightfully in things whose pleasure ends not in the\nmoment of enjoyment, and that make me hope besides to receive an\neverlasting reward. Besides, you know very well, that when a man sees\nthat his affairs go ill he is not generally very gay; and that, on the\ncontrary, they who think to succeed in their designs, whether in\nagriculture, traffic, or any other undertaking, are very contented in\ntheir minds. Now, do you think that from anything whatsoever there can\nproceed a satisfaction equal to the inward consciousness of improving\ndaily in virtue, and acquiring the acquaintance and friendship of the\nbest of men? And if we were to serve our friends or our country, would\nnot a man who lives like me be more capable of it than one that should\nfollow that course of life which you take to be so charming? If it were\nnecessary to carry arms, which of the two would be the best soldier, he\nwho must always fare deliciously, or he who is satisfied with what he\nfinds? If they were to undergo a siege who would hold out longest, he\nwho cannot live without delicacies, or he who requires nothing but what\nmay easily be had? One would think, Antiphon, that you believe happiness\nto consist in good eating and drinking, and in an expensive and splendid\nway of life. For my part, I am of opinion that to have need of nothing\nat all is a divine perfection, and that to have need but of little is to\napproach very near the Deity, and hence it follows that, as there is\nnothing more excellent than the Deity, whatever approaches nearest to it\nis likewise most near the supreme excellence.\"\n\nAnother time Antiphon addressed himself to Socrates: \"I confess you are\nan honest, well-meaning man, Socrates; but it is certain you know little\nor nothing, and one would imagine you own this to be true, for you get\nnothing by your teaching. And yet, I persuade myself, you would not part\nwith your house, or any of the furniture of it, without some gratuity,\nbecause you believe them of some small value; nay, you would not part\nwith them for less than they are worth: if, therefore, you thought your\nteaching worth anything you would be paid for it according to its value;\nin this, indeed, you show yourself honest, because you will not, out of\navarice, cheat any man, but at the same time you discover, too, that you\nknow but little, since all your knowledge is not worth the buying.\"\n\nSocrates answered him in this manner:--\"There is a great resemblance\nbetween beauty and the doctrine of philosophers; what is praiseworthy in\nthe one is so in the other, and both of them are subject to the same\nvice: for, if a woman sells her beauty for money, we immediately call her\na prostitute; but if she knows that a man of worth and condition is\nfallen in love with her, and if she makes him her friend, we say she is a\nprudent woman. It is just the same with the doctrine of philosophers;\nthey that sell it are sophists, and like the public women, but if a\nphilosopher observe a youth of excellent parts, and teacheth him what he\nknows, in order to obtain his friendship, we say of him, that he acts the\npart of a good and virtuous citizen. Thus as some delight in fine\nhorses, others in dogs, and others in birds; for my part all my delight\nis to be with my virtuous friends. I teach them all the good I know, and\nrecommend them to all whom I believe capable to assist them in the way to\nperfection. We all draw together, out of the same fountain, the precious\ntreasures which the ancient sages have left us; we run over their works,\nand if we find anything excellent we take notice of it and select it: in\nshort, we believe we have made a great improvement when we begin to love\none another.\" This was the answer he made, and when I heard him speak in\nthis manner I thought him very happy, and that he effectually stirred up\nhis hearers to the love of virtue.\n\nAnother time when Antiphon asked him why he did not concern himself with\naffairs of State, seeing he thought himself capable to make others good\npoliticians? he returned this answer:--\"Should I be more serviceable to\nthe State if I took an employment whose function would be wholly bounded\nin my person, and take up all my time, than I am by instructing every one\nas I do, and in furnishing the Republic with a great number of citizens\nwho are capable to serve her?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. IN WHAT MANNER SOCRATES DISSUADED MEN FROM SELF-CONCEIT AND\nOSTENTATION.\n\n\nBut let us now see whether by dissuading his friends from a vain\nostentation he did not exhort them to the pursuit of virtue. He\nfrequently said that there was no readier way to glory than to render\noneself excellent, and not to affect to appear so. To prove this he\nalleged the following example:--\"Let us suppose,\" said he, \"that any one\nwould be thought a good musician, without being so in reality; what\ncourse must he take? He must be careful to imitate the great masters in\neverything that is not of their art; he must, like them, have fine\nmusical instruments; he must, like them, be followed by a great number of\npersons wherever he goes, who must be always talking in his praise. And\nyet he must not venture to sing in public: for then all men would\nimmediately perceive not only his ignorance, but his presumption and\nfolly likewise. And would it not be ridiculous in him to spend his\nestate to ruin his reputation? In like manner, if any one would appear a\ngreat general, or a good pilot, though he knew nothing of either, what\nwould be the issue of it? If he cannot make others believe it, it\ntroubles him, and if he can persuade them to think so he is yet more\nunhappy, because, if he be made choice of for the steering of ships, or\nto command an army, he will acquit himself very ill of his office, and\nperhaps be the cause of the loss of his best friends. It is not less\ndangerous to appear to be rich, or brave, or strong, if we are not so\nindeed, for this opinion of us may procure us employments that are above\nour capacity, and if we fail to effect what was expected of us there is\nno remission for our faults. And if it be a great cheat to wheedle one\nof your neighbours out of any of his ready money or goods, and not\nrestore them to him afterwards, it is a much greater impudence and cheat\nfor a worthless fellow to persuade the world that he is capable to govern\na Republic.\" By these and the like arguments he inspired a hatred of\nvanity and ostentation into the minds of those who frequented him.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n\nCHAPTER I. A CONFERENCE OF SOCRATES WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING PLEASURE\nAND TEMPERANCE.\n\n\nIn the same manner, likewise, he encouraged his hearers by the following\narguments to support hunger and thirst, to resist the temptations of\nlove, to fly from laziness, and inure themselves to all manner of\nfatigues. For, being told that one of them lived too luxuriously, he\nasked him this question: \"If you were entrusted, Aristippus, with the\neducation of two young men, one to be a prince and the other a private\nman, how would you educate them? Let us begin with their nourishment, as\nbeing the foundation of all.\" \"It is true,\" said Aristippus, \"that\nnourishment is the foundation of our life, for a man must soon die if he\nbe not nourished.\" \"You would accustom both of them,\" said Socrates, \"to\neat and drink at a certain hour?\" \"It is likely I should?\" \"But which\nof the two,\" said Socrates, \"would you teach to leave eating before he\nwas satisfied, to go about some earnest business?\" \"Him, without doubt,\"\nanswered Aristippus, \"whom I intended to render capable to govern, to the\nend that under him the affairs of the Republic might not suffer by\ndelay.\" \"Which of the two,\" continued Socrates, \"would you teach to\nabstain from drinking when he was thirsty, to sleep but little, to go\nlate to bed, to rise early, to watch whole nights, to live chastely, to\nget the better of his favourite inclinations, and not to avoid fatigues,\nbut expose himself freely to them?\" \"The same still,\" replied\nAristippus. \"And if there be any art that teaches to overcome our\nenemies, to which of the two is it rather reasonable to teach it?\" \"To\nhim to,\" said Aristippus, \"for without that art all the rest would avail\nhim nothing.\" \"I believe,\" said Socrates, \"that a man, who has been\neducated in this manner, would not suffer himself to be so easily\nsurprised by his enemies as the most part of animals do. For some perish\nby their gluttony, as those whom we allure with a bait, or catch by\noffering them to drink, and who fall into the snares, notwithstanding\ntheir fears and distrust. Others perish through their lasciviousness, as\nquails and partridges, who suffer themselves to be decoyed by the\ncounterfeit voice of their females, and blindly following the amorous\nwarmth that transports them, fall miserably into the nets.\" \"You say\ntrue,\" said Aristippus. \"Well, then,\" pursued Socrates, \"is it not\nscandalous for a man to be taken in the same snares with irrational\nanimals? And does not this happen to adulterers, who skulk and hide\nthemselves in the chambers and closets of married women, though they know\nthey run a very great risk, and that the laws are very strict and\nrigorous against those crimes? They know themselves to be watched, and\nthat, if they are taken, they shall not be let go with impunity. In a\nword, they see punishment and infamy hanging over the heads of criminals\nlike themselves. Besides, they are not ignorant, that there are a\nthousand honourable diversions to deliver them from those infamous\npassions, and yet they run hand over head into the midst of these\ndangers, and what is this but to be wretched and desperate to the highest\ndegree?\" \"I think it so,\" answered Aristippus. \"What say you to this,\"\ncontinued Socrates, \"that the most necessary and most important affairs\nof life, as those of war and husbandry, are, with others of little less\nconsequence, performed in the fields and in the open air, and that the\ngreatest part of mankind accustom themselves so little to endure the\ninclemency of the seasons, to suffer heat and cold? Is not this a great\nneglect? and do you not think that a man who is to command others ought\nto inure himself to all these hardships?\" \"I think he ought,\" answered\nAristippus. \"Therefore,\" replied Socrates, \"if they who are patient and\nlaborious, as we have said, are worthy to command, may we not say that\nthey who can do nothing of all this, ought never to pretend to any\noffice?\" Aristippus agreed to it, and Socrates went on.\n\n\"Since then you know the rank which either of these two sorts of men\nought to hold, amongst which would you have us place you?\" \"Me!\" said\nAristippus; \"why truly, not amongst those that govern; for that is an\noffice I would never choose. Let those rule who have a mind for it; for\nmy part, I envy not their condition. For, when I reflect that we find it\nhard enough to supply our own wants, I do not approve of loading\nourselves, besides, with the necessities of a whole people; and that\nbeing often compelled to go without many things that we desire, we should\nengage ourselves in an employment that would render us liable to blame,\nif we did not take care to supply others with everything they want: I\nthink there is folly in all this. For republics make use of their\nmagistrates as I do of my slaves, who shall get me my meat and drink, and\nall other necessaries, as I command, and not presume to touch any of it\nthemselves; so, too, the people will have those, who govern the State,\ntake care to provide them with plenty of all things, and will not suffer\nthem to do anything for their own advantage. I think, therefore, that\nall who are pleased with a hurry of affairs, and in creating business for\nothers, are most fit to govern, provided they have been educated and\ninstructed in the manner we mentioned. But, for my part, I desire to\nlead a more quiet and easy life.\"\n\n\"Let us,\" said Socrates, \"consider whether they who govern lead more\nhappy lives than their subjects: among the nations that are known to us\nin Asia, the Syrians, the Phrygians, and the Lydians, are under the\nempire of the Persians. In Europe, the Maeotians are subject to the\nScythians; in Africa, the Carthaginians reign over the rest of the\nAfricans. Which now, in your opinion, are the most happy? Let us look\ninto Greece, where you are at present. Whose condition, think you, is\nmost to be desired, that of the nations who rule, or of the people who\nare under the dominion of others?\" \"I can never,\" said Aristippus,\n\"consent to be a slave; but there is a way between both that leads\nneither to empire nor subjection, and this is the road of liberty, in\nwhich I endeavour to walk, because it is the shortest to arrive at true\nquiet and repose.\" \"If you had said,\" replied Socrates, \"that this way,\nwhich leads neither to empire nor subjection, is a way that leads far\nfrom all human society, you would, perhaps, have said something; for, how\ncan we live among men, and neither command nor obey? Do you not observe\nthat the mighty oppress the weak, and use them as their slaves, after\nthey have made them groan under the weight of oppression, and given them\njust cause to complain of their cruel usage, in a thousand instances,\nboth general and particular? And if they find any who will not submit to\nthe yoke, they ravage their countries, spoil their corn, cut down their\ntrees, and attack them, in short, in such a manner that they are\ncompelled to yield themselves up to slavery, rather than undergo so\nunequal a war? Among private men themselves, do not the stronger and\nmore bold trample on the weaker?\" \"To the end, therefore, that this may\nnot happen to me,\" said Aristippus, \"I confine myself not to any\nrepublic, but am sometimes here, sometimes there, and think it best to be\na stranger wherever I am.\" \"This invention of yours,\" replied Socrates,\n\"is very extraordinary. Travellers, I believe, are not now so much\ninfested on the roads by robbers as formerly, deterred, I suppose, by the\nfate of Sinnis, Scyron, Procrustes, and the rest of that gang. What\nthen? They who are settled in their own country, and are concerned in\nthe administration of the public affairs, they have the laws in their\nfavours, have their relations and friends to assist them, have fortified\ntowns and arms for their defence: over and above, they have alliances\nwith their neighbours: and yet all these favourable circumstances cannot\nentirely shelter them from the attempts and surprises of wicked men. But\ncan you, who have none of these advantages, who are, for the most part,\ntravelling on the roads, often dangerous to most men, who never enter a\ntown, where you have not less credit than the meanest inhabitant, and are\nas obscure as the wretches who prey on the properties of others; in these\ncircumstances, can you, I say, expect to be safe, merely because you are\na stranger, or perhaps have got passports from the States that promise\nyou all manner of safety coming or going, or should it be your hard\nfortune to be made a slave, you would make such a bad one, that a master\nwould be never the better for you? For, who would suffer in his family a\nman who would not work, and yet expected to live well? But let us see\nhow masters use such servants.\n\n\"When they are too lascivious, they compel them to fast till they have\nbrought them so low, that they have no great stomach to make love, if\nthey are thieves, they prevent them from stealing, by carefully locking\nup whatever they could take: they chain them for fear they should run\naway: if they are dull and lazy, then stripes and scourges are the\nrewards we give them. If you yourself, my friend, had a worthless slave,\nwould you not take the same measures with him?\" \"I would treat such a\nfellow,\" answered Aristippus, \"with all manner of severity, till I had\nbrought him to serve me better. But, Socrates, let us resume our former\ndiscourse.\"\n\n\"In what do they who are educated in the art of government, which you\nseem to think a great happiness, differ from those who suffer through\nnecessity? For you say they must accustom themselves to hunger and\nthirst, to endure cold and heat, to sleep little, and that they must\nvoluntarily expose themselves to a thousand other fatigues and hardships.\nNow, I cannot conceive what difference there is between being whipped\nwillingly and by force, and tormenting one's body either one way or the\nother, except that it is a folly in a man to be willing to suffer pain.\"\n\"How,\" said Socrates, \"you know not this difference between things\nvoluntary and constrained, that he who suffers hunger because he is\npleased to do so may likewise eat when he has a mind; and he who suffers\nthirst because he is willing may also drink when he pleases. But it is\nnot in the power of him who suffers either of them through constraint and\nnecessity to relieve himself by eating and drinking the moment he desires\nit? Besides, he that voluntarily embraceth any laborious exercise finds\nmuch comfort and content in the hope that animates him. Thus the\nfatigues of hunting discourage not the hunters, because they hope to take\nthe game they pursue. And yet what they take, though they think it a\nreward for all their toil, is certainly of very little value. Ought not\nthey, then, who labour to gain the friendship of good men, or to overcome\ntheir enemies, or to render themselves capable of governing their\nfamilies, and of serving their country, ought not these, I say, joyfully\nto undertake the trouble, and to rest content, conscious of the inward\napprobation of their own minds, and the regard and esteem of the\nvirtuous? And to convince you that it is good to impose labours on\nourselves, it is a maxim among those who instruct youth that the\nexercises which are easily performed at the first attempt, and which we\nimmediately take delight in, are not capable to form the body to that\nvigour and strength that is requisite in great undertakings, nor of\nimprinting in the soul any considerable knowledge: but that those which\nrequire patience, application, labour, and assiduity, prepare the way to\nillustrious actions and great achievements. This is the opinion of good\njudges, and of Hesiod in particular, who says somewhere--\n\n    'To Vice, in crowded ranks, the course we steer,\n    The road is smooth, and her abode is near;\n    But Virtue's heights are reached with sweat and pain,\n    For thus did the immortal powers ordain.\n    A long and rough ascent leads to her gate,\n    Nor, till the summit's gained, doth toil abate.'\n\nAnd to the same purpose Epicharmus:--\n\n    \"The gods confer their blessings at the price\n    Of labour--.\"\n\nWho remarks in another place--\n\n    \"Thou son of sloth, avoid the charms of ease,\n    Lest pain succeed--.\"\n\n\"Of the same opinion is Prodicus, in the book he has written of the life\nof Hercules, where Virtue and Pleasure make their court to that hero\nunder the appearance of two beautiful women. His words, as near as I can\nremember, are as follows:--\n\n\"'When Hercules,' says the moralist, 'had arrived at that part of his\nyouth in which young men commonly choose for themselves, and show, by the\nresult of their choice, whether they will, through the succeeding stages\nof their lives, enter into and walk in the path of virtue or that of\nvice, he went out into a solitary place fit for contemplation, there to\nconsider with himself which of those two paths he should pursue.\n\n\"'As he was sitting there in suspense he saw two women of a larger\nstature than ordinary approaching towards him. One of them had a genteel\nand amiable aspect; her beauty was natural and easy, her person and shape\nclean and handsome, her eyes cast towards the ground with an agreeable\nreserve, her motion and behaviour full of modesty, and her raiment white\nas snow. The other wanted all the native beauty and proportion of the\nformer; her person was swelled, by luxury and ease, to a size quite\ndisproportioned and uncomely. She had painted her complexion, that it\nmight seem fairer and more ruddy than it really was, and endeavoured to\nappear more graceful than ordinary in her mien, by a mixture of\naffectation in all her gestures. Her eyes were full of confidence, and\nher dress transparent, that the conceited beauty of her person might\nappear through it to advantage. She cast her eyes frequently upon\nherself, then turned them on those that were present, to see whether any\none regarded her, and now and then looked on the figure she made in her\nown shadow.\n\n\"'As they drew nearer, the former continued the same composed pace, while\nthe latter, striving to get before her, ran up to Hercules, and addressed\nherself to him in the following manner:--\n\n\"I perceive, my dear Hercules, you are in doubt which path in life you\nshould pursue. If, then, you will be my friend and follow me, I will\nlead you to a path the most easy and most delightful, wherein you shall\ntaste all the sweets of life, and live exempt from every trouble. You\nshall neither be concerned in war nor in the affairs of the world, but\nshall only consider how to gratify all your senses--your taste with the\nfinest dainties and most delicious drink, your sight with the most\nagreeable objects, your scent with the richest perfumes and fragrancy of\nodours, how you may enjoy the embraces of the fair, repose on the softest\nbeds, render your slumbers sweet and easy, and by what means enjoy,\nwithout even the smallest care, all those glorious and mighty blessings.\n\n\"And, for fear you suspect that the sources whence you are to derive\nthose invaluable blessings might at some time or other fail, and that you\nmight, of course, be obliged to acquire them at the expense of your mind\nand the united labour and fatigue of your body, I beforehand assure you\nthat you shall freely enjoy all from the industry of others, undergo\nneither hardship nor drudgery, but have everything at your command that\ncan afford you any pleasure or advantage.\"\n\n\"'Hercules, hearing the lady make him such offers, desired to know her\nname, to which she answered, \"My friends, and those who are well\nacquainted with me, and whom I have conducted, call me Happiness; but my\nenemies, and those who would injure my reputation, have given me the name\nof Pleasure.\"\n\n\"'In the meantime, the other lady approached, and in her turn accosted\nhim in this manner:--\"I also am come to you, Hercules, to offer my\nassistance; I, who am well acquainted with your divine extraction and\nhave observed the excellence of your nature, even from your childhood,\nfrom which I have reason to hope that, if you would follow the path that\nleadeth to my residence, you will undertake the greatest enterprises and\nachieve the most glorious actions, and that I shall thereby become more\nhonourable and illustrious among mortals. But before I invite you into\nmy society and friendship I will be open and sincere with you, and must\nlay down this as an established truth, that there is nothing truly\nvaluable which can be purchased without pains and labour. The gods have\nset a price upon every real and noble pleasure. If you would gain the\nfavour of the Deity you must be at the pains of worshipping Him; if you\nwould be beloved by your friends you must study to oblige them; if you\nwould be honoured by any city you must be of service to it; and if you\nwould be admired by all Greece, on account of your probity and valour,\nyou must exert yourself to do her some eminent service. If you would\nrender your fields fruitful, and fill your arms with corn, you must\nlabour to cultivate the soil accordingly. Would you grow rich by your\nherds, a proper care must be taken of them; would you extend your\ndominions by arms, and be rendered capable of setting at liberty your\ncaptive friends, and bringing your enemies to subjection, you must not\nonly learn of those that are experienced in the art of war, but exercise\nyourself also in the use of military affairs; and if you would excel in\nthe strength of your body you must keep your body in due subjection to\nyour mind, and exercise it with labour and pains.\"\n\n\"'Here Pleasure broke in upon her discourse--\"Do you see, my dear\nHercules, through what long and difficult ways this woman would lead you\nto her promised delights? Follow me, and I will show you a much shorter\nand more easy way to happiness.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" replied the Goddess of Virtue, whose visage glowed with a passion\nmade up of scorn and pity, \"what happiness can you bestow, or what\npleasure can you taste, who would never do anything to acquire it? You\nwho will take your fill of all pleasures before you feel an appetite for\nany; you eat before you are hungry, you drink before you are athirst;\nand, that you may please your taste, must have the finest artists to\nprepare your viands; the richest wines that you may drink with pleasure,\nand to give your wine the finer taste, you search every place for ice and\nsnow luxuriously to cool it in the heat of summer. Then, to make your\nslumbers uninterrupted, you must have the softest down and the easiest\ncouches, and a gentle ascent of steps to save you from any the least\ndisturbance in mounting up to them. And all little enough, heaven knows!\nfor you have not prepared yourself for sleep by anything you have done,\nbut seek after it only because you have nothing to do. It is the same in\nthe enjoyments of love, in which you rather force than follow your\ninclinations, and are obliged to use arts, and even to pervert nature, to\nkeep your passions alive. Thus is it that you instruct your\nfollowers--kept awake for the greatest part of the night by debaucheries,\nand consuming in drowsiness all the most useful part of the day. Though\nimmortal, you are an outcast from the gods, and despised by good men.\nNever have you heard that most agreeable of all sounds, your own praise,\nnor ever have you beheld the most pleasing of all objects, any good work\nof your own hands. Who would ever give any credit to anything that you\nsay? Who would assist you in your necessity, or what man of sense would\never venture to be of your mad parties? Such as do follow you are robbed\nof their strength when they are young, void of wisdom when they grow old.\nIn their youth they are bred up in indolence and all manner of delicacy,\nand pass their old age with difficulties and distress, full of shame for\nwhat they have done, and oppressed with the burden of what they are to\ndo, squanderers of pleasures in their youth, and hoarders up of\nafflictions for their old age.\n\n\"On the contrary, my conversation is with the gods, and with good men,\nand there is nothing excellent performed by either without my influence.\nI am respected above all things by the gods and by the best of mortals,\nand it is just I should. I am an agreeable companion to the artisan, a\nfaithful security to masters of families, a kind assistant to servants, a\nuseful associate in the arts of peace, a faithful ally in the labours of\nwar, and the best uniter of all friendships.\n\n\"My votaries, too, enjoy a pleasure in everything they either eat or\ndrink, even without having laboured for it, because they wait for the\ndemand of their appetites. Their sleep is sweeter than that of the\nindolent and inactive; and they are neither overburdened with it when\nthey awake, nor do they, for the sake of it, omit the necessary duties of\nlife. My young men have the pleasure of being praised by those who are\nin years, and those who are in years of being honoured by those who are\nyoung. They look back with comfort on their past actions, and delight\nthemselves in their present employments. By my means they are favoured\nby the gods, beloved by their friends, and honoured by their country; and\nwhen the appointed period of their lives is come they are not lost in a\ndishonourable oblivion, but live and flourish in the praises of mankind,\neven to the latest posterity.\"\n\n\"Thus, my dear Hercules, who are descended of divine ancestors, you may\nacquire, by virtuous toil and industry, this most desirable state of\nperfect happiness.\"\n\n\"Such was the discourse, my friend, which the goddess had with Hercules,\naccording to Prodicus. You may believe that he embellished the thoughts\nwith more noble expressions than I do. I heartily wish, my dear\nAristippus, that you should make such an improvement of those divine\ninstructions, as that you too may make such a happy choice as may render\nyou happy during the future course of your life.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. SOCRATES' DISCOURSE WITH HIS ELDEST SON LAMPROCLES\nCONCERNING THE RESPECT DUE TO PARENTS.\n\n\nSocrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a rage with his mother,\nspoke to him in this manner:--\"Come hither, my son. Have you ever heard\nof a certain sort of men, who are called ungrateful?\" \"Very often,\"\nanswered the young man. \"And do you know,\" said Socrates, \"why they are\ncalled so?\" \"We call a man ungrateful,\" answered Lamprocles, \"who,\nhaving received a kindness, does not return the like if occasion offers.\"\n\"I think, therefore,\" said Socrates, \"ingratitude is a kind of\ninjustice?\" \"I think so too,\" answered Lamprocles. Socrates went\non:--\"Have you never considered of what nature this injustice is? For\nsince it is an injustice to treat our friends ill, and on the contrary, a\npiece of justice to make our enemies smart for their conduct, may it be\nsaid, with like reason, that it is an injustice to be ungrateful towards\nour friends, and that it is just to be ungrateful towards our enemies.\"\n\"On mature consideration,\" answered Lamprocles, \"I think it is criminal\nto do injustice to either of them.\" \"If, then,\" pursued Socrates,\n\"ingratitude be an injustice, it follows that the greater the favours are\nwhich we have received, the greater is the injustice in not acknowledging\nthem.