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Xenophon
Memorabilia Book One - part 1
I have often wondered by what arguments those
who indicted[1] Socrates could have persuaded
the Athenians that his life was justly forfeit
to the state. The indictment was to this
effect: "Socrates is guilty of crime
in refusing to recognise the gods acknowledged
by the state, and importing strange divinities
of his own; he is further guilty of corrupting
the young."
In the first place, what evidence did they
produce that Socrates refused to recognise
the gods acknowledged by the state? Was it
that he did not sacrifice? or that he dispensed
with divination? On the contrary, he was
often to be seen engaged in sacrifice, at
home or at the common altars of the state.
Nor was his dependence on divination less
manifest. Indeed that saying of his, "A
divinity[2] gives me a sign," was on
everybody's lips. So much so that, if I am
not mistaken, it lay at the root of the imputation
that he imported novel divinities; though
there was no greater novelty in his case
than in that of other believers in oracular
help, who commonly rely on omens of all sorts:
the flight or cry of birds, the utterances
of man, chance meetings,[3] or a victim's
entrails. Even according to the popular conception,
it is not the mere fowl, it is not the chance
individual one meets, who knows what things
are profitable for a man, but it is the gods
who vouchsafe by such instruments to signify
the same. This was also the tenet of Socrates.
Only, whereas men ordinarily speak of being
turned aside, or urged onwards by birds,
or other creatures encountered on the path,
Socrates suited his language to his conviction.
"The divinity," said he, "gives
me a sign." Further, he would constantly
advise his associates to do this, or beware
of doing that, upon the authority of this
same divine voice; and, as a matter of fact,
those who listened to his warnings prospered,
whilst he who turned a deaf ear to them repented
afterwards.[4] Yet, it will be readily conceded,
he would hardly desire to present himself
to his everyday companions in the character
of either knave or fool. Whereas he would
have appeared to be both, supposing[5] the
God-given revelations had but revealed his
own proneness to deception. It is plain he
would not have ventured on forecast at all,
but for his belief that the words he spoke
would in fact be verified. Then on whom,
or what, was the assurance rooted, if not
upon God? And if he had faith in the gods,
how could he fail to recognise them?
But his mode of dealing with his intimates
has another aspect. As regards the ordinary
necessities of life,[6] his advice was, "Act
as you believe[7] these things may best be
done." But in the case of those darker
problems, the issues of which are incalculable,
he directed his friends to consult the oracle,
whether the business should be undertaken
or not. "No one," he would say,
"who wishes to manage a house or city
with success: no one aspiring to guide the
helm of state aright, can afford to dipense
with aid from above. Doubtless, skill in
carpentering, building, smithying, farming,
of the art of governing men, together with
the theory of these processes, and the sciences
of arithmetic, economy, strategy, are affairs
of study, and within the grasp of human intelligence.
Yet there is a side even of these, and that
not the least important, which the gods reserve
to themselves, the bearing of which is hidden
from mortal vision. Thus, let a man sow a
field or plant a farm never so well, yet
he cannot foretell who will gather in the
fruits: another may build him a house of
fairest proportion, yet he knows not who
will inhabit it. Neither can a general foresee
whether it will profit him to conduct a campaign,
nor a politician be certain whether his leadership
will turn to evil or good. Nor can the man
who weds a fair wife, looking forward to
joy, know whether through her he shall not
reap sorrow. Neither can he who has built
up a powerful connection in the state know
whether he shall not by means of it be cast
out of his city. To suppose that all these
matters lay within the scope of human judgment,
to the exclusion of the preternatural, was
preternatural folly. Nor was it less extravagant
to go and consult the will of Heaven on any
questions which it is given to us to decide
by dint of learning. As though a man should
inquire, "Am I to choose an expert driver
as my coachman, or one who has never handled
the reins?" "Shall I appoint a
mariner to be skipper of my vessel, or a
landsman?" And so with respect to all
we may know by numbering, weighing, and measuring.
To seek advice from Heaven on such points
was a sort of profanity. "Our duty is
plain," he would observe; "where
we are permitted to work through our natural
faculties, there let us by all means apply
them. But in things which are hidden, let
us seek to gain knowledge from above, by
divination; for the gods," he added,
"grant signs to those to whom they will
be gracious."
Again, Socrates ever lived in the public
eye; at early morning he was to be seen betaking
himself to one of the promenades, or wrestling-
grounds; at noon he would appear with the
gathering crowds in the market-place; and
as day declined, wherever the largest throng
might be encountered, there was he to be
found, talking for the most part, while any
one who chose might stop and listen. Yet
no one ever heard him say, or saw him do
anything impious or irreverent. Indeed, in
contrast to others he set his face against
all discussion of such high matters as the
nature of the Universe; how the "kosmos,"
as the savants[8] phrase it, came into being;[9]
or by what forces the celestial phenomena
arise. To trouble one's brain about such
matters was, he argued, to play the fool.
He would ask first: Did these investigators
feel their knowledge of things human so complete
that they betook themselves to these lofty
speculations? Or did they maintain that they
were playing their proper parts in thus neglecting
the affairs of man to speculate on the concerns
of God? He was astonished they did not see
how far these problems lay beyond mortal
ken; since even those who pride themselves
most on their discussion of these points
differ from each other, as madmen do. For
just as some madmen, he said, have no apprehension
of what is truly terrible, others fear where
no fear is; some are ready to say and do
anything in public without the slightest
symptom of shame;[10] others think they ought
not so much as to set foot among their fellow-men;
some honour neither temple, nor altar, nor
aught else sacred to the name of God; others
bow down to stocks and stones and worship
the very beasts:--so is it with those thinkers
whose minds are cumbered with cares[11] concerning
the Universal Nature. One sect[12] has discovered
that Being is one and indivisible. Another[13]
that it is infinite in number. If one[14]
proclaims that all things are in a continual
flux, another[15] replies that nothing can
possibly be moved at any time. The theory
of the universe as a process of birth and
death is met by the counter theory, that
nothing ever could be born or ever will die.
But the questioning of Socrates on the merits
of these speculators sometimes took another
form. The student of human learning expects,
he said, to make something of his studies
for the benefit of himself or others, as
he likes. Do these explorers into the divine
operations hope that when they have discovered
by what forces the various phenomena occur,
they will create winds and waters at will
and fruitful seasons? Will they manipulate
these and the like to suit their needs? or
has no such notion perhaps ever entered their
heads, and will they be content simply to
know how such things come into existence?
But if this was his mode of describing those
who meddle with such matters as these, he
himself never wearied of discussing human
topics. What is piety? what is impiety? What
is the beautiful? what the ugly? What the
noble? what the base? What are meant by just
and unjust? what by sobriety and madness?
what by courage and cowardice? What is a
state? what is a statesman? what is a ruler
over men? what is a ruling character? and
other like problems, the knowledge of which,
as he put it, conferred a patent of nobility
on the possessor,[16] whereas those who lacked
the knowledge might deservedly be stigmatised
as slaves.
Now, in so far as the opinions of Socrates
were unknown to the world at large, it is
not surprising that the court should draw
false conclusions respecting them; but that
facts patent to all should have been ignored
is indeed astonishing.
At one time Socrates was a member of the
Council,[17] he had taken the senatorial
oath, and sworn "as a member of that
house to act in conformity with the laws."
It was thus he chanced to be President of
the Popular Assembly,[18] when that body
was seized with a desire to put the nine[19]
generals, Thrasyllus, Erasinides, and the
rest, to death by a single inclusive vote.
Whereupon, in spite of the bitter resentment
of the people, and the menaces of several
influential citizens, he refused to put the
question, esteeming it of greater importance
faithfully to abide by the oath which he
had taken, than to gratify the people wrongfully,
or to screen himself from the menaces of
the mighty. The fact being, that with regard
to the care bestowed by the gods upon men,
his belief differed widely from that of the
multitude. Whereas most people seem to imagine
that the gods know in part, and are ignorant
in part, Socrates believed firmly that the
gods know all things--both the things that
are said and the things that are done, and
the things that are counselled in the silent
chambers of the heart. Moreover, they are
present everywhere, and bestow signs upon
man concerning all the things of man.
I can, therefore, but repeat my former words.
It is a marvel to me how the Athenians came
to be persuaded that Socrates fell short
of sober- mindedness as touching the gods.
A man who never ventured one impious word
or deed against the gods we worship, but
whose whole language concerning them, and
his every act, closely coincided, word for
word, and deed for deed, with all we deem
distinctive of devoutest piety.
[1] {oi grapsamenoi} = Meletus (below, IV.
iv. 4, viii. 4; "Apol." 11, 19),
Anytus ("Apol." 29), and Lycon.
See Plat. "Apol." II. v. 18; Diog.
Laert. II. v. (Socr.); M. Schanz, "Plat.
Apol. mit deutschen Kemmentar, Einleitung,"
S. 5 foll.
[2] Or, "A divine something." See
"Encyc. Brit." "Socrates."
