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CLASSICAL

SOCRATIC DISCOURSES
BY PLATO AND XENOPHON INTRO-
DUCTION BY A. D. LINDSAY, LL.D.

in 427 B.C.

Bfcc2tm*a pupil* of Socrates. Visited Sicily.
Formed acadjfeifcy'.if? 386 B.C. Died in 347 B.C.

XENOPHON*/ torn at Athens c. 43$ B.C.
Disciple of Socrates. Entered the service of
Cyrus of Persia and led the retreat of the Ten
Thousand from the Tigris to the Black Sea.
Banished from Athens in 399 B.C. Died at
Corinth in 354 B.C.

SOCRATES DISCOURSES

PLATO *L XENOPHON

"?\o

LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD.
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Made in Great Britain
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and Decorated by Eric Ravilious

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J. M. Dent &. Sons Ltd.

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First Published in this Edition 1910

Reprinted 1913, 1915, 19l8<> 1923,

1925, 1927, 1930
1933, 1937

INTRODUCTION

ARISTOTLE in the Poetics refers to "Socratic discourses"
as a form of poetic imitation, and he seems to regard them
as genuine poetry in spite of their not being written in metre.
Other evidence makes it abundantly clear that in the first
half of the fourth century this new form of literature sprang
into being, the writings of " those whose habit was to praise
Socrates," as Isocrates calls them. Xenophon refers to them
in Memorabilia IV, c. in. We know some of their names
Alexamenus, Antisthenes, ^schines, Polycrates, Phaedo.
But of all this mass of literature which centred round the
character of Socrates, only two writers have left discourses
which have come down to us Plato and Xenophon. This
volume contains the Memorabilia, Apology, and Symposium
of Xenophon and five dialogues of Plato. These are but a
minority of the discourses written round the name of Socrates
by Xenophon and Plato, and only a very small part of the
literature of which Socrates was the source.

It is, perhaps, unique in literary history that a single life
should form the subject of a new form of writing. The
Gospels are the nearest parallel. We know from the opening
words of St. Luke's Gospel that "many took in hand to set
forth in a declaration of those things which are most surely
believed among us." But the Gospels had, as these words
witness, primarily a historical or strictly biographical pur-
pose. The Socratic discourses were poetry, not history. No
doubt all went back somehow to the historical Socrates, but
the dialogues we possess are enough to prove that they must
have done so in very different ways. The philosophy of Plato
is contained in dialogues in all of which, with one exception,
Socrates is a speaker. For the Socratic discourse became in his
hands the medium of his philosophical expression. Xenophon
also expresses his own opinions in the form of a Socratic
conversation in the Economist.

The discourses contained in this volume have been chosen
for their biographical interest because they in especial seem to

viii Introduction

furnish materials to help us to get beyond Plato and Xenophon
to the real Socrates, but they are not biographies. An attempt
has often been made to divide the writings of Plato into
Socratic and Platonic dialogues as though in the first he was
merely representing the historical Socrates, in the second
using him merely as a vehicle for his own opinions. The dis-
tinction has partial justification. There is little doubt that
some dialogues represent more nearly than others the way
in which Socrates talked and the principles of tiis philo-
sophy, while in others there are put into the mouth of
Socrates doctrines which are Plato's own. To deny this
would be to deny the existence of a Platonic philosophy.
But the distinction breaks down when we try to force it.
Some of those dialogues which seem to tell us most about
Socrates, the Ph&do or the Meno, for example, contain
doctrines which we must almost certainly attribute to Plato
as distinguished from Socrates. There are no dialogues
which are not Platonic, as there are none which are not
Socratic.

It is almost as hard to distinguish between Socrates and
Xenophon. For the Memorabilia is as much a work of
art as any Platonic dialogue, though the manner of it is as
different as was Xenophon from Plato. We are only better
off because Xenophon wrote much besides his Socratic dis-
courses. In his histories, his ideal life of Cyrus, his many
anecdotes on all subjects from hunting to financial reform in
Athens and the glories of the Spartan constitution, he has
revealed his own character plainly enough : a thorough
sportsman in the best sense of that word, an ideal country
gentleman with a taste for soldiering and a turn for practical
ideas : religious in a rather conventional sense, with strong
prejudices that spoil him as a historian, redeemed from the
commonplace by his thorough soundness. Thus if we do not
know what is Socrates in the Memorabilia, we can some-
times say what is Xenophon. It is clear, for example, that
the Economist, though a Socratic dialogue, is almost
entirely an expression of Xenophon *s views, while in the
Memorabilia we come on something quite different. We
are getting, however indirectly, into contact with the impres-
sion Socrates actually made on Xenophon ; but as certainly
there is much that is Xenophon's own.