\" Lamprocles granted this consequence, and Socrates continued--\"Can\nthere be any stricter obligations than those that children are laid under\nto their parents? For it is they who gave them a being, and who have put\nthem in a condition to behold all the wonders of Nature, and to partake\nof the many good things exhibited before them by the bounty of\nProvidence, and which are so delightful, that there is not anything that\nall men more dread than to leave them; insomuch that all governments have\nordained death to be the punishment of the most enormous crimes, because\nthere is nothing can more effectually put a stop to the rage of the\nwicked than the apprehension of death. In the affair of marriage, it is\nnot merely the gratification of the appetite which Nature has so strongly\nimplanted in both sexes for their preservation that we regard; no, that\npassion can be satisfied in a less expensive manner, even in our streets,\nand other places; but when we design to enter into that state, we make\nchoice of a woman of such a form and shape, by whom we may expect to have\nfine children, and of such a temper and disposition as to assure us of\nfuture happiness. When that is finished, it is then the chief care of\nthe husband to maintain his wife, and to provide for his children things\nuseful for life in the greatest abundance he can. On the part of the\nwife, many are her anxieties and troubles for the preservation of her\noffspring during the time of her pregnancy; she gives it then part of her\nnourishment and life; and after having suffered the sharpest pangs at the\nmoment of its birth, she then gives it suck, and continues her care and\nlove to it. All this she does to the poor helpless infant, so void of\nreason, that it knows not even her that is so good to it, nor can ask her\nfor its own necessities. Full of tenderness for the welfare and\nhappiness of her babe, her whole time, day and night, is spent in\npleasing it, without the least prospect of any recompense for all her\nfatigue. After this, when the children are come to an age fit to be\ninstructed, the fathers teach them all the good things they can for the\nconduct of their life; and if they know any man more capable to instruct\nthem than themselves, they send them to him, without regard to the\nexpense, thus indicating by their whole conduct, what sincere pleasure it\nwould afford them to see their children turn out men of virtue and\nprobity.\" \"Undoubtedly,\" answered Lamprocles, \"if my mother had done all\nthis, and an hundred times as much, no man could suffer her ill-humours?\"\n\"Do not you think,\" said Socrates, \"that the anger of a beast is much\nmore difficult to support than that of a mother?\" \"Not of a mother like\nher,\" said Lamprocles. Socrates continued, \"What strange thing has she\ndone to you? Has she bit you, has she kicked you, as beasts do when they\nare angry?\" \"She has a tongue that no mortal can suffer,\" answered\nLamprocles. \"And you,\" replied Socrates, \"how many crosses did you give\nher in your infancy by your continual bawling and importunate actions?\nhow much trouble by night and by day? how much affliction in your\nillnesses?\" \"At worst,\" answered Lamprocles, \"I never did nor said\nanything that might make her blush.\" \"Alas!\" said Socrates, \"is it more\ndifficult for you to hear in patience the hasty expressions of your\nmother, than it is for the comedians to hear what they say to one another\non the stage when they fall into the most injurious reproaches? For they\neasily suffer it, knowing well that when one reviles another, he reviles\nhim not with intent to injure him; and when one threatens another, he\nthreatens not with design to do him any harm. You who are fully\nconvinced likewise of the intentions of your mother, and who know very\nwell that the hard words she gives you do not proceed from hate, but that\nshe has a great affection for you, how can you, then, be angry with her?\nIs it because you imagine that she wishes you ill?\" \"Not in the least,\"\nanswered Lamprocles; \"I never had such a thought.\" \"What!\" continued\nSocrates; \"a mother that loves you; a mother who, in your sickness, does\nall she can to recover your health, who takes care that you want for\nnothing, who makes so many vows to heaven for you; you say this is an ill\nmother? In truth, if you cannot live with her, I will say you cannot\nlive at your ease. Tell me, in short, do you believe you ought to have\nany reverence or respect for any one whatever? Or do you not care for\nany man's favour and goodwill, neither for that of a general, suppose, or\nof any other magistrate?\" \"On the contrary,\" said Lamprocles, \"I am very\ncareful to gain the goodwill of all men.\" \"Perhaps you would endeavour\nto acquire the goodwill of your neighbour, to the end he might do you\nkind offices, such as giving you fire when you want it, or, when any\nmisfortune befalls you, speedily relieve you?\" \"Yes, I would.\" \"And if\nyou were travelling with any man, either by sea or land, would you count\nit a matter of indifference whether you were loved by him or not?\" \"No,\nindeed.\" \"Are you then so abandoned, Lamprocles,\" replied Socrates,\n\"that you would take pains to acquire the goodwill of those persons, and\nyet will do nothing to your mother, who loves you incomparably better\nthan they? Know you not that the Republic concerns not herself with\ncommon instances of ingratitude; that she takes no cognisance of such\ncrimes, and that she neglects to punish those who do not return the\ncivilities they receive? But if any one be disrespectful to his parents\nthere is a punishment provided for such ingratitude; the laws reject him\nas an outlaw, and will not allow him to be received into any public\noffice, because it is a maxim commonly received amongst us, that a\nsacrifice, when offered by an impious hand, cannot be acceptable to the\ngods, nor profitable to the Republic. Nobody can believe, that a person\nof such a character can be capable to perform any great or worthy action,\nor to act the part of a righteous judge. The same punishment is ordained\nlikewise for those who, after the death of their parents, neglect to\nhonour their funerals: and this is particularly examined into in the\ninquiry that is made into the lives of such as stand candidates for\noffices.\n\n\"Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will beseech Heaven to pardon you\nthe offences committed against your mother, to the end that the favours\nof the Deity may be still continued to you, and that you may not forfeit\nthem by an ungrateful behaviour. Take care, likewise, that the public\nmay not discover the contempt you show her, for then would you be blamed\nand abandoned by all the world; for, if it were suspected that you did\nnot gratefully resent the benefits conferred on you by your parents, no\nman could believe you would be grateful for any kind actions that others\nmight do you.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. SOCRATES RECONCILES CHAEREPHON AND CHAERECRATES, TWO\nBROTHERS WHO WERE FORMERLY AT VARIANCE.\n\n\nTwo brothers, whose names were Chaerephon and Chaerecrates, were at\nenmity with each other. Socrates was acquainted with them, and had a\ngreat mind to make them friends. Meeting therefore with Chaerecrates, he\naccosted him thus:--\"Are you, too, one of those who prefer the being rich\nto the having a brother, and who do not consider that riches, being\ninanimate things, have need of being defended, whereas a brother is\nhimself a good defence, and, after all, that there is more money than\nbrothers? For is it not extravagant in such men to imagine that a\nbrother does them wrong because they enjoy not his estate? Why say they\nnot likewise, that all the world does them wrong, because they are not in\npossession of what belongs to the rest of mankind? But they believe,\nwith great reason, that it is better to live in society and to be ensured\nof a moderate estate than to have the sole possession of all that is\ntheir neighbours', and to be exposed to the dangers that are inseparable\nfrom solitude. Nevertheless, they are not of the same opinion as to the\ncompany of their brothers. If they are rich they buy themselves slaves\nto serve them, they procure themselves friends to stand by them; but for\ntheir brothers they neglect them; as if a brother were not so fit to make\na friend of as another person. And yet it is of great efficacy towards\nthe begetting and establishing of friendships to have been born of the\nsame parents and brought up together, since even beasts, we see, retain\nsome inclination for those who have come from the same dams, and have\nbeen bred up and nourished together. Besides, a man who has a brother is\nthe more regarded for it, and men are more cautious to offend him.\"\nChaerecrates answered him thus:--\n\n\"You are indeed in the right to say that a good brother is a great\nhappiness; and, unless there be a very strong cause of dissension, I\nthink that brothers ought a little to bear with one another, and not part\non a slight occasion; but when a brother fails in all things, and is\nquite the reverse of what he ought to be, would you have a man do what is\nimpossible and continue in good amity with such a person?\" Socrates\nreplied, \"Does your brother give offence to all the world as well as to\nyou? Does nobody speak well of him?\" \"That,\" said Chaerecrates, \"is one\nof the chief causes of the hatred I bear him, for he is sly enough to\nplease others; but whenever we two happen to meet you would think his\nsole design were to fall out with me.\" Socrates replied, \"Does not this\nproceed from what I am going to say? When any man would make use of a\nhorse, and knows not how to govern him, he can expect nothing from him\nbut trouble. Thus, if we know not in what manner to behave ourselves\ntoward our brother, do you think we can expect anything from him but\nuneasiness?\" \"Why do you imagine,\" said Chaerecrates, \"that I am\nignorant in what manner I ought to carry myself to a brother, since I can\nshow him as much love and respect, both in my words and actions, as he\ncan show me in his? But when I see a man endeavour to disoblige me all\nmanner of ways, shall I express any goodwill for that man? No; this is\nwhat I cannot do, and will not so much as endeavour it.\" \"I am\nastonished to hear you talk after this manner,\" said Socrates; \"pray tell\nme, if you had a dog that were good to keep your flocks, who should fawn\non your shepherds, and grin his teeth and snarl whenever you come in his\nway, whether, instead of being angry with him, you would not make much of\nhim to bring him to know you? Now, you say that a good brother is a\ngreat happiness; you confess that you know how to oblige, and yet you put\nit not in practice to reconcile yourself with Chaerephon.\" \"I fear I\nhave not skill enough to compass it.\" \"I think,\" said Socrates, \"there\nwill be no need of any extraordinary skill in the matter; and am certain\nthat you have enough to engage him to wish you well, and to have a great\nvalue for you.\" \"Pray,\" cried Chaerecrates, \"if you know any art I have\nto make myself beloved, let me know it immediately, for hitherto I never\nperceived any such thing.\" \"Answer me,\" said Socrates. \"If you desired\nthat one of your friends should invite you to his feast when he offered a\nsacrifice, what course would you take?\" \"I would begin first to invite\nhim to mine.\" \"And if you would engage him to take care of your affairs\nin your absence on a journey, what would you do?\" \"I would first, during\nhis absence, take care of his.\" \"And if you would have a foreigner\nentertain you in his family when you come into his country, what method\nwould you take?\" \"I would make him welcome at my house when he came to\nthis town, and would endeavour to further the dispatch of his business,\nthat he might do me the like favour when I should be in the city where he\nlives.\" \"Strange,\" said Socrates, \"that you, who know the common methods\nof ingratiating yourself, will not be at the pains of practising them.\nWhy do you scruple to begin to practise those methods? Is it because you\nare afraid that, should you begin with your brother, and first do him a\nkindness, you would appear to be of a mean-spirited and cringing\ndisposition? Believe me, my friend, you will never, on that account,\nappear such. On the contrary, I take it to be the part of an heroic and\ngenerous soul to prevent our friends with kindness and our enemies with\nvalour. Indeed, had I thought that Chaerephon had been more proper than\nyou to propose the reconciliation, I would have endeavoured to have\npersuaded him to prevent you; but I take you to be more fit to manage\nthis matter, and believe you will bring it to pass rather than he.\" \"What\nyou say is absurd and unworthy of you,\" replied Chaerecrates. \"Would you\nhave me break the ice; I, who am the younger brother? Do you forget that\namong all nations the honour to begin is reserved to the elder?\" \"How do\nyou mean?\" said Socrates. \"Must not a younger brother give the\nprecedency to the older? Must he not rise up when he comes in, give him\nthe best place, and hold his peace to let him speak? Delay, therefore,\nno longer to do what I desire you; go and try to appease your brother. He\nwill receive you with open arms; it is enough that he is a friend to\nhonour, and of a generous temper, for as there is no readier way to gain\nthe goodwill of the mean and poor than by being liberal to them, so\nnothing has more influence on the mind of a man of honour and note than\nto treat him with respect and friendship.\" Chaerecrates objected: \"But\nwhen I have done what you say, if my brother should not be better\ntempered, what then?\" \"What harm would it be to you?\" said Socrates. \"It\nwill show your goodness, and that you love him, and make him appear to be\nill-natured, and not deserving to be obliged by any man. But I am of\nopinion this will not happen, and when he sees that you attack him with\ncivilities and good offices, I am certain he will endeavour to get the\nbetter of you in so kind and generous a contention. You are now in the\nmost wretched condition imaginable. It is as if the hands which God has\ngiven us reciprocally to aid each other were employed only to hinder one\nanother, or as if the feet, which by the divine providence were made to\nassist each other to walk, were busied only in preventing one another\nfrom going forward. Would it not, then, be a great ignorance, and at the\nsame time a great misfortune, to turn to our disadvantage what was made\nonly for our utility? Now, it is certain that God has given us brothers\nonly for our good; and that two brothers are a greater advantage to one\nanother than it can be to either of them to have two hands, two feet, two\neyes, and other the like members, which are double in our body, and which\nNature has designed as brothers. For the hands cannot at the same time\nreach two things several fathoms distant from one another; the feet\ncannot stretch themselves from the end of one fathom to another; the\neyes, which seem to discover from so far, cannot, at the same time, see\nthe fore and hind-part of one and the same object; but when two brothers\nare good friends, no distance of place can hinder them from serving each\nother.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES CONCERNING FRIENDSHIP.\n\n\nI remember likewise a discourse which I have heard him make concerning\nfriendship, and that may be of great use to instruct us by what means we\nought to procure ourselves friends, and in what manner we should live\nwith them. He said \"that most men agree that a true friend is a precious\ntreasure, and that nevertheless there is nothing about which we give\nourselves so little trouble as to make men our friends. We take care,\"\nsaid he, \"to buy houses, lands, slaves, flocks, and household goods, and\nwhen we have them we endeavour to keep them, but though a friend is\nallowed to be capable of affording us a far greater happiness than any or\nall of these, yet how few are solicitous to procure themselves a friend,\nor, when they have, to secure his friendship? Nay, some men are so\nstupid as to prefer their very slaves to their friends. How else can we\naccount for their want of concern about the latter when either in\ndistress or sickness, and at the same time their extreme anxiety for the\nrecovery of the former when in the same condition? For then immediately\nphysicians are sent for, and all remedies that can be thought of applied\nto their relief. Should both of them happen to die, they will regret\nmore the loss of their slave than of their friend, and shed more tears\nover the grave of the former than of the latter. They take care of\neverything but their friends; they will examine into and take great\nnotice of the smallest trifle in their affairs, which perhaps stand in no\nneed of their care, but neglect their friends that do. In short, though\nthey have many estates, they know them all; but though they have but few\nfriends, yet they know not the number of them; insomuch that if they are\ndesired to name them, they are puzzled immediately, so little are their\nfriends in their thoughts. Nevertheless, there is nothing comparable to\na good friend; no slave is so affectionate to our person or interest; no\nhorse can render us so great service; in a word, nothing is so useful to\nus in all occasions. For a true friend supplies all the wants and\nanswers all the demands of another, either in the conduct of his private\naffairs or in the management of the public. If, for instance, his friend\nbe obliged to do a kindness to any man, he puts him in the way of it; if\nhe be assaulted with any danger he immediately flies to his relief. At\none time he gives him part of his estate, at another he assists him with\nthe labour of his hands; sometimes he helps him to persuade, sometimes he\naids him to compel; in prosperity he heightens his delight by rejoicing\nwith him; in adversity he diminisheth his sorrows by bearing a share of\nthem. The use a man may make of his hands, his eyes, his ears, his feet,\nis nothing at all when compared with the service one friend may render\nanother. For often what we cannot do for our own advantage, what we have\nnot seen, nor thought, nor heard of, when our own interests were\nconcerned, what we have not pursued for ourselves, a friend has done for\nhis friend. How foolish were it to be at so much trouble in cultivating\na small orchard of trees, because we expect some fruit from it, and yet\nbe at no pains to cultivate that which is instead of a whole estate--I\nmean Friendship--a soil the most glorious and fertile where we are sure\nto gather the fairest and best of fruit!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. OF THE WORTH AND VALUE OF FRIENDS.\n\n\nTo what I have advanced above I shall here relate another discourse of\nhis, as far as I can remember, in which he exhorted his hearers to\nexamine themselves, that they might know what value their friends might\nset upon them; for seeing a man who had abandoned his friend in extreme\npoverty, he asked Antisthenes this question in presence of that very man\nand several others: \"Can we set a price upon friends as we do upon\nslaves? One slave may be worth twenty crowns, another not worth five;\nsuch a one will cost fifty crowns, another will yield a hundred. Nay, I\nam told that Nicias, the son of Niceratus, gave even six hundred crowns\nfor one slave to be inspector of his silver mines. Do you think we might\nlikewise set prices upon friends?\" \"I believe we may,\" answered\nAntisthenes; \"for there are some men by whom I would rather choose to be\nloved than to have twenty crowns; others for whose affection I would not\nspend five. I know some, too, for whose friendship I would give all I am\nworth.\" \"If it be so,\" said Socrates, \"it would be well that each man\nshould consider how much he can be worth to his friends, and that he\nshould endeavour to render himself as valuable as he can in their regard,\nto the end they might not abandon him; for when I hear one complain that\nhis friend has betrayed him; another that he, whom he thought faithful,\nhas preferred a small gain to the preservation of his friendship, I\nreflect on these stories, and ask whether, as we sell a good-for-nothing\nslave for what we can get for him, we are not likewise tempted to get rid\nof an ill-friend when we are offered more for him than he is worth?\nbecause I do not see men part with their slaves if they be good, nor\nabandon their friends if they be faithful.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. OF THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS.\n\n\nThe following conversation of Socrates with Critobulus may teach us how\nwe ought to try friends, and with whom it is good to contract\nfriendship:--\"If we were to choose a friend,\" said Socrates to him, \"what\nprecaution ought we to take? Ought we not to look out for a man who is\nnot given to luxury, to drunkenness, to women, nor to idleness? For with\nthese vices he could never be very useful to his friend nor to himself.\"\n\"That is certain,\" answered Critobulus. \"Then,\" said Socrates, \"if we\nfound a man that loved to live great, though he had not an estate to\nsupport the expense, and who having daily occasion to employ the purses\nof his friends should show by his actions that whatever you lend him is\nso much lost, and that if you do not lend him he will take it ill of you,\ndo you not think that such a man would be very improper to make a friend\nof?\" \"There is no doubt of it,\" said Critobulus. \"And if we found\nanother,\" continued Socrates, \"who was saving of what he had, but who, on\nthe other hand, was so covetous that it would be quite unfit to have\nanything to do with him, because he would always be very ready to receive\nand never to give again?\" \"In my opinion,\" said Critobulus, \"this would\nbe a worse friend than the former. And if we should find a man who was\nso carried away with the desire of enriching himself that he applied his\nmind to nothing else, but getting all he could scrape together?\" \"We\nought not to have anything to do with him neither,\" answered Critobulus,\n\"for he would be good to no man but himself.\" \"If we found a quarrelsome\nman,\" continued Socrates, \"who was every day like to engage all his\nfriends in new broils and squabbles, what would you think of him?\" \"That\nhe ought to be avoided,\" answered Critobulus. \"And if a man,\" said\nSocrates, \"were free from all these faults, and were only of a humour to\ndesire to receive kindnesses, but never to concern himself to return\nthem, what would you think of him?\" \"That neither he, too, would be\nproper to make a friend of,\" replied Critobulus; \"and indeed, after\nhaving rejected so many, I can scarce tell whom we should take.\" \"We\nought to take,\" said Socrates, \"a man who were the reverse of all those\nwe have mentioned, who would be temperate in his manners, faithful in his\npromises, and sincere in all his actions; who would think it a point of\nhonour not to be outdone in civilities so that it would be of advantage\nto have to do with him.\" \"But how can we be certain of all this,\" said\nCritobulus, \"before we have tried him?\" \"When we would give our judgment\nof statuaries, we have no regard,\" replied Socrates, \"to what they say of\nthemselves, but consider their works; and he who has already made good\nstatues is the person of whom we have the best opinion for those he shall\nmake for the future. Apply this to the question you asked me, and be\nassured that a man who has served his former friends well will be likely\nto show no less affection for those that come after; as we may strongly\nconjecture that a groom, whom we have formerly seen dress horses very\nwell, is capable of dressing others.\" \"But,\" said Critobulus, \"when we\nhave found a man worthy of our choice, how ought we to contract a\nfriendship with him?\" \"In the first place,\" answered Socrates, \"we must\ninquire whether the gods approve of it.\" \"But supposing they do not\ndissuade us, how are we to take this precious prey?\" \"Not by hunting, as\nwe catch hares,\" said Socrates; \"nor in nets, as we take birds, nor by\nforce, as we take our enemies; for it is very difficult to gain any man's\nfriendship against his will, or stop him by force, and detain him in\nprison as a slave, seeing such ill-usage would oblige him rather to wish\nus ill than to love us.\" \"What, then, ought we to do?\" pursued\nCritobulus. \"It is reported,\" replied Socrates, \"that there are some\nwords so powerful that they who know them make themselves loved by\npronouncing them, and that there are likewise other charms for the same\npurpose.\" \"And where can one learn these words?\" added Critobulus. \"Have\nyou not read in Homer,\" answered Socrates, \"what the Syrens said to\nenchant Ulysses? The beginning of it is thus--\n\n    'Oh, stay! oh, pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay!'\n\n\"You say true,\" continued Critobulus; \"but did not they say as much to\nthe others, to stop them too?\" \"Not at all,\" said Socrates, \"they\nenchanted with these words only the generous men who were in love with\nvirtue.\" \"I begin to understand you,\" said Critobulus, \"and seeing this\ncharm, which is so powerful to enchant and captivate the mind, is nothing\nbut praise, you mean that we ought to praise a man in such a manner that\nhe may not distrust we laugh at him; otherwise, instead of gaining his\naffection, we shall incur his hate; for it would be insupportable to a\nman, who knows he is little and weak, to be praised for his graceful\nappearance, for being well-shaped, and of a robust constitution.\" \"But\ndo you know no other charms?\" \"No,\" answered Socrates; \"but I have\nindeed heard it said, that Pericles knew a great many, by means of which\nhe charmed the Republic, and gained the favour and esteem of all.\"\nCritobulus continued, \"What was it that Themistocles did to make himself\nso esteemed?\" \"He used no other charms,\" said Socrates, \"than the\neminent services he rendered to the State.\" \"Which is as much as to\nsay,\" replied Critobulus, \"that to gain the friendship of the great, we\nmust render ourselves capable to perform great actions.\"\n\n\"And could you think it possible,\" said Socrates, \"that any one should\nshare in the friendship of men of merit without being possessed of one\ngood quality?\" \"Why not?\" answered Critobulus; \"I have seen despicable\nrhetoricians beloved by the most famous orators, and persons who knew\nnothing of war live in familiarity with great generals.\" \"But have you\nseen men who are fit for nothing (for that is the question we speak of)\nget any friends of consequence?\" \"I confess I have not,\" answered\nCritobulus; \"nevertheless, since it is impossible for a man of no worth\nwhatever to have the friendship of men of condition and merit, tell me\nwhether the man who acquires the character of worth and merit obtains, at\nthe same time, the friendship of all who possess that excellent\ncharacter?\" \"The reason, I suppose, why you ask this question,\" answered\nSocrates, \"is because you frequently observe dissensions among those who\nequally cherish honour, and would all of them rather die than commit a\nbase action; and you are surprised, that instead of living in friendship,\nthey disagree among themselves, and are sometimes more difficult to\nreconcile than the vilest of all man.\" \"This is a misfortune,\" added\nCritobulus, \"that arrives not among private men only; for dissensions,\nnay, even wars, will happen sometimes, to break out in the best-governed\nrepublics, where virtue is in the highest repute, and where vice is held\nin the utmost contempt. Now, when I revolve these considerations in my\nmind, I know not where to go in search of friends; for it is impossible,\nwe see, for the wicked to cultivate a true friendship among themselves.\nCan there subsist a true and lasting friendship amongst the ungrateful,\nthe idle, the covetous, the treacherous, and the dissolute? No, for\npersons of such a character will mutually expose themselves to hatred and\ncontempt; to hatred, because of the hurtful effects of their vices; to\ncontempt, on account of the deformity of them. Neither, on the other\nhand, can we expect, as you have well observed, to find friendship\nbetween a virtuous man and a person of the opposite character. For how\ncan they who commit crimes be in good amity with those that abhor them?\nBut what puzzles me most, my dear Socrates, is to see men of merit and\nvirtue harassing one another, and endeavouring, to the utmost of their\npower, to crush and ruin their antagonists, when, in different interests,\nboth are contending for the most lucrative posts of the Republic. I am\nquite at a loss to account for such a conduct on the principles of\nfriendship; for when I daily observe the noblest affections of the mind\nrooted up by the sordid views of interest, I am in a great doubt whether\nthere is any real friendship and affection in the world.\" \"My dear\nfriend,\" replied Socrates, \"this matter is very intricate; for, if I\nmistake not, Nature has placed in men the principles both of friendship\nand dissension. Of friendship, because they have need of one another,\nthey have compassion of their miseries, they relieve one another in their\nnecessities, and they are grateful for the assistances which they lend\none another: of dissension, because one and the same thing being\nagreeable to many they contend to have it, and endeavour to prejudice and\nthwart one another in their designs. Thus strife and anger beget war,\navarice stifles benevolence, envy produces hate. But friendship\novercoming all these difficulties, finds out the virtuous, and unites\nthem together. For, out of a motive of virtue they choose rather to live\nquietly in a mean condition, than to gain the empire of the whole earth\nby the calamities of war. When they are pinched with hunger or thirst,\nthey endure them with constancy, till they can relieve themselves without\nbeing troublesome to any one. When at any time their desires for the\nenjoyments of love grow violent and headstrong, then reason, or\nself-government, lays hold on the reins, checks the impetuosity of the\npassion, keeps it within due bounds, and will not allow them to\ntransgress the great rule of their duty. They enjoy what is lawfully\ntheir own, and are so far from usurping the rights and properties of\nothers, that they even give them part of what they have. They agree\ntheir differences in such a manner, that all are gainers, and no man has\nreason to complain. They are never transported with anger so far as to\ncommit any action of which they may afterwards repent. Envy is a passion\nthey are ignorant of, because they live in a mutual communication of what\nthey possess, and consider what belongs to their friends as things in\ntheir own possession. From hence you see that the virtuous do not only\nnot oppose, but that they aid one another in the employments of the\nRepublic; for they who seek for honours and great offices, only to have\nan opportunity of enriching themselves, and exercising a cruel tyranny,\nor to live an easy and effeminate life, are certainly very wicked and\nunjust, nor can they ever hope to live in friendship with any man.\n\n\"But why should he who desires not any authority, but only the better to\ndefend himself from the wicked, or to assist his friends, or be\nserviceable to his country; why should such a man, I say, not agree with\nanother, whose intentions are the same with his own? Is it because he\nwould be less capable to serve the Republic, if he had virtuous\nassociates in the administration of affairs? If, in the tournaments and\nother games, the most strong were permitted to enter into a league\nagainst the weaker, they would infallibly be victors in all the courses,\nand win all the prizes; for which reason they are not suffered to do so.