Dr. H. Jackason; "The Daemon of Socrates,"
F. W. H. Myers; K. Joel, "Der echte
und der Xenophontische Sokrates," i.
p. 70 foll.; cf. Aristot. "M. M."
1182 a 10.
[3] See Aesch. "P. V." 487, {enodious
te sombolous}, "and pathway tokens,"
L. Campbell; Arist. "Birds," 721,
{sombolon ornin}: "Frogs," 196,
{to sometukhon exion}; "Eccl."
792; Hor. "Od." iii. 27, 1-7.
[4] See "Anab." III. i. 4; "Symp."
iv. 48.
[5] Or, "if his vaunted manifestations
from heaven had but manifested the falsity
of his judgment."
[6] Or, "in the sphere of the determined,"
{ta anagkaia} = certa, quorum eventus est
necessarius; "things positive, the law-ordained
department of life," as we might say.
See Grote, "H. G." i. ch. xvi.
500 and passim.
[7] Reading {os nomizoien}, or if {os enomizen},
translate "As to things with certain
results, he advised them to do them in the
way in which he believed they would be done
best"; i. e. he did not say, "follow
your conscience," but, "this course
seems best to me under the circumstances."
[8] Lit. "the sophists." See H.
Sidgwick, "J. of Philol." iv. 1872;
v. 1874.
[9] Reading {ephu}. Cf. Lucian, "Icaromenip."
xlvi. 4, in imitation of this passage apparently;
or if {ekhei}, translate "is arranged."
See Grote, "H. G." viii. 573.
[10] See "Anab." V. iv. 30.
[11] See Arist. "Clouds," 101,
{merimnophrontistai kaloi te kagathoi}.
[12] e. g. Xenophanes and Parmenides, see
Grote, "Plato," I. i. 16 foll.
[13] e. g. Leucippus and Democritus, ib.
63 foll.
[14] e. g. Heraclitus, ib. 27 foll.
[15] e. g. Zeno, ib. ii. 96.
[16] Or, "was distinctive of the 'beautiful
and good.'" For the phrase see below,
ii. 2 et passim.
[17] Or "Senate." Lit. "the
Boule."
[18] Lit. "Epistates of the Ecclesia."
See Grote, "H. G." viii. 271; Plat.
"Apol." 32 B.
[19] {ennea} would seem to be a slip of the
pen for {okto}, eight. See "Hell."
I. v. 16; vi. 16; vi. 29; vii. 1 foll.
Book ONE - Part 11
No less surprising to my mind is the belief
that Socrates corrupted the young. This man,
who, beyond what has been already stated,
kept his appetites and passions under strict
control, who was pre-eminently capable of
enduring winter's cold and summer's heat
and every kind of toil, who was so schooled
to curtail his needs that with the scantiest
of means he never lacked sufficiency--is
it credible that such a man could have made
others irreverent or lawless, or licentious,
or effeminate in face of toil? Was he not
rather the saving of many through the passion
for virtue which he roused in them, and the
hope he infused that through careful management
of themselves they might grow to be truly
beautiful and good--not indeed that he ever
undertook to be a teacher of virtue, but
being evidently virtuous himself he made
those who associated with him hope that by
imitating they might at last resemble him.
But let it not be inferred that he was negligent
of his own body or approved of those who
neglected theirs. If excess of eating, counteracted
by excess of toil, was a dietary of which
he disapproved,[1] to gratify the natural
claim of appetite in conjunction with moderate
exercise was a system he favoured, as tending
to a healthy condition of the body without
trammelling the cultivation of the spirit.
On the other hand, there was nothing dandified
or pretentious about him; he indulged in
no foppery of shawl or shoes, or other effeminacy
of living.
Least of all did he tend to make his companions
greedy of money. He would not, while restraining
passion generally, make capital out of the
one passion which attached others to himself;
and by this abstinence, he believed, he was
best consulting his own freedom; in so much
that he stigmatised those who condescended
to take wages for their society as vendors
of their own persons, because they were compelled
to discuss for the benefits of their paymasters.
What surprised him was that any one possessing
virtue should deign to ask money as its price
instead of simply finding his rward in the
acquisition of an honest friend, as if the
new-fledged soul of honour could forget her
debt of gratitude to her greatest benefactor.
For himself, without making any such profession,
he was content to believe that those who
accepted his views would play their parts
as good and true friends to himself and one
another their lives long. Once more then:
how should a man of this character corrupt
the young? unless the careful cultivation
of virtue be corruption.
But, says the accuser,[2] by all that's sacred!
did not Socrates cause his associates to
despise the established laws when he dwelt
on the folly of appointing state officers
by ballot?[3] a principle which, he said,
no one would care to apply in selecting a
pilot or a flute- player or in any similar
case, where a mistake would be far less disastrous
than in matters political. Words like these,
according to the accuser, tended to incite
the young to contemn the established constitution,
rendering them violent and headstrong. But
for myself I think that those who cultivate
wisdom and believe themselves able to instruct
their fellow-citizens as to their interests
are least likely to become partisans of violence.
They are too well aware that to violence
attach enmities and dangers, whereas results
as good may be obtained by persuasion safely
and amicably. For the victim of violence
hates with vindictiveness as one from whom
something precious has been stolen, while
the willing subject of persuasion is ready
to kiss the hand which has done him a service.
Hence compulsion is not the method of him
who makes wisdom his study, but of him who
wields power untempered by reflection. Once
more: the man who ventures on violence needs
the support of many to fight his battles,
while he whose strength lies in persuasiveness
triumphs single-handed, for he is conscious
of a cunning to compel consent unaided. And
what has such a one to do with the spilling
of blood? since how ridiculous it were to
do men to death rather than turn to account
the trusty service of the living.
But, the accuser answers, the two men[4]
who wrought the greatest evils to the state
at any time--to wit, Critias and Alcibiades--were
both companions of Socrates--Critias the
oligarch, and Alcibiades the democrat. Where
would you find a more arrant thief, savage,
and murderer[5] than the one? where such
a portent of insolence, incontinence, and
high-handedness as the other? For my part,
in so far as these two wrought evil to the
state, I have no desire to appear as the
apologist of either. I confine myself to
explaining what this intimacy of theirs with
Socrates really was.
Never were two more ambitious citizens seen
at Athens. Ambition was in their blood. If
they were to have their will, all power was
to be in their hands; their fame was to eclipse
all other. Of Socrates they knew--first that
he lived an absolutely independent life on
the scantiest means; next that he was self-disciplined
to the last degree in respect of pleasures;
lastly that he was so formidable in debate
that there was no antagonist he could not
twist round his little finger. Such being
their views, and such the character of the
pair, which is the more probable: that they
sought the society of Socrates because they
felt the fascination of his life, and were
attracted by the bearing of the man? or because
they thought, if only we are leagued with
him we shall become adepts in statecraft
and unrivalled in the arts of speech and
action? For my part I believe that if the
choice from Heaven had been given them to
live such a life as they saw Socrates living
to its close, or to die, they would both
have chosen death.
Their acts are a conclusive witness to their
characters. They no sooner felt themselves
to be the masters of those they came in contact
with than they sprang aside from Socrates
and plunged into that whirl of politics but
for which they might never have sought his
society.
It may be objected: before giving his companions
lessons in politics Socrates had better have
taught them sobriety.[6] Without disputing
the principle, I would point out that a teacher
cannot fail to discover to his pupils his
method of carrying out his own precepts,
and this along with argumentative encouragement.
Now I know that Socrates disclosed himself
to his companions as a beautiful and noble
being, who would reason and debate with them
concerning virtue and other human interests
in the noblest manner. And of these two I
know that as long as they were companions
of Socrates even they were temperate, not
assuredly from fear of being fined or beaten
by Socrates, but because they were persuaded
for the nonce of the excellence of such conduct.
Perhaps some self-styled philosophers[7]
may here answer: "Nay, the man truly
just can never become unjust, the temperate
man can never become intemperate, the man
who has learnt any subject of knowledge can
never be as though he had learnt it not."
That, however, is not my own conclusion.
It is with the workings of the soul as with
those of the body; want of exercise of the
organ leads to inability of function, here
bodily, there spiritual, so that we can neither
do the things that we should nor abstain
from the things we should not. And that is
why fathers keep their sons, however temperate
they may be, out of the reach of wicked men,
considering that if the society of the good
is a training in virtue so also is the society
of the bad its dissolution.