In the attempt to get at the real Socrates two different

Introduction ix

canons of investigation have been assumed. Sometimes
Xenophon, the bluff truth-telling if rather prosaic soldier, has
been preferred to Plato the artist. Xenophon has been
regarded as a kind of Bos well, a poor fellow but a faithful
witness, while the fascinations of Plato's style, his vivid
portraiture and his philosophical grandeur have been admired
and distrusted. Others have said with as much force that
inasmuch as the great man is only understood by his
greatest disciple, the difference between the Memorabilia
and the dialogues of Plato represents the difference between
Socrates as he appeared to a commonplace and eminently
respectable sportsman, and Socrates as he appeared to genius
akin to his own. These positions are equally plausible, and
both ignore the nature of the Socratic discourse and its
entire unlikeness to any kind of modern biography. The
first position involves the assumption that Xenophon is in
intention more the faithful biographer than Plato, for which
there is no ground, unless the more commonplace is always
the more true ; the second assumes that Plato always wanted
to depict Socrates and not to expound his own philosophy
which he had developed from Socrates' teaching.

We have, then, no account of Socrates which can be taken
as simply biographical, but that does not mean that we have
no means of knowing at all what manner of man he was.
We know Socrates almost entirely through his influence upon
other people, but that influence was varied and many-sided.
For we have plenty of evidence besides the Socratic discourses
as to the influence which Socrates exercised on his contempor-
aries. He is not only the hero of Xenophon and Plato, he
is also the villain of Aristophanes. The Clouds is no
doubt a caricature, as all Aristophanes' portraits are, but
caricatures are never meaningless ; and it is clear enough that
Aristophanes was not alone in his opinion of Socrates. The
Athenian public confirmed it when they put to death the best
man Xenophon ever knew on a charge of impiety and of
corrupting the youth of Athens. We know Socrates further
through his disciples. Others besides Plato claimed to carry
on his teaching ; Antisthenes the Cynic, for example, when
he made virtue consist in self-sufficiency and in abandon-
ing all but the bare necessities of life : when he said to
Plato that he could see a horse but not horseness, and

developed a logic that made predication and science impos-

*

x Introduction

sible. The Megarians claimed to follow Socrates when they
made virtue consist in knowledge, as Aristippus claimed to
follow him when he identified virtue with the pursuit of
pleasure. If these were misunderstandings of Socrates, as
Plato would have asserted, there must have been something
in the master 's teaching to make such misunderstanding
possible.

We can state our problem thus : What must Socrates have
been to have so impressed an honest soldier like Xenophon
by his surpassing goodness and by the improving character
of his conversations ; to have been regarded by a profound
philosopher and poet like Plato as the source and spring of
his own philosophy ; to have inspired such different schools as
the Cynics, Megarians and Cyrenaics ; to have been attacked
by a brilliant conservative like Aristophanes as the arch-
representative of the new school of rationalists and the
most dangerous man in Athens ; to have barely escaped with
his life at the hands of the clever unscrupulous politicians
of that new school who held Athens under a reign of terror
in the brief triumph of the oligarchic revolutionists of 404;
and to have been put to death by the restored democracy
partly because of his supposed responsibility for that revolu-
tion five years later? His relation to the Sophists raises
the same question. Plato's dialogues are full of Socrates 1
encounters with the Sophists. The Protagoras and the
Gorgtas present admirable instances. Socrates there is
always in opposition to the Sophists. They may be treated
with respect like Protagoras and Gorgias, or with ridicule like
Polus, but it is made clear that their teaching is thoroughly
erroneous and likely to have the most evil effects. Plato is
largely responsible for the odium which has since his time
attached to their name. Xenophon is almost more careful
to show how very far removed Socrates was from a man like
Antiphon. Yet clearly Aristophanes took for granted that
Socrates was a Sophist. It did not matter to Athens whether
Socrates took pay or not for his teaching, if he taught the
same pernicious doctrines as the Sophists did. There are
passages in Plato which seem to allow that this identification
was natural. In the dialogue called the Sophist it is
admitted that the word may be so defined as to include
Socrates. In the Republic Plato makes Socrates say that
what is wrong with the Sophists is not that they want to

Introduction xi

upset society, but that they are not revolutionary enough,
and give the public what it wants. The most indiscriminate
abuse of the Sophists in Plato is significantly put into the
mouth of Anytus, one of the accusers of Socrates. The truth
is, that Plato takes such pains to show the opposition
between them and Socrates, because the community was
plain to every one. What must Socrates have been if the
public took for granted that he was a Sophist, and those
who best understood him believed that he was the only man
who could refute the Sophists and could counteract their
pernicious influence?