\nTherefore, in affairs of State, since no man is hindered from joining\nwith whom he pleases, to do good to the Republic, is it not more\nadvantageous, when we concern ourselves in the government, to make\nfriendship with men of honour and probity, who are generally, too, the\nmost knowing and capable, and to have them for our associates than to\nmake them our adversaries? For it is manifest, that when a man is\nengaged in a combat, he ought to have some to assist him, and that he\nwill have need of a great many, if those whom he opposes be valiant and\npowerful. Besides, he must be liberal, and give presents to those who\nespouse his quarrel, to encourage them to make a more resolute and\nvigorous defence. Now, it is beyond all dispute, that it is much better\nto oblige the good, though they are but a few, than the wicked, of whom\nthere is a great number, because the former are easily gained over to\nyour side; whereas the latter are hardly won by the best favours, and\nthose in the greatest abundance, too, to espouse your interest.\n\n\"However it be, Critobulus, take courage, endeavour only to become\nvirtuous, and then boldly pursue the friendship of honest men; this is a\nsort of chase in which I may be helpful to you, because I am naturally\ninclined to love. I attack briskly those I love, and lay out all my\nskill to make myself beloved by them. I endeavour to kindle in their\nminds a flame like mine, and to make them desire my company, as ardently\nas I long for theirs. You stand in need of this address when you would\ncontract a friendship with any one. Hide not, then, the secrets of your\nsoul from me, but let me know who they are for whom you have a regard:\nfor, having made it my study to please those who were agreeable to me, I\nbelieve that, by long experience, I have now got some considerable\ninsight into the pursuits and ways of men.\" \"I have longed a great\nwhile,\" said Critobulus, \"to learn this art, especially if it may be\nemployed to gain me the friendship of those whose persons are not only\ncomely and genteel, but whose minds are replenished and adorned with all\nvirtue.\" Socrates replied: \"But my method forbids to use violence, and I\nam of opinion that all men fled from the wretch Scylla, because she\ndetained them by force: whereas the Syrens did no violence to any man,\nand employed only their tuneful voices to detain those who passed near\nthem, so that all stopped to hear, and suffered themselves to be\ninsensibly charmed by the music of their songs.\" \"Be sure,\" said\nCritobulus, \"that I will use no violence to them whose friendship I would\ngain, and therefore delay no longer to teach me your art.\" \"Will you\ngive me your word likewise,\" said Socrates, \"that you will not even give\nthem a kiss?\" \"I promise you,\" said Critobulus, \"I will not, unless they\nare very beautiful persons.\" \"You mistake the matter,\" replied Socrates;\n\"the beautiful permit not those liberties; but the ugly grant them freely\nenough, because they know very well that should any beauty be ascribed to\nthem, it is only in consideration of that of the soul.\" \"I will not\ntransgress in this point,\" said Critobulus; \"only impart to me the secret\nyou know to gain friends.\"\n\n\"When you would contract a friendship with any one,\" said Socrates, \"you\nmust give me leave to tell him that you have a great esteem for him, and\nthat you desire to be his friend.\" \"With all my heart,\" answered\nCritobulus; \"for sure no man can wish ill to a man who esteems him.\" \"And\nif I add besides,\" continued Socrates, \"that because you set a great\nvalue on his merit you have much affection for his person, will you not\ntake it amiss?\" \"Not at all,\" said Critobulus; \"for I am sensible we\nhave a great kindness for those who bear us goodwill.\" \"I may, then,\"\nsaid Socrates, \"speak in that manner to those whom you desire to love:\nbut will you likewise give me leave to advance that your greatest\npleasure is to have good friends, that you take great care of them, that\nyou behold their good actions with as much joy as if you yourself had\nperformed them, and that you rejoice at their good fortune as much as at\nyour own: that you are never weary when you are serving them, and that\nyou believe it the glory of a man of honour to surpass his friends in\nbenefits, and his enemies in valour? By this means I think I shall be\nvery useful to you in procuring you good friends.\" \"Why do you ask me\nleave,\" said Critobulus, \"as if you might not say of me whatever you\nplease?\" \"No, indeed,\" answered Socrates, \"for I remember what Aspasia\nonce said, that match-makers are successful in their business when they\ntell truth of the persons in whose behalf they court, but that the\nmarriages made by their lies are unfortunate, because they who are\ndeceived hate one another, and hate yet more the person that put them\ntogether. And therefore, for the same reason, I think I ought not to\ntell lies in your praise.\" \"You are then so far only my friend,\" replied\nCritobulus, \"that if I have any good qualities to make myself be\nesteemed, you will assist me; if not, you will invent nothing in my\nbehalf.\" \"And do you think,\" said Socrates, \"that I should do you more\nservice in giving you false praises, that are not your due, than by\nexhorting you to merit the praise of all men? If you doubt of this,\nconsider the consequences of it. If, for instance, I should tell the\nowner of a ship that you are an excellent pilot, and he upon that should\ngive you the conduct of the vessel, what hopes could you have that you\nshould not perish? Or if I should say, publicly, that you are an\nexperienced general, or a great politician, and if you, by that character\nwhich I should unjustly have obtained for you, should be promoted to the\nsupreme magistracy, to what dangers would you expose your own life, and\nthe fortune of the State? Or if I should make any private person believe\nthat you were a good economist, and he should trust you afterwards with\nthe care of his family, would not you be the ruin of his estate, and\nexpose yourself to ridicule and contempt? Which is as much as to say,\nCritobulus, that the shortest and surest way to live with honour in the\nworld is to be in reality what we would appear to be: and if you observe,\nyou will find that all human virtues increase and strengthen themselves\nby the practice and experience of them. Take my advice, then, and labour\nto acquire them: but if you are of a different opinion, pray let me know\nit.\" \"I might well be ashamed,\" answered Critobulus, \"to contradict you:\nfor no good nor solid objection can be brought against so rational an\nassertion.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. SOCRATES SHOWETH ARISTARCHUS HOW TO GET RID OF POVERTY.\n\n\nSocrates had an extreme tenderness for his friends, and if through\nimprudence they fell into any misfortune, he endeavoured to comfort them\nby his good counsels; if they laboured under poverty he did all he could\nto relieve them, teaching all men that they ought mutually to assist one\nanother in necessity. I will set down some examples of his behaviour in\nthese occasions.\n\nMeeting Aristarchus, who looked very dejected, he said to him, \"I see,\nAristarchus, that something troubles you, but impart the cause of your\ngrief to your friends, and perhaps we may comfort you.\" \"Indeed,\" said\nhe, \"I am in great affliction; for since the late troubles, many persons\nhaving fled for shelter to the Piraeus, it has so fallen out that my\nsisters, nieces, and cousins have all thrown themselves upon me, so that\nI have no less than fourteen of them to maintain. You know very well\nthat we receive no profit of our lands, the enemies being masters of the\nopen country; our houses in the city are uninhabited, there being at\npresent very little company in Athens; nobody will buy any goods; no man\nwill lend money upon any interest whatever, and I believe we may as soon\ntake it up in the middle of the streets as find where to borrow it. And\nI am much concerned that I shall not be able to assist my relations whom\nI see ready to perish, while it is impossible for me to maintain them in\nthe present scarcity of all things.\" Socrates having heard him\npatiently, said to him, \"How comes it to pass that Ceramon, who has so\nmany persons in his family, finds means not only to maintain them, but\nlikewise to enrich himself by the profit he makes of them, and that you\nare afraid of starving to death, because you have a great many in your\nfamily?\" \"The reason,\" answered Aristarchus, \"is this, Ceramon has none\nbut slaves to take care of, and I am to provide for persons who are\nfree.\" Socrates went on: \"For which have you most esteem, for Ceramon's\nslaves, or for the persons who are at your house?\" \"There is no\ncomparison between them,\" said Aristarchus. \"Is it not then a shameful\nthing,\" replied Socrates, \"that Ceramon should grow rich by means of\nthose whom you acknowledge to be of less value, and that you should grow\npoor and be reduced to straits, though you keep men of condition in your\nhouse, whom you value more?\" \"By no means,\" said Aristarchus, \"there is\na wide difference betwixt the two; the slaves that Ceramon keeps follow\nsome trades, but the persons I have with me have had a liberal education\nand follow none.\" \"May not he,\" replied Socrates, \"who knows how to do\nanything that is useful be said to know a trade?\" \"Yes, certainly.\" \"And\nare not,\" continued Socrates, \"oatmeal, bread, the clothes of men and\nwomen, cassocks, coats, and other the like manufactures, things very\nuseful?\" \"Without doubt.\" \"And do not the persons at your house know\nhow to make any of these things?\" \"On the contrary,\" said Aristarchus,\n\"I believe they know how to make all of them.\" \"What are you then afraid\nof,\" added Socrates? \"Why do you complain of poverty, since you know how\nto get rich? Do not you observe how wealthy Nausicides is become, what\nnumerous herds he is master of, and what vast sums he lends the Republic?\nNow what made this man so rich? Why, nothing but one of those\nmanufactures we mentioned, that of making oatmeal. You see, too, that\nCirthes keeps all his family, and lives at his ease upon what he has got\nby being a baker. And how doth Demeas, of the village of Colyttus, get\nhis livelihood? By making cassocks. What makes Menon live so\ncomfortably? His cloak manufacture. And are not most of the inhabitants\nof Megara in good circumstances enough by the trade which they drive of\ncoats and short jackets?\" \"I grant all this,\" said Aristarchus, \"but\nstill there is a difference betwixt these persons and me: for, whereas,\nthey have with them some barbarians whom they have bought, and compel to\nwork what brings them in gain; I, for my part, keep only ladies and\ngentlemen at my house, persons who are free, and some of them my own\nrelations. Now would you have me to set them to work?\" \"And because\nthey are free and your relations,\" said Socrates, \"do you think they\nought to do nothing but eat and sleep? Do you observe that they, who\nlive thus idle and at their ease, lead more comfortable lives than\nothers? Do you think them more content, more cheerful, that is to say,\nmore happy than those who employ themselves in any of those manufactures\nwe have mentioned, or in whatever else tends to the utility or\nconvenience of life? Do you imagine that idleness and laziness\ncontribute toward our learning things necessary; that they can enable us\nto retain those things we have already learnt; that they help to\nstrengthen the body or keep it in health; that they can assist us to get\nriches, or keep what we have got already; and do you believe that labour\nand industry are good for nothing? Why did your ladies learn what you\nsay they know. Did they believe them to be useless things, and had they\nresolved never to put them in practice? Or, on the contrary, was it with\ndesign to employ themselves in those matters, and to get something by\nthem? Is it a greater piece of wisdom to sit still and do nothing, than\nto busy oneself in things that are of use in life, and that turn to\naccount? And is it not more reasonable for a man to work than to be with\nhis arms across, thinking how he shall do to live? Shall I tell you my\nmind, Aristarchus? Well, then, I am of opinion that in the condition you\nare in you cannot love your guests, nor they you for this reason, that\nyou, on the one hand, feel they are a burden to you, and they, on the\nother, perceive you uneasy and discontented on their account. And it is\nto be feared that the discontent will increase on both sides, and that\nthe sense of past favours will wear off; but when you set them to work\nyou will begin to love them, because they will bring you some profit; and\nwhen they find that you regard them with more complacency they will not\nfail to have more love for you. The remembrance of your kindnesses will\nbe more grateful to them, and the obligations they have to you will be\nthe greater. In a word, you will be kinder relations and better friends.\nIndeed, if what they were to do was a thing worthy of blame, it would be\nbetter to die than to think of it; but what they can do is honourable,\nand becoming of their sex, and whoever knows how to do a thing well will\nacquit himself of it with honour and pleasure. Therefore defer no longer\nto make the proposal to them, since it will be so advantageous to all of\nyou, and be assured they will receive it with joy and pleasure.\" \"Good\nGod! what a fine scheme you have proposed! Indeed, I cannot but approve\nof it; nay, it has made such a wonderful impression on my mind, that\nwhereas I was lately against borrowing money at all, because I saw that\nwhen I had spent it I should not be in a condition to repay it, I am now\nresolved to go try where I can take some up upon any terms, to buy tools\nand other materials to set ourselves to work.\"\n\nWhat was proposed was forthwith executed. Aristarchus bought what he\nwanted; he laid in a provision of wool, and the ladies worked from\nmorning to night. This occupation diverted their melancholy, and,\ninstead of the uneasiness there was before between them and Aristarchus,\nthey began to live in a reciprocal satisfaction. The ladies loved him as\ntheir protector, and he considered them as persons who were very useful\nand necessary to him.\n\nTo conclude, some time afterwards Aristarchus came to see Socrates, and\nrelated the whole matter to him with great content, and told him the\nwomen began to complain that none but he was idle. \"Why do you not put\nthem in mind,\" said Socrates, \"of the fable of the dog? For, in the days\nwhen beasts could speak, according to the fable, the sheep said to her\nmaster, 'You are a strange man; we yield you wool, lambs, and cheeses,\nand yet you give us nothing but what we can get upon the ground; and the\ndog, who brings you in no profit, is kindly used, for you feed him with\nthe same bread you eat yourself.' The dog, overhearing this complaint,\nanswered her: 'It is not without reason that I am used so well. It is I\nwho protect you; it is I who hinder thieves from taking you away, and\nwolves from sucking your blood. If I were not always keeping watch about\nyou, you would not dare so much as to go to feed.' This answer was the\nreason that the sheep yielded freely to the dog the honour they pretended\nto before. In like manner do you also let these ladies know that it is\nyou who are their guardian and protector, and that you watch over them\nfor their safety with as much care as a faithful and courageous dog\nwatcheth over a herd committed to his charge. Tell them that because of\nyou no man dares hurt them, and that it is by your means that they live\nat ease and in safety.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES PERSUADES EUTHERUS TO ABANDON HIS FORMER WAY OF\nLIVING, AND TO BETAKE HIMSELF TO SOME MORE USEFUL AND HONOURABLE\nEMPLOYMENT.\n\n\nAnother time, meeting with Eutherus, one of his old friends, whom he had\nnot seen for a great while before, he inquired of him from whence he\ncame? \"At present,\" answered Eutherus, \"I come not from abroad; but\ntowards the end of the war I returned from a voyage I had made, for,\nafter having lost all the estate I had upon the frontiers, and my father\nhaving left me nothing in Attica, I was forced to work for my living, and\nI believe it better to do so than to be troublesome to others; besides, I\ncan no longer borrow anything, because I have nothing left to mortgage.\"\n\"And how much longer,\" said Socrates, \"do you think you shall be able to\nwork for your living?\" \"Alas! but a short while,\" answered Eutherus.\n\"Nevertheless,\" replied Socrates, \"when you come to be old it will cost\nyou something to maintain yourself, and yet you will not then be able to\nearn anything.\" \"You say very true.\" \"You had best, then,\" continued\nSocrates, \"employ yourself now in business that will enable you to lay by\nsomething for your old age, and get into the service of some rich man,\nwho has occasion for an economist, to have the inspection over his\nworkmen, to gather in his fruits, to preserve what belongs to him, that\nhe may reward you for the service you do him.\" \"I should find it very\ndifficult,\" replied Eutherus, \"to submit to be a slave.\" \"Yet,\" said\nSocrates, \"the magistrates in republics, and all that are in employments,\nare not, therefore, reputed slaves; on the contrary, they are esteemed\nhonourable.\" \"Be that as it will,\" said Eutherus, \"I can never think of\nentering into any office where I might be liable to blame, for I would\nnot like to be censured by another.\" \"But where,\" said Socrates, \"will\nyou find any employment in which a man is absolutely perfect, and\naltogether free from blame? For it is very difficult to be so exact as\nnot to fail sometimes, and even though we should not have failed, it is\nhard to escape the censure of bad judges; and I should think it a very\nodd and surprising thing if in that very employment wherein you say you\nare now engaged you were so dexterous and expert as that no man should\nfind anything amiss.\n\n\"What you are, therefore, to observe is to avoid those who make it their\nbusiness to find fault without reason, and to have to do with more\nequitable persons; to undertake what you can actually perform, to reject\nwhat you find yourself unfit to do; and when you have taken in hand to do\nanything, to accomplish it in a manner the most excellent and perfect you\ncan. Thus you will be less subject to be blamed, will find relief to\nyour poverty, lead an easier life, be out of danger, and will\nsufficiently provide for the necessities of your old age.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. IN WHAT MANNER SOCRATES TAUGHT HIS FRIEND CRITO TO RID\nHIMSELF OF SOME INFORMERS, WHO TOOK THE ADVANTAGE OF HIS EASY TEMPER.\n\n\nOne day Crito, happening to meet Socrates, complained to him that it was\nvery difficult for a man who would keep what he had to live in Athens;\n\"for,\" said he, \"I am now sued by some men, though I never did them the\nleast injury, but only because they know that I had rather give them a\nlittle money than embroil myself in the troubles of law.\" Socrates said\nto him, \"Do you keep dogs to hinder the wolves from coming at your\nflocks?\" \"You need not doubt but I do,\" answered Crito. \"Ought you not\nlikewise,\" replied Socrates, \"to keep a man who were able to drive away\nall those that trouble you without cause?\" \"I would with all my heart,\"\nsaid Crito, \"but that I fear that in the end he, too, would turn against\nme.\" \"Why so?\" said Socrates; \"is it not better to serve a man like you,\nand to receive favours from him, than to have him for an enemy? You may\nbe certain that there are in this city many men who would think\nthemselves very happy to be honoured with your friendship.\"\n\nAfter this they happened to see a certain person name Archedemus, who was\na man of very good parts, eloquent, and extremely skilful in the\nmanagement of affairs; but withal very poor and in a low condition, for\nhe was not of that sordid disposition to take all he could get, by what\nmeans soever, but he was a lover of justice and of honest men, and\nabhorred to make rich, or to raise himself by informing and backbiting;\nfor he held that nothing was more base than that wretched practice of\nthose miscreants called sycophants or informers. Crito cast an eye upon\nhim, and as often as they brought him any corn, or wine, or oil, or any\nother thing from his country-houses, he sent him some of it; when he\noffered sacrifices he invited him to the feasts, and showed him many\ncivilities of the like nature. Archedemus, seeing the doors of that\nhouse open to him at all times, and that he always found so favourable a\nreception, laid aside all his former dependences, and trusted himself\nwholly to Crito; then he made it his business immediately to inquire into\nthe characters of those sycophants who had slandered Crito or informed\nagainst him, and found them to be guilty of many crimes, and that they\nhad a great number of enemies. This encouraged him to take them to task,\nand he prosecuted one of them for a crime which would have subjected him\nto a corporal punishment, or at least to a pecuniary mulct. This fellow,\nwho knew his case to be bad, and that he could not justify himself,\nemployed all sorts of stratagems to get rid of Archedemus, who\nnevertheless would not quit his hold till the other had discharged Crito,\nand given him money besides, in name of trouble and charges. He managed\nseveral of his affairs with like success, which made Crito be thought\nhappy in having him; and as when a shepherd has an excellent dog, the\nother shepherds are glad to bring their flocks near his that they may be\nsafe likewise, so several of Crito's friends began to make their court to\nhim, and begged him to lend them Archedemus to defend them. He, for his\npart, was glad to oblige Crito; and it was observed at length that not\nonly Crito lived undisturbed, but all his friends likewise; and if any\none reproached Archedemus that self-interest had made him his master's\ncreature, and to adore him and be so faithful and zealous in his service\nhe would answer him thus:--\"Which of the two do you think most\ndishonourable--to do services to men of quality from whom we have\nreceived favours, and to enter into their friendship to declare war\nagainst bad men, or to endeavour to prejudice men of honour, and to make\nthem our enemies, that bad men may be our friends?\" From thenceforward\nCrito contracted a strict friendship with Archedemus, and all his friends\nhad likewise a great respect for him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. SOCRATES ADVISES DIODORUS TO DO JUSTICE TO THE MERIT OF\nHERMOGENES, AND TO ACCEPT OF HIS SERVICE AND FRIENDSHIP.\n\n\nSocrates, meeting one day with Diodorus, addressed him thus:--\"If one of\nyour slaves ran away, would you give yourself any trouble to find him?\"\n\"Yes, certainly,\" answered he; \"and I would give public notice, and\npromise a reward to any that brought him to me.\" \"And if one of them\nwere sick, would you take care of him, and send for physicians to\nendeavour to save his life?\" \"Without doubt I would.\" \"And if you saw,\"\nreplied Socrates, \"one of your friends--that is to say, a person who\nrenders you a thousand times more service than a slave, reduced to\nextreme want--ought you not to relieve him? I speak this to you on\naccount of Hermogenes. You very well know he is not ungrateful, and that\nhe would scorn to receive the least favour from you and not return you\nthe like. You know likewise that a great number of slaves are not to be\nvalued like one man who serves willingly, who serves with zeal and\naffection, and who is not only capable of doing what he is desired, but\nwho can likewise of himself think of many things that may be of service\nto us; who reasons well, who foresees what may happen, and from whom we\nmay expect to receive good advice. Now, the best managers hold it as a\nmaxim that when we find anything of value to be sold cheap we ought to\nbuy it. Think of it, therefore, for as times now go you may procure\nyourself many friends at a cheap rate.\" \"You say right,\" replied\nDiodorus, \"and therefore pray send Hermogenes to me.\" \"Excuse me in\nthat,\" answered Socrates, \"you would do as well to go to him yourself as\nto send for him.\"\n\nThis discourse was the reason that Diodorus went to Hermogenes, and for a\nsmall gratification obliged him to be his friend; after which Hermogenes\ntook particular care to please Diodorus, and sought all opportunities of\nserving him and of giving him content.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\nCHAPTER I. OF THE QUALIFICATIONS OF A GENERAL.\n\n\nLet us now see how Socrates was serviceable to those who were desirous to\nqualify themselves for employments of trust and honour, by advising them\nto apply themselves diligently to the study of their duty, that they\nmight acquire a perfect knowledge of it.\n\nHaving heard that there was arrived at Athens one Dionysodorus, who\nundertook to teach the art of war, he made the following discourse to one\nof his friends, who pretended to one of the highest posts in the army:--\n\n\"It were a scandalous thing,\" said Socrates to him, \"for a man who aims\nto be chief over others, to neglect to learn how to command, when so fair\nan opportunity offers; nay, I think he would rather deserve to be\npunished, than the man who should undertake to make a statue without\nhaving learnt the sculptor's trade; for as in war the whole fortune of\nthe Republic is trusted to the general, it is to be presumed that his\ngood conduct will procure success, and that his faults will be followed\nwith great losses. And, therefore, a man who should neglect to make\nhimself capable of such an employment, and yet pretend to it, ought to be\nseverely punished.\" By these reasons he persuaded this young man to get\nhimself instructed.\n\nAfter the youth had imagined that he had acquired some knowledge of the\nart, he returned to pay Socrates a visit, who, jesting him, addressed the\ncompany that were present in this manner:--\"Do not you think, gentlemen,\nthat as Homer, when speaking of Agamemnon, gives him the surname of\nvenerable, we ought also to bestow the same epithet on this young man,\nwho justly deserveth to be called by that name, since, like him, he has\nlearned how to command? For, as a man who can play on the lute is a\nplayer on that instrument, though he never toucheth it; and as he who is\nknowing in the art of physic is a physician, though he never practise; so\nthis young man, having learned to command is become a general, though not\na man of us should ever give our voice to make him so. On the contrary,\nit is in vain for him who knows not how to command, to get himself\nchosen; he will not be one jot a better general for it, no more than he\nwho knows nothing of physic is a better physician, because he has the\nreputation of being one.\" Then turning towards the young man, he went\non--\"But because it may happen that one of us may have the honour of\ncommanding a regiment or a company in the troops that are to compose your\narmy, to the end we may not be entirely ignorant of the military art,\npray tell us by what he began to instruct you.\" \"By what he ended,\"\nanswered the young man; \"for he showed me only the order that ought to be\nobserved in an army, either in marching, encamping, or fighting.\" \"But\nwhat is that,\" said Socrates, \"in comparison of the many other duties\nincumbent on a general? He must, besides, take care for the preparations\nof war; he must furnish the soldiers with necessary ammunition and\nprovisions; he must be inventive, laborious, diligent, patient, quick of\napprehension; he must be mild and rigorous together; he must be open and\nclose; he must know to preserve his own, and take what is another's; he\nmust be prodigal and a ravager; he must be liberal and covetous; he must\nbe wary, and yet enterprising. I confess that he ought to know likewise\nhow to draw up his troops in order of battle; and, indeed, order and\ndiscipline are the most important things in an army, and without them it\nis impossible to have any other service of the troops than of a confused\nheap of stones, bricks, timber, and tiles; but when everything is in its\ndue place, as in a building, when the foundations and the covering are\nmade of materials that will not grow rotten, and which no wet can damage,\nsuch as are stones and tiles, and when the bricks and timber are employed\nin their due places in the body of the edifice, they altogether make a\nhouse, which we value among our most considerable enjoyments.\" Here the\nyoung man, interrupting him, said:--\n\n\"This comparison puts me in mind of another thing that generals ought to\nobserve; which is, to place their best soldiers in the first and last\nranks, and the others in the middle; that those in the first rank may\ndraw them on, and those in the last push them forward.\" \"He has taught\nyou too,\" said Socrates, \"how to know the good and the bad soldiers\nasunder, otherwise this rule can be of no use to you; for if you were to\nreckon money upon a table, and were ordered to lay the best at the two\nends, and the worst in the middle, how could you do this, if you had not\nbeen shown how to distinguish between the good and the bad?\" \"Indeed,\"\nreplied the young man, \"he did not teach me what you mention; and, I\nsuppose, we must learn of ourselves to discern the good soldiers from the\nbad.\" \"If you please,\" continued Socrates, \"let us consider how a\ngeneral ought to govern himself in this matter. If it were to take any\nmoney, ought he not to make the most covetous march in the front? If it\nwere an action of great peril, ought he not to send the most ambitious,\nbecause they are the men who, out of a desire of glory, rush into the\nmidst of dangers? And as for them, you would not be much troubled to\nknow them, for they are forward enough in discovering themselves. But\ntell me, when this master showed you the different ways of ordering an\narmy, did he teach you when to make use of one way, and when of another?\"\n\"Not at all,\" answered he. \"And yet,\" replied Socrates, \"the same order\nis not always to be observed, nor the same commands given, but to be\nchanged according to the different occasions.\" \"He taught me nothing of\nthat,\" said the young man. \"Go to him, then,\" added Socrates, \"and ask\nhim concerning it; for if he know anything of the matter, and have ever\nso little honour, he will be ashamed to have taken your money and send\nyou away so ill-instructed.