To this the poet[8] is a witness, who says:
"From the noble thou shalt be instructed
in nobleness; but, and if thou minglest with
the base thou wilt destroy what wisdom thou
hast now";
And he[9] who says:
"But the good man has his hour of baseness
as well as his hour of virtue"--
to whose testimony I would add my own. For
I see that it is impossible to remember a
long poem without practice and repetition;
so is forgetfulness of the words of instruction
engendered in the heart that has ceased to
value them. With the words of warning fades
the recollection of the very condition of
mind in which the soul yearned after holiness;
and once forgetting this, what wonder that
the man should let slip also the memory of
virtue itself! Again I see that a man who
falls into habits of drunkenness or plunges
headlong into licentious love, loses his
old power of practising the right and abstaining
from the wrong. Many a man who has found
frugality easy whilst passion was cold, no
sooner falls in love than he loses the faculty
at once, and in his prodigal expenditure
of riches he will no longer withhold his
hand from gains which in former days were
too base to invite his touch. Where then
is the difficulty of supposing that a man
may be temperate to-day, and to-morrow the
reverse; or that he who once has had it in
his power to act virtuously may not quite
lose that power?[10] To myself, at all events,
it seems that all beautiful and noble things
are the result of constant practice and training;
and pre-eminently the virtue of temperance,
seeing that in one and the same bodily frame
pleasures are planted and spring up side
by side with the soul and keep whispering
in her ear, "Have done with self- restraint,
make haste to gratify us and the body."[11]
But to return to Critias and Alcibiades,
I repeat that as long as they lived with
Socrates they were able by his support to
dominate their ignoble appetites;[12] but
being separated from him, Critias had to
fly to Thessaly,[13] where he consorted with
fellows better versed in lawlessness than
justice. And Alcibiades fared no better.
His personal beauty on the one hand incited
bevies of fine ladies[14] to hunt him down
as fair spoil, while on the other hand his
influence in the state and among the allies
exposed him to the corruption of many an
adept in the arts of flattery; honoured by
the democracy and stepping easily to the
front rank he behaved like an athlete who
in the games of the Palaestra is so assured
of victory that he neglects his training;
thus he presently forgot the duty which he
owed himself.
Such were the misadventures of these two.
Is the sequel extraordinary? Inflated with
the pride of ancestry,[15] exalted by their
wealth, puffed up by power, sapped to the
soul's core by a host of human tempters,
separate moreover for many a long day from
Socrates--what wonder that they reached the
full stature of arrogancy! And for the offences
of these two Socrates is to be held responsible!
The accuser will have it so. But for the
fact that in early days, when they were both
young and of an age when dereliction from
good feeling and self- restraint might have
been expected, this same Socrates kept them
modest and well-behaved, not one word of
praise is uttered by the accuser for all
this. That is not the measure of justice
elsewhere meted. Would a master of the harp
or flute, would a teacher of any sort who
has turned out proficient pupils, be held
to account because one of them goes away
to another teacher and turns out to be a
failure? Or what father, if he have a son
who in the society of a certain friend remains
an honest lad, but falling into the company
of some other becomes a good-for-nothing,
will that father straightway accuse the earlier
instructor? Will not he rather, in proportion
as the boy deteriorates in the company of
the latter, bestow more heartfelt praise
upon the former? What father, himself sharing
the society of his own children, is held
to blame for their transgressions, if only
his own goodness be established? Here would
have been a fair test to apply to Socrates:
Was he guilty of any base conduct himself?
If so let him be set down as a knave, but
if, on the contrary, he never faltered in
sobriety from beginning to end, how in the
name of justice is he to be held to account
for a baseness which was not in him?
I go further: if, short of being guilty of
any wrong himself, he saw the evil doings
of others with approval, reason were he should
be held blameworthy. Listen then: Socrates
was well aware that Critias was attached
to Euthydemus,[16] aware too that he was
endeavouring to deal by him after the manner
of those wantons whose love is carnal of
the body. From this endeavour he tried to
deter him, pointing out how illiberal a thing
it was, how ill befitting a man of honour
to appear as a beggar before him whom he
loved, in whose eyes he would fain be precious,
ever petitioning for something base to give
and base to get.
But when this reasoning fell on deaf ears
and Critias refused to be turned aside, Socrates,
as the story goes, took occasion of the presence
of a whole company and of Euthydemus to remark
that Critias appeared to be suffering from
a swinish affection, or else why this desire
to rub himself against Euthydemus like a
herd of piglings scraping against stones.
The hatred of Critias to Socrates doubtless
dates from this incident. He treasured it
up against him, and afterwards, when he was
one of the Thirty and associated with Charicles
as their official lawgiver,[17] he framed
the law against teaching the art of words[18]
merely from a desire to vilify Socrates.
He was at a loss to know how else to lay
hold of him except by levelling against him
the vulgar charge[19] against philosophers,
by which he hoped to prejudice him with the
public. It was a charge quite unfounded as
regards Socrates, if I may judge from anything
I ever heard fall from his lips myself or
have learnt about him from others. But the
animus of Critias was clear. At the time
when the Thirty were putting citizens, highly
respectable citizens, to death wholesale,
and when they were egging on one man after
another to the commission of crime, Socrates
let fall an observation: "It would be
sufficiently extraordinary if the keeper
of a herd of cattle[20] who was continually
thinning and impoverishing his cattle did
not admit himself to be a sorry sort of herdsman,
but that a ruler of the state who was continually
thinning and impoverishing the citizens should
neither be ashamed nor admit himself to be
a sorry sort of ruler was more extraordinary
still." The remark being reported to
the government, Socrates was summoned by
Critias and Charicles, who proceeded to point
out the law and forbade him to converse with
the young. "Was it open to him,"
Socrates inquired of the speaker, "in
case he failed to understand their commands
in any point, to ask for an explanation?"
"Certainly," the two assented.
Then Socrates: I am prepared to obey the
laws, but to avoid transgression of the law
through ignorance I need instruction: is
it on the supposition that the art of words
tends to correctness of statement or to incorrectness
that you bid us abstain from it? for if the
former, it is clear we must abstain from
speeking correctly, but if the latter, our
endeavour should be to amend our speech.
To which Charicles, in a fit of temper, retorted:
In consideration of your ignorance,[21] Socrates,
we will frame the prohibition in language
better suited to your intelligence: we forbid
you to hold any conversation whatsoever with
the young.
Then Socrates: To avoid all ambiguity then,
or the possibility of my doing anything else
than what you are pleased to command, may
I ask you to define up to what age a human
being is to be considered young?
For just so long a time (Charicles answered)
as he is debarred from sitting as a member
of the Council,[22] as not having attained
to the maturity of wisdom; accordingly you
will not hold converse with any one under
the age of thirty.
Socrates. In making a purchase even, I am
not to ask, what is the price of this? if
the vendor is under the age of thirty?
Charicles. Tut, things of that sort: but
you know, Socrates, that you have a way of
asking questions, when all the while you
know how the matter stands. Let us have no
questions of that sort.
Socrates. Nor answers either, I suppose,
if the inquiry concerns what I know, as,
for instance, where does Charicles live?
or where is Critias to be found?
Oh yes, of course, things of that kind (replied
Charicles), while Critias added: But at the
same time you had better have done with your
shoemakers, carpenters, and coppersmiths.[23]
These must be pretty well trodden out at
heel by this time, considering the circulation
you have given them.
Socrates. And am I to hold away from their
attendant topics also--the just, the holy,
and the like?
Most assuredly (answered Charicles), and
from cowherds in particular; or else see
that you do not lessen the number of the
herd yourself.
Thus the secret was out. The remark of Socrates
about the cattle had come to their ears,
and they could not forgive the author of
it.
Perhaps enough has been said to explain the
kind of intimacy which had subsisted between
Critias and Socrates, and their relation
to one another. But I will venture to maintain
that where the teacher is not pleasing to
the pupil there is no education. Now it cannot
be said of Critias and Alcibiades that they
associated with Socrates because they found
him pleasing to them. And this is true of
the whole period. From the first their eyes
were fixed on the headship of the state as
their final goal. During the time of their
imtimacy with Socrates there were no disputants
whom they were more eager to encounter than
professed politicians.
Thus the story is told of Alcibiades--how
before the age of twenty he engaged his own
guardian, Pericles, at that time prime minister
of the state, in a discussion concerning
laws.
Alcibiades. Please, Pericles, can you teach
me what a law is?
Pericles. To be sure I can.
Alcibiades. I should be so much obliged if
you would do so. One so often hears the epithet
"law-abiding" applied in a complimentary
sense; yet, it strikes me, one hardly deserves
the compliment, if one does not know what
a law is.
Pericles. Fortunately there is a ready answer
to your difficulty. You wish to know what
a law is? Well, those are laws which the
majority, being met together in conclave,
approve and enact as to what it is right
to do, and what it is right to abstain from
doing.
Alcibiades. Enact on the hypothesis that
it is right to do what is good? or to do
what is bad?
Pericles. What is good, to be sure, young
sir, not what is bad.
Alcibiades. Supposing it is not the majority,
but, as in the case of an oligarchy, the
minority, who meet and enact the rules of
conduct, what are these?
Pericles. Whatever the ruling power of the
state after deliberation enacts as our duty
to do, goes by the name of laws.
Alcibiades. Then if a tyrant, holding the
chief power in the state, enacts rules of
conduct for the citizens, are these enactments
law?
Pericles. Yes, anything which a tyrant as
head of the state enacts, also goes by the
name of law.
Alcibiades. But, Pericles, violence and lawlessness--how
do we define them? Is it not when a stronger
man forces a weaker to do what seems right
to him--not by persuasion but by compulsion?