This abundant evidence of what different people thought
of Socrates, and of the opinions of men who owed to him
their inspiration, is obscured by the difficulty that in all these
cases the evidence is indirect, or the medium through which
we see Socrates has a character of its own, and we can never
tell with certainty how much of the picture is due to Socrates
and how much to the character of the draughtsman : how
much allowance we must make for Aristophanes 1 prejudice
and perversity; for Xenophon's evident enthusiasm for moral
improvement and desire to make out that Socrates was
eminently respectable; for Plato's idealism of Socrates the
martyr.

Fortunately there is one witness more strictly historical
than the rest. Aristotle refers to Socrates in several passages,
and distinguishing him from his successors including Plato,
mentions his special characteristics as a philosopher, and
several times criticizes his teaching on Ethics. It will be
worth while to notice these passages, scanty as they are.
In the thirteenth book of the Metaphysics he says that there
are two things which can justly be attributed to Socrates,
" dialectical discourses and the art of universal definition."
The word translated "dialectical" means a discourse in
which you take your opponent along with you by means of
admissions. That Socrates used this method of arguing is
evident in all our sources. " Universal definition " is what
Xenophon refers to when he says, Memorabilia IV, that
Socrates always endeavoured to find out the nature of each
thing and what in Plato becomes the search for the Form
or Idea. These two points are both logical.

The other passages refer to Ethics. In the Magna Moralia
Book I, c. i, Aristotle says that Socrates was better in his

xii Introduction

teaching on Ethics than Pythagoras, but was not correct
because "he made the virtues sciences (or forms of know-
ledge), but this is an impossible view." Aristotle explains
why it is impossible, and continues, " It follows, therefore,
that in making the virtues sciences he did away with the
unreasoning part of the soul, and thus did away with both
passion and moral character. Therefore he was wrong here
in what he said of the virtues. Afterwards Plato divided
the soul correctly into the reasoning and unreasoning parts."
The other passages in Aristotle are all concerned with this
point, that Socrates identified virtue with knowledge and got
into difficulties by not seeing that virtue involves something
else. "Many say that it is impossible if a man has know-
ledge that he should have no strength of will. For it would
be a strange thing, so Socrates thought, if when knowledge
were in a man, something else should master him and drag
him about like a slave. For Socrates stoutly resisted the
notion that there was such a thing as weakness of will.
He said that no man acts on purpose against what is best
but only through ignorance. But this reasoning," Aristotle
concludes, "is in plain contradiction with the facts"
(Nicomachean Ethics, vii. 3). So again : " For these reasons
some say that all virtues are forms of insight, and in this
Socrates was partly right and partly wrong : wrong in think-
ing all virtues forms of insight, but right in that they
involve insight. Socrates thought that the virtues were forms
of reasoning, while we think that they involve reasoning "
(Nichomachean Ethics, vi. 13). Aristotle points out that this
involved Socrates in determinism. " Socrates said that it was
not in our power to be good or bad. For, he said, if you
were to ask a man whether he would rather be just or unjust,
no one would choose injustice : similarly with courage and
cowardice and all the other virtues. So clearly if men were
bad it was not of their will ; and therefore," Aristotle adds,
"not of their will if they were good " (Magna M or alia,
I. c. 9). In criticism of a further consequence of this one-
sidedness Aristotle points out how Socrates confused virtue
with the arts. "The old Socrates believed that the know-
ledge of virtue was the end, and therefore inquired what
justice is and what courage, and so with each of the elements
of virtue. And he did this on principle. For he thought that
all the virtues were forms of knowledge, so that knowing

Introduction xiii

what was just and being just were the same. For if we have
learnt geometry and housebuilding, we are in having done
so housebuilders and geometers. That is why Socrates
inquired what justice is, and not how and from what con-
ditions it comes into being. Now this is perfectly right in the
theoretical sciences ; for astronomy and natural science and
geometry are concerned with nothing but the knowledge and
contemplation of the nature of the subject of these sciences ;
though that does not prevent them being incidentally useful
to us for many necessary purposes. But in the productive
sciences the end is something separate from the science and
knowledge, as health is different from medicine and a well-
ordered constitution from politics. No doubt the knowledge
of all good things is good ; but with virtue the most valuable
thing is not to know what virtue is, but to know its
conditions. For we do not want to know what bravery is,
but to be brave ; nor what justice is, but to be just ; just as
being healthy is better than to know what health is, and
being in a good condition better than knowing what a good
condition is " (Eudemian Ethics, I, 5).