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PRINCE.\n\n\nAnother time he asked a general, whom the Athenians had lately chosen,\nwhy Homer calls Agamemnon the pastor of the people? \"Is it not,\" said\nhe, \"because as a shepherd ought to take care of his flocks, that they be\nwell and want for nothing; so a general ought to take care to keep his\nsoldiers always in a good condition, to see they be supplied with\nprovisions, and to bring to a happy issue the design that made them take\narms, which is to overcome their enemies, and to live more happily\nafterwards? And why does the same poet praise Agamemnon likewise for\nbeing--\n\n    'At once a gracious prince and generous warrior'?\n\nFor is it not true, that to gain a prince the character of being generous\nand a warrior too, it is not sufficient to be brave in his own person,\nand to fight with intrepidity; but he must likewise animate the whole\narmy, and be the cause that every soldier behave himself like him? and to\ngain the reputation of a good and gracious prince, it is not enough to\nhave secured his private affairs, he must also take care that plenty and\nhappiness be seen in all places of his dominions. For kings are not\nchosen to take care of themselves only, but to render happy the people\nwho choose them. All people engage in war only to secure their own\nquiet, and choose commanders that they may have guides to conduct them to\nthe end which they propose to themselves. A general, therefore, ought to\nprepare the way of good fortune to those who raise him to that dignity;\nthis is the most glorious success he can desire, as nothing can be more\nignominious to him than to do the contrary.\"\n\nWe see by this discourse that Socrates, designing to give the idea of a\ngood prince, required scarce anything of him but to render his subjects\nhappy.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. ON THE BUSINESS OF A GENERAL OF HORSE.\n\n\nSocrates at another time, as I well remember, had the following\nconference with a general of the cavalry:--\n\n\"What was your reason,\" said Socrates, \"to desire this office? I cannot\nthink it was that you might march first at the head of the troops, for\nthe horse-archers are to march before you. Nor can I believe it was to\nmake yourself be known, for no men are more generally known than madmen.\nPerhaps it was because you thought you could mend what was amiss in the\ncavalry, and make the troops better than they are, to the end that if the\nRepublic should have occasion to use them, you might be able to do your\ncountry some eminent service.\" \"That is my design,\" answered the other.\n\"It were well you could do this,\" said Socrates, \"but does not your\noffice oblige you to have an eye on the horses and troopers?\" \"Most\ncertainly.\" \"What course will you then take,\" continued Socrates, \"to\nget good horses?\" \"It is not my business to look to that,\" replied the\ngeneral; \"every trooper must take care for himself.\" \"And what,\" said\nSocrates, \"if they bring you horses whose feet and legs are good for\nnothing, or that are so weak and lean that they cannot keep up with the\nothers, or so restive and vicious that it would be impossible to make\nthem keep their ranks, what good could you expect from such cavalry? What\nservice would you be able to do the State?\" \"You are much in the right,\nSocrates, and I promise you I will take care what horses are in my\ntroops.\" \"And will you not have an eye likewise on the troopers?\" \"Yes,\"\nanswered he. \"In my opinion then,\" answered Socrates, \"the first thing\nyou ought to do is to make them learn to get a horseback.\" \"No doubt of\nit,\" replied the general, \"for by that means they would the more easily\nescape, if they should happen to be thrown off their horses.\" Socrates\nwent on: \"You ought also to make them exercise, sometimes here, sometimes\nthere, and particularly in places like those where the enemy generally\nis, that they may be good horsemen in all sorts of countries; for when\nyou are to fight you will not send to bid the enemy come to you in the\nplain, where you used to exercise your horse. You must train them up,\nlikewise, to lance the spear; and if you would make them very brave\nfellows, you must inspire them with a principle of honour, and inflame\nthem with rage against the enemy.\" \"Fear not,\" said he, \"that I will\nspare my labour.\" \"But have you,\" resumed Socrates, \"thought on the\nmeans to make yourself obeyed? for without that all your brave troopers\nwill avail you nothing.\" \"It is true,\" said he, \"but how shall I gain\nthat point of them?\" \"Know you not,\" said Socrates, \"that in all things\nmen readily obey those whom they believe most capable? Thus in our\nsickness we most willingly submit to the prescriptions of the best\nphysicians; at sea, to the most I skilful pilot; and in affairs of\nagriculture, to him who has most experience in it.\" \"All this I grant\nyou.\" \"It is then to be presumed, that in the conduct of the cavalry he\nwho makes it appear that he understands it best will be the person whom\nthe others will be best pleased to obey.\" \"But if I let them see that I\nam most worthy to command, will that be sufficient to make them obey me?\"\n\"Yes, certainly,\" said Socrates, \"if you can persuade them besides that\ntheir honour and safety depend on that obedience.\" \"And how shall I be\nable to make them sensible of this?\" \"With less trouble,\" answered\nSocrates, \"than it would be to prove that it is better to be virtuous\nthan vicious.\" \"Then a general,\" added the other, \"ought to study the\nart of speaking well?\" \"Do you imagine,\" said Socrates, \"that he will be\nable to execute his office without speaking a word? It is by speech that\nwe know what the laws command us to learn for the conduct of our lives.\nNo excellent knowledge can be attained without the use of speech; the\nbest method to instruct is by discourse, and they who are thoroughly\nversed in the sciences speak with the applause of all the world. But\nhave you observed,\" continued he, \"that in all sorts of occasions the\nAthenians distinguish themselves above all the Greeks, and that no\nRepublic can show such youths as that of Athens? For example: when we\nsend from hence a choir of musicians to the Temple of Apollo in the Isle\nof Delos, it is certain that none comparable to them are sent from other\ncities; not that the Athenians have better voices than the others, nor\nthat their bodies are more robust and better made, but the reason is\nbecause they are more fond of honour, and this desire of honour is what\nexcites men to excellent actions. Do not you think, therefore, that if\ngood care were taken of our cavalry, it would excel that of other\nnations, in the beauty of arms and horses, in order of good discipline,\nand in bravery in fight; provided the Athenians were persuaded that this\nwould be a means to acquire them glory and renown?\" \"I am of your\nopinion.\" \"Go, then, and take care of your troops,\" said Socrates, \"make\nthem serviceable to you, that you may be so to the Republic.\" \"Your\nadvice is good,\" said he, \"and I will immediately follow it.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH NICOMACHIDES, IN WHICH HE\nSHOWETH THAT A MAN SKILFUL IN HIS OWN PROPER BUSINESS, AND WHO MANAGES\nHIS AFFAIRS WITH PRUDENCE AND SAGACITY, MAY MAKE, WHEN OCCASION OFFERS, A\nGOOD GENERAL.\n\n\nAnother time, Socrates meeting Nicomachides, who was coming from the\nassembly where they had chosen the magistrates, asked him, \"of whom they\nhad made choice to command the army?\" Nicomachides answered: \"Alas! the\nAthenians would not chose me; me! who have spent all my life in arms, and\nhave gone through all the degrees of a soldier; who have been first a\nprivate sentinel, then a captain, next a colonel of horse, and who am\ncovered all over with wounds that I have received in battles\" (at these\nwords he bared his breast, and showed the large scars which were\nremaining in several places of his body); \"but they have chosen\nAntisthenes, who has never served in the infantry, who even in the\ncavalry never did anything remarkable, and whose only talent consists in\nknowing how to get money.\" \"So much the better,\" said Socrates, \"for\nthen the army will be well paid.\" \"A merchant,\" replied Nicomachides,\n\"knows how to get money as well as he; and does it follow from thence\nthat he is fit to be a general?\" \"You take no notice,\" replied Socrates,\n\"that Antisthenes is fond of honour, and desirous to excel all others in\nwhatever he undertakes, which is a very necessary qualification in a\ngeneral. Have you not observed, that whenever he gave a comedy to the\npeople, he always gained the prize?\" \"There is a wide difference,\"\nanswered Nicomachides, \"between commanding an army and giving orders\nconcerning a comedy.\" \"But,\" said Socrates, \"though Antisthenes\nunderstands not music, nor the laws of the stage, yet he found out those\nwho were skilful in both, and by their means succeeded extremely well.\"\n\"And when he is at the head of the army,\" continued Nicomachides, \"I\nsuppose you will have him to find out too some to give orders, and some\nto fight for him?\" \"Why not?\" replied Socrates, \"for if in the affairs\nof war he take the same care to provide himself with persons skilful in\nthat art, and fit to advise him, as he did in the affair of the plays, I\nsee not what should hinder him from gaining the victory in the former as\nwell as in the latter. And it is very likely that he will be better\npleased to expend his treasure to obtain an entire victory over the\nenemy, which will redound to the honour and interest of the whole\nRepublic, than to be at a great expense for shows, to overcome his\ncitizens in magnificence, and to gain a victory, which can be honourable\nto none but himself and those of his tribe.\" \"We must then infer,\" said\nNicomachides, \"that a man who knows well how to give a comedy knows well\nhow to command an army?\" \"Let us rather conclude,\" answered Socrates,\n\"that every man who has judgment enough to know the things that are\nnecessary for his designs, and can procure them, can never fail of\nsuccess, whether he concern himself with the stage, or govern a State, or\ncommand an army, or manage a family.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" resumed Nicomachides, \"I could never have thought you would\nhave told me, too, that a good economist would make a good general.\"\n\"Come, then,\" said Socrates, \"let us examine wherein consists the duty of\nthe one and of the other, and see what relation there is between those\ntwo conditions. Must not both of them keep those that are under them in\nsubmission and obedience?\" \"I grant it.\" \"Must not both of them take\ncare to employ every one in the business he is fit for? Must he not\npunish those who do amiss and reward those that do well? Must they not\nmake themselves be esteemed by those they command? Ought they not alike\nto strengthen themselves with friends to assist them upon occasion? Ought\nthey not to know how to preserve what belongs to them, and to be diligent\nand indefatigable in the performance of their duty?\" \"I own,\" answered\nNicomachides, \"that all you have said concerns them equally; but if they\nwere to fight it would not be the same as to both of them.\" \"Why?\" said\nSocrates. \"Have not both of them enemies?\" \"They have.\" \"And would it\nnot be the advantage of both to get the better of them?\" \"I allow it,\"\nsaid Nicomachides; \"but what will economy be good for when they are to\ncome to blows?\" \"It is then it will be most necessary,\" replied\nSocrates. \"For when the good economist sees that the greatest profit he\ncan get is to overcome, and that the greatest loss he can suffer is to be\nbeaten, he will prepare himself with all the advantages that can procure\nhim the victory, and will carefully avoid whatever might be the cause of\nhis defeat. Thus, when he sees his army well provided with all things,\nand in a condition that seems to promise a good success, he will give his\nenemies battle; but when he wants anything he will avoid coming to an\nengagement with them. Thus you see how economy may be of use to him; and\ntherefore, Nicomachides, despise not those who apply themselves to it;\nfor between the conduct of a family and that of a State the sole\ndifference is that of a greater or lesser number; for as to all besides\nthere is much conformity between them. The sum of what I have advanced\nis this, that without men there could not be any policy or any economy,\nthat they are often executed by the same persons, and that they who are\ncalled to the government of the Republic are the very same whom great men\nemploy for their private affairs. Lastly, that they who make use of\nproper persons for their several businesses are successful in their\neconomy and in politics; and that, on the contrary, they who fail in this\npoint commit great faults both in one and the other.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN SOCRATES AND PERICLES CONCERNING THE\nTHEN PRESENT STATE OF THE REPUBLIC OF ATHENS, IN WHICH SOCRATES LAYS DOWN\nA METHOD BY WHICH THE ATHENIANS MAY RECOVER THEIR ANCIENT LUSTRE AND\nREPUTATION.\n\n\nSocrates one day being in company with Pericles, the son of the great\nPericles, introduced the following discourse:--\n\n\"I hope that when you command the army the Republic will be more\nsuccessful and gain more glory in their wars than formerly.\" \"I should\nbe glad of it,\" answered Pericles, \"but I see little likelihood of it.\"\n\"We may bring this matter to the test,\" said Socrates. \"Is it not true\nthat the Boeotians are not more numerous than the Athenians?\" \"I know\nit.\" \"Nor are they either braver or stronger?\" \"True, they are not.\"\n\"Do you believe that they agree better among themselves?\" \"Quite the\ncontrary,\" said Pericles; \"for there is a great misunderstanding between\nmost of the Boeotians and the Thebans, because of the great hardships the\nlatter put upon the former, and we have nothing of this among us.\" \"But\nthe Boeotians,\" replied Socrates, \"are wonderfully ambitions and\nobliging; and these are the qualities that naturally push men on to\nexpose themselves for the sake of glory and of their country.\" \"The\nAthenians,\" answered Pericles, \"come not short of them in either of those\nqualities.\" \"It is true,\" replied Socrates, \"that there is no nation\nwhose ancestors have done braver actions, and in greater number, than\nthose of the Athenians. And these domestic examples excite us to\ncourage, and create in us a true love of virtue and bravery.\"\n\"Notwithstanding all this,\" continued Pericles, \"you see that after the\ndefeat of Tolmides at Lebadia, where we lost a thousand men, and after\nanother misfortune that happened to Hippocrates before Delium, the\ngreatness of the Athenians is sunk so low, and the courage of the\nBoeotians so increased, that they, who even in their own country durst\nnot look the Athenians in the face without the assistance of the\nLacedemonians and of the other States of the Peloponnesus, now threaten\nAttica with their single forces. And that the Athenians, who before\nravaged Boeotia when it was not defended by foreign troops, begin to\nfear, in their turn, that the Boeotians will put Attica to fire and\nsword.\" \"In my opinion,\" answered Socrates, \"a governor ought to be well\npleased to find a republic in such a condition, for fear makes a people\nmore careful, more obedient, and more submissive. Whereas a too great\nsecurity is attended with carelessness, luxury, and disobedience. This\nis plainly seen in men who are at sea. When they fear not anything,\nthere is nothing in the ship but confusion and disorder; but when they\napprehend that they shall be attacked by pirates, or that a tempest is\nhanging over their head, they not only do whatever they are commanded,\nbut even observe a profound silence, waiting the order of their captain,\nand are as decent and orderly in their behaviour and motions as those who\ndance at a public entertainment.\"\n\n\"We shall yield, then,\" replied Pericles, \"that the Athenians are\nobedient. But how shall we do to create in them an emulation to imitate\nthe virtue of their ancestors to equal their reputation and to restore\nthe happiness of their age in this present one?\" \"If we would have\nthem,\" answered Socrates, \"make themselves masters of an estate, which is\nin the possession of others, we need only tell them that it is descended\nto them from their forefathers, and they will immediately be for having\nit again. If we would encourage them to take the first rank among the\nvirtuous, we must persuade them that it is their due from all antiquity,\nand that if they will take care to preserve to themselves this advantage\nthey will infallibly likewise surpass others in power. We must\nfrequently represent to them that the most ancient of their predecessors\nwere highly esteemed on account of their great virtue.\" \"You would be\nunderstood,\" said Pericles, \"to speak of the contention of two of the\ndivinities concerning the patronage of the city of Athens, of which the\ncitizens, in the days of Cecrops, were chosen arbitrators on account of\ntheir virtue.\" \"You are in the right,\" said Socrates; \"but I would have\nthem be put in mind likewise of the birth and nourishment of Erictheus,\nand of the war that was in his time against the neighbouring nations; as\nalso of that which was made in favour of the descendants of Hercules\nagainst the people of Peloponnesus, and, in short, of all the other wars\nthat were in the days of Theseus, in which our ancestors were always\nreputed the most valiant men of their age. If you think fit, they may\nlikewise be told what the descendants of these ancients and our\npredecessors of the last age have done. They may be represented to them\nas resisting sometimes with their own forces only the nations whom all\nAsia obeyed, whose dominions extended into Europe as far as Macedonia,\nand who had inherited a potent empire from their fathers, together with\nformidable forces, and who were already renowned for many great exploits.\nSometimes you must relate to them the victories they gained by sea and\nland in conjunction with the Lacedemonians, who are likewise reputed a\nvery brave people. They should be told also that great commotions being\narisen among the Greeks, and the most part of them having changed their\nplaces of abode, the Athenians always continued in their country, that\nthey have been chosen by several people to arbitrate their differences,\nand that the oppressed have always fled to them for protection.\" \"When I\nreflect on all this,\" said Pericles, \"I am surprised to see the Republic\nso much fallen off from what it was.\" \"In my opinion,\" replied Socrates,\n\"she has behaved herself like those persons who, for having too great\nadvantage over their rivals, begin to neglect themselves, and grow in the\nend pusillanimous, for after the Athenians saw themselves raised above\nthe other Greeks they indulged themselves in indolence, and became at\nlength degenerate.\"\n\n\"What course must they take now,\" said Pericles, \"to regain the lustre of\ntheir ancient virtue?\" \"They need only call to mind,\" replied Socrates,\n\"what were the exercises and the discipline of their ancestors, and if,\nlike them, they apply themselves to those practices, they will no doubt\narrive at their perfection; or if they will not govern themselves by that\nexample, let them imitate the nations that are now uppermost; let them\nobserve the same conduct, follow the same customs, and be assured they\nwill equal, if not surpass them, if they labour to do so.\" \"You seem to\nbe of opinion, my dear Socrates, that virtue is much estranged from our\nRepublic? And, indeed, when will the Athenians respect old age as they\nof Sparta do, since they begin, even by their own fathers, to deride men\nadvanced in years? When, too, will they use themselves to the manly\nexercises of that Republic, since they not only neglect the good\ndisposition and activity of body, but laugh at those who endeavour to\nacquire them? When will they be obedient to the magistrates, they who\nmake it a glory to despise them? When will they be in perfect unity,\nthey who, instead of assisting, daily prejudice one another, and who envy\none another more than they do all the rest of mankind? They are every\nday quarrelling in the public and private assemblies; they are every day\nsuing one another, and had rather find their own advantage in the ruin of\ntheir neighbours than get an honest gain by reciprocally assisting one\nanother. The magistrates mind not the Government of the Republic any\nfarther than their own interests are concerned, and, therefore, they use\ntheir utmost endeavours to be in office and authority; and for this\nreason in the administration of the State there is so much ignorance and\nmalice, and such animosities, and so many different parties among private\npersons. And I much fear that this mischief will get such a head that at\nlength there will be no remedy against it, and that the Republic will\nsink under the weight of its misfortunes.\"\n\n\"Fear it not,\" said Socrates, \"and do not believe that the Athenians\nlabour under an incurable disease. Do you not observe how skilful and\nobedient they are at sea, that in the combats for prizes they exactly\nobey the orders of those that preside there, and in the comedies how\nreadily they comply with what they are bid to do?\" \"I see it well,\"\nanswered Pericles, \"and cannot but wonder that they are so ready to obey\nin these and the like occasions, and that the military men, who ought to\nbe the chosen part of the citizens, are so mutinous and refractory.\" \"And\nwhat say you,\" pursued Socrates, \"to the Senate of the Areopagus; are\nthey not all of them persons of great worth? Do you know any judges who\ndischarge their office with more integrity, and who more exactly observe\nthe laws, who more faithfully render justice to private men, and who more\nworthily acquit themselves of all manner of affairs?\" \"I blame them\nnot,\" said Pericles. \"Despair not, then, of the Athenians,\" added\nSocrates, \"as of an untractable people.\" \"But it is in war,\" replied\nPericles, \"that much discipline is required, and much modesty and\nobedience, and these things the Athenians wholly want in that occasion.\"\n\"Perhaps, too,\" continued Socrates, \"they who command them know little of\ntheir own duty. Do you not take notice that no man undertakes to govern\na company of musicians, or of comedians, or of dancers, or of wrestlers,\nunless he be capable of it; and that all who take such employments upon\nthem can give an account where they have learnt the exercises of which\nthey are become masters? Our misfortunes in war, then, I very much\napprehend, must be owing in a great measure to the bad education of our\ngenerals.\n\n\"I know very well that you are not of this number, and that you have\nimproved to your advantage the time you have spent in learning the art of\nwar and other laudable exercises. I imagine, likewise, that in the\nmemoirs of your father, the great Pericles, you have found many rare\nstratagems, and that by your diligence you have also collected up and\ndown a great number of others. Nor do I doubt but that you frequently\nmeditate on these matters, that nothing may be wanting in you that may be\nof use to a general. Insomuch, that if you find yourself in doubt of\nanything, you immediately have recourse to those that know it, and spare\nneither presents nor civilities to incline them to assist you and to\nteach you the things of which you are ignorant.\" \"Alas! Socrates,\" said\nPericles, \"you flatter me, and flatter me for many things that, I am\nafraid, I am deficient in; but by that you instruct me in my duty.\"\n\nUpon this Socrates, interrupting him--\"I will,\" said he, \"give you an\nadvice. Have you not observed that in the high mountains, which are the\nfrontiers of Attica, and divide it from Boeotia, the roads through which\nyou must of necessity pass to go from one country to the other are very\nrough and narrow?\" \"Yes, I have.\" \"Tell me, besides, have you never\nheard say that the Mysians and the Pisidians, who are in possession of\nadvantageous places where they dwell in the dominions of the King of\nPersia, arm themselves lightly, and make continual inroads upon the\nneighbouring provinces, and by that means are very troublesome to that\nking's subjects, and preserve their own liberty?\" \"I have heard so.\" \"It\nis probable, too,\" continued Socrates, \"that if the Athenians would\npossess themselves of the mountains that are between Boeotia and Attica,\nand if they took care to send thither some young men with arms proper for\ninroaders, our enemies would be much prejudiced by them, and all those\nmountains would be as a great rampart to cover our country from their\ninsults.\" \"I believe what you say,\" answered Pericles, \"and take all the\nadvices you have given me to be very good.\" \"If you think them so,\"\nreplied Socrates, \"endeavour, my friend, to put them in practice; for if\nany of them succeed you will receive the honour, and the Republic the\nprofit; and even though they should not meet with success the Republic\nwould have no inconvenience to apprehend, nor you the least dishonour.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. SOCRATES DISSUADES GLAUCON, A VERY FORWARD YOUTH, FROM\nTAKING UPON HIM THE GOVERNMENT OF THE REPUBLIC, FOR WHICH HE WAS UNFIT.\n\n\nA young man whose name was Glaucon, the son of Ariston, had so fixed it\nin his head to govern the Republic, that before he was twenty years of\nage he frequently presented himself before the people to discourse of\naffairs of state; nor was it in the power of his relations or friends to\ndissuade him from that design, though all the world laughed at him for\nit, and though sometimes he was dragged from the tribunal by force.\nSocrates had a kindness for him, upon account of Plato and Charmidas, and\nhe only it was who made him change his resolution. He met him, and\naccosted him in so winning a manner, that he first obliged him to hearken\nto his discourse. He began with him thus:--\n\n\"You have a mind, then, to govern the Republic, my friend?\" \"I have so,\"\nanswered Glaucon. \"You cannot,\" replied Socrates, \"have a more noble\ndesign; for if you can accomplish it you will be absolute. You will be\nable to serve your friends, you will raise your family, you will extend\nthe bounds of your country, you will be known not only in Athens but\nthrough all Greece, and perhaps your renown will fly even to the\nbarbarous nations, as did that of Themistocles. In short, wherever you\ncome you will be respected and admired.\"\n\nThese words soothed up Glaucon, and won him to give ear to Socrates, who\nwent on in this manner:--\"But it is certain, my dear friend, that if you\ndesire to be honoured, you must be useful to the State.\" \"Certainly,\"\nsaid Glaucon. \"I conjure you, then, to tell me,\" replied Socrates, \"what\nis the first service that you desire to render the State?\" Glaucon was\nconsidering what to answer, when Socrates continued:--\"If you intended to\nmake the fortune of one of your friends, you would endeavour to make him\nrich, and thus perhaps you will make it your business to enrich the\nRepublic.\" \"I would,\" answered Glaucon. \"Would not the way to enrich\nthe Republic,\" replied Socrates, \"be to increase its revenue?\" \"It is\nvery likely it would,\" said Glaucon. \"Tell me, then, in what consists\nthe revenue of the State, and to how much it may amount? I presume you\nhave particularly studied this matter, to the end that if anything should\nbe lost on one hand, you might know where to make it good on another, and\nthat if a fund should fail on a sudden, you might immediately be able to\nsettle another in its place.\" \"I protest,\" answered Glaucon, \"I have\nnever thought of this.\" \"Tell me at least the expenses of the Republic,\nfor no doubt you intend to retrench the superfluous.\" \"I never thought\nof this neither,\" said Glaucon. \"You had best, then, put off to another\ntime your design of enriching the Republic, which you can never be able\nto do while you are ignorant both of its expense and revenue.\"\n\n\"There is another way to enrich a State,\" said Glaucon, \"of which you\ntake no notice, and that is by the ruin of its enemies.\" \"You are in the\nright,\" answered Socrates; \"but to this end it is necessary to be\nstronger than they, otherwise we should run the hazard of losing what we\nhave. He, therefore, who talks of undertaking a war, ought to know the\nstrength on both sides, to the end that if his party be the stronger, he\nmay boldly advise for war, and that if it be the weaker, he may dissuade\nthe people from engaging themselves in so dangerous an enterprise.\" \"All\nthis is true.\" \"Tell me, then,\" continued Socrates, \"how strong our\nforces are by sea and land, and how strong are our enemies?\" \"Indeed,\"\nsaid Glaucon, \"I cannot tell you that on a sudden.\" \"If you have a list\nof them in writing, pray show it me, I should be glad to hear it read.\"\n\"I never took a list of them.\" \"I see, then,\" said Socrates, \"that we\nshall not engage in war so soon; for it is like that the greatness of the\nundertaking will hinder you from maturely weighing all the consequences\nof it in the beginning of your government. But,\" continued he, \"you have\nthought of the defence of the country, you know what garrisons are\nnecessary, and what are not; you know what number of troops is sufficient\nin one garrison, and not sufficient in another; you will cause the\nnecessary garrisons to be reinforced, and will disband those that are\nuseless?\" \"I should be of opinion,\" said Glaucon, \"to leave none of them\non foot, because they ruin a country, on pretence of defending it.\"\n\"But,\" Socrates objected, \"if all the garrisons were taken away, there\nwould be nothing to hinder the first comer from carrying off what he\npleased. But how come you to know that the garrisons behave themselves\nso ill? Have you been upon the place, have you seen them?\" \"Not at all;\nbut I suspect it to be so.\" \"When, therefore, we are certain of it,\"\nsaid Socrates, \"and can speak upon better grounds than simple\nconjectures, we will propose this advice to the Senate.\" \"It will be\nvery proper to do so,\" said Glaucon.\n\n\"It comes into my mind too,\" continued Socrates, \"that you have never\nbeen at the mines of silver, to examine why they bring not in so much now\nas they did formerly.\" \"You say true, I have never been there.\" \"Indeed,\nthey say the place is very unhealthy, and that may excuse you.