Pericles. I should say so.
Alcibiades. It would seem to follow that
if a tyrant, without persuading the citizens,
drives them by enactment to do certain things--that
is lawlessness?
Pericles. You are right; and I retract the
statement that measures passed by a tyrant
without persuasion of the citizens are law.
Alcibiades. And what of measures passed by
a minority, not by persuasion of the majority,
but in the exercise of its power only? Are
we, or are we not, to apply the term violence
to these?
Pericles. I think that anything which any
one forces another to do without persuasion,
whether by enactment or not, is violence
rather than law.
Alcibiades. It would seem that everything
which the majority, in the exercise of its
power over the possessors of wealth, and
without persuading them, chooses to enact,
is of the nature of violence rather than
of law?
To be sure (answered Pericles), adding: At
your age we were clever hands at such quibbles
ourselves. It was just such subtleties which
we used to practise our wits upon; as you
do now, if I mistake not.
To which Alcibiades replied: Ah, Pericles,
I do wish we could have met in those days
when you were at your cleverest in such matters.
Well, then, as soon as the desired superiority
over the politicians of the day seemed to
be attained, Critias and Alcibiades turned
their backs on Socrates. They found his society
unattractive, not to speak of the annoyance
of being cross-questioned on their own shortcomings.
Forthwith they devoted themselves to those
affairs of state but for which they would
never have come near him at all.
No; if one would seek to see true companions
of Socrates, one must look to Crito,[24]
and Chaerephon, and Chaerecrates, to Hermogenes,
to Simmias and Cebes, to Phaedondes and others,
who clung to him not to excel in the rhetoric
of the Assembly or the law-courts, but with
the nobler ambition of attaining to such
beauty and goodliness of soul as would enable
them to discharge the various duties of life
to house and family, to relatives and friends,
to fellow-citizens, and to the state at large.
Of these true followers not one in youth
or old age was ever guilty, or thought guilty,
of committing any evil deed.
"But for all that," the accuser
insists, "Socrates taught sons to pour
contumely upon their fathers[25] by persuading
his young friends that he could make them
wiser than their sires, or by pointing out
that the law allowed a son to sue his father
for aberration of mind, and to imprison him,
which legal ordinance he put in evidence
to prove that it might be well for the wiser
to imprison the more ignorant."
Now what Socrates held was, that if a man
may with justice incarcerate another for
no better cause than a form of folly or ignorance,
this same person could not justly complain
if he in his turn were kept in bonds by his
superiors in knowledge; and to come to the
bottom of such questions, to discover the
difference between madness and ignorance
was a problem which he was perpetually working
at. His opinion came to this: If a madman
may, as a matter of expediency to himself
and his friends, be kept in prison, surely,
as a matter of justice, the man who knows
not what he ought to know should be content
to sit at the feet of those who know, and
be taught.
But it was the rest of their kith and kin,
not fathers only (according to the accuser),
whom Socrates dishonoured in the eyes of
his circle of followers, when he said that
"the sick man or the litigant does not
derive assistance from his relatives,[26]
but from his doctor in the one case, and
his legal adviser in the other." "Listen
further to his language about friends,"
says the accuser: "'What is the good
of their being kindly disposed, unless they
can be of some practical use to you? Mere
goodness of disposition is nothing; those
only are worthy of honour who combine with
the knowledge of what is right the faculty
of expounding it;'[27] and so by bringing
the young to look upon himself as a superlatively
wise person gifted with an extraordinary
capacity for making others wise also, he
so worked on the dispositions of those who
consorted with him that in their esteem the
rest of the world counted for nothing by
comparison with Socrates."
Now I admit the language about fathers and
the rest of a man's relations. I can go further,
and add some other sayings of his, that "when
the soul (which is alone the indwelling centre
of intelligence) is gone out of a man, be
he our nearest and dearest friend, we carry
the body forth and bury it out of sight."
"Even in life," he used to say,
"each of us is ready to part with any
portion of his best possession--to wit, his
own body--if it be useless and unprofitable.
He will remove it himself, or suffer another
to do so in his stead. Thus men cut off their
own nails, hair, or corns; they allow surgeons
to cut and cauterise them, not without pains
and aches, and are so grateful to the doctor
for his services that they further give him
a fee. Or again, a man ejects the spittle
from his mouth as far as possible.[28] Why?
Because it is of no use while it stays within
the system, but is detrimental rather."
Now by these instances his object was not
to inculcate the duty of burying one's father
alive or of cutting oneself to bits, but
to show that lack of intelligence means lack
of worth;[29] and so he called upon his hearers
to be as sensible and useful as they could
be, so that, be it father or brother or any
one else whose esteem he would deserve, a
man should not hug himself in careless self-interest,
trusting to mere relationship, but strive
to be useful to those whose esteem he coveted.
But (pursues the accuser) by carefully culling
the most immoral passages of the famous poets,
and using them as evidences, he taught his
associates to be evildoers and tyrranical:
the line of Hesiod[30] for instance--
No work is a disgrace; slackness of work
is the disgrace--
"interpreted," says the accuser,
"by Socrates as if the poet enjoined
us to abstain from no work wicked or ignoble;
do everything for the sake of gain."
Now while Socrates would have entirely admitted
the propositions that "it is a blessing
and a benefit to a man to be a worker,"
and that "a lazy do-nothing is a pestilent
evil," that "work is good and idleness
a curse," the question arises, whom
did he mean by workers? In his vocabulary
only those were good workmen[31] who were
engaged on good work; dicers and gamblers
and others engaged on any other base and
ruinous business he stigmatised as the "idle
drones"; and from this point of view
the quotation from Hesiod is unimpeachable--
No work is a disgrace; only idlesse is disgrace.
But there was a passage from Homer[32] for
ever on his lips, as the accuser tells us--the
passage which says concerning Odysseus,
What prince, or man of name, He found flight-giv'n,
he would restrain with words of gentlest
blame: "Good sir, it fits you not to
fly, or fare as one afraid, You should not
only stay yourself, but see the people stayed."
Thus he the best sort us'd; the worst, whose
spirits brake out in noise,[33] He cudgell'd
with his sceptre, chid, and said, "Stay,
wretch, be still, And hear thy betters; thou
art base, and both in power and skill Poor
and unworthy, without name in counsel or
in war." We must not all be kings.
The accuser informs us that Socrates interpreted
these lines as though the poet approved the
giving of blows to commoners and poor folk.
Now no such remark was ever made by Socrates;
which indeed would have been tantamount to
maintaining that he ought to be beaten himself.
What he did say was, that those who were
useful neither in word nor deed, who were
incapable of rendering assistance in time
of need to the army or the state or the people
itself, be they never so wealthy, ought to
be restrained, and especially if to incapacity
they added effrontery.
As to Socrates, he was the very opposite
of all this--he was plainly a lover of the
people, and indeed of all mankind. Though
he had many ardent admirers among citizens
and strangers alike, he never demanded any
fee for his society from any one,[34] but
bestowed abundantly upon all alike of the
riches of his sould--good things, indeed,
of which fragments accepted gratis at his
hands were taken and sold at high prices
to the rest of the community by some,[35]
who were not, as he was, lovers of the people,
since with those who had not money to give
in return they refused to discourse. But
of Socrates be it said that in the eyes of
the whole world he reflected more honour
on the state and a richer lustre than ever
Lichas,[36] whose fame is proverbial, shed
on Lacedaemon. Lichas feasted and entertained
the foreign residents in Lacedaemon at the
Gymnopaediae most handsomely. Socrates gave
a lifetime to the outpouring of his substance
in the shape of the greatest benefits bestowed
on all who cared to receive them. In other
words, he made those who lived in his society
better men, and sent them on their way rejoicing.
To no other conclusion, therefore, can I
come but that, being so good a man, Socrates
was worthier to have received honour from
the state than death. And this I take to
be the strictly legal view of the case, for
what does the law require?[37] "If a
man be proved to be a thief, a filcher of
clothes, a cut-purse, a housebreaker, a man-stealer,
a robber of temples, the penalty is death."
Even so; and of all men Socrates stood most
aloof from such crimes.
To the state he was never the cause of any
evil--neither disaster in war, nor faction,
nor treason, nor any other mischief whatsoever.
And if his public life was free from all
offence, so was his private. He never hurt
a single soul either by deprivation of good
or infliction of evil, nor did he ever lie
under the imputation of any of those misdoings.
WHere then is his liability to the indictment
to be found? Who, so far from disbelieving
in the gods, as set forth in the indictment,
was conspicuous beyond all men for service
to heaven; so far from corrupting the young--a
charge alleged with insistence by the prosecutor--was
notorious for the zeal with which he strove
not only to stay his associates from evil
desires, but to foster in them a passionate
desire for that loveliest and queenliest
of virtues without which states and families
crumble to decay.[38] Such being his conduct,
was he not worthy of high honour from the
state of Athens?
[1] See [Plat.] "Erast." 132 C.
[2] {o kategoros} = Polycrates possibly.