All this evidence, and the rest of it is to the same effect,
goes to show that Socrates' principal doctrine was the
identification of knowledge and virtue or the complete
rationalisation of morality, and that, as was natural for a
pioneer, his rationalism was one-sided. In claiming per-
sistently that science and reasoning should be applied to
conduct as well as to everything else, he seems to have
asserted that knowledge or the power of defining the
virtues was all that was necessary, and therefore that if a
man had that knowledge he must necessarily be good ; if he
had not, he could not be good. This meant, as Aristotle
says, that he ignored the irrational elements in the soul, that
he could give no explanation of the fact that men may know
what is right without doing it, and may do what is right
without being able to explain it.

This is one consideration suggested by the many-sided
character of Socrates' influence. If among his disciples
opinions as to the essence of his teaching were so conflicting,
the inference is that his teaching was not complete and
systematic, or at least that it involved some central con-
tradiction or omission which his different disciples worked
out in different ways. One striking element in his teaching

xiv Introduction

bears this out : his confession of his own ignorance. He
insisted on the necessity of knowledge, and yet admitted that
he himself had none except the knowledge of his own
ignorance. What he taught was a method of approaching
moral questions, and that method in different hands gave the
most varying results. Further, Socrates was not a philo-
sopher of the schools. He wrote nothing, he only talked,
questioned and argued. What impressed itself upon his
hearers and disciples was not so much any definite truths
which he proclaimed, but the way in which he talked and
the man he was. Socrates' method in questioning and
arguing was the common source of all the philosophies which
followed as it is the source of all Socratic discourses.

Both Xenophon and Plato bear witness to the untechnical
character of Socrates' teaching. The best account of it is
given by Alcibiades in Plato's Symposium, p. 221 : " If any
one will listen to the talk of Socrates, it will appear to him
at first extremely ridiculous. He is always talking- about
great market-asses and brass-founders, and leather-cutters,
and skin-dressers; and this is his perpetual custom, so that
any dull and unobservant person might easily laugh at his
discourse." Compare the following passage in the Gorgias,
491. Callicles : "How you go on, always talking in the
same way, Socrates! " Socrates: "Yes, Callicles, and also
about the same things." Callicles : " Yes, by the gods,
you are literally always talking of cobblers and pedlars
and cooks and doctors, as if this had to do with our
argument. " So in the Memorabilia I, c. ti, Xenophon
makes Critias say to Socrates, " But it will be necessary
for you to abstain from speaking of those shoemakers
and smiths : indeed, I think that they must now be
worn out from being so often in your mouth." There is a
passage to the same effect in Memorabilia IV, c. iv.
*' Hippias of Elis, on his return to Athens after an absence
of some time, happened to come in the way of Socrates as he
was observing to some people how surprising it was that
if a man wished to have another taught to be a shoemaker
or a carpenter or a worker in brass or a rider, he was av
no loss whither he should send him to effect his object ;
while as to justice, if any one wished either to learn it
himself, or to have his son or slave taught it, he did not
know whither he should go to obtain his desire. Hippias,

Introduction xv

hearing this remark, said as if jesting with him, ' What I
are you still saying the same things, Socrates, that I heard
from you so long ago? * "