\" \"You\nrally me now,\" said Glaucon. Socrates added, \"But I believe you have at\nleast observed how much corn our lands produce, how long it will serve to\nsupply our city, and how much more we shall want for the whole year, to\nthe end you may not be surprised with a scarcity of bread, but may give\ntimely orders for the necessary provisions.\" \"There is a deal to do,\"\nsaid Glaucon, \"if we must take care of all these things.\" \"There is so,\"\nreplied Socrates; \"and it is even impossible to manage our own families\nwell unless we know all that is wanting, and take care to provide it. As\nyou see, therefore, that our city is composed of above ten thousand\nfamilies, and it being a difficult task to watch over them all at once,\nwhy did you not first try to retrieve your uncle's affairs, which are\nrunning to decay, that after having given a proof of your care,\nfaithfulness, and capacity in that smaller trust, you might have taken\nupon you a greater? But now, when you find yourself incapable of aiding\na private man, how can you think of behaving yourself so as to be useful\nto a whole people? Ought a man who has not strength enough to carry a\nhundred pound weight undertake to carry a burden that is much heavier?\"\n\"I would have done good service to my uncle,\" said Glaucon, \"if he would\nhave taken my advice.\" \"How!\" replied Socrates; \"have you hitherto been\nunable to govern your uncle, who is but one person, and do you imagine,\nwhen you have failed in that, to govern the whole Athenians, whose minds\nare so fickle and inconstant? Take heed, my dear Glaucon, take heed,\nlest a too great desire of glory should render you despised. Consider\nhow dangerous it is to speak and employ ourselves about things we do not\nunderstand. What a figure do those forward and rash people make in the\nworld who do so: and you yourself may judge whether they acquire more\nesteem than blame, whether they are more admired than contemned. Think,\non the contrary, with how much honour a man is regarded who understands\nperfectly what he says and what he does, and then you will confess that\nrenown and applause have always been the recompense of true merit, and\nshame the reward of ignorance and temerity. If, therefore, you would be\nhonoured, endeavour to be a man of true merit, for if you enter upon the\ngovernment of the Republic with a mind more sagacious than usual, I shall\nnot wonder if you succeed in all your designs.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. SOCRATES PERSUADETH CHARMIDAS, A PERSON OF MERIT AND GREAT\nCAPACITY, BUT VERY MODEST AND DIFFIDENT OF HIMSELF, TO UNDERTAKE THE\nGOVERNMENT OF THE REPUBLIC.\n\n\nAs Socrates, who was ever watchful for the interests of his country, and\nconsulted the good of every one with whom he conversed, took care, on the\none hand, to dissuade persons who had no capacity for it, however bent\nthey were upon the thing, from entering upon any offices of trust, so he\nwas ever mindful, on the other, to persuade those that were bashful and\ndiffident to take upon themselves the government of the Republic,\nprovided he knew they had proper talents and abilities for it. In\nconfirmation whereof we shall here relate a conversation of his with\nCharmidas, the son of Glaucon. Socrates, who knew him to be a man of\nsense and merit, and more capable to govern the Republic than any that\nwere then in that post, but withal a person very diffident of himself--one\nthat dreaded the people, and was mightily averse from engaging himself in\npublic business--addressed himself to him in this manner:--\n\n\"Tell me, Charmidas, if you knew any man who could gain the prizes in the\npublic games, and by that means render himself illustrious, and acquire\nglory to his country, what would you say of him if he refused to offer\nhimself to the combat?\" \"I would say,\" answered Charmidas, \"that he was\na mean-spirited, effeminate fellow.\" \"And if a man were capable of\ngoverning a Republic, of increasing its power by his advices, and of\nraising himself by this means to a high degree of honour, would you not\nbrand him likewise with meanness of soul if he would not present himself\nto be employed?\" \"Perhaps I might,\" said Charmidas; \"but why do you ask\nme this question?\" \"Because you are capable,\" replied Socrates, \"of\nmanaging the affairs of the Republic, and yet you avoid doing so, though\nin the quality of a citizen you are obliged to take care of the\ncommonwealth.\" \"And wherein have you observed this capacity in me?\"\n\"When I have seen you in conversation with the Ministers of State,\"\nanswered Socrates; \"for if they impart any affairs to you, I see you give\nthem good advice, and when they commit any errors you make them judicious\nremonstrances.\" \"But there is a very great difference, my dear\nSocrates,\" replied Charmidas, \"between discoursing in private and\ncontending in a public manner before the people.\" \"And yet,\" replied\nSocrates, \"a skilful arithmetician can calculate as well in presence of\nseveral persons as when alone; and they who can play well upon the lute\nin their closets play likewise well in company.\" \"But you know,\" said\nCharmidas, \"that fear and shame, which are so natural to man, affect us\nmore in public assemblies than in private companies.\" \"Is it possible,\"\nsaid Socrates, \"that you can converse so unconcernedly with men of parts\nand authority, and that you should not have assurance enough to speak to\nfools? Are you afraid to present yourself before dyers, shoemakers,\nmasons, smiths, labourers, and brokers? for of such are composed the\npopular assemblies. This is the same thing as to be the most expert in a\nfencing-school, and to fear the thrust of an unskilful person who never\nhandled a foil. Thus you, though you speak boldly in the presence of the\nchief men of the Republic, among whom there might perhaps be found some\nwho would despise you, dare not, nevertheless, speak in the presence of\nan illiterate multitude, who know nothing of the affairs of state, and\nwho are not capable of despising you, and you fear to be laughed at by\nthem.\" \"Do they not usually,\" said Charmidas, \"laugh at those who speak\nbest?\" \"So likewise,\" said Socrates, \"do the men of quality with whom\nyou converse every day; and I am surprised that you have eloquence and\npersuasive sense sufficient to bring these to reason, and that you think\nnot yourself capable even to approach the others. Learn to know yourself\nbetter, Charmidas, and take care not to fall into a fault that is almost\ngeneral; for all men inquire curiously enough into the affairs of others,\nbut they never enter into their own bosoms to examine themselves as they\nought.\n\n\"Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter, consider yourself\nwith more attention, and let not slip the occasions of serving the\nRepublic, and of rendering it, if possible, more flourishing than it is.\nThis will be a blessing, whose influence will descend not only on the\nother citizens, but on your best friends and yourself.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES' DISPUTE WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING THE GOOD AND\nBEAUTIFUL.\n\n\nOne day Aristippus proposed a captious question to Socrates, meaning to\nsurprise him; and this by way of revenge, for his having before put him\nto a stand: but Socrates answered him warily, and as a person who has no\nother design in his conversations than the improvement of his hearers.\n\nThe question which Aristippus asked him was whether he knew in the world\nany good thing, and if Socrates had answered him that meat, or drink, or\nriches, or health, or strength, or courage are good things, he would\nforthwith have shown him that it may happen that they are very bad. He\ntherefore gave him such an answer as he ought; and because he knew very\nwell that when we feel any indisposition we earnestly desire to find a\nremedy for it, he said to him: \"Do you ask me, for example, whether I\nknow anything that is good for a fever?\" \"No,\" said Aristippus. \"Or for\nsore eyes?\" said Socrates. \"Neither.\" \"Do you mean anything that is\ngood against hunger?\" \"Not in the least,\" answered Aristippus. \"I\npromise you,\" said Socrates, \"that if you ask me for a good thing that is\ngood for nothing, I know no such thing, nor have anything to do with it.\"\n\nAristippus pressed him yet further, and asked him whether he knew any\nbeautiful thing. \"I know a great many,\" said Socrates. \"Are they all\nlike one another?\" continued Aristippus. \"Not in the least,\" answered\nSocrates, \"for they are very different from one another.\" \"And how is it\npossible that two beautiful things should be contrary one to the other?\"\n\"This,\" said Socrates, \"is seen every day in men: a beautiful make and\ndisposition of body for running is very different from a beautiful make\nand disposition for wrestling: the excellence and beauty of a buckler is\nto cover well him that wears it. On the contrary, the excellence and\nbeauty of a dart is to be light and piercing.\" \"You answer me,\" said\nAristippus, \"as you answered me before, when I asked you whether you knew\nany good thing.\" \"And do you think,\" replied Socrates, \"that the good\nand the beautiful are different? Know you not that the things that are\nbeautiful are good likewise in the same sense? It would be false to say\nof virtue that in certain occasions it is beautiful, and in others good.\nWhen we speak of men of honour we join the two qualities, and call them\nexcellent and good. In our bodies beauty and goodness relate always to\nthe same end. In a word, all things that are of any use in the world are\nesteemed beautiful and good, with regard to the subject for which they\nare proper.\" \"At this rate you might find beauty in a basket to carry\ndung,\" said Aristippus. \"Yes, if it be well made for that use,\" answered\nSocrates; \"and, on the contrary, I would say that a buckler of gold was\nugly if it was ill-made.\" \"Would you say,\" pursued Aristippus, \"that the\nsame thing may be beautiful and ugly at once?\" \"I would say that it\nmight be good and bad. Often what is good for hunger is bad for a fever;\nand what is good for a fever is very bad for hunger; often what is\nbeautiful to be done in running is ugly to be done in wrestling; and what\nis beautiful to do in wrestling is ugly in running. For all things are\nreputed beautiful and good when they are compared with those which they\nsuit or become, as they are esteemed ugly and bad when compared with\nthose they do not become.\"\n\nThus we see that when Socrates said that beautiful houses were the most\nconvenient, he taught plainly enough in what manner we ought to build\nthem, and he reasoned thus: \"Ought not he who builds a house to study\nchiefly how to make it most pleasant and most convenient?\" This\nproposition being granted, he pursued: \"Is it not a pleasure to have a\nhouse that is cool in summer and warm in winter? And does not this\nhappen in buildings that front towards the south? For the beams of the\nsun enter into the apartments in winter, and only pass over the covering\nin summer. For this reason the houses that front towards the south ought\nto be very high, that they may receive the sun in winter; and, on the\ncontrary, those that front towards the north ought to be very low, that\nthey may be less exposed to the cold winds of that quarter.\" In short,\nhe used to say, that he had a very beautiful and very agreeable house,\nwho could live there with ease during all the seasons of the year, and\nkeep there in safety all that he has; but that for painting and other\nornaments, there was more trouble in them than pleasure.\n\nHe said further that retired places, and such as could be seen from afar,\nwere very proper to erect altars and build temples in; for though we are\nat a distance from them, yet it is a satisfaction to pray in sight of the\nholy places, and as they are apart from the haunts of men, innocent souls\nfind more devotion in approaching them.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. SOCRATES RETURNS SUITABLE ANSWERS TO A VARIETY OF QUESTIONS\nPROPOSED TO HIM.\n\n\nAnother time being asked whether courage can be learnt as an art or was a\ngift of Nature, he answered: \"In my opinion, as we see many bodies that\nare naturally more vigorous than others, and that better endure fatigue,\nso there are some souls that are naturally more brave, and look dangers\nin the face with greater resolution. For I see some men, who live under\nthe same laws, who are brought up in the same customs, and who are not\nall equally valiant. Nevertheless, I believe that education and exercise\nadd much to natural courage. Whence comes it to pass that the Scythians\nand the Thracians durst not face the Lacedemonians with pikes and\ntargets; and, on the contrary, that the Lacedemonians would not fight\nagainst the Thracians with shields and darts, nor against the Scythians\nwith bows? I see it to be the same in all other things, and that when\nsome men are better inclined by nature for certain things than other men\nare, they very much advance and perfect themselves in those things by\nstudy and diligence. This shows that they who are most favoured by\nNature, as well as those to whom she has been less indulgent, ought to\napply themselves assiduously to the things by which they would gain\nthemselves a reputation.\"\n\nHe allowed no difference between knowledge and temperance; and he held\nthat he who knows what is good and embraces it, who knows what is bad and\navoids it, is learned and temperate; and when he was asked whether he\nbelieved that they who know very well what ought to be done, but do quite\notherwise, were learned and temperate? \"On the contrary,\" answered he,\n\"they are very ignorant and very stupid, for, in my opinion, every man\nwho, in the great number of possible things that offer themselves to him,\ncan discern what is most advantageous for him to do, never fails to do\nit; but all who govern not themselves well and as they ought, are neither\nlearned nor men of good morals.\"\n\nHe said likewise that justice and every other virtue is only a science,\nbecause all the actions of justice and of the other virtues are good and\nhonourable; and that all who know the beauty of these actions think\nnothing more charming; as, on the contrary, they who are ignorant of them\ncannot perform any one virtuous action, or, if they attempt to do it, are\nsure to perform it in a wrong manner. So that the persons only who\npossess this science can do just and good actions; but all just and good\nactions are done by the means of virtue, therefore justice and virtue is\nonly a science.\n\nHe said, moreover, that folly is contrary to knowledge, and yet he did\nnot allow ignorance to be a folly; but that not to know oneself, or to\nimagine one knows what he does not know, is a weakness next to folly. And\nhe observed that among the vulgar a man is not accused of folly for being\nmistaken in things that are unknown to most of the world, but for\nmistaking in things which no man mistakes that knows anything at all; as\nif any man should think himself so tall as to be obliged to stoop when he\ncame in at the gates of the city; or if he thought himself so strong as\nto undertake to carry away whole houses on his back, or to do any other\nthing visibly impossible, the people would say that he had lost his wits,\nwhich they do not say of those who commit only some slight extravagances;\nand as they give the name of love to a violent affection only, so they\ngive the name of folly only to an extraordinary disorder of the mind.\n\nReflecting on the nature of envy, he said that it is a certain grief of\nmind, which proceeds, not from the misfortune of friends or good fortune\nof enemies, but (which is very surprising) only from the prosperity of\nfriends. \"For,\" said he, \"those may be truly said to be envious who\ncannot endure to see their friends happy.\" But, some wondering whether\nit were possible for a man to be grieved at the good fortune of his\nfriend, he justified the truth of what he had advanced, by telling them\nplainly that there are some men so variously affected towards their\nfriends, that, while they are in calamity and distress, they will\ncompassionate and succour them, but when they are well and in prosperity\nwill fret at and envy them. \"But this,\" he said, \"is a fault from which\nwise and good men are free, and never to be found but in weak and wicked\nminds.\"\n\nAs to idleness, he said that he had observed that most men were always in\naction, for they who play at dice, or who serve to make others laugh, are\ndoing something, but in effect they are idle, because they might employ\nthemselves more usefully. To which he added, that no man finds leisure\nto quit a good employment for an ill one, and that if he did he would\ndeserve the greater blame, in that he wanted not something to do before.\n\nHe said likewise that the sceptre makes not the king, and that princes\nand governors are not they whom chance or the choice of the people has\nraised to those dignities, nor those who have established themselves in\nthem by fraud or force, but they who know how to command; for if it were\nallowed that it is the duty of a prince to command, as it is the duty of\na subject to obey, he showed in consequence of it that in a ship, where\nthere are several persons, the honour of commanding it is given to him\nwho is most capable of it, and that all obey him, without excepting even\nthe owner of the vessel; that likewise in husbandry, he to whom the land\nbelongs obeys his own servants, if they understand agriculture better\nthan himself; that thus the sick obey the physicians, and they who learn\nexercises, their masters; nay, that even women are masters of the men in\nworking with the needle, because they understand it better than they; in\nshort, that in all things which require care and industry men govern\nthemselves when they think they are capable of doing so; otherwise, they\nleave themselves to the conduct of such as they judge to have more\ncapacity, and take care to have them near at hand for that purpose. And\nif any man made him this objection, that a tyrant is at liberty not to\nbelieve the best advices, he answered, \"Why do you say he is at liberty\nnot to do so, seeing he will bear the smart of it? for every man who\nshuts his ears to good counsel commits a fault, and this fault is always\nattended with some damage.\" And if it were said that a tyrant is\npermitted to put to death the men of the best parts and understanding in\nhis State, he replied again, \"Do you think he is not punished in losing\nhis chief supports, or that he will be quit for a slight punishment? Is\nto govern in this manner the way to preserve himself? or rather, is it\nnot the certain means to hasten his own ruin?\"\n\nBeing asked what was the best study for man to apply himself to, he\nanswered, \"To do well;\" and being asked farther whether good fortune was\nthe effect of study, \"On the contrary,\" said he, \"I think good fortune\nand study to be two opposite things; for what I call good fortune is,\nwhen a man meets with what is necessary for him, without the trouble of\nseeking it; but when he meets with any good success after a tedious\nsearch and labour, it is an effect of study. This is what I call to do\nwell; and I think that all who take delight in this study are for the\nmost part successful, and gain the esteem of men, and the affection of\nthe Deity. Such are they as have rendered themselves excellent in\neconomy, in physic, and in politics; but he who knows not any one thing\nperfectly is neither useful to men, nor beloved by the gods.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. SOCRATES, IN CONVERSATION WITH SEVERAL ARTIFICERS, A PAINTER,\nA STATUARY, AND AN ARMOURER, SHOWETH HIS SKILL AND GOOD TASTE IN THE\nFINER ARTS.\n\n\nAs Socrates studied to be useful in all his conversations, so he never\nhappened to be in company even with tradesmen but he always said\nsomething that might be of service to them. Going once into the shop of\nthe painter Parrhasius, he entertained himself with him in the following\nmanner:--\n\n\"Is not painting,\" said he, \"a representation of all we see? For with a\nfew colours you represent on a canvas mountains and caverns, light and\nobscurity; you cause to be observed the difference between soft things\nand hard, between things smooth and rough; you give youth and old age to\nbodies; and when you would represent a perfect beauty, it being\nimpossible to find a body but what has some defect, your way is to regard\nseveral, and taking what is beautiful from each of them, you make one\nthat is accomplished in all its parts.\" \"We do so,\" said Parrhasius.\n\"Can you represent likewise,\" said Socrates, \"what is most charming and\nmost lovely in the person, I mean the inclination?\" \"How think you,\"\nanswered Parrhasius, \"we can paint what cannot be expressed by any\nproportion, nor with any colour, and that has nothing in common with any\nof those things you mentioned, and which the pencil can imitate; in a\nword, a thing that cannot be seen?\" \"Do not the very looks of men,\"\nreplied Socrates, \"confess either hatred or friendship?\" \"In my opinion\nthey do,\" said Parrhasius. \"You can then make hatred and friendship\nappear in the eyes?\" \"I own we can.\" \"Do you think likewise,\" continued\nSocrates, \"that they who concern themselves either in the adversity or\nprosperity of friends, keep the same look with those who are wholly\nunconcerned for either?\" \"By no means,\" said he, \"for during the\nprosperity of our friends, our looks are gay and full of joy, but in\ntheir adversity we look cloudy and dejected.\" \"This, then, may be\npainted likewise?\" \"It may.\" \"Besides,\" said Socrates, \"magnificence,\ngenerosity, meanness of mind, cowardice, modesty, prudence, insolence,\nrusticity, all appear in the looks of a man, whether sitting or\nstanding.\" \"You say true.\" \"And cannot the pencil imitate all this\nlikewise?\" \"It may.\" \"And in which do you take most pleasure,\" said\nSocrates, \"in regarding the picture of a man whose external appearance\ndiscovereth a good natural disposition, and bespeaks an honest man, or of\none who wears in his face the marks of a vicious inclination?\" \"There is\nno comparison between them,\" said Parrhasius.\n\nAnother time, talking with Clito the sculptor, he said to him, \"I wonder\nnot that you make so great a difference between the statue of a man who\nis running a race and that of one who stands his ground to wait for his\nantagonist with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to play a prize at\nall sorts of defence; but what ravishes the beholders is, that your\nstatues seem to be alive. I would fain know by what art you imprint upon\nthem this wonderful vivacity?\" Clito, surprised at this question, stood\nconsidering what to answer, when Socrates went on:--\"Perhaps you take\ngreat care to make them resemble the living persons, and this is the\nreason that they seem to live likewise.\" \"It is so,\" said Clito. \"You\nmust then,\" replied Socrates, \"observe very exactly in the different\npostures of the body what are the natural dispositions of all the parts,\nfor when some of them stoop down, the others raise themselves up; when\nsome are contracted, the others stretch themselves out; when some are\nstiff with straining, others relax themselves; and when you imitate all\nthis, you make your statues approach very near the life.\" \"You say\ntrue,\" said Clito. \"Is it not true likewise,\" replied Socrates, \"that it\nis a great satisfaction to beholders to see all the passions of a man who\nis in action well expressed? Thus, in the statue of a gladiator who is\nfighting, you must imitate the sternness of look with which he threatens\nhis enemy; on the contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of\ngaiety and content.\" \"There is no doubt of what you say.\" \"We may then\nconclude,\" said Socrates, \"that it is the part of an excellent statuary\nto express the various affections and passions of the soul, by\nrepresenting such-and-such motions and postures of the body as are\ncommonly exerted in real life whenever the mind is so-and-so affected.\"\n\nAnother time, Socrates being in the shop of Pistias the armourer, who\nshowed him some corselets that were very well made: \"I admire,\" said\nSocrates to him, \"the invention of these arms that cover the body in the\nplaces where it has most need of being defended, and nevertheless are no\nhindrance to the motions of the hands and arms; but tell me why you sell\nthe suits of armour you make dearer than the other workmen of the city,\nsince they are not stronger nor of better-tempered or more valuable\nmetal?\" \"I sell them dearer than others,\" answered Pistias, \"because\nthey are better made than theirs.\" \"In what does this make consist?\"\nsaid Socrates, \"in the weight, or in the largeness of the arms? And yet\nyou make them not all of the same weight nor of the same size, but to fit\nevery man.\" \"They must be fit,\" said Pistias, \"otherwise they would be\nof no use.\" \"But do you not know,\" replied Socrates, \"that some bodies\nare well-shaped and others not?\" \"I know it well.\" \"How, then,\"\ncontinued Socrates, \"can you make a well-shaped suit of armour for an ill-\nshaped body?\" \"It will be sufficient if they are fit for him,\" answered\nPistias; \"for what is fit is well made.\" \"You are of opinion, then,\"\nadded Socrates, \"that one cannot judge whether a thing be well made,\nconsidering it merely in itself, but in regard to the person who is to\nuse it; as if you said that a buckler is well made for him whom it fits,\nand in like manner of a suit of clothes and any other thing whatsoever.\nBut I think there is another convenience in having a suit of armour well\nmade.\" \"What do you take that to be?\" said Pistias. \"I think,\" answered\nSocrates, \"a suit of armour that is well made does not load the bearer so\nmuch as one ill made, even though it weigh as much. For ill-made arms,\nby pressing too much upon the shoulders, or hanging cumbrous on some\nother part, become almost insupportable, and greatly incommode the person\nthat weareth them. But those arms which, as they ought, distribute an\nequal weight to all the parts of the body, that join upon the neck, the\nshoulders, the breast, the back, and the hips, may be said to be glued to\nthe body, and to weigh nothing at all.\" \"For this,\" said Pistias, \"I\nvalue the arms I make. It is true that some choose rather to part with\ntheir money for arms that are gilt and finely carved, but if with all\nthis they fit not easy upon them, I think they buy a rich inconveniency.\"\nSocrates went on:--\"But since the body is not always in the same posture,\nbut sometimes bends, and sometimes raises itself straight, how can arms\nthat are very fit be convenient and easy?\" \"They never can,\" said\nPistias. \"Your opinion therefore is,\" said Socrates, \"that the best arms\nare not those that are most fit, and fit closest to the body, but those\nthat do not incommode the person that wears them.\" \"You, too, are of the\nsame opinion,\" replied Pistias, \"and you understand the matter aright.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH THEODOTA, AN ATHENIAN LADY, OF NO\nGOOD CHARACTER; WHEREIN HE ENDEAVOURETH, IN THE MOST ARTFUL AND ENGAGING\nMANNER, TO WIN HER OVER FROM THE CRIMINAL PLEASURES TO WHICH SHE WAS\nADDICTED UNTO THE SUBLIMER AND MORE INNOCENT DELIGHTS OF PHILOSOPHY AND\nVIRTUE.\n\n\nThere was at Athens a very beautiful lady called Theodota, who had the\ncharacter of a loose dame. Some person was speaking of her in presence\nof Socrates, and saying that she was the most beautiful woman in the\nwhole world; that all the painters went to see her, to draw her picture,\nand that they were very well received at her house. \"I think,\" said\nSocrates, \"we ought to go see her too, for we shall be better able to\njudge of her beauty after we have seen her ourselves than upon the bare\nrelation of others.\" The person who began the discourse encouraged the\nmatter, and that very moment they all went to Theodota's house. They\nfound her with a painter who was drawing her picture; and having\nconsidered her at leisure when the painter had done, Socrates began\nthus:--\"Do you think that we are more obliged to Theodota for having\nafforded us the sight of her beauty than she is to us for coming to see\nher? If all the advantage be on her side, it must be owned that she is\nobliged to us; if it be on ours, it must be confessed that we are so to\nher.\" Some of the company saying there was reason to think so, Socrates\ncontinued in these words:--\"Has she not already had the advantage of\nreceiving the praises we have given her? But it will be yet a much\ngreater to her when we make known her merit in all the companies we come\ninto; but as for ourselves, what do we carry from hence except a desire\nto enjoy the things we have seen? We go hence with souls full of love\nand uneasiness; and from this time forward we must obey Theodota in all\nshe pleases to enjoin us.\" \"If it be so,\" said Theodota, \"I must return\nyou many thanks for your coming hither.\" Meanwhile Socrates took notice\nthat she was magnificently apparelled, and that her mother appeared\nlikewise like a woman of condition. He saw a great number of women\nattendants elegantly dressed, and that the whole house was richly\nfurnished. He took occasion from hence to inform himself of her\ncircumstances in the world, and to ask her whether she had an estate in\nland or houses in the city, or slaves, whose labour supplied the expenses\nof her family. \"I have nothing,\" answered she, \"of all this; my friends\nare my revenue. I subsist by their liberality.\"\n\nUpon which Socrates remarked that \"friendship was one of the greatest\nblessings in life, for that a good friend could stand one in stead of all\npossessions whatever.\" And he advised Theodota to try all her art to\nprocure to herself some lovers and friends that might render her happy.\nThe lady asking Socrates whether there were any artifices to be used for\nthat purpose, he answered, \"there were,\" and proceeded to mention\nseveral:--\"Some for attracting the regard of the men, some for\ninsinuating into their hearts; others for securing their affections and\nmanaging their passions.\" Whereupon Theodota, whose soul then lay open\nto any impression, mistaking the virtuous design of Socrates in the whole\nof this discourse for an intention of another sort, cried out in\nraptures, \"Ah! Socrates, why will not you help me to friends?\" \"I\nwill,\" replied Socrates, \"if you can persuade me to do so.\" \"And what\nmeans must I use to persuade you?\" \"You must invent the means,\" said\nSocrates, \"if you want me to serve you.