See M. Schantz, op. cit., "Einleitun,"
S. 6: "Die Anklagerede des Polykrates";
Introduction, p. xxxii. foll.
[3] i. e. staking the election of a magistrate
on the colour of a bean. See Aristot. "Ath.
Pol." viii. 2, and Dr. Sandys ad loc.
[4] See "Hell." I. and II. passim.
[5] Reading {kleptistatos te kai biaiotatos
kai phonikotatos}, or if {pleonektistatos
te kai biaiotatis}, translate "such
a manner of greed and violence as the one,
of insolence, etc., as the other?" See
Grote, "H. G." viii. 337.
[6] {sophrosune} = "sound-mindedness,"
"temperence." See below, IV. iii.
1.
[7] In reference to some such tenet as that
of Antisthenes ap. Diog. Laert. VI. ix. 30,
{areskei d' autois kai ten areten didakten
einai, katha phesin 'Antisthenes en to 'Rraklei
kai anapobleton uparkhein}. Cf. Plat. "Protag."
340 D, 344 D.
[8] Theognis, 35, 36. See "Symp."
ii. 4; Plat. "Men." 95 D.
[9] The author is unknown. See Plat. "Protag."
l. c.
[10] Cf. "Cyrop." V. i. 9 foll.;
VI. i. 41.
[11] See my remarks, "Hellenica Essays,"
p. 371 foll.
[12] Cf. [Plat.] "Theag." 130 A.
[13] See "Hell." II. iii. 36.
[14] Cf. Plut. "Ages.," "Alcib."
[15] Or, "became overweening in arrogance."
Cf. "Henry VIII. II. iv. 110":
"But your heart is crammed with arrogancy,
spleen, and pride."
[16] See below, IV. ii. 1 (if the same person).
[17] Lit. "Nomothetes." See "Hell."
II. iii. 2; Dem. 706. For Charicles see Lys.
"c. Eratosth." S. 56; Aristot.
"Pol." v. 6. 6.
[18] See Diog. Laert. II. v. ("Socr.")
[19] i. e. {to ton etto logon kreitto poiein},
"of making the worse appear the better
cause." Cf. Arist. "Clouds."
[20] See Dio Chrys. "Or." 43.
[21] See Aristot. "de Soph. El."
183 b7.
[22] The Boule or Senate. See W. L. Newman,
"Pol. Aristot." i. 326.
[23] Cf. Plat. "Gorg." 491 A; "Symp."
221 E; Dio Chrys. "Or." 55, 560
D, 564 A.
[24] For these true followers, familiar to
us in the pages of Plato, ("Crito,"
"Apol.," "Phaedo," etc)
see Cobet, "Pros. Xen."
[25] See "Apol." 20; Arist. "Clouds,"
1407, where Pheidippides "drags his
father Strepsiades through the mire."
[26] See Grote, "H. G." v. 535.
[27] Cf. Thuc. ii. 60. Pericles says, "Yet
I with whom you are so angry venture to say
of myself, that I am as capable as any one
of devising and explaining a sound policy."--Jowett.
[28] See Aristot. "Eth. Eud." vii.
1.
[29] i. e. "witless and worthless are
synonymous."
[30] "Works and Days," 309 {'Ergon
d' ouden oneidos}. Cf. Plat. "Charm."
163 C.
[31] See below, III. ix. 9.
[32] "Il." ii. 188 foll., 199 foll.
(so Chapman).
[33] Lit. "But whatever man of the people
he saw and found him shouting."--W.
Leaf.
[34] See "Symp." iv. 43; Plat.
"Hipp. maj." 300 D; "Apol."
19 E.
[35] See Diog. Laert. II. viii. 1.
[36] See "Hell." III. ii. 21; Thuc.
v. 50; Plut. "Cim." 284 C. For
the Gymnopaediae, see Paus. III. xi. 9; Athen.
xiv. p. 631.
[37] See "Symp." iv. 36; Plat.
"Rep." 575 B; "Gorg."
508 E.
[38] Or, "the noblest and proudest virtue
by means of which states and families are
prosperously directed."
Book One - Part - III
It may serve to illustrate the assertion
that he benefited his associates partly by
the display of his own virtue and partly
by verbal discourse and argument, if I set
down my various recollections[1] on these
heads. And first with regard to religion
and the concerns of heaven. In conduct and
language his behaviour conformed to the rule
laid down by the Pythia[2] in reply to the
question, "How shall we act?" as
touching a sacrifice or the worship of ancestors,
or any similar point. Her answer is: "Act
according to the law and custom of your state,
and you will act piously." After this
pattern Socrates behaved himself, and so
he exhorted others to behave, holding them
to be but busybodies and vain fellows who
acted on any different principle.
His formula or prayer was simple: "Give
me that which is best for me," for,
said he, the gods know best what good things
are--to pray for gold or silver or despotic
power were no better than to make some particular
throw at dice or stake in battle or any such
thing the subject of prayer, of which the
future consequences are manifestly uncertain.[3]
If with scant means he offered but small
sacrifices he believed that he was in no
wise inferior to those who make frequent
and large sacrifices from an ampler store.
It were ill surely for the very gods themselves,
could they take delight in large sacrifices
rather than in small, else oftentimes must
the offerings of bad men be found acceptable
rather than of good; nor from the point of
view of men themselves would life be worth
living if the offerings of a villain rather
than of a righteous man found favour in the
sight of Heaven. His belief was that the
joy of the gods is greater in proportion
to the holiness of the giver, and he was
ever an admirer of that line of Hesiod which
says,
According to thine ability do sacrifice to
the immortal gods.[4]
"Yes," he would say, "in our
dealings with friends and strangers alike,
and in reference to the demands of life in
general, there is no better motto for a man
than that: 'let a man do according to his
ability.'"
Or to take another point. If it appeared
to him that a sign from heaven had been given
him, nothing would have induced him to go
against heavenly warning: he would as soon
have been persuaded to accept the guidance
of a blind man ignorant of the path to lead
him on a journey in place of one who knew
the road and could see; and so he denounced
the folly of others who do things contrary
to the warnings of God in order to avoid
some disrepute among men. For himself he
despised all human aids by comparison with
counsel from above.
The habit and style of living to which he
subjected his soul and body was one which
under ordinary circumstances[5] would enable
any one adopting it to look existence cheerily
in the face and to pass his days serenely:
it would certainly entail no difficulties
as regards expense. So frugal was it that
a man must work little indeed who could not
earn the quantum which contented Socrates.
Of food he took just enough to make eating
a pleasure--the appetite he brought to it
was sauce sufficient; while as to drinks,
seeing that he only drank when thirsty, any
draught refreshed.[6] If he accepted an invitation
to dinner, he had no difficulty in avoiding
the common snare of over- indulgence, and
his advice to people who could not equally
control their appetite was to avoid taking
what would allure them to eat if not hungry
or to drink if not thirsty.[7] Such things
are ruinous to the constitution, he said,
bad for stomachs, brains, and soul alike;
or as he used to put it, with a touch of
sarcasm,[8] "It must have been by feasting
men on so many dainty dishes that Circe produced
her pigs; only Odysseus through his continency
and the 'promptings[9] of Hermes' abstained
from touching them immoderately, and by the
same token did not turn into a swine."
So much for this topic, which he touched
thus lightly and yet seriously.
But as to the concerns of Aphrodite, his
advice was to hold strongly aloof from the
fascination of fair forms: once lay finger
on these and it is not easy to keep a sound
head and a sober mind. To take a particular
case. It was a mere kiss which, as he had
heard, Critobulus[10] had some time given
to a fair youth, the son of Alcibiades.[11]
Accordingly Critobulus being present, Socrates
propounded the question.
Socrates. Tell me, Xenophon, have you not
always believed Critobulus to be a man of
sound sense, not wild and self-willed? Should
you not have said that he was remarkable
for his prudence rather than thoughtless
or foolhardy?
Xenophon. Certainly that is what I should
have said of him.
Socrates. Then you are now to regard him
as quite the reverse--a hot- blooded, reckless
libertine: this is the sort of man to throw
somersaults into knives,[12] or to leap into
the jaws of fire.
Xenophon. And what have you seen him doing,
that you give him so bad a character?
Socrates. Doing? Why, has not the fellow
dared to steal a kiss from the son of Alcibiades,
most fair of youths and in the golden prime?
Xenophon. Nay, then, if that is the foolhardy
adventure, it is a danger which I could well
encounter myself.
Socrates. Pour soul! and what do you expect
your fate to be after that kiss? Let me tell
you. On the instant you will lose your freedom,
the indenture of your bondage will be signed;
it will be yours on compulsion to spend large
sums on hurtful pleasures; you will have
scarcely a moment's leisure left for any
noble study; you will be driven to concern
yourself most zealously with things which
no man, not even a madman, would choose to
make an object of concern.
Xenophon. O Heracles! how fell a power to
reside in a kiss!
Socrates. Does it surprise you? Do you not
know that the tarantula, which is no bigger
than a threepenny bit,[13] has only to touch
the mouth and it will afflict its victim
with pains and drive him out of his senses.