These passages may seem at first sight only to show how
little technical were Socrates' discourses, how they reflected
the busy life of the Athenian streets. Socrates was clearly a
man of unbounded interest in all things human ; as his clear
penetrating mind occupied itself with the concerns of one
citizen after another, we may be sure that he made many
enlightening remarks on the details of their work and asked
many a suggestive question. So we get the Socrates of
Xenophon, who, " whenever he conversed with any of those
who were engaged in arts or trades, and who wrought at
them for gain, proved of service to them," who talks with
Parrhasius the painter, Cleito the statuary and Pistias the
corselet-maker, a man of shrewd observation and wide
experience, well fitted to give advice to young men ignorant
of the world. That was clearly the side of Socrates which
Xenophon most admired. But on further consideration
these passages will be found to indicate the kernel of
Socrates 1 teaching. He talked of cobblers and carpenters
not to improve cobbling and carpentering, but to learn a
lesson from them. The point of the conversation which
Hippias interrupted is that the carpenters know their
business and can teach it : it is unfortunately not the case
with just men. Socrates was always talking of carpenters
and cobblers because he was always contrasting the know-
ledge which men had of their trades with their ignorance of
life or virtue. In the last of the passages cited from Aristotle,
Aristotle is trying to show where Socrates went wrong in
this comparison of virtue with the crafts. In Plato's
Apology Socrates, in describing how he has found all men
ignorant, makes a partial exception of the artisans. They
do know their own craft though they spoil their knowledge
by thinking they know many other things of which they
are ignorant. In Plato we continually find Socrates asking :
Who can teach virtue, as a carpenter can teach carpentering?
Any one can say what medicine is, why can you not say in
the same way what justice is? He is continually holding
up as an example the businesslike and scientific procedure of
the craftsman and asking why it is not followed in morals.
He was always talking of carpenters and cobblers because

xvi Introduction

the likeness between virtue and the crafts was the most
important part of his teaching.

In this Socrates was a true son of Athens. Hippias in
the Protagoras calls Athens "the home and altar of Grecian
wisdom.*' It was the ideal of Pericles that Athens "should
be the school of Hellas," and throughout that great funeral
oration where these words occur, Pericles insists that the
greatest glory of the Athenians is their belief in counsel and
insight, their conviction that whatever fortune the gods may
send it is always better to have thought things out. Fore-
sight and contrivance are the great Athenian virtues.
"Many wonders there be, but nought more wondrous than man."

"Master of cunning he. . . .

Speech and the wind-swift speed of counsel and civic wit,
He hath learnt for himself all these: and the arrowy rain to fly,
And the nipping airs that freeze, 'neath the open winter sky.
He hath provision for all."

The speeches of Pericles in Thucydides express an outlook
on life very like that of Socrates. There is much in war that
cannot be foreseen. The final issue of events is in the hands
of the gods. But that does not alter the fact that there is a
sphere where skill or ignorance, foresight or carelessness
make all the difference. Socrates likewise distinguished
between what was and what was not in the power of man.
There were many things out of man's power. Into these
there was no use in inquiring. They should be left to the
gods. But if we are to render to God the things which are
God's, we are to keep the tighter hold of the things that are
man's. Man was concerned with what he should do, how
he should act and what he should choose. There know-
ledge was powerful and necessary. Plato in his Laws com-
pares man's life to a boat in a storm. The storm may over-
whelm the most skilful seamen, but it is always better to
know how to steer.

If the Athenians loved wisdom, it was because they were
largely a community of skilled craftsmen, because every
one of them knew what was good and what was bad work,
and that " tools do not teach their own use." Success only
came with learning and knowledge. Socrates is always
appealing to men who know the difference between the
expert and the amateur and asking how they can hope for

Introduction xvii

success in life, without knowledge of rule and standard, when
they would never hope for success in their craft under such
conditions. Who would start a trade without a teacher?
Where is the teacher who will instruct men in the art of
life?

It is easy to see how Socrates' rationalism developed from
this position. The first essential in a skilled craft is to know
what you want to produce. It is unthinkable that a crafts-
man should start out to make something he knows not what.
He must first know what is wanted, the size of the shoe or
the specifications of the ship, and then proceed to discover
how the desired result comes about. Given knowledge of
the end and of the means to effect it no more is needed.
Without such knowledge nothing can be done. This work-
ing principle Socrates applied to life. All men seek the good.
That is the end of life. Then they must first know what it
is and what produces it. Such knowledge should differ-
entiate the good man from the bad as it differentiates the
good from the bad craftsman. Hence the double paradox of
Socrates : men only do wrong through ignorance since
obviously all men desire the good, and if they fail to obtain
it, it is because they have not apprehended it clearly or have
taken the wrong means to effect it; and secondly no one
can be good without knowledge and skill, although when
questioned nobody seemed to have that knowledge.