\" \"Then come to see me often,\"\nadded Theodota. Socrates laughed at the simplicity of the woman, and in\nraillery said to her, \"I have not leisure enough to come and see you; I\nhave both public and private affairs which take up too much of my time.\nBesides, I have mistresses who will not suffer me to be from them neither\nday nor night, and who against myself make use of the very charms and\nsorceries that I have taught them.\" \"And have you any knowledge in those\nthings, too?\" said she. \"Why do Apollodorus and Antisthenes,\" answered\nSocrates, \"never leave me? why do Cebes and Simmias forsake Thebes for my\ncompany? This they would not do if I were not master of some charm.\"\n\"Lend it me,\" said Theodota, \"that I may employ it against you, and charm\nyou to come to me.\" \"No,\" said Socrates, \"but I will charm you, and make\nyou come to me.\" \"I will,\" said Theodota, \"if you will promise to make\nme welcome.\" \"I promise you I will,\" answered Socrates, \"provided there\nbe nobody with me whom I love better than you.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. OF THE NECESSITY OF EXERCISE TO HEALTH AND STRENGTH OF\nBODY.\n\n\nAmong others who frequented Socrates, there was a young man whose name\nwas Epigenes, and who was very awkward in his person and behaviour, and\nhad contracted an ill habit of body, having never learnt nor used any\nexercise. Socrates reproached him for it, and told him that it was\nunworthy of any man to be so negligent of himself. Epigenes slightly\nanswered that he was under no obligation to do better. \"You are no less\nobliged to it,\" replied Socrates, \"than they who train themselves up for\nthe Olympic Games. For do you believe that to fight for one's life\nagainst the enemies of the Republic, which we are all obliged to do when\nthe Athenians please to command us, is a less important occasion than to\ncontend with antagonists for a prize? How many men are there who, for\nwant of strength, perish in fights; or have recourse to dishonourable\nmeans to seek their safety? Some are taken prisoners, and remain in\nslavery all the rest of their days, or are forced to pay so great a\nransom, as makes them live poor and miserable ever afterwards: others are\nill thought of, and their weakness is imputed to cowardice. And do you\nvalue so little all these misfortunes, which constantly attend an ill\nhabit of body, and do they seem to you so slight? In my opinion, there\nare no fatigues in the exercises but what are more easy and more\nagreeable. But perhaps you despise the advantages of a good disposition\nof body: nevertheless, they are considerable; for men in that condition\nenjoy a perfect health, they are robust and active, they come off from\ncombats with honour, they escape from dangers, they succour their\nfriends, they render great services to their country. For these reasons\nthey are well received wherever they come, they are in good reputation\nwith all men, they attain to the highest offices, they live the more\nhonourably and the more at ease, and they leave their posterity the most\nnoble examples. If, therefore, you do not practise the military\nexercises in public, you ought not to neglect the doing so in private,\nbut to apply yourself to them with all possible diligence.\n\n\"To have the body active and healthy can be hurtful to you in no\noccasions: and since we cannot do anything without the body, it is\ncertain that a good constitution will be of great advantage to us in all\nour undertakings. Even in study, where there seems to be least need of\nit, we know many persons who could never make any great progress for want\nof health. Forgetfulness, melancholy, loss of appetite, and folly, are\nthe diseases that generally proceed from the indisposition of the body;\nand these diseases sometimes seize the mind with so great violence, that\nthey wipe out even the least remembrance of what we knew before. But in\nhealth we have nothing like this to fear, and consequently there is no\ntoil which a judicious man would not willingly undergo to avoid all these\nmisfortunes. And, indeed, it is shameful for a man to grow old before he\nhas tried his own strength, and seen to what degree of dexterity and\nperfection he can attain, which he can never know if he give himself over\nfor useless; because dexterity and strength come not of themselves, but\nby practice and exercise.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. SEVERAL APOPHTHEGMS OF SOCRATES.\n\n\nA certain man being vexed that he had saluted one who did not return his\ncivility, Socrates said to him, \"It is ridiculous in you to be\nunconcerned when you meet a sick man in the way, and to be vexed for\nhaving met a rude fellow.\"\n\n2. Another was saying that he had lost his appetite and could eat\nnothing. Socrates, having heard it, told him he could teach him a remedy\nfor that. The man asking what it was, \"Fast,\" said he, \"for some time,\nand I will warrant you will be in better health, spend less money, and\neat with more satisfaction afterwards.\"\n\n3. Another complained that the water which came into the cistern was\nwarm, and nevertheless he was forced to drink it. \"You ought to be glad\nof it,\" said Socrates, \"for it is a bath ready for you, whenever you have\na mind to bathe yourself.\" \"It is too cold to bathe in,\" replied the\nother. \"Do your servants,\" said Socrates, \"find any inconvenience in\ndrinking it, or in bathing in it?\" \"No, but I wonder how they can suffer\nit.\" \"Is it,\" continued Socrates, \"warmer to drink than that of the\ntemple of AEsculapius?\" \"It is not near so warm.\" \"You see, then,\" said\nSocrates, \"that you are harder to please than your own servants, or even\nthan the sick themselves.\"\n\n4. A master having beaten his servant most cruelly, Socrates asked him\nwhy he was so angry with him. The master answered, \"Because he is a\ndrunkard, a lazy fellow who loves money, and is always idle.\" \"Suppose\nhe be so,\" said Socrates: \"but be your own judge, and tell me, which of\nyou two deserves rather to be punished for those faults?\"\n\n5. Another made a difficulty of undertaking a journey to Olympia. \"What\nis the reason,\" said Socrates to him, \"that you are so much afraid of\nwalking, you, who walk up and down about your house almost all day long?\nYou ought to look upon this journey to be only a walk, and to think that\nyou will walk away the morning till dinner-time, and the afternoon till\nsupper, and thus you will insensibly find yourself at your journey's end.\nFor it is certain that in five or six days' time you go more ground in\nwalking up and down than you need to do in going from Athens to Olympia.\nI will tell you one thing more: it is much better to set out a day too\nsoon than a day too late; for it is troublesome to be forced to go long\njourneys; and on the contrary, it is a great ease to have the advantage\nof a day beforehand. You were better therefore to hasten your departure\nthan be obliged to make haste upon the road.\"\n\n6. Another telling him that he had been a great journey, and was\nextremely weary, Socrates asked whether he had carried anything. The\nother answered that he had carried nothing but his cloak. \"Were you\nalone?\" said Socrates. \"No; I had a slave with me.\" \"Was not he\nloaded?\" continued Socrates. \"Yes, for he carried all my things.\" \"And\nhow did he find himself upon the road?\" \"Much better than I.\" \"And if\nyou had been to carry what he did, what would have become of you?\"\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"I should never have been able to have done it.\" \"Is it\nnot a shame,\" added Socrates, \"in a man like you, who have gone through\nall the exercises, not to be able to undergo as much fatigue as his\nslave?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. SOCRATES PROPOSETH SOME REGULATIONS FOR THE BETTER\nMANAGEMENT OF THEIR PUBLIC FEASTS.\n\n\nSocrates having observed that in public suppers every one brought his own\ndish of meat, and that sometimes some brought more and others less, was\nwont, when this happened, to bid a servant set the least dish in the\nmiddle of the table, and to give some of it to all the company. No man\ncould, in civility, refuse it, nor exempt himself from doing the like\nwith his own dish, insomuch that every man had a taste of the whole, and\nall fared alike. This in some measure banished luxury and expensiveness\nfrom these feasts. For they who would have laid out a great deal of\nmoney in delicacies cared no longer to do so, because they would have\nbeen as much for others as for themselves.\n\nBeing one day in these assemblies, and seeing a young man who ate his\nmeat without bread, he took occasion to rally him for it upon a question\nthat was started touching the imposing of names. \"Can we give any\nreasons,\" said he, \"why a man is called flesh-eater--that is to say, a\ndevourer of flesh?--for every man eats flesh when he has it; and I do not\nbelieve it to be upon that account that a man is called so.\" \"Nor I\nneither,\" said one of the company. \"But,\" continued Socrates, \"if a man\ntakes delight to eat his meat without bread, do you not take him to be,\nindeed, a flesh-eater?\" \"I should think it difficult to find another who\nbetter would deserve that name.\" Upon which somebody else taking the\nword said, \"What think you of him who, with a little bread only, eats a\ngreat deal of flesh?\" \"I should,\" replied Socrates, \"judge him, too, to\nbe a flesh-eater; and whereas others ask of the gods in their prayers to\ngive them an abundance of fruits, such men in their petitions it is\nlikely would pray only for abundance of flesh.\"\n\nThe young man whom Socrates had in mind, suspecting that he spoke upon\nhis account, took some bread, but continued still to eat a great deal of\nflesh with it. Socrates perceived him, and showing him with his finger\nto those that sat next to him, said to them, \"Take notice of your\nneighbour, and see whether it be the meat that makes him eat his bread,\nor the bread that makes him eat his meat.\"\n\nIn a like occasion, seeing a man sop the same morsel of meat in several\nsauces, he said, \"Is it possible to make a sauce that will cost more, and\nbe not so good, as one that is made by taking out of several different\nsauces at once? For there being more ingredients than usual, no doubt it\ncosts more; but then because we mix things together, which the cooks\nnever used to mingle, because they agree not well with one another, we\ncertainly spoil the whole; and is it not a jest to be curious in having\ngood cooks, and at the same time to be so fantastical as to alter the\nrelish of the dishes they have dressed? Besides, when we have once got a\nhabit of eating thus of several dishes at once, we are not so well\nsatisfied when we have no longer that variety. Whereas a man who\ncontents himself to eat but of one dish at a time finds no great\ninconvenience in having but one dish of meat for his dinner.\"\n\nHe made likewise this remark: that to express what the other Greeks\ncalled \"to eat a meal,\" the Athenians said \"to make good cheer;\" and that\nthe word \"good\" shows us that we ought to eat such things only as will\nneither disorder the body nor the mind, which are easily had, and\npurchased without great expense. From whence he inferred that they alone\nwho live temperately and soberly can truly be said to make good\ncheer--that is to say, to eat well.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n\nCHAPTER I. THAT PERSONS OF GOOD NATURAL PARTS, AS WELL AS THOSE WHO HAVE\nPLENTIFUL FORTUNES, OUGHT NOT TO THINK THEMSELVES ABOVE INSTRUCTION. ON\nTHE CONTRARY, THE ONE OUGHT, BY THE AID OF LEARNING, TO IMPROVE THEIR\nGENIUS; THE OTHER, BY THE ACQUISITION OF KNOWLEDGE, TO RENDER THEMSELVES\nVALUABLE.\n\n\nThere was always, as we have already remarked, some improvement to be\nmade with Socrates; and it must be owned that his company and\nconversation were very edifying, since even now, when he is no more among\nus, it is still of advantage to his friends to call him to their\nremembrance. And, indeed, whether he spoke to divert himself, or whether\nhe spoke seriously, he always let slip some remarkable instructions for\nthe benefit of all that heard him.\n\nHe used often to say he was in love, but it was easy to see it was not\nwith the beauty of one's person that he was taken, but with the virtues\nof his mind.\n\nThe marks of a good genius, he said, were these--a good judgment, a\nretentive memory, and an ardent desire of useful knowledge; that is to\nsay, when a person readily learns what he is taught, and strongly retains\nwhat he has learnt, as also when he is curious to know all that is\nnecessary to the good government either of a family or of a republic; in\na word, when one desires to obtain a thorough knowledge of mankind and of\nwhatever relates to human affairs. And his opinion was that when these\ngood natural parts are cultivated as they ought, such men are not only\nhappy themselves, and govern their families prudently, but are capable\nlikewise to render others happy, and to make republics flourish.\n\nOn the one hand, therefore, whenever he met with any who believed\nthemselves men of parts, and for that reason neglected to be instructed,\nhe proved to them that men of the best natural parts are they who have\nmost need of instruction; and to this purpose he alleged the example of a\nhigh-mettled horse, who, having more courage and more strength than\nothers, does us very great service, if he be broke and managed in his\nyouth; but if that be neglected, he grows so vicious and unruly that we\nknow not what to do with him. Thus also dogs of a good breed, and that\nby nature are the most strong and mettlesome, are excellent for game, if\nthey are well taught; otherwise they are apt to become high rangers and\nat no command. In like manner among men they who are blessed with the\ngreatest advantages of Nature, to whom she has given the most courage and\nthe greatest strength to enable them to succeed in their undertakings,\nare likewise the most virtuous, and do more good than others, when they\nmeet with a good education; but if they remain without instruction they\nfall into an excess of ill, and become most pernicious to themselves and\nothers. Merely for want of knowing their duty they often engage\nthemselves in very wicked designs; and being imperious and violent, it is\nvery difficult to keep them within bounds and to make them change their\nresolution, which is the reason they do a great deal of mischief.\n\nOn the other hand, when he saw any of those men who pique themselves on\ntheir estates, and who believe because they are men of high condition\nthat they are above instruction, or have no need of it, because their\nriches alone are sufficient to gain them the esteem of the world, and to\nmake them succeed in all their undertakings, he endeavoured to convince\nthem of their error, and to show them that they, too, have need of\ninstruction. He told them that that man is a fool who imagines with\nhimself that he can know the things that are useful from those that are\nhurtful, without having ever learnt the difference; or who, not\ndiscerning between them, fondly thinks that because he has wherewithal to\nbuy whatever he has a mind to, he can therefore do whatever may lend to\nhis advantage; or who, judging himself incapable to do what is useful for\nhimself, thinks, nevertheless, that he is well in the world, and in a\nsafe and happy condition of life. That it is likewise a folly for a man\nto persuade himself that, being rich and having no merit, he will pass\nfor a man of parts; or that, not having the reputation of being a man of\nparts, he shall nevertheless be esteemed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. CONFERENCE BETWEEN SOCRATES AND EUTHYDEMUS, IN WHICH HE\nCONVINCES THAT YOUNG MAN, WHO HAD A GREAT OPINION OF HIMSELF, THAT HE\nKNEW NOTHING.\n\n\nWhen Socrates, on the other hand, found any who soothe themselves up in\nthe belief that they are well instructed, and who boast of their own\nsufficiency, he never failed to chastise the vanity of such persons. Of\nhis conduct in this particular I will relate the following instance--\n\nHe had been told that Euthydemus had bought up several works of the most\ncelebrated poets and sophists, and that this acquisition had so puffed\nhim up with arrogance, that he already esteemed himself the greatest man\nfor learning and parts of any of the age, and pretended to no less than\nbeing the first man of the city, either for negotiating or for\ndiscoursing in public. Nevertheless, he was still so young that he was\nnot admitted into the assemblies of the people, and if he had any affair\nto solicit he generally came and placed himself in one of the shops that\nwere near the courts of justice. Socrates, having observed his station,\nfailed not to go thither likewise with two or three of his friends; and\nthere, being fallen into discourse, this question was started: Whether it\nwas by the improving conversation of philosophers or by the strength of\nhis natural parts only, that Themistocles surpassed all his countrymen in\nwisdom and valour, and advanced himself to such a high rank and to so\ngreat esteem, that all the Republic cast their eyes upon him whenever\ntheir affairs required the conduct of a man of bravery and wisdom?\nSocrates, who had a mind to reflect upon Euthydemus, answered that \"a man\nmust be very stupid to believe that mechanic arts (which are\ncomparatively things but of small importance) cannot be learnt without\nmasters; and yet that the art of governing of States, which is a thing of\nthe greatest moment and that requires the greatest effort of human\nprudence, comes of itself into the mind.\" And this was all that passed\nin this first interview.\n\nAfter this Socrates, observing that Euthydemus always avoided being in\nhis company, lest he should be taken for one of his admirers, attacked\nhim more openly; and once when he happened to be where he was, addressed\nhimself to the rest of the company in these words:--\"Certainly,\ngentlemen, by what may be conjectured from the studies of this young man,\nit is very likely that when he shall have attained the age that permits\nhim to be present in the assemblies of the people, if any important\naffair come to be debated there, he will not fail to give his judgment of\nit; and in my opinion he would introduce his harangue by a very pleasant\nexordium, if he should begin with giving them to understand that he had\nnever learnt anything of any man whatsoever; he must address himself to\nthem in words to this purpose:--\n\n\"'Gentlemen, I have never been taught anything, I never frequented the\nconversation of men of parts, I never gave myself the trouble to look out\nfor a master that was able to instruct me. On the contrary, gentlemen, I\nhave not only had an aversion to learn from others, but I should even\nhave been very sorry to have it believed I had done so; nevertheless, I\nwill venture to tell you what chance shall suggest to me in this present\noccasion.' At this rate they who present themselves to be received\nphysicians might introduce a like discourse as thus:--'Gentlemen, I have\nnever had any master to teach me this science; for, indeed, I would never\nlearn it, nor even have the repute of having learnt it; nevertheless,\nadmit me a physician, and I will endeavour to become learned in the art\nby making experiments on your own bodies.'\"\n\nAll the company fell a-laughing at this pleasant preface, and from that\ntime Euthydemus never avoided Socrates' company as he had done before;\nbut he never offered to speak, believing that his silence would be an\nargument of his modesty. Socrates, being desirous to rally him out of\nthat mistaken notion, spoke to him in this manner:--\n\n\"I wonder that they who desire to learn to play upon the lute, or to ride\nwell, do not endeavour to learn it alone by themselves; but that they\nlook out for masters, resolved to do everything they bid them, and to\nbelieve all they say, there being no other way to arrive at perfection in\nthose arts; and that they who hope one day to govern the Republic, and to\ndeclaim before the people, imagine they can become fit to do so of\nthemselves all of a sudden. Nevertheless, it must be owned that these\nemployments are more difficult than the others, since among the great\nnumber of persons who push themselves into office so few discharge their\nduty as they ought. This shows us that more labour and diligence is\nrequired in such as would capacitate themselves for those offices than\nfor anything else.\"\n\nBy these discourses, Socrates having prepared the mind of Euthydemus to\nhearken to what he intended to say to him, and to enter into conference\nwith him, he came another time by himself into the same shop, and taking\na seat next to this young man--\"I have heard,\" said he to him, \"that you\nhave been curious in buying a great many good books.\" \"I have,\" said\nEuthydemus, \"and continue to do so every day, designing to have as many\nas I can get.\" \"I commend you very much,\" said Socrates, \"for choosing\nrather to hoard up a treasure of learning and knowledge than of money.\nFor you testify by so doing that you are not of opinion that riches, or\nsilver and gold, can render one more valuable, that is to say, a wiser or\na better man; but that it is only the writings and precepts of the\nphilosophers and other fine writers that are the true riches, because\nthey enrich with virtue the minds of those that possess them.\" Euthydemus\nwas pleased to hear him say this, believing that he approved his method;\nand Socrates, perceiving his satisfaction, went on: \"But what is your\ndesign of making a collection of so many books? Do you intend to be a\nphysician? There are many books in that science.\" \"That is not my\ndesign,\" said Euthydemus. \"Will you be an architect, then?\" said\nSocrates, \"for that art requires a learned man. Or do you study geometry\nor astrology?\" \"None of them.\" \"Do you mean to be a reciter of heroic\nverses?\" continued Socrates, \"for I have been told that you have all\nHomer's works.\" \"Not in the least,\" answered Euthydemus, \"for I have\nobserved that men of that profession know indeed a great many verses by\nheart, but for anything else they are for the most part very\nimpertinent.\" \"Perhaps you are in love with that noble science that\nmakes politicians and economists, and that renders men capable to govern,\nand to be useful to others and to themselves?\" \"That is what I endeavour\nto learn,\" said Euthydemus, \"and what I passionately desire to know.\" \"It\nis a sublime science,\" replied Socrates; \"it is that we call the royal\nscience, because it truly is the science of kings. But have you weighed\nthis point, whether a man can excel in that science without being an\nhonest man?\" \"I have,\" said the young man, \"and am even of opinion that\nnone but honest men can be good citizens.\" \"And are you an honest man?\"\nsaid Socrates. \"I hope I am,\" answered Euthydemus, \"as honest a man as\nanother.\" \"Tell me,\" said Socrates, \"can we know who are honest men by\nwhat they do, as we know what trade a man is of by his work?\" \"We may.\"\n\"Then,\" said Socrates, \"as architects show us their works, can honest men\nshow us theirs likewise?\" \"No doubt of it,\" replied Euthydemus; \"and it\nis no difficult task to show you which are the works of justice, and\nwhich those of injustice, that we so often hear mentioned.\" \"Shall we,\"\nsaid Socrates, \"make two characters, the one (J) to signify justice, the\nother (I) to denote injustice; and write under one of them all the works\nthat belong to justice, and under the other all that belong to\ninjustice?\" \"Do,\" said Euthydemus, \"if you think fit.\"\n\nSocrates, having done what he proposed, continued thus his discourse:--\"Do\nnot men tell lies?\" \"Very often,\" answered Euthydemus. \"Under which\nhead shall we put lying?\" \"Under that of injustice,\" said Euthydemus.\n\"Do not men sometimes cheat?\" \"Most certainly.\" \"Where shall we put\ncheating?\" said Socrates. \"Under injustice.\" \"And doing wrong to one's\nneighbour?\" \"There too.\" \"And selling of free persons into slavery?\"\n\"Still in the same place.\" \"And shall we write none of all these,\" said\nSocrates, \"under the head of justice?\" \"Not one of them,\" answered\nEuthydemus; \"it would be strange if we did.\" \"But what,\" replied\nSocrates, \"when a general plunders an enemy's city, and makes slaves of\nall the inhabitants, shall we say that he commits an injustice?\" \"By no\nmeans.\" \"Shall we own, then, that he does an act of justice?\" \"Without\ndoubt.\" \"And when he circumvents his enemies in the war, does he not do\nwell?\" \"Very well.\" \"And when he ravages their land, and takes away\ntheir cattle and their corn, does he not do justly?\" \"It is certain he\ndoes,\" said Euthydemus; \"and when I answered you that all these actions\nwere unjust, I thought you had spoken of them in regard only of friend to\nfriend.\" \"We must, therefore,\" replied Socrates, \"put among the actions\nof justice those very actions we have ascribed to injustice, and we will\nonly establish this distinction, that it is just to behave ourselves so\ntowards our enemies; but that to treat our friends thus is an injustice,\nbecause we ought to live with them uprightly, and without any deceit.\" \"I\nthink so,\" said Euthydemus. \"But,\" continued Socrates, \"when a general\nsees that his troops begin to be disheartened, if he make them believe\nthat a great reinforcement is coming to him, and by that stratagem\ninspires fresh courage into the soldiers, under what head shall we put\nthis lie?\" \"Under the head of justice,\" answered Euthydemus. \"And when\na child will not take the physic that he has great need of, and his\nfather makes it be given him in a mess of broth, and by that means the\nchild recovers his health, to which shall we ascribe this deceit?\" \"To\njustice likewise.\" \"And if a man, who sees his friend in despair, and\nfears he will kill himself, hides his sword from him, or takes it out of\nhis hands by force, what shall we say of this violence?\" \"That it is\njust,\" replied Euthydemus. \"Observe what you say,\" continued Socrates;\n\"for it follows from your answers that we are not always obliged to live\nwith our friends uprightly, and without any deceit, as we agreed we\nwere.\" \"No; certainly we are not, and if I may be permitted to retract\nwhat I said, I change my opinion very freely.\" \"It is better,\" said\nSocrates, \"to change an opinion than to persist in a wrong one. But\nthere is still one point which we must not pass over without inquiry, and\nthis relates to those whose deceits are prejudicial to their friends; for\nI ask you, which are most unjust, they who with premeditate design cheat\ntheir friends, or they who do it through inadvertency?\" \"Indeed,\" said\nEuthydemus, \"I know not what to answer, nor what to believe, for you have\nso fully refuted what I have said, that what appeared to me before in one\nlight appears to me now in another. Nevertheless, I will venture to say\nthat he is the most unjust who deceives his friend deliberately.\" \"Do\nyou think,\" said Socrates, \"that one may learn to be just and honest, as\nwell as we learn to read and write?\" \"I think we may.\" \"Which,\" added\nSocrates, \"do you take to be the most ignorant, he who reads wrong on\npurpose, or he who reads wrong because he can read no better?\" \"The last\nof them,\" answered Euthydemus; \"for the other who mistakes for pleasure\nneed not mistake when he pleases.\" \"Then,\" inferred Socrates, \"he who\nreads wrong deliberately knows how to read; but he who reads wrong\nwithout design is an ignorant man.\" \"You say true.\" \"Tell me likewise,\"\npursued Socrates, \"which knows best what ought to be done, and what\nbelongs to justice, he who lies and cheats with premeditate design, or he\nwho deceives without intention to deceive?\" \"It is most plain,\" said\nEuthydemus, \"that it is he who deceives with premeditate design.\" \"But\nyou said,\" replied Socrates, \"that he who can read is more learned than\nhe who cannot read?\" \"I did so.\" \"Therefore he who best knows which are\nthe duties of justice is more just than he that knows them not.\" \"It\nseems to be so,\" answered Euthydemus, \"and I know not well how I came to\nsay what I did.\" \"Indeed,\" said Socrates, \"you often change your\nopinion, and contradict what you say; and what would you yourself think\nof any man who pretended to tell the truth, and yet never said the same\nthing; who, in pointing out to you the same road, should show you\nsometimes east, sometimes west, and who, in telling the same sum, should\nfind more money at one time than another; what would you think of such a\nman?\" \"He would make all men think,\" answered Euthydemus, \"that he knew\nnothing of what he pretended to know.\"\n\nSocrates urged him yet further, and asked him: \"Have you ever heard say\nthat some men have abject and servile minds?\" \"I have.\" \"Is it said of\nthem because they are learned or because they are ignorant?\" \"Surely\nbecause they are ignorant.\" \"Perhaps,\" said Socrates, \"it is because\nthey understand not the trade of a smith?\" \"Not in the least for that.\"\n\"Is it because they know not how to build a house, or to make shoes?\" \"By\nno means,\" said Euthydemus; \"for most who are skilled in such professions\nhave likewise abject and servile minds.\" \"This character, then,\" pursued\nSocrates, \"must be given to those who are ignorant of the noble sciences,\nand who know not what is just nor what is honourable?\" \"I believe so.\"\n\"We ought, therefore, Euthydemus, to do all we can to avoid falling into\nthat ignominious ignorance that sinks us down so low.\" \"Alas, Socrates!\"\ncried he out, \"I will not lie for the matter; I thought I knew something\nin philosophy, and that I had learnt whatever was requisite to be known\nby a man who desired to make a practice of virtue; but judge how much I\nam afflicted to see that, after all my labours, I am not able to answer\nyou concerning things which I ought chiefly to know; and yet I am at a\nloss what method to pursue in order to render myself more capable and\nknowing in the things I desire to understand.\" Upon this, Socrates asked\nhim whether he had ever been at Delphi, and Euthydemus answered that he\nhad been there twice. \"Did you not take notice,\" said Socrates, \"that\nsomewhere on the front of the temple there is this inscription, 'KNOW\nTHYSELF'?\" \"I remember,\" answered he, \"I have read it there.\" \"It is\nnot enough,\" replied Socrates, \"to have read it. Have you been the\nbetter for this admonition? Have you given yourself the trouble to\nconsider what you are?\" \"I think I know that well enough,\" replied the\nyoung man, \"for I should have found it very difficult to have known any\nother thing if I had not known myself.