Xenophon. Yes, but then the creature injects
something with its bite.
Socrates. Ah, fool! and do you imagine that
these lovely creatures infuse nothing with
their kiss, simply because you do not see
the poison? Do you not know that this wild
beast which men call beauty in its bloom
is all the more terrible than the tarantula
in that the insect must first touch its victim,
but this at a mere glance of thebeholder,
without even contact, will inject something
into him--yards away-- which will make him
man. And may be that is why the Loves are
called "archers," because these
beauties wound so far off.[14] But my advice
to you, Xenophon, is, whenever you catch
sight of one of these fair forms, to run
helter-skelter for bare life without a glance
behind; and to you, Critobulus, I would say,
"Go abroad for a year: so long time
will it take to heal you of this wound."
Such (he said), in the affairs of Aphrodite,
as in meats and drinks, should be the circumspection
of all whose footing is insecure. At least
they should confine themselves to such diet
as the soul would dispense with, save for
some necessity of the body; and which even
so ought to set up no disturbance.[15] But
for himself, it was clear, he was prepared
at all points and invulnerable. He found
less difficulty in abstaining from beauty's
fairest and fullest bloom than many others
from weeds and garbage. To sum up:[16] with
regard to eating and drinking and these other
temptations of the sense, the equipment of
his soul made him independent; he could boast
honestly that in his moderate fashion[17]
his pleasures were no less than theirs who
take such trouble to procure them, and his
pains far fewer.
[1] Hence the title of the work, {'Apomenmoneumata},
"Recollections, Memoirs, Memorabilia."
See Diog. Laert. "Xen." II. vi.
48.
[2] The Pythia at Delphi.
[3] See (Plat.) "Alcib. II." 142
foll.; Valerius Max. vii. 2; "Spectator,"
No. 207.
[4] Hesiod, "Works and Days," 336.
See "Anab." III. ii. 9.
[5] {ei me ti daimonion eie}, "save
under some divinely-ordained calamity."
Cf. "Cyrop." I. vi. 18; "Symp."
viii. 43.
[6] See "Ages." ix; Cic. "Tusc."
v. 34, 97; "de Fin." ii. 28, 90.
[7] Cf. Plut. "Mor." 128 D; Clement,
"Paedag." 2. 173, 33; "Strom."
2, 492, 24; Aelian, "N. A." 8,
9.
[8] "Half in gibe and half in jest,"
in ref. to "Od." x. 233 foll.:
"So she let them in . . ."
[9] {upothemosune}, "inspiration."
Cf. "Il." xv. 412; "Od."
xvi. 233.
[10] For Critobulus (the son of Crito) see
"Econ." i. 1 foll.; "Symp."
i. 3 foll.
[11] See Isocr. "Or." xvi. Cobet
conj. {ton tou 'Axiokhou uion}, i. e. Clinias.
[12] Cf. "Symp." ii. 10, iv. 16.
See Schneider ad loc.
[13] Lit. "a half-obol piece."
For the {phalaggion} see Aristot. "H.
A." ix. 39, 1.
[14] L. Dindorf, etc. regard the sentence
as a gloss. Cf. "Symp." iv. 26
[{isos de kai . . . entimoteron estin}].
[15] Cf. "Symp." iv. 38.
[16] L. Dindorf [brackets] this passage as
spurious.
[17] On the principle "enough is as
good as a feast," {arkountos}.
Book One - Part IV
A belief is current, in accordance with views
maintained concerning Socrates in speech
and writing, and in either case conjecturally,
that, however powerful he may have been in
stimulating men to virtue as a theorist,
he was incapable of acting as their guide
himself.[1] It would be well for those who
adopt this view to weigh carefully not only
what Socrates effected "by way of castigation"
in cross- questioning whose who conceived
themselves to be possessed of all knowledge,
but also his everyday conversation with those
who spent their time in close intercourse
with himself. Having done this, let them
decide whether he was incapable of making
his companions better.
I will first state what I once heard fall
from his lips in a discussion with Aristodemus,[2]
"the little," as he was called,
on the topic of divinity.[3] Socrates had
observed that Aristodemus neither sacrificed
nor gave heed to divination, but on the contrary
was disposed to ridicule those who did.
So tell me, Aristodemus (he begain), are
there any human beings who have won your
admiration for their wisdom?
Aristodemus. There are.
Socrates. Would you mention to us their names?
Aristodemus. In the writings of epic poetry
I have the greatest admiration for Homer.
. . . And as a dithyrambic poet for Melanippides.[4]
I admire also Sophocles as a tragedian, Polycleitus
as a sculptor, and Zeuxis as a painter.
Socrates. Which would you consider the more
worthy of admiration, a fashioner of senseless
images devoid of motion or one who could
fashion living creatures endowed with understanding
and activity?
Aristodemus. Decidedly the latter, provided
his living creatures owed their birth to
design and were not the offspring of some
chance.
Socrates. But now if you had two sorts of
things, the one of which presents no clue
as to what it is for, and the other is obviously
for some useful purpose--which would you
judge to be the result of chance, which of
design?
Aristodemus. Clearly that which is produced
for some useful end is the work of design.
Socrates. Does it not strike you then that
he who made man from the beginning[5] did
for some useful end furnish him with his
several senses--giving him eyes to behold
the visible word, and ears to catch the intonations
of sound? Or again, what good would there
be in odours if nostrils had not been bestowed
upon us? what perception of sweet things
and pungent, and of all the pleasures of
the palate, had not a tongue been fashioned
in us as an interpreter of the same? And
besides all this, do you not think this looks
like a matter of foresight, this closing
of the delicate orbs of sight with eyelids
as with folding doors, which, when there
is need to use them for any purpose, can
be thrown wide open and firmly closed again
in sleep? and, that even the winds of heaven
may not visit them too roughly, this planting
of the eyelashes as a protecting screen?[6]
this coping of the region above the eyes
with cornice-work of eyebrow so that no drop
of sweat fall from the head and injure them?
again this readiness of the ear to catch
all sounds and yet not to be surcharged?
this capacity of the front teeth of all animals
to cut and of the "grinders" to
receive the food and reduce it to pulp? the
position of the mouth again, close to the
eyes and nostrils as a portal of ingress
for all the creature's supplies? and lastly,
seeing that matter passing out[7] of the
body is unpleasant, this hindward direction
of the passages, and their removal to a distance
from the avenues of sense? I ask you, when
you see all these things constructed with
such show of foresight can you doubt whether
they are products of chance or intelligence?
Aristodemus. To be sure not! Viewed in this
light they would seem to be the handiwork
of some wise artificer,[8] full of love for
all things living.[9]
Socrates. What shall we say of this passion
implanted in man to beget offspring, this
passion in the mother to rear her babe, and
in the creature itself, once born, this deep
desire of life and fear of death?
Aristodemus. No doubt these do look like
the contrivances of some one deliberately
planning the existence of living creatures.
Socrates. Well, and doubtless you feel to
have a spark of wisdom yourself?
Aristodemus. Put your questions, and I will
answer.
Socrates. And yet you imagine that elsewhere
no spark of wisdom is to be found? And that,
too, when you know that you have in your
body a tiny fragment only of the mighty earth,
a little drop of the great waters, and of
the other elements, vast in their extent,
you got, I presume, a particle of each towards
the compacting of your bodily frame? Mind
alone, it would seem, which is nowhere to
be found,[10] you had the lucky chance to
snatch up and make off with, you cannot tell
how. And these things around and about us,
enormous in size, infinite in number, owe
their orderly arrangement, as you suppose,
to some vacuity of wit?
Aristodemus. It may be, for my eyes fail
to see the master agents of these, as one
sees the fabricators of things produced on
earth.
Socrates. No more do you see your own soul,
which is the master agent of your body; so
that, as far as that goes, you may maintain,
if you like, that you do nothing with intelligence,[11]
but everything by chance.
At this point Aristodemus: I assure you,
Socrates, that I do not disdain the Divine
power. On the contrary, my belief is that
the Divinity is too grand to need any service
which I could render.
Socrates. But the grander that power is,
which deigns to tend and wait upon you, the
more you are called upon to honour it.
Aristodemus. Be well assured, if I could
believe the gods take thought for all men,
I would not neglect them.
Socrates. How can you suppose that they do
not so take thought? Who, in the first place,
gave to man alone of living creatures his
erect posture, enabling him to see farther
in front of him and to contemplate more freely
the height above, and to be less subject
to distress than other creatures [endowed
like himself with eyes and ears and mouth].[12]
Consider next how they gave to the beast
of the field[13] feet as a means of progression
only, but to man they gave in addition hands--
those hands which have achieved so much to
raise us in the scale of happiness above
all animals. Did they not make the tongue
also? which belongs indeed alike to man and
beast, but in man they fashioned it so as
to play on different parts of the mouth at
different times, whereby we can produce articulate
speech, and have a code of signals to express
our every want to one another. Or consider
the pleasures of the sexual appetite; limited
in the rest of the animal kingdom to certain
seasons, but in the case of man a series
prolonged unbroken to old age. Nor did it
content the Godhead merely to watch over
the interests of man's body. What is of far
higher import, he implanted in man the noblest
and most excellent type of soul. For what
other creature, to begin with, has a soul
to appreciate the existence of the gods who
have arranged this grand and beauteous universe?