It is customary to settle Socrates' difficulties by asserting
that he ignored the will. As this criticism does not explain
what the will is, it says little more than that Socrates ignored
something, and the paradoxes into which his teaching leads
make that obvious enough. If we are to criticize him by
examining his argument, we must find why skill cannot be
applied to life so simply as it is to a craft. These are the
lines of Aristotle's criticism. In craftsmanship the desir-
ability of the ends is taken for granted. It is not the shoe-
maker's business whether people do well to wear shoes or
not. They decide that, and the craftsman accepts the end
their wants prescribe. Further, the end can be clearly
described. It can be pointed to and measured a shoe to fit
this foot, a ship of such and such a size. But when we
come to life as a whole, we have to consider the desirability
of any end, to find something which is good not for anything
else but in itself; and the end of life, whatever it be, is

xviii Introduction

certainly not a thing which can be measured or pointed to.
The rules of skill which are so successful in the crafts are
not immediately applicable to conduct, because in conduct
we are concerned with questions which the crafts never raise.
To say with Socrates that if we know what is good we shall
do it, we shall have to give a new meaning to knowledge, a
meaning which will involve an element of appreciation or
value, and therefore it will not be a knowledge which can be
taught in the ordinary way. It was on those lines that Plato
developed Socrates' paradox of the involuntariness of evil.
He says in the Laws that we must distinguish between two
kinds of ignorance. We may be ignorant that this is right
or that is wrong ; this ignorance can be cured by instruction ;
or we may have the fatal and incurable ignorance of think-
ing that doing wrong does not matter. The second kind of
ignorance cannot be cured by instruction. The knowledge
which is contrasted with it is not like the knowledge of a
craftsman at all. Plato maintains Socrates' doctrine that
virtue is knowledge only by giving up the meaning of know-
ledge on which the doctrine was originally based.

So we must change the meaning we give to ignorance if
we are to explain how it is that people who are obviously
good cannot say what the good is. Socrates confessed that
he himself could not say what virtue was, and he had never
found any man who could. Were all men, including himself,
therefore bad? Plato discusses this difficulty in the Meno,
and solves it by inserting between knowledge and ignorance
a third state of right opinion. Men act rightly because they
believe rightly without knowing. Such right belief comes to
men by the grace of God, and cannot be imparted by instruc-
tion or argument. By this modification Plato escapes the
difficulty into which Socrates fell, and he yet retains the
belief in the primacy of knowledge. For only the man who
has knowledge of virtue is able to instruct others or is fit
to set up by legislation a standard which others are blindly
to follow. Therefore the philosopher who has knowledge
will be the only perfect good man, for his goodness will be
all his own, and his knowledge can only be attained in the
way which Socrates laid down : dialectical inquiry into the
nature of the good. That search is for Plato much more
complex and all-embracing than anything which Socrates
had conceived. It follows the Socratic method, but the end

Introduction xix

it seeks is not an isolated one which can be described like
the end of the craftsman, but the unity of all experience,
intelligible but not perceivable.

Others solved the difficulty in other ways. There are
some things in life which seem obviously not to be mere
means to something else. Knowledge and pleasure are the
most obvious of those. The Megarians identified the former
with the good, the Cyrenaics the latter, quite probably follow-
ing some hints in Socrates' teaching, as the Protagoras
suggests.

We have discussed so far the solutions which others found
to the difficulties of the Socratic position. He himself was
probably not troubled with them. A discoverer very rarely
sees where his discovery is one-sided or deficient, but apart
from such general considerations Socrates solved in his
character difficulties which were too great for his theory.
If he never faced the difficulty involved in weakness of the
will, it was because he himself had no experience of it. He
was clearly a man to whom conceiving a thing as right and
doing it inevitably went together. He had that strength and
constancy of character which is not troubled with the
psychology of weakness because it has no inkling of it.
Further, though he never discovered the good, he never gave
up his belief in it and his determination to follow the best
knowledge he had. The irrational part of the soiil, though
no room was found for it in his theory, was evident enough
in his practice. Whatever his peculiar inner sign may have
been, whether, as some writers have held, he was of a
nervous mystical temperament and had sudden mysterious
mental impressions, or whether he only meant what we
should call the voice of conscience, in either case the inner
sign was not the outcome of reasoning and inquiry. It was
given by God to help him in the perplexities of conduct.
Plato makes him mention it in the Republic as one of the
ways in which by God's grace men are saved to true
philosophy when all external influences are against them.
As a man, therefore, he had not the one-sidedness of his
theory, he was a good upright citizen, the best in
Athens. Yet his opponents were not without excuse. He
atoned for his own part for the defects of his theory, but
was there any guarantee that his disciples would not take
the theory with its defects without making up for them by