\" \"But for a man to know himself\nwell,\" said Socrates, \"it is not enough that he knows his own name; for,\nas a man that buys a horse cannot be certain that he knows what he is\nbefore he has ridden him, to see whether he be quiet or restive, whether\nhe be mettlesome or dull, whether he be fleet or heavy--in short, before\nhe has made trial of all that is good and bad in him--in like manner, a\nman cannot say that he knows himself before he has tried what he is fit\nfor, and what he is able to do.\" \"It is true,\" said Euthydemus, \"that\nwhoever knows not his own strength knows not himself.\" \"But,\" continued\nSocrates, \"who sees not of how great advantage this knowledge is to man,\nand how dangerous it is to be mistaken in this affair? for he who knows\nhimself knows likewise what is good for himself. He sees what he is able\nto do, and what he is not able to do; by applying himself to things that\nhe can do, he gets his bread with pleasure, and is happy; and by not\nattempting to do the things he cannot do, he avoids the danger of falling\ninto errors, and of seeing himself miserable. By knowing himself, he\nknows likewise how to judge of others, and to make use of their services\nfor his own advantage, either to procure himself some good, or to protect\nhimself from some misfortune; but he who knows not himself, and is\nmistaken in the opinion he has of his own abilities, mistakes likewise in\nthe knowledge of others, and in the conduct of his own affairs. He is\nignorant of what is necessary for him, he knows not what he undertakes,\nnor comprehends the means he makes use of, and this is the reason that\nsuccess never attends his enterprises, and that he always falls into\nmisfortunes. But the man who sees clear into his own designs generally\nobtains the end he proposes to himself, and at the same time gains\nreputation and honour. For this reason, even his equals are well pleased\nto follow his advices; and they whose affairs are in disorder implore his\nassistance, and throw themselves into his hands, depending upon his\nprudence to retrieve their affairs, and to restore them to their former\ngood condition. But he who undertakes he knows not what, generally makes\nan ill choice, and succeeds yet worse; and the present damage is not the\nonly punishment he undergoes for his temerity. He is disgraced for ever;\nall men laugh at him, all men despise and speak ill of him. Consider\nlikewise what happens to Republics who mistake their own strength, and\ndeclare war against States more powerful than themselves; some are\nutterly ruined, others lose their liberty, and are compelled to receive\nlaws from the conquerors.\"\n\n\"I am fully satisfied,\" said Euthydemus, \"that a great deal depends on\nthe knowledge of oneself. I hope you will now tell me by what a man must\nbegin to examine himself.\" \"You know,\" said Socrates, \"what things are\ngood and what are bad?\" \"Indeed,\" answered Euthydemus, \"if I knew not\nthat, I were the most ignorant of all men.\" \"Then tell me your thoughts\nof this matter,\" said Socrates. \"First,\" said Euthydemus, \"I hold that\nhealth is a good and sickness an evil, and that whatever contributes to\neither of them partakes of the same qualities. Thus nourishment and the\nexercises that keep the body in health are very good; and, on the\ncontrary, those that cause diseases are hurtful.\" \"But would it not be\nbetter to say,\" replied Socrates, \"that health and sickness are both good\nwhen they are the causes of any good, and that they are both bad when\nthey are the causes of any ill?\" \"And when can it ever happen,\" said\nEuthydemus, \"that health is the cause of any ill, and sickness the cause\nof any good?\" \"This may happen,\" answered Socrates, \"when troops are\nraised for any enterprise that proves fatal; when men are embarked who\nare destined to perish at sea; for men who are in health may be involved\nin these misfortunes, when they who, by reason of their infirmities, are\nleft at home, will be exempted from the mischiefs in which the others\nperish.\" \"You say true,\" said Euthydemus, \"but you see, too, that men\nwho are in health are present in fortunate occasions, while they who are\nconfined to their beds cannot be there.\" \"It must therefore be granted,\"\nsaid Socrates, \"that these things which are sometimes useful and\nsometimes hurtful are not rather good than bad.\" \"That is, indeed, the\nconsequence of your argument,\" replied Euthydemus; \"but it cannot be\ndenied that knowledge is a good thing; for what is there in which a\nknowing man has not the advantage of an ignorant one?\" \"And have you not\nread,\" said Socrates, \"what happened to Daedalus for his knowing so many\nexcellent arts, and how, being fallen into the hands of Minos, he was\ndetained by force, and saw himself at once banished from his country and\nstripped of his liberty? To complete his misfortune, flying away with\nhis son, he was the occasion of his being miserably lost, and could not,\nafter all, escape in his own person; for, falling into the hands of\nbarbarians, he was again made a slave. Know you not likewise the\nadventure of Palamedes, who was so envied by Ulysses for his great\ncapacity, and who perished wretchedly by the calumnious artifices of that\nrival? How many great men likewise has the King of Persia caused to be\nseized and carried away because of their admirable parts, and who are now\nlanguishing under him in a perpetual slavery?\" \"But, granting this to be\nas you say,\" added Euthydemus, \"you will certainly allow good fortune to\nbe a good?\" \"I will,\" said Socrates, \"provided this good fortune\nconsists in things that are undoubtedly good.\" \"And how can it be that\nthe things which compose good fortune should not be infallibly good?\"\n\"They are,\" answered Socrates, \"unless you reckon among them beauty and\nstrength of body, riches, honours, and other things of that nature.\" \"And\nhow can a man be happy without them?\" \"Rather,\" said Socrates, \"how can\na man be happy with things that are the causes of so many misfortunes?\nFor many are daily corrupted because of their beauty; many who presume\ntoo much on their own strength are oppressed under the burden of their\nundertakings. Among the rich, some are lost in luxury, and others fall\ninto the snares of those that wait for their estates. And lastly, the\nreputation and honours that are acquired in Republics are often the cause\nof their ruin who possess them.\" \"Certainly,\" said Euthydemus, \"if I am\nin the wrong to praise good fortune, I know not what we ought to ask of\nthe Deity.\" \"Perhaps, too,\" replied Socrates, \"you have never considered\nit, because you think you know it well enough.\n\n\"But,\" continued he, changing the subject of their discourse, \"seeing you\nare preparing yourself to enter upon the government of our Republic,\nwhere the people are master, without doubt you have reflected on the\nnature of this State, and know what a democracy is?\" \"You ought to\nbelieve I do.\" \"And do you think it possible,\" said Socrates, \"to know\nwhat a democracy or popular State is without knowing what the people is?\"\n\"I do not think I can.\" \"And what is the people?\" said Socrates. \"Under\nthat name,\" answered Euthydemus, \"I mean the poor citizens.\" \"You know,\nthen, who are the poor?\" \"I do,\" said Euthydemus. \"Do you know, too,\nwho are the rich?\" \"I know that too.\" \"Tell me, then, who are the rich\nand who are the poor?\" \"I take the poor,\" answered Euthydemus, \"to be\nthose who have not enough to supply their necessary expenses, and the\nrich to be they who have more than they have occasion for.\" \"But have\nyou observed,\" replied Socrates, \"that there are certain persons who,\nthough they have very little, have nevertheless enough, and even lay up\nsome small matter out of it; and, on the contrary, there are others who\nnever have enough how great soever their estates and possessions are?\"\n\"You put me in mind,\" said Euthydemus, \"of something very much to the\npurpose, for I have seen even some princes so necessitous that they have\nbeen compelled to take away their subjects' estates, and to commit many\ninjustices.\" \"We must, then,\" said Socrates, \"place such princes in the\nrank of the poor, and those who have but small estates, yet manage them\nwell, in the number of the rich.\" \"I must give consent to all you say,\"\nanswered Euthydemus, \"for I am too ignorant to contradict you; and I\nthink it will be best for me, from henceforward, to hold my peace, for I\nam almost ready to confess that I know nothing at all.\"\n\nHaving said this, he withdrew, full of confusion and self-contempt,\nbeginning to be conscious to himself that he was indeed a person of\nlittle or no account at all. Nor was he the only person whom Socrates\nhad thus convinced of their ignorance and insufficiency, several of whom\nnever came more to see him, and valued him the less for it. But\nEuthydemus did not act like them. On the contrary, he believed it\nimpossible for him to improve his parts but by frequently conversing with\nSocrates, insomuch that he never left him, unless some business of moment\ncalled him away, and he even took delight to imitate some of his actions.\nSocrates, seeing him thus altered from what he was, was tender of saying\nanything to him that might irritate or discourage him; but took care to\nspeak more freely and plainly to him of the things he ought to know and\napply himself to.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. PROOFS OF A KIND SUPERINTENDING PROVIDENCE.--WHAT RETURNS\nOF GRATITUDE AND DUTY MEN OUGHT TO MAKE TO GOD FOR HIS FAVOURS.--AN\nHONEST AND GOOD LIFE THE BEST SONG OF THANKSGIVING OR THE MOST ACCEPTABLE\nSACRIFICE TO THE DEITY.\n\n\nAs Socrates considered virtue and piety as the two grand pillars of a\nState, and was fully persuaded that all other qualifications whatever,\nwithout the knowledge and practice of these, would, instead of enabling\nmen to do good, serve, on the contrary, to render them more wicked and\nmore capable of doing mischief. For that reason he never pressed his\nfriends to enter into any public office until he had first instructed\nthem in their duty to God and mankind. But, above all, he endeavoured to\ninstil into their minds pious sentiments of the Deity, frequently\ndisplaying before them high and noble descriptions of the Divine power,\nwisdom, and goodness. But seeing several have already written what they\nhad heard him say in divers occasions upon this subject, I will content\nmyself with relating some things which he said to Euthydemus when I\nmyself was present.\n\n\"Have you never reflected, Euthydemus, on the great goodness of the Deity\nin giving to men whatever they want?\" \"Indeed, I never have,\" answered\nhe. \"You see,\" replied Socrates, \"how very necessary light is for us,\nand how the gods give it us.\" \"You say true,\" answered Euthydemus, \"and\nwithout light we should be like the blind.\" \"But because we have need of\nrepose they have given us the night to rest in; the night, which, of all\ntimes, is the fittest for repose.\" \"You are in the right,\" said\nEuthydemus, \"and we ought to render them many praises for it.\"\n\"Moreover,\" continued Socrates, \"as the sun is a luminous body, and by\nthe brightness of his beams discovers to us all visible things, and shows\nus the hours of the day; and as, on the contrary, the night is dusky and\nobscure, they have made the stars to appear, which, during the absence of\nthe day, mark the hours to us, by which means we can do many things we\nhave occasion for. They have likewise made the moon to shine, which not\nonly shows us the hours of the night, but teaches us to know the time of\nthe month.\" \"All this is true,\" said Euthydemus. \"Have you not taken\nnotice likewise that having need of nourishment, they supply us with it\nby the means of the earth? How excellently the seasons are ordered for\nthe fruits of the earth, of which we have such an abundance, and so great\na variety, that we find, not only wherewith to supply our real wants but\nto satisfy even luxury itself.\" \"This goodness of the gods,\" cried\nEuthydemus, \"is an evidence of the great love they bear to men.\" \"What\nsay you,\" continued Socrates, \"to their having given us water, which is\nso necessary for all things? For it is that which assists the earth to\nproduce the fruits, and that contributes, with the influences from above,\nto bring them to maturity; it helps to nourish us, and by being mingled\nwith what we eat, makes it more easily got ready, more useful, and more\ndelightful; in short, being of so universal an use, is it not an\nadmirable providence that has made it so common? What say you to their\nhaving given us fire, which defends us from cold, which lights us when it\nis dark, which is necessary to us in all trades, and which we cannot be\nwithout in the most excellent and useful inventions of men?\" \"Without\nexaggeration,\" said Euthydemus, \"this goodness is immense.\" \"What say\nyou, besides,\" pursued Socrates, \"to see that after the winter the sun\ncomes back to us, and that proportionably as he brings the new fruits to\nmaturity, he withers and dries those whose season is going over; that\nafter having done us this service he retires that his heat may not\nincommode us; and then, when he is gone back to a certain point, which he\ncannot transgress, without putting us in danger of dying with cold, he\nreturns again to retake his place in this part of the heavens, where his\npresence is most advantageous to us? And because we should not be able\nto support either cold or heat, if we passed in an instant from one\nextreme to the other, do you not admire that this planet approaches us\nand withdraws himself from us by so just and slow degrees, that we arrive\nat the two extremes without almost perceiving the change?\" \"All these\nthings,\" said Euthydemus, \"make me doubt whether the gods have anything\nto do but to serve mankind. One thing puts me to a stand, that the\nirrational animals participate of all these advantages with us.\" \"How!\"\nsaid Socrates, \"and do you then doubt whether the animals themselves are\nin the world for any other end than for the service of man? What other\nanimals do, like us, make use of horses, of oxen, of dogs, of goats, and\nof the rest? Nay, I am of opinion, that man receives not so much\nadvantage from the earth as from the animals; for the greatest part of\nmankind live not on the fruits of the earth, but nourish themselves with\nmilk, cheese, and the flesh of beasts; they get the mastery over them,\nthey make them tame, and use them to their great advantage in war and for\nthe other necessities of life.\" \"I own it,\" said Euthydemus, \"for some\nof them are much stronger than man, and yet are so obedient to him, that\nhe does with them whatever he pleases.\"\n\n\"Admire yet further the goodness of the gods,\" said Socrates, \"and\nconsider, that as there is in the world an infinite number of excellent\nand useful things, but of very different natures, they have given us\nexternal senses, which correspond to each of those sensible objects, and\nby means of which senses we can perceive and enjoy all of them. They\nhave, besides, endued us with reason and understanding, which enableth us\nto discern between those things that the senses discover to us, to\ninquire into the different natures of things useful and things hurtful,\nand so to know by experience which to choose and which to reject. They\nhave likewise given us speech, by means whereof we communicate our\nthoughts to each other, and instruct one another in the knowledge of\nwhatever is excellent and good; by which also we publish our laws and\ngovern States. In fine, as we cannot always foresee what is to happen to\nus, nor know what it will be best for us to do, the gods offer us\nlikewise their assistance by the means of the oracles; they discover the\nfuture to us when we go to consult them, and teach us how to behave\nourselves in the affairs of life.\"\n\nHere Euthydemus, interrupting him, said, \"And indeed these gods are in\nthis respect more favourable to you than to the rest of mankind, since,\nwithout expecting you to consult them, they give you notice of what you\nought or ought not to do.\" \"You will allow, therefore, that I told you\ntrue,\" said Socrates, \"when I told you there were gods, and that they\ntake great care of men; but expect not that they will appear to you, and\npresent themselves before your eyes. Let it suffice you to behold their\nworks, and to adore them, and be persuaded that this is the way by which\nthey manifest themselves to men, for among all the gods that are so\nliberal to us there is not one who renders himself visible to confer on\nus his favours. And that Supreme God, who built the universe, and who\nsupports this great work, whose every part is accomplished in beauty and\ngoodness; He, who is the cause that none of its parts grow old with time,\nand that they preserve themselves always in an immortal vigour, who is\nthe cause, besides, that they inviolably obey His laws with a readiness\nthat surpasses our imagination; He, I say, is visible enough in the so\nmany wondrous works of which He is author, but our eyes cannot penetrate\neven into His throne to behold Him in these great occupations, and in\nthat manner it is that He is always invisible. Do but consider that the\nsun, who seems to be exposed to the sight of all the world, does not\nsuffer us to gaze fixedly upon him, and whoever has the temerity to\nundertake it is punished with sudden blindness. Besides, whatever the\ngods make use of is invisible; the thunder is lanced from above, it\nshatters all it finds in its way, but we see it not fall, we see it not\nstrike, we see it not return. The winds are invisible, though we see the\ndesolations they daily make, and easily feel when they grow boisterous.\nIf there be anything in man that partakes of the divine nature it is his\nsoul, which, beyond all dispute, guides and governs him, and yet we\ncannot see it. Let all this, therefore, teach you not to neglect or\ndisbelieve the Deity, because He is invisible; learn to know His presence\nand power from the visible effects of it in the world around you; be\npersuaded of the universal care and providence of the all-surrounding\nDeity from the blessings He showers down upon all His creatures, and be\nsure to worship and serve this God in a becoming manner.\"\n\n\"I am sure,\" said Euthydemus, \"I shall never derogate from the respect\ndue to the gods; and I am even troubled that every man cannot\nsufficiently acknowledge the benefits he receives from them.\" \"Be not\nafflicted at that,\" said Socrates, \"for you know what answer the Delphian\nOracle is wont to return to those who inquire what they ought to do in\norder to make an acceptable sacrifice. 'Follow the custom of your\ncountry,' says he to them. Now, it is a custom received in all places\nfor every man to sacrifice to them according to his power; and by\nconsequence there is no better nor more pious a way of honouring the gods\nthan that, since they themselves ordain and approve it. It is indeed a\ntruth that we ought not to spare anything of what we are able to offer,\nfor that would be a manifest contempt. When, therefore, a man has done\nall that is in his power to do, he ought to fear nothing and hope all;\nfor, from whence can we reasonably hope for more, than from those in\nwhose power it is to do us the greatest good? And by what other way can\nwe more easily obtain it, than by making ourselves acceptable to them?\nAnd how can we better make ourselves acceptable to them, than by doing\ntheir will?\"\n\nThis is what Socrates taught, and by this doctrine, which was always\naccompanied with an exemplary devotion, he greatly advanced his friends\nin piety.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. INSTANCES OF THE INVIOLABLE INTEGRITY OF SOCRATES.--HIS\nCONVERSATION WITH HIPPIAS CONCERNING JUSTICE.\n\n\nConcerning justice, it cannot be said that Socrates concealed his opinion\nof it, for he plainly revealed his sentiments by his actions, as well in\npublic as in private, making it his business to serve every man, and to\nobey the magistrates and the laws; insomuch, that as well in the army as\nin the city, his obedience and uprightness rendered him remarkable above\nall others. He fully discovered the integrity of his soul, when he\npresided in the assemblies of the people; he would never pass a decree\nthat was contrary to the laws; he alone defended the cause of justice\nagainst the efforts of the multitude, and opposed a violence which no man\nbut himself was able to resist. Again, when the Thirty commanded him\nanything that was unjust, he did not obey them. Thus, when they forbid\nhim to speak to the young men, he regarded not their inhibition, and when\nthey gave orders to him, as well as to some other citizens, to bring\nbefore them a certain man, whom they intended to put to death, he alone\nwould do nothing in it, because that order was unjust. In like manner\nwhen he was accused by Melitus, though in such occasions others endeavour\nto gain their judges by flatteries and ignominious solicitations, which\noften procure them their pardon, he would not put in practice any of\nthese mean artifices that are repugnant to the laws, and yet he might\nvery easily have got himself acquitted, if he could have prevailed with\nhimself to comply in the least with the custom, but he chose rather to\ndie in an exact observance of the laws, than to save his life by acting\ncontrary to them, for he utterly abhorred all mean or indirect practices;\nand this was the answer he gave to several of his friends who advised him\nto the contrary.\n\nSince I am now illustrating the character of Socrates with regard to\njustice, I will, at the same time, relate a conversation I remember he\nhad with Hippias of Elis on that subject.\n\nIt was a long while that Hippias had not been at Athens; and being\narrived there, he happened to come to a place where Socrates was\ndiscoursing with some persons, and telling them that if any one had a\nmind to learn a trade, there wanted not masters to teach him; nay, that\nif one would have a horse trained up there were persons enough to\nundertake it; but that if one desired to learn to be a good man, or to\nhave his son, or any of his family taught to be so, it would be difficult\nto know to whom to apply himself. Hippias rallying him, said:--\"What!\nSocrates, you are still repeating the same things I heard you say so long\nago.\" \"Nay, more,\" replied Socrates, \"and always upon the same subject;\nbut you, perhaps, being learned as you are, do not always say the same\nthing upon the same subject.\" \"Indeed,\" said Hippias, \"I always\nendeavour to say something new.\" \"Is it possible,\" replied Socrates?\n\"Pray tell me if you were asked how many letters there are in my name,\nand which they are, would you answer sometimes in one manner and\nsometimes in another? Or if you were asked whether twice five be not\nten, would you not always say the same thing?\" \"In subjects like those,\"\nsaid Hippias, \"I should be obliged to say the same thing as well as you;\nbut since we are upon the theme of justice, I believe I can now say some\nthings of it, against which, neither you nor any man else can make any\nobjection.\" \"Good God!\" cried Socrates, \"what a mighty boast is here!\nUpon my word, Hippias, you have made an admirable discovery! and you have\nreason to value yourself upon it; for, let me tell you, if you can\nestablish one single opinion of justice, the judges will be no longer\ndivided in their sentiments, there will be no more quarrels, no more\nsuits at law, no more seditions among citizens, no more wars between\nrepublics. Indeed, it much troubles me to leave you before you have\ntaught me this secret, which you say you have discovered.\" \"I give you\nmy word,\" answered Hippias, \"that I will tell you nothing of it, till you\nhave first declared your own opinion concerning justice; for it is your\nold way to interrogate others, and then to laugh at them by refuting what\nthey have said; but you never make known your own opinions, that you may\nnot be obliged to give a reason for them.\" \"Why do you lay this to my\ncharge,\" said Socrates, \"since I am continually showing to all the world\nwhat are the things I believe to be just?\" \"How do you show it?\" said\nHippias. \"If I explain it not by my words,\" answered Socrates, \"my\nactions speak it sufficiently; and do you think that actions deserve not\nrather to be believed than words?\" \"Much rather,\" said Hippias, \"because\nmany may say one thing, and do another; nay, we see that, in fact, many\nwho preach up justice to others are very unjust themselves; but this\ncannot be said of a man whose every action is good, and that never in his\nlife did an unjust thing.\" \"Have you known, then,\" said Socrates, \"that\nI have accused any man out of malice, that I have sown dissension among\nfriends, that I have raised seditions in the Republic; in short, that I\nhave committed any other sort of injustice?\" \"Not in the least,\" said\nhe. \"Well, then,\" added Socrates, \"do you not take him to be just who\ncommits no manner of injustice?\" \"It is plain, now,'\" said Hippias,\n\"that you intend to get loose, and that you will not speak your mind\nfreely, nor give us an exact definition of justice. For all this while\nyou have only shown what just men do not, but not what they do.\" \"I\nshould have thought,\" said Socrates, \"I had given at once a good\ndefinition, and a clear instance of justice, when I called it an aversion\nfrom doing injustice. But since you will not allow it to be so, see\nwhether this will satisfy you: I say, then, that justice 'is nothing but\nthe observance of the laws.'\" \"You mean,\" said Hippias, \"that to observe\nthe laws is to be just?\" \"Yes,\" answered Socrates. \"I cannot comprehend\nyour thought,\" said Hippias. \"Do you not know,\" pursued Socrates, \"what\nthe laws in a State are?\" \"The laws,\" answered Hippias, \"are what the\ncitizens have ordained by an universal consent.\" \"Then,\" inferred\nSocrates, \"he who lives conformably to those ordinances observes the\nlaws; and he who acts contrary to them is a transgressor of the laws.\"\n\"You say true.\" \"Is it not likewise true,\" continued Socrates, \"that he\nwho obeys these ordinances does justly, and that he obeys them not does\nunjustly?\" \"Yes.\" \"But,\" said Socrates, \"he who acts justly is just,\nand he who acts unjustly is unjust?\" \"Without doubt.\" \"Therefore,\" said\nSocrates, \"whosoever observes the laws is just, and whosoever observes\nthem not is unjust.\" \"But how can it be imagined,\" objected Hippias,\n\"that the laws are a good thing, and that it is good to obey them, since\neven they that made them mend, alter, and repeal them so often?\" To this\nSocrates answered, \"When you blame those who obey the laws, because they\nare subject to be abrogated, you do the same thing as if you laughed at\nyour enemies for keeping themselves in a good posture of defence during\nthe war, because you might tell them that the peace will one day be made:\nand thus you would condemn those who generously expose their lives for\nthe service of their country. Do you know,\" added he, \"that Lycurgus\ncould never have rendered the Republic of Sparta more excellent than\nother States if he had not made it his chief care to incline the citizens\nmost exactly to observe the laws? This, too, is what all good\nmagistrates aim at, because a Republic that is obedient to the laws is\nhappy in peace, and invincible in war. Moreover, you know that concord\nis a great happiness in a State. It is daily recommended to the people;\nand it is an established custom all over Greece to make the citizens\nswear to live in good understanding with one another, and each of them\ntakes an oath to do so. Now, I do not believe that this unity is exacted\nof them, only that they might choose the same company of comedians, or of\nmusicians, nor that they might give their approbation to the same poets,\nor all take delight in the same diversions, but that they may all\nunanimously obey the laws, because that obedience is the security and the\nhappiness of the State. Concord, therefore, is so necessary, that\nwithout it good polity and authority cannot subsist in any State, nor\ngood economy and order in any family.\n\n\"In our private capacity, likewise, how advantageous is it to obey the\nlaws? By what means can we more certainly avoid punishments, and deserve\nrewards? What more prudent conduct can we observe, always to gain our\nsuits at law, and never to be cast! To whom should we with greater\nconfidence trust our estates or our children, than to him who makes a\nconscience of observing the laws? Who can deserve more of his country?\nwhom can she more safely entrust with public posts, and on whom can she\nmore justly bestow the highest honours, than on the good and honest man?\nWho will discharge himself better of his duty towards his father or his\nmother, towards his relations or his domestics, towards his friends, his\nfellow-citizens, or his guests? To whom will the enemy rather trust for\nthe observing of a truce, or for the performance of a treaty of peace?\nWith whom would we rather choose to make an alliance? To whom will the\nallies more readily give the command of their armies, or the government\nof their towns? From whom can we rather hope for a grateful return of a\nkindness than from a man who strictly obeys the laws? and, by\nconsequence, to whom will men be more ready to do good turns, than to him\nof whose gratitude they are certain? With whom will men be better\npleased to contract a friendship, and, consequently, against whom will\nmen be less inclined to commit acts of hostility, than against that\nperson who has everybody for his well-wisher and friend, and few or none\nfor his ill-wishers or enemies? These, Hippias, are the advantages of\nobserving the laws. And now, having shown you that the observance of the\nlaws is the same thing with justice, if you are of another opinion, pray\nlet me know it.\" \"Indeed, Socrates,\" answered Hippias, \"what you have\nsaid of justice agrees exactly with my sentiments of it.\" \"Have you\nnever heard,\" continued Socrates, \"of certain laws that are not written?\"\n\"You mean the laws,\" answered Hippias, \"which are received all over the\nearth.\" \"Do you think, then,\" added Socrates, \"that it was all mankind\nthat made them?\" \"That is impossible,\" said Hippias, \"because all men\ncannot be assembled in the same place, and they speak not all of them the\nsame language.\" \"Who, then, do you think gave us these laws?\" \"The\ngods,\" answered Hippias; \"for the first command to all men is to adore\nthe gods.\" \"And is it not likewise commanded everywhere to honour one's\nfather and mother?