What other tribe of animals save man can
render service to the gods? How apt is the
spirit of man to take precautions against
hunger and thirst, cold and heat, to alleviate
disease and foster strength! how suited to
labour with a view to learning! how capable
of garnering in the storehouse of his memory
all that he has heard or seen or understood!
Is it not most evident to you that by the
side of other animals men live and move a
race of gods--by nature excellent, in beauty
of body and of soul supreme? For, mark you,
had a creature of man's wit been encased
in the body of an ox,[14] he would have been
powerless to carry out his wishes, just as
the possession of hands divorced from human
wit is profitless. And then you come, you
who have obtained these two most precious
attributes, and give it as your opinion,
that the gods take no thought or care for
you. Why, what will you have them to do,
that you may believe and be persuaded that
you too are in their thoughts?
Aristodemus. When they treat me as you tell
us they treat you, and send me counsellors
to warn me what I am to do and what abstain
from doing,[15] I will believe.
Socrates. Send you counsellors! Come now,
what when the people of Athens make inquiry
by oracle, and the gods' answer comes? Are
you not an Athenian? Think you not that to
you also the answer is given? What when they
send portents to forewarn the states of Hellas?
or to all mankind? Are you not a man? a Hellene?
Are not these intended for you also? Can
it be that you alone are excepted as a signal
instance of Divine neglect? Again, do you
suppose that the gods could have implanted
in the heart of man the belief in their capacity
to work him weal or woe had they not the
power? Would not men have discovered the
imposture in all this lapse of time? Do you
not perceive that the wisest and most perdurable
of human institutions--be they cities or
tribes of men--are ever the most God-fearing;
and in the individual man the riper his age
and judgment, the deeper his religousness?
Ay, my good sir (he broke forth), lay to
heart and understand that even as your own
mind within you can turn and dispose of your
body as it lists, so ought we to think that
the wisdom which abides within the universal
frame does so dispose of all things as it
finds agreeable to itself; for hardly may
it be that your eye is able to range over
many a league, but that the eye of God is
powerless to embrace all things at a glance;
or that to your soul it is given to dwell
in thought on matters here or far away in
Egypt or in Sicily, but that the wisdom and
thought of God is not sufficient to include
all things at one instant under His care.
If only you would copy your own behaviour[16]
where human beings are concerned. It is by
acts of service and of kindness that you
discover which of your fellows are willing
to requite you in kind. It is by taking another
into your counsel that you arrive at the
secret of his wisdom. If, on like principle,
you will but make trial of the gods by acts
of service, whether they will choose to give
you counsel in matters obscure to mortal
vision, you shall discover the nature and
the greatness of Godhead to be such that
they are able at once to see all things and
to hear all things and to be present everywhere,
nor does the least thing escape their watchful
care.
To my mind the effect of words like these
was to cause those about him to hold aloof
from unholiness, baseness, and injustice,
not only whilst they were seen of men, but
even in the solitary place, since they must
believe that no part of their conduct could
escape the eye of Heaven.
[1] Al. "If any one believes that Socrates,
as represented in certain dialogues (e. g.
of Plato, Antisthenes, etc.) of an imaginary
character, was an adept ({protrepsasthai})
in the art of stimulating people to virtue
negatively but scarcely the man to guide
({proagein}) his hearers on the true path
himself." Cf. (Plat.) "Clitophon,"
410 B; Cic. "de Or." I. xlvii.
204; Plut. "Mor." 798 B. See Grote,
"Plato," iii. 21; K. Joel, op.
cit. p. 51 foll.; Cf. below, IV. iii. 2.
[2] See Plat. "Symp." 173 B: "He
was a little fellow who never wore any shoes,
Aristodemus, of the deme of Cydathenaeum."--Jowett.
[3] Or, "the divine element."
[4] Melanippides, 430 B. C. See Cobet, "Pros.
Xen." s. n.
[5] Cf. Aristot. "de Part. Animal."
1. For the "teleological" views
see IV. iii. 2 foll.
[6] "Like a sieve" or "colander."
[7] "That which goeth out of a man."
[8] "Demiurge."
[9] Passage referred to by Epictetus ap.
Stob. "Flor." 121, 29.
[10] Cf. Plat. "Phileb." 30 B:
"Soc. May our body be said to have a
soul? Pro. Clearly. Soc. And whence comes
that soul, my dear Protarchus, unless the
body of the universe, which contains elements
similar to our bodies but finer, has also
a soul? Can there be any other source?"--Jowett.
Cic. "de N. D." ii. 6; iii. 11.
[11] Or, "by your wit," {gnome}.
[12] See Kuhner for an attempt to cure the
text.
[13] {erpetois}, a "poetical" word.
Cf. "Od." iv. 418; Herod. i. 140.
[14] See Aristot. "de Part. Animal."
iv. 10.
[15] See IV. iii. 12.
[16] Or, "reason as you are wont to
do."
Book I V
I suppose it may be taken as admitted that
self-control is a noble acquirement for a
man.[1] If so, let us turn and consider whether
by language like the following he was likely
to lead his listeners onwards[2] to the attainment
of this virtue. "Sirs," he would
say, "if a war came upon us and we wished
to choose a man who would best help us to
save ourselves and to subdue our enemy, I
suppose we should scarcely select one whom
we knew to be a slave to his belly, to wine,
or lust, and prone to succumb to toil or
sleep. Could we expect such an one to save
us or to master our foes? Or if one of us
were nearing the end of his days, and he
wished to discover some one to whom he might
entrust his sons for education, his maiden
daughters for protection, and his property
in general for preservation, would he deem
a libertine worthy of such offices? Why,
no one would dream of entrusting his flocks
and herds, his storehouses and barns, or
the superintendence of his works to the tender
mercies of an intemperate slave. If a butler
or an errand boy with such a character were
offered to us we would not take him as a
free gift. And if he would not accept an
intemperate slave, what pains should the
master himself take to avoid that imputation.[3]
For with the incontinent man it is not as
with the self-seeker and the covetous. These
may at any rate be held to enrich themselves
in depriving others. But the intemperate
man cannot claim in like fashion to be a
blessing to himself if a curse to his neighbours;
nay, the mischief which he may cause to others
is nothing by comparison with that which
redounds against himself, since it is the
height of mischief to ruin--I do not say
one's own house and property--but one's own
body and one's own soul. Or to take an example
from social intercourse, no one cares for
a guest who evidently takes more pleasure
in the wine and the viands than in the friends
beside him--who stints his comrades of the
affection due to them to dote upon a mistress.
Does it not come to this, that every honest
man is bound to look upon self-restraint
as the very corner-stone of virtue:[4] which
he should seek to lay down as the basis and
foundation of his soul? Without self-restraint
who can lay any good lesson to heart or practise
it when learnt in any degree worth speaking
of? Or, to put it conversely, what slave
of pleasure will not suffer degeneracy of
soul and body? By Hera,[5] well may every
free man pray to be saved from the service
of such a slave; and well too may he who
is in bondage to such pleasures supplicate
Heaven to send him good masters, seeing that
is the one hope of salvation left him."
Well-tempered words: yet his self-restraint
shone forth even more in his acts than in
his language. Not only was he master over
the pleasures which flow from the body, but
of those also which are fed by riches, his
belief being that he who receives money from
this or that chance donor sets up over himself
a master, and binds himself to an abominable
slavery.
[1] Lit. "a beautiful and brave possesion."
[2] {proubibaze}.
[3] Or, "how should the master himself
beware lest he fall into that category."
[4] {krepida}. See Pind. "Pyth."
iv. 138; ib. vii. 3; ib. fr. 93.
[5] See below, III. x. 9, xi. 5; IV. ii.
9, iv. 8; "Econ." x. 1; "Cyrop."
I. iv. 12; Plat. "Phaedr." 230
B. Cf. Shakesp. "by'r Lakin."
Book I VI
In this context some discussions with Antiphon
the sophist[1] deserve record. Antiphon approaches
Socrates in hope of drawing away his associates,
and in their presence thus accosts him.
Antiphon. Why, Socrates, I always thought
it was expected of students of philosophy
to grow in happiness daily; but you seem
to have reaped other fruits from your philosophy.