xx Introduction

their character ? Socrates taught that no goodness was worth
having unless it could stand the test of his questioning, and
he had found none which would. To that he himself added
an unquenchable belief in the goodness for which he was
searching, but what would the result of his teaching be on
men without that faith? His opponents might well say,
Here is a man who criticizes and pulls to pieces all our
beliefs, who makes ridiculous all our most honoured teachers
and examples, and who does not profess to put anything in
their place ; confesses, indeed, that he cannot. What must
be the result of such conduct? What are we to do if we
must give up everything that holds society together because
we cannot exactly justify it on a rational basis? Two very
different answers were given to such questions. Plato's
answer might be expressed in the famous words of Hegel,
"The wounds of reason can only be healed by deeper reason. "
He believed that if the work of criticism was at first
destructive, it only destroyed in order to build better. It
was not thinking that was wrong but insufficient thinking.
Even Plato admitted that some might take harm from
criticism. He urges in the Republic that dialectic should not
be begun at too early an age, for the young "in their first
taste of dialectic treat it as a game and use it only for
purposes of contradiction. They imitate those who refute
them, and refute others in their turn, delighting like puppies
in dragging about and pulling to pieces whoever happens to
be near them." But dialectic and criticism thoroughly
pursued alone could put morality and goodness on a sure
foundation. Others thought or at least felt differently.
They only saw the destructive side of Socratic teaching.
Again and again they must have felt, after being criticized
by Socrates, that while he beat them in argument, in their
hearts they were unconvinced, and that for the sake of all
that they counted of value in life they must cling to beliefs
and practices which reason could not defend. Plato in the
Apology makes Socrates say that his accusers represent the
politicians, the orators and the poets. The collocation is
significant. For all these rely on what Plato calls persuasion
as opposed to knowledge; all these, however much they may
use definite knowledge, appeal to deep instinctive elements in
the soul ; all these were criticized by Socrates and denounced

Introduction xxi

as shams. The politician could see how Socrates, by apply-
ing the analogy of the skilled trades to politics, made demo-
cracy seem ridiculous. The rhetorician could not tolerate a
teacher who insisted that persuasiveness came only from
knowledge, nor the poet a mode of criticism which made the
authority of poetry to consist only in the scientific truth of
the information it conveyed. If Socrates were right, politics
and rhetoric and poetry must go. Plato was prepared to say
that society must be revolutionized and all elements in it
subordinated to philosophy. But there is little to wonder at if
most men who only saw the threatened destruction and had
not Socrates' and Plato's heroic faith in philosophy, should
feel that Socrates' teaching was the ruin of Athens. There
are some now-a-days who agree with them. It must be the
verdict of all those who believe that in the end life is
irrational, that it rests on beliefs which not only cannot be
reduced to logical grounds but which are obviously illogical,
that religion and morality and art are instinctive and are
destroyed if subjected to a reasoning power which should be
confined to the working out of the details and the machinery
of life. We differ from the Athenian people only if we have
the belief of Plato, that while the bases of life and society
are not to be apprehended and explained by the same methods
as are required for the demonstration of a mathematical
problem, while our life may often be more profound than our
powers of explaining it, yet apprehension of the ends of life,
the power to see life as a whole and its meaning, is not
contrary to reason but demands its highest exercise.

A. D. LINDSAY.

NOTE. The translation of Xenophon's Memorabilia in
this volume is by the Rev. J. S. Watson, first published
in 1848, as edited by the Rev. R. J. Hughes for the Temple
Classics, 1904. The translation of Xenophon's Apology is
by Sarah Fielding, sister of the novelist, published in 1762 ;
of his Symposium by James Welwood, M.D., published in
1710. The translations of Plato's Lysis and Protagoras are
by J. Wright, first published in 1848; and of the Euthyphro,
Apology, and Crito, by F. M. Stawell, published in Temple
Greek and Latin Classics, 1904.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

XENOPHON

Translations : Memorabilia : E. Bysshe, 1712, 1758, with Intro-
duction by H. Morley (Cassell's National Library), 1889, 1904 ; S.
Fielding (with Apology), 1762, 1767, 1788; E. Levien, 1872 (Bayard
Series); J. S. Watson (with Anabasis), Bohn, 1848, Lubbock's
Hundred Books, 78, 1894.

Symposium: J. Welwood, 1710, 1750.

Works : (Minor), translated by several hands, 1813 ; A, Cooper,
Spelman, Smith, Fielding, and others, 1831 ; (Minor), J. S. Watson,
Bohn, 1848; H. G. Dakyns, 1890.

