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.
|
Evans Experientialism 