\" \"Yes, certainly,\" said Hippias. Socrates went\non:--\"And that fathers and mothers should not marry with their own\nchildren, is not that too a general command?\" \"No,\" answered Hippias,\n\"this last law is not a Divine law, because I see some persons transgress\nit.\" \"They observe not the others better,\" said Socrates; \"but take\nnotice, that no man violates with impunity a law established by the gods.\nThere are unavoidable punishments annexed to this crime; but we easily\nsecure ourselves from the rigour of human laws, after we have\ntransgressed them, either by keeping ourselves hid, or defending\nourselves by open force.\" \"And what is this punishment,\" said Hippias,\n\"which it is impossible for fathers, who marry with their own children,\nto avoid?\" \"It is very great,\" said Socrates; \"for what can be more\nafflicting to men, who desire to have children than to have very bad\nones?\" \"And how do you know,\" pursued Hippias, \"that they will have bad\nchildren? What shall hinder them, if they are virtuous themselves, from\nhaving children that are so likewise?\" \"It is not enough,\" answered\nSocrates, \"that the father and the mother be virtuous: they must,\nbesides, be both of them in the vigour and perfection of their age. Now,\ndo you believe, that the seed of persons who are too young, or who are\nalready in their declining age, is equal to that of persons who are in\ntheir full strength?\" \"It is not likely that it is,\" said Hippias. \"And\nwhich is the best?\" pursued Socrates. \"Without doubt,\" said Hippias,\n\"that of a man in his strength.\" \"It follows, then,\" continued Socrates,\n\"that the seed of persons who are not yet come to their full strength, or\nwho are past it, is not good.\" \"In all appearance it is not.\" \"In those\nages, then, we ought not to get children?\" said Socrates. \"I think so.\"\n\"Such, therefore, as indulge their lust in such untimely fruition will\nhave very weakly children?\" \"I grant they will.\" \"And are not weakly\nchildren bad ones?\" \"They are,\" said Hippias.\n\n\"Tell me, further,\" said Socrates, \"is it not an universal law to do good\nto those who have done good to us?\" \"Yes,\" said Hippias, \"but many\noffend against this law.\" \"And they are punished for it,\" replied\nSocrates, \"seeing their best friends abandon them, and that they are\nobliged to follow those who have an aversion for them. For are not they\nthe best friends who do kindnesses whenever they are desired? And if he\nwho has received a favour neglect to acknowledge it, or return it ill,\ndoes he not incur their hate by his ingratitude? And yet, finding his\nadvantage in preserving their goodwill, is it not to them that he makes\nhis court with most assiduity?\" \"It is evident,\" said Hippias, \"that it\nis the gods who have ordered these things; for, when I consider that each\nlaw carries with it the punishment of the transgressor, I confess it to\nbe the work of a more excellent legislator than man.\" \"And do you\nthink,\" said Socrates, \"that the gods make laws that are unjust?\" \"On\nthe contrary,\" answered Hippias, \"it is very difficult for any but the\ngods to make laws that are just.\" \"Therefore, Hippias,\" said Socrates,\n\"according to the gods themselves 'to obey the laws is to be just.'\"\n\nThis is what Socrates said on the subject of justice, and his actions\nbeing conformable to his words, he from day to day created a greater love\nof justice in the minds of those who frequented him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. OF THE MISCHIEFS OF INTEMPERANCE, AND THE ADVANTAGES OF\nSOBRIETY.\n\n\nI will now set down the arguments that Socrates used to bring his friends\nto the practice of good actions, for being of opinion that temperance is\na great advantage to such as desire to do anything that is excellent, he\nfirst showed them, by his way of living, that no man was more advanced\nthan himself in the exercise of that virtue; and in his conferences he\nexhorted his hearers above all things to the practice of it, and his\nthoughts being continually employed in the means of arriving to be\nvirtuous, he made it likewise the subject of all his discourses.\n\nI remember that talking once with Euthydemus concerning temperance he\ndelivered himself to this effect:--\"In your opinion, Euthydemus, is\nliberty a very valuable thing?\" \"To be valued above all things,\"\nanswered Euthydemus. \"Do you believe that a man who is a slave to\nsensual pleasures, and finds himself incapable of doing good, enjoys his\nliberty?\" \"Not in the least.\" \"You allow, then, that to do good is to\nbe free, and that to be prevented from doing it, by any obstacle\nwhatever, is not to be free?\" \"I think so,\" said Euthydemus. \"You\nbelieve, then,\" said Socrates, \"that debauched persons are not free?\" \"I\ndo.\" \"Do you believe likewise,\" continued Socrates, \"that debauchery\ndoes not only hinder from doing good, but compels to do ill?\" \"I think\nit does.\" \"What would you say, then, of a master who should hinder you\nfrom applying yourself to what is honest, and force you to undertake some\ninfamous occupation?\" \"I would say he was a very wicked master,\"\nanswered Euthydemus. \"And which is the worst of all slaveries?\" added\nSocrates. \"To serve ill masters,\" said Euthydemus. \"Therefore,\"\ninferred Socrates, \"the debauched are in a miserable slavery.\" \"No doubt\nof it.\" \"Is it not debauchery, likewise,\" said Socrates, \"that deprives\nmen of their wisdom, the noblest gift of the gods, and drives them into\nignorance and stupidity, and all manner of disorders? It robs them of\nleisure to apply themselves to things profitable, while it drowns them in\nsensual pleasures; and it seizes their minds to that degree that, though\nthey often know which is the best way, they are miserably engaged in the\nworst.\" \"They are so.\" \"Nor can we expect to find temperance nor\nmodesty in a debauched person, since the actions of temperance and\ndebauchery are entirely opposite.\" \"There is no doubt of it,\" said\nEuthydemus. \"I do not think neither,\" added Socrates, \"that it is\npossible to imagine anything that makes men neglect their duty more than\ndebauchery.\" \"You say true.\" \"Is there anything more pernicious to\nman,\" said Socrates, \"than that which robs him of his judgment, makes him\nembrace and cherish things that are hurtful, avoid and neglect what is\nprofitable, and lead a life contrary to that of good men?\" \"There is\nnothing,\" said Euthydemus. Socrates went on:--\"And may we not ascribe\nthe contrary effects to temperance?\" \"Without doubt.\" \"And is it not\nlikely to be true that the cause of the contrary effects is good?\" \"Most\ncertainly.\" \"It follows, then, my dear Euthydemus,\" said Socrates, \"that\ntemperance is a very good thing?\" \"Undoubtedly it is.\" \"But have you\nreflected,\" pursued Socrates, \"that debauchery, which pretends to lead\nmen to pleasures, cannot conduct them thither, but deceives them, leaving\nthem in disappointment, satiety, and disgust? and have you considered\nthat temperance and sobriety alone give us the true taste of pleasures?\nFor it is the nature of debauchery not to endure hunger nor thirst, nor\nthe fatigue of being long awake, nor the vehement desires of love, which,\nnevertheless, are the true dispositions to eat and drink with delight,\nand to find an exquisite pleasure in the soft approaches of sleep, and in\nthe enjoyments of love. This is the reason that the intemperate find\nless satisfaction in these actions, which are necessary and frequently\ndone. But temperance, which accustoms us to wait for the necessity, is\nthe only thing that makes us feel an extreme pleasure in these\noccasions.\" \"You are in the right,\" said Euthydemus. \"It is this\nvirtue, too,\" said Socrates, \"that puts men in a condition of bringing to\na state of perfection both the mind and the body, of rendering themselves\ncapable of well governing their families, of being serviceable to their\nfriends and their country, and of overcoming their enemies, which is not\nonly very agreeable on account of the advantages, but very desirable\nlikewise for the satisfaction that attends it. But the debauched know\nnone of this, for what share can they pretend to in virtuous actions,\nthey whose minds are wholly taken up in the pursuit of present\npleasures?\" \"According to what you say,\" replied Euthydemus, \"a man\ngiven to voluptuousness is unfit for any virtue.\" \"And what difference\nis there,\" said Socrates, \"between an irrational animal and a voluptuous\nman, who has no regard to what is best, but blindly pursues what is most\ndelightful? It belongs to the temperate only to inquire what things are\nbest and what not, and then, after having found out the difference by\nexperience and reasoning, to embrace the good and avoid the bad, which\nrenders them at once most happy, most virtuous, and most prudent.\"\n\nThis was the sum of this conference with Euthydemus. Now Socrates said\nthat conferences were so called because the custom was to meet and confer\ntogether, in order to distinguish things according to their different\nspecies, and he advised the frequent holding of these conferences,\nbecause it is an exercise that improves and makes men truly great,\nteaches them to become excellent politicians, and ripens the judgment and\nunderstanding.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. SOCRATES' FRIENDS ATTAIN, BY FREQUENTING HIS CONVERSATION,\nAN EXCELLENT WAY OF REASONING.--THE METHOD HE OBSERVED IN ARGUING SHOWN\nIN SEVERAL INSTANCES.--OF THE DIFFERENT SORTS OF GOVERNMENT.--HOW\nSOCRATES DEFENDED HIS OPINIONS.\n\n\nI will show, in the next place, how Socrates' friends learnt to reason so\nwell by frequenting his conversation. He held that they who perfectly\nunderstand the nature of things can explain themselves very well\nconcerning them, but that a man who has not that knowledge often deceives\nhimself and others likewise. He therefore perpetually conferred with his\nfriends without ever being weary of that exercise. It would be very\ndifficult to relate how he defined every particular thing. I will\ntherefore mention only what I think sufficient to show what method he\nobserved in reasoning. And, in the first place, let us see how he argues\nconcerning piety.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said he to Euthydemus, \"what piety is?\" \"It is a very\nexcellent thing,\" answered Euthydemus. \"And who is a pious man?\" said\nSocrates. \"A man who serves the gods.\" \"Is it lawful,\" added Socrates,\n\"to serve the gods in what manner we please?\" \"By no means,\" said\nEuthydemus; \"there are laws made for that purpose, which must be kept.\"\n\"He, then, who keeps these laws will know how he ought to serve the\ngods?\" \"I think so.\" \"And is it not true,\" continued Socrates, \"that he\nwho knows one way of serving the gods believes there is no better a way\nthan his?\" \"That is certain.\" \"And will he not be careful how he does\notherwise?\" \"I believe he will.\" \"He, then, who knows the laws that\nought to be observed in the service of the gods, will serve them\naccording to the laws?\" \"Without doubt.\" \"But he who serves the gods as\nthe laws direct, serves them as he ought?\" \"True, he does.\" \"And he who\nserves the gods as he ought is pious?\" \"There can be no doubt of it.\"\n\"Thus, then,\" said Socrates, \"we have the true definition of a pious man:\nHe who knows in what manner he ought to serve the gods?\" \"I think so,\"\nsaid Euthydemus.\n\n\"Tell me further,\" continued Socrates, \"is it lawful for men to behave\nthemselves to one another as they please?\" \"In nowise,\" answered\nEuthydemus; \"there are also certain laws which they ought to observe\namong themselves.\" \"And do they,\" said Socrates, \"who live together\naccording to those laws, live as they ought?\" \"Yes.\" \"And do they who\nlive as they ought live well?\" \"Certainly they do.\" \"And does he who\nknows how to live well with men understand well how to govern his\naffairs?\" \"It is likely that he may.\" \"Now, do you believe,\" said\nSocrates, \"that some men obey the laws without knowing what the laws\ncommand?\" \"I do not believe it.\" \"And when a man knows what he ought to\ndo, do you think he believes that he ought not to do it?\" \"I do not\nthink so.\" \"And do you know any men who do otherwise than they believe\nthey ought to do?\" \"None at all.\" \"They, then, who know the laws that\nmen ought to observe among themselves, do what those laws command?\" \"I\nbelieve so.\" \"And do they who do what the laws command, do what is\njust?\" \"Most surely.\" \"And they who do what is just are just likewise?\"\n\"None but they are so.\" \"We may, therefore, well conclude,\" said\nSocrates, \"that the just are they who know the laws that men ought to\nobserve among themselves?\" \"I grant it,\" said Euthydemus.\n\n\"And as for wisdom,\" pursued Socrates, \"what shall we say it is? Tell me\nwhether are men said to be wise in regard to the things they know, or in\nregard to those they do not know?\" \"There can be no doubt,\" answered\nEuthydemus, \"but that it is in consideration of what they know; for how\ncan a man be wise in things he knows not?\" \"Then,\" said Socrates, \"men\nare wise on account of their knowledge?\" \"It cannot be otherwise.\" \"Is\nwisdom anything but what renders us wise?\" \"No.\" \"Wisdom therefore is\nonly knowledge?\" \"I think so.\" \"And do you believe,\" said Socrates,\n\"that it is in the power of a man to know everything?\" \"Not so much as\neven the hundredth part.\" \"It is, then, impossible,\" said Socrates, \"to\nfind a man who is wise in all things?\" \"Indeed it is,\" said Euthydemus.\n\"It follows, then,\" said Socrates, \"that every man is wise in what he\nknows?\" \"I believe so.\"\n\n\"But can we, by this same way of comparison, judge of the nature of\ngood?\" \"As how?\" said Euthydemus. \"Do you think,\" said Socrates, \"that\nthe same thing is profitable to all men?\" \"By no means.\" \"Do you\nbelieve that the same thing may be profitable to one and hurtful to\nanother?\" \"I think it may.\" \"Then is it not the good that is\nprofitable?\" \"Yes, certainly.\" \"Therefore, 'what is profitable is a\ngood to him to whom it is profitable.'\" \"That is true.\"\n\n\"Is it not the same with what is beautiful? For, can you say that a body\nor a vessel is beautiful and proper for all the world?\" \"By no means.\"\n\"You will say, then, that it is beautiful in regard to the thing for\nwhich it is proper?\" \"Yes.\" \"But tell me whether what is reputed\nbeautiful for one thing has the same relation to another as to that to\nwhich it is proper?\" \"No.\" \"Then 'whatever is of any use is reputed\nbeautiful in regard to the thing to which that use relates?'\" \"I think\nso.\"\n\n\"And what say you of courage?\" added Socrates. \"Is it an excellent\nthing?\" \"Very excellent,\" answered Euthydemus. \"But do you believe it\nto be of use in occasions of little moment?\" \"Yes; but it is necessary\nin great affairs.\" \"Do you think it of great advantage in dangers,\"\ncontinued Socrates, \"not to perceive the peril we are in?\" \"I am not of\nthat opinion.\" \"At that rate,\" said Socrates, \"they who are not\nfrightened because they see not the danger are in nowise valiant.\" \"There\nis no doubt of it,\" said Euthydemus, \"for otherwise there would be some\nfools, and even cowards, who must be accounted brave.\" \"And what are\nthey who fear what is not to be feared?\" \"They are less brave than the\nothers,\" answered Euthydemus. \"They therefore,\" said Socrates, \"who show\nthemselves valiant in dangerous occasions, are they whom you call brave;\nand they who behave themselves in them unworthily, are they whom you call\ncowards?\" \"Very right.\" \"Do you think,\" added Socrates, \"that any men\nare valiant in such occasions except they who know how to behave\nthemselves in them?\" \"I do not think there are.\" \"And are not they, who\nbehave themselves unworthily, the same as they who know not how to behave\nthemselves?\" \"I believe they are.\" \"And does not every man behave\nhimself as he believes he ought to do?\" \"Without doubt.\" \"Shall we say,\nthen, that they who behave themselves ill know how they ought to behave\nthemselves?\" \"By no means.\" \"They, therefore, who know how to behave\nthemselves, are they who behave themselves well?\" \"They and no others.\"\n\"Let us conclude, then,\" said Socrates, \"that they who know how to behave\nthemselves well in dangers and difficult occasions are the brave, and\nthat they who know not how to do so are the cowards.\" \"That is my\nopinion,\" said Euthydemus.\n\nSocrates was wont to say, that a kingly government and a tyrannical\ngovernment were indeed two sorts of monarchy, and that there was this\ndifference between them; that, under a kingly government, the subjects\nobeyed willingly, and that everything was done according to the laws of\nthe State; but that, under a tyrannical government, the people obeyed by\nforce, and that all the laws were reduced to the sole will of the\nsovereign.\n\nConcerning the other sorts of government, he said: That when the offices\nof a Republic are given to the good citizens, this sort of State was\ncalled aristocracy, or government of good men; when, on the contrary, the\nmagistrates were chosen according to their revenues, it was called a\nplutocracy, or government of the rich; and when all the people are\nadmitted, without distinction, to bear employments, it is a democracy, or\npopular government.\n\nIf any one opposed the opinion of Socrates, on any affair whatever,\nwithout giving a convincing reason, his custom was to bring back the\ndiscourse to the first proposition, and to begin by that to search for\nthe truth. For example: if Socrates had commended any particular person,\nand any stander-by had named another, and pretended that he was more\nvaliant, or more experienced in affairs, he would have defended his\nopinion in the following manner:--\n\n\"You pretend,\" would he have said, \"that he of whom you speak is a better\ncitizen than the person whom I was praising. Let us consider what is the\nduty of a good citizen, and what man is most esteemed in a Republic. Will\nyou not grant me, that in relation to the management of the public\nrevenue, he is in the highest esteem who, while he has that office, saves\nthe Republic most money? In regard to the war, it is he who gains most\nvictories over the enemies. If we are to enter into a treaty with other\nStates, it is he who can dexterously win over to the party of the\nRepublic those who before opposed its interests. If we are to have\nregard to what passes in the assemblies of the people, it is he who\nbreaks the cabals, who appeases the seditious, who maintains concord and\nunity among the citizens.\" This being granted him, he applied these\ngeneral rules to the dispute in question, and made the truth plainly\nappear, even to the eyes of those who contradicted him. As for himself,\nwhen he undertook to discourse of anything, he always began by the most\ncommon and universally received propositions, and was wont to say, that\nthe strength of the argumentation consisted in so doing. And, indeed, of\nall the men I have ever seen, I know none who could so easily bring\nothers to own the truth of what he had a mind to prove to them. And he\nsaid that Homer, speaking of Ulysses, called him \"the certain or never-\nfailing orator,\" because he had the art of supporting his arguments upon\nprinciples that were acknowledged by all men.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. METHOD TO BE OBSERVED IN STUDY.--ARTS AND SCIENCES NO\nFURTHER USEFUL, THAN THEY CONTRIBUTE TO RENDER MEN WISER, BETTER, OR\nHAPPIER.--VAIN AND UNPROFITABLE KNOWLEDGE TO BE REJECTED.\n\n\nI presume now, that what I have said has been a sufficient evidence of\nthe frankness and sincerity with which Socrates conversed with his\nfriends, and made known his opinions to them. It remains now that I\nshould say something of the extreme care Socrates showed for the\nadvancement of his friends, and how much he had at heart that they might\nnot be ignorant of anything that could be useful to them, to the end they\nmight not want the assistance of others in their own affairs. For this\nreason, he applied himself to examine in what each of them was knowing;\nthen, if he thought it in his power to teach them anything that an honest\nand worthy man ought to know, he taught them such things with incredible\nreadiness and affection; if not, he carried them himself to masters who\nwere able to instruct them. But he resolved within himself how far a\nperson who was well-educated in his studies ought to learn everything.\n\nThus for geometry he said, that we ought to know enough of it not to be\nimposed upon in measure when we buy or sell land, when we divide an\ninheritance into shares, or measure out the work of a labourer, and that\nit was so easy to know this, that if a man applied himself ever so little\nto the practice of such things, he would soon learn even the extent and\ncircumference of the whole earth, and how to measure it; but he did not\napprove that a man should dive into the very bottom of this science, and\npuzzle his brains with I know not what figures, though he himself was\nexpert in it, for he said he could not see what all those niceties and\ninventions were good for, which take up the whole life of a man, and\ndistract him from other more necessary studies.\n\nIn like manner he was of opinion that a man should employ some time in\nastronomy, that he might know by the stars the hour of the night, what\nday of the month it is, and what season of the year we are in, in order\nthat we might know when to relieve a sentinel in the night, and when it\nis best to venture out to sea, or undertake a journey, and, in short,\nthat we might know how to do everything in its proper season. He said\nthat all this was easily learnt by conversing with seamen, or with such\nas go a-hunting by night, or others who profess to know these things; but\nhe dissuaded very much from penetrating farther into this science, as\neven to know what planets are not in the same declination, to explain all\ntheir different motions, to know how far distant they are from the earth,\nin how long time they make their revolutions, and what are their several\ninfluences, for he thought these sciences wholly useless, not that he was\nignorant of them himself, but because they take up all our time, and\ndivert us from better employments. In fine, he could not allow of a too\ncurious inquiry into the wonderful workmanship of the Deity in the\ndisposition of the universe, that being a secret which the mind cannot\ncomprehend, and because it is not an action acceptable to God to\nendeavour to discover what He would hide from us. He held, likewise,\nthat it was dangerous to perplex the mind with these sublime\nspeculations, as Anaxagoras had done, who pretended to be very knowing in\nthem, for in teaching that the sun was the same thing as fire, he does\nnot consider that fire does not dazzle the eyes, but that it is\nimpossible to support the splendour of the sun. He did not reflect,\nneither, that the sun blackens the sky, which fire does not; nor lastly,\nthat the heat of the sun is necessary to the earth, in order to the\nproduction of trees and fruits, but that the heat of fire burns and kills\nthem. When he said, too, that the sun was only a stone set on fire, he\ndid not consider that a stone glitters not in the fire, and cannot last\nlong in it without consuming, whereas the sun lasts always, and is an\ninexhaustible source of light.\n\nSocrates advised, likewise, to learn arithmetic, but not to amuse\nourselves with the vain curiosities of that science, having established\nthis rule in all his studies and in all his conferences, never to go\nbeyond what is useful.\n\nHe exhorted his friends to take care of their health, and to that purpose\nto consult with the learned; and to observe, besides, each in his own\nparticular, what meat, what drink, and what exercise is best for him, and\nhow to use them to preserve himself in health. For when a man has thus\nstudied his own constitution, he cannot have a better physician than\nhimself.\n\nIf any one desired to attempt or to learn things that were above the\npower or capacity of human nature, he advised him to apply himself to\ndivination; for he who knows by what means the gods generally signify\ntheir mind to men, or how it is they used to give them counsel and aid,\nsuch a person never fails to obtain from the Deity all that direction and\nassistance that is necessary for him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. BEHAVIOUR OF SOCRATES FROM THE TIME OF HIS CONDEMNATION TO\nHIS DEATH.--HIS CHARACTER SUMMED UP IN A FEW WORDS.\n\n\nTo conclude: if, because Socrates was condemned to death, any one should\nbelieve that he was a liar to say that he had a good demon that guided\nhim, and gave him instructions what he should or should not do, let him\nconsider, in the first place, that he was arrived to such an age that if\nhe had not died when he did, he could not have lived much longer; that by\ndying when he did he avoided the most toilsome part of life, in which the\nmind loses much of its vigour; and that in amends for it he discovered to\nthe whole world the greatness of his soul, acquired to himself an\nimmortal glory, by the defence he made before his judges, in behaving\nhimself with a sincerity, courage, and probity that were indeed\nwonderful, and in receiving his sentence with a patience and resolution\nof mind never to be equalled; for it is agreed by all that no man ever\nsuffered death with greater constancy than Socrates.\n\nHe lived thirty days after his condemnation, because the Delian feasts\nhappened in that month, and the law forbids to put any man to death till\nthe consecrated vessel that is sent to the Isle of Delos be come back to\nAthens. During that time his friends, who saw him continually, found no\nchange in him; but that he always retained that tranquillity of mind and\nagreeableness of temper which before had made all the world admire him.\nNow, certainly no man can die with greater constancy than this; this is\ndoubtless the most glorious death that can be imagined; but if it be the\nmost glorious, it is the most happy; and if it be the most happy, it is\nthe most acceptable to the Deity.\n\nHermogenes has told me, that being with him a little after Melitus had\naccused him, he observed, that he seemed to decline speaking of that\naffair: from whence he took occasion to tell him that it would not be\namiss for him to think of what he should answer in his own justification.\nTo which Socrates replied: \"Do you believe I have done anything else all\nmy life than think of it?\" And Hermogenes asking him what he meant by\nsaying so? Socrates told him that he had made it the whole business of\nhis life to examine what was just and what unjust; that he had always\ncherished justice and hated injustice, and that he did not believe there\nwas any better way to justify himself.\n\nHermogenes said further to him--\"Do you not know that judges have often\ncondemned the innocent to death, only because their answers offended\nthem, and that, on the contrary, they have often acquitted the guilty?\"\n\"I know it very well,\" answered Socrates; \"but I assure you, that having\nset myself to think what I should say to my judges, the demon that\nadvises me dissuaded me from it.\" At which Hermogenes seeming surprised,\nSocrates said to him, \"Why are you surprised that this God thinks it\nbetter for me to leave this world than to continue longer in it? Sure,\nyou are not ignorant that I have lived as well and as pleasantly as any\nman, if to live well be, as I take it, to have no concern but for virtue,\nand if to live pleasantly be to find that we have made some progress in\nit. Now, I have good reason to believe that this is my happy case, that\nI have always had a steady regard for virtue, and made progress in it,\nbecause I perceive that my mind, at this time, doth not misgive me, nay,\nI have the sincere testimony of my conscience that I have done my duty;\nand in this belief I strengthen myself by the conversation I have had\nwith others, and by comparing myself with them. My friends, too, have\nbelieved the same thing of me, not because they wish me well, for in that\nsense every friend would think as much of his friend, but because they\nthought they advanced in virtue by my conversation.\n\n\"If I were to live longer, perhaps I should fall into the inconveniences\nof old age: perhaps my sight should grow dim, my hearing fail me, my\njudgment become weak, and I should have more trouble to learn, more to\nretain what I had learnt; perhaps, too, after all, I should find myself\nincapable of doing the good I had done before. And if, to complete my\nmisery, I should have no sense of my wretchedness, would not life be a\nburden to me? And, on the other hand, say I had a sense of it, would it\nnot afflict me beyond measure? As things now stand, if I die innocent\nthe shame will fall on those who are the cause of my death, since all\nsort of iniquity is attended with shame. But who will ever blame me\nbecause others have not confessed my innocence, nor done me justice? Past\nexperience lets us see that they who suffer injustice, and they who\ncommit it, leave not a like reputation behind them after their death. And\nthus, if I die on this occasion, I am most certain that posterity will\nmore honour my memory than theirs who condemn me; for it will be said of\nme, that I never did any wrong, never gave any ill advice to any man; but\nthat I laboured all my life long to excite to virtue those who frequented\nme.\"\n\nThis was the answer that Socrates gave to Hermogenes, and to several\nothers. In a word, all good men who knew Socrates daily regret his loss\nto this very hour, reflecting on the advantage and improvement they made\nin his company.\n\nFor my own part, having found him to be the man I have described, that is\nto say, so pious as to do nothing without the advice of the Deity; so\njust as never to have in the least injured any man, and to have done very\nsignal services to many; so chaste and temperate as never to have\npreferred delight and pleasure before modesty and honesty; so prudent as\nnever to have mistaken in the discernment of good and evil, and never to\nhave had need of the advice of others, to form a right judgment of\neither; moreover, most capable to deliberate and resolve in all sorts of\naffairs, most capable to examine into men, to reprehend them for their\nvices, and to excite them to virtue; having, I say, found all these\nperfections in Socrates, I have always esteemed him the most virtuous and\nmost happy of all men; and if any one be not of my opinion, let him take\nthe pains to compare him with other men, and judge of him afterwards.","title":"The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":56111}