At any rate, you exist, I do not say live,
in a style such as no slave serving under
a master would put up with. Your meat and
your drink are of the cheapest sort, and
as to clothes, you cling to one wretched
cloak which serves you for summer and winter
alike; and so you go the whole year round,
without shoes to your feet or a shirt to
your back. Then again, you are not for taking
or making money, the mere seeking of which
is a pleasure, even as the possession of
it adds to the sweetness and independence
of existence. I do not know whether you follow
the common rule of teachers, who try to fashion
their pupils in imitation of themselves,[2]
and propose to mould the characters of your
companions; but if you do you ought to dub
yourself professor of the art of wretchedness.[3]
Thus challenged, Socrates replied: One thing
to me is certain, Antiphon; you have conceived
so vivid an idea of my life of misery that
for yourself you would choose death sooner
than live as I do. Suppose now we turn and
consider what it is you find so hard in my
life. Is it that he who takes payment must
as a matter of contract finish the work for
which he is paid, whereas I, who do not take
it, lie under no constraint to discourse
except with whom I choose? Do you despise
my dietary on the ground that the food which
I eat is less wholesome and less stengthening
than yours, or that the articles of my consumption
are so scarce and so much costlier to procure
than yours? Or have the fruits of your marketing
a flavour denied to mine? Do you not know
the sharper the appetite the less the need
of sauces, the keener the thirst the less
the desire for out-of-the-way drinks? And
as to raiment, clothes, you know, are changed
on account of cold or else of heat. People
only wear boots and shoes in order not to
gall their feet and be prevented walking.
Now I ask you, have you ever noticed that
I keep more within doors than others on account
of the cold? Have you ever seen me battling
with any one for shade on account of the
heat? Do you not know that even a weakling
by nature may, by dint of exercise and practice,
come to outdo a giant who neglects his body?
He will beat him in the particular point
of training, and bear the strain more easily.
But you apparently will not have it that
I, who am for ever training myself to endure
this, that, and the other thing which may
befall the body, can brave all hardships
more easily than yourself for instance, who
perhaps are not so practised. And to escape
slavery to the belly or to sleep or lechery,
can you suggest more effective means than
the possession of some powerful attraction,
some counter-charm which shall gladden not
only in the using, but by the hope enkindled
of its lasting usefulness? And yet this you
do know; joy is not to him who feels that
he is doing well in nothing--it belongs to
one who is persuaded that things are progressing
with him, be it tillage or the working of
a vessel,[4] or any of the thousand and one
things on which a man may chance to be employed.
To him it is given to rejoice as he reflects,
"I am doing well." But is the pleasured
derived from all these put together half
as joyous as the consciousness of becoming
better oneself, of acquiring better and better
friends? That, for my part, is the belief
I continue to cherish.
Again, if it be a question of helping one's
friends or country, which of the two will
have the larger leisure to devote to these
objects--he who leads the life which I lead
to-day, or he who lives in the style which
you deem so fortunate? Which of the two will
adopt a soldier's life more easily--the man
who cannot get on without expensive living,
or he to whom whatever comes to hand suffices?
Which will be the readier to capitulate and
cry "mercy" in a siege--the man
of elaborate wants, or he who can get along
happily with the readiest things to hand?
You, Antiphon, would seem to suggest that
happiness consists of luxury and extravagance;
I hold a different creed. To have no wants
at all is, to my mind, an attribute of Godhead;[5]
to have as few wants as possible the nearest
approach to Godhead; and as that which is
divine is mightiest, so that is next mightiest
which comes closest to the divine.
Returning to the charge at another time,
this same Antiphon engaged Socrates in conversation
thus.
Antiphon. Socrates, for my part, I believe
you to be a good and upright man; but for
your wisdom I cannot say much. I fancy you
would hardly dispute the verdict yourself,
since, as I remark, you do not ask a money
payment for your society; and yet if it were
your cloak now, or your house, or any other
of your possessions, you would set some value
upon it, and never dream, I will not say
of parting with it gratis, but of exchanging
it for less than its worth. A plain proof,
to my mind, that if you thought your society
worth anything, you would ask for it not
less than its equivalent in gold.[6] Hence
the conclusion to which I have come, as already
stated: good and upright you may be, since
you do not cheat people from pure selfishness;
but wise you cannot be, since your knowledge
is not worth a cent.
To this onslaught Socrates: Antiphon, it
is a tenet which we cling to that beauty
and wisdom have this in common, that there
is a fair way and a foul way in which to
dispose of them. The vendor of beauty purchases
an evil name, but supposing the same person
have discerned a soul of beauty in his lover
and makes that man his friend, we regard
his choice as sensible.[7] So is it with
wisdom; he who sells it for money to the
first bidder we name a sophist,[8] as though
one should say a man who prostitutes his
wisdom; but if the same man, discerning the
noble nature of another, shall teach that
other every good thing, and make him his
friend, of such a one we say he does that
which it is the duty of every good citizen
of gentle soul to do. In accordance with
this theory, I too, Antiphon, having my tastes,
even as another finds pleasure in his horse
and his hounds,[9] and another in his fighting
cocks, so I too take my pleasure in good
friends; and if I have any good thing myself
I teach it them, or I commend them to others
by whom I think they will be helped forwards
on the path of virtue. The treasures also
of the wise of old, written and bequeathed
in their books,[10] I unfold and peruse in
common with my friends. If our eye light
upon any good thing we cull it eagerly, and
regard it as great gain if we may but grow
in friendship with one another.
As I listened to this talk I could not but
reflect that he, the master, was a person
to be envied, and that we, his hearers, were
being led by him to beauty and nobility of
soul.
Again on some occasion the same Antiphon
asked Socrates how he expected to make politicians
of others when, even if he had the knowledge,
he did not engage in politics himself.
Socrates replied: I will put to you a question,
Antiphon: Which were the more statesmanlike
proceeding, to practise politics myself single-
handed, or to devote myself to making as
many others as possible fit to engage in
that pursuit?
[1] {o teratoskopos}, "jealous of Socrates,"
according to Aristotle ap. Diog. Laert. II.
v. 25. See Cobet, "Pros. Xen."
[2] Or, "try to turn out their pupils
as copies of themselves."
[3] See Arist. "Clouds," {on o
kakodaimon Sokrates kai Khairephon}.
[4] "The business of a shipowner or
skipper."
[5] Cf. Aristot. "Eth. N." x. viii.
1.
[6] Or rather "money," lit. "silver."
[7] Add "and a sign of modesty,"
{sophrona nomizomen}.
[8] {sophistas}. See Grote, "H. G."
viii. 482 foll.; "Hunting," xi.
foll.
[9] Cf. Plat. "Lys." 211 E.
[10] Cf. "Symp." iv. 27.
Book I VII
Let us here turn and consider whether by
deterring his associates from quackery and
false seeming he did not directly stimulate
them to the pursuit of virtue.[1] He used
often to say there was no better road to
renown than the one by which a man became
good at that wherein he desired to be reputed
good.[2] The truth of the concept he enforced
as follows: "Let us reflect on what
a man would be driven to do who wanted to
be thought a good flute player, without really
being so. He would be forced to imitate the
good flute player in the externals of his
art, would he not? and first or all, seeing
that these artists always have a splendid
equipment,[3] and travel about with a long
train of attendants, he must have the same;
in the next place, they can command the plaudits
of a multitude, he therefore must pack a
conclave of clackers. But one thing is clear:
nothing must induce him to give a performance,
or he will be exposed at once, and find himself
a laughing-stock not only as a sorry sort
of flute player, but as a wretched imposter.
And now he has a host of expenses to meet;
and not one advantage to be reaped; and worse
than all his evil reputation. What is left
him but to lead a life stale and unprofitable,
the scorn and mockery of men? Let us try
another case. Suppose a man wished to be
thought a good general or a good pilot, though
he were really nothing of the sort, let us
picture to our minds how it will fare with
him. Of two misfortunes one: either with
a strong desire to be thought proficient
in these matters, he will fail to get others
to agree with him, which will be bad enough;
or he will succeed, with worse result; since
it stands to reason that anyone appointed
to work a vessel or lead an army without
the requisite knowledge will speedily ruin
a number of people whom he least desires
to hurt, and will make but a sorry exit from
the stage himself." Thus first by one
instance and then another would he demonstrate
the unprofitableness of trying to appear
rich, or courageous, or strong, without really
being the thing pretended. "You are
sure sooner or later to have commands laid
upon you beyond your power to execute, and
failing just where you are credited with
capacity, the world will give you no commiseration."
"I call that man a cheat, and a great
cheat too," he would say, "who
gets money or goods out of some one by persuasion,
and defrauds him; but of all imposters he
surely is the biggest who can delude people
into thinking that he is fit to lead the
state, when all the while he is a worthless
creature."[4]
[1] {apotrepon proutrepen}. See K. Joel,
op. cit. p. 450 foll.
[2] Cf. "Cyrop." I. vi. 22.
[3] Or, "furniture of the finest,"
like Arion's in Herod. i. 24. Schneid. cf.
Demosth. 565. 6.
[4] Here follows the sentence [{emoi men
oun edokei kai tou alazoneuesthai apotrepein
tous sunontas toiade dialegomenos}], which,
for the sake of convenience, I have attached
to the first sentence of Bk. II. ch. i. [{edokei
de moi . . . ponou.}] I believe that the
commentators are right in bracketing both
one and the other as editorial interpolations.
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Evans Experientialism 