PLATO

Translations: The Republic: H. Spens, 1763; Davies and
Vaughan, 1852, 1858, 1866; B. Jowett, 1881, 3rd edition 1888,
1908; T. Taylor, with Introduction by T. Wratislaw, 1894; W. L.
Bryan and C. L. Bryan, 1898 ; Translation by Sydenham and Taylor,
revised by W. H. D. Rouse (Methuen's Standard Library), 1906;
A. D. Lindsay, 1907, 1908.

Symposium : by Percy Bysshe Shelley, in Cassell's National Library
(with other pieces), 1887 J 1 95 F. Sydenham (with lo, Hippias,
Alcibiades and Philebus, also separately), 1759-80.

Meno: by R. W. Mackay, 1869; From the text of Baiter and Orelli
(Oxford trans, of classics), 1880; with Apology and Crito, St. George
Stock and C. A. Marcon, 1887.

Phaedo: by Theobald, 1713; Mme. Dacier (New York), 1833;
C. S. Stanford, 1873; E. M. Cope, 1875; w * tn one or more other
works: 1675; 1730 (?) ; by T. Taylor, 1793; C. S. Stanford, 1835;
with Introduction by W. W. Goodwin (parts only), 1879, 1887; F. J.
Church, 1880, 1886; H. Gary, Bohn, 1888; Lubbock's Hundred
Books, 34, 1892 ; Cassell's National Library, 1888 ; reprint from W.
Whewell, 1892.

Phaedrus: T. Taylor. 1792; T. Wright, with Lysis and Protagoras.
1848, 1888.

Works: Floyer Sydenham, 1759, 1776; T. Taylor and Sydenham,
1804; H. Gary and H. Davis, 1848-52 (Bohn), 1900; W. Whewell
(Dialogues), 3 vols. 1859-61 ; B. Jowett, The Dialogues of Plato, 1871,
1875, 1*92.

XXll

CONTENTS

PACK

XENOPHON'S MEMORABILIA i

Translated by Rev. J. S. WATSON, M.A

APOLOGY, OR THE DEFENCE OF

SOCRATES 152

Translated by SARAH FIELDING.

SYMPOSIUM, OR BANQUET . . .162
Translated by JAMES WELWOOD, M. D.

PLATO'S LYSIS 201

Translated by J. WRIGHT.
PROTAGORAS 231

Translated by J. WRIGHT,

EUTHYPHRO 300

Translated by Miss F. M. STAWELL.

APOLOGY 321

Translated by Miss F. M. STAWELL.

CRITO 350

Translated by Miss F. M. STAWELL.

XENOPHON'S
MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES

BOOK I

CHAPTER I

The two charges on which Socrates was condemned to death by the
Athenians, sect. i. The first charge refuted by several argu-
ments : for Socrates used to sacrifice to the gods, 2 ; he prac-
tised divination, and his daemon was no new god, 2-5 ; he
recommended that the gods should be consulted by man in
perplexing circumstances, 6-9 ; he was guilty of no impiety,
he avoided vain speculations respecting the gods, and said that
the business of philosophy was the study of virtue, 10-17; his
life was in accordance with the precepts of morality, 18-20.

i I HAVE often wondered by what arguments the
accusers of Socrates persuaded the Athenians that he
deserved death from the state ; for the indictment
against him was to this effect : SOCRATES OFFENDS

AGAINST THE LAWS IN NOT PAYING RESPECT TO THOSE GODS
WHOM THE CITY RESPECTS, AND INTRODUCING OTHER
NEW DEITIES ; HE ALSO OFFENDS AGAINST THE LAWS IN
CORRUPTING THE YOUTH.

2. In the first place, that he did not respect the gods
whom the city respects, what proof did they bring ? For
he was seen frequently sacrificing at home, and fre-
quently on the public altars of the city ; nor was it
unknown that he used divination; as it was a common
subject of talk, that " Socrates used to say that the
divinity instructed him ; " and it was from this circum-
stance, indeed, that they seem chiefly to have derived
the charge of introducing new deities. 3. He however
introduced nothing newer than those who, practising
divination, consult auguries, voices, omens, and sacri-
fices ; for they do not imagine that birds, or people who

2 Xenophon

meet them, know what is advantageous for those seek-
ing* presages, but that the gods, by their means, signify
what will be so ; and such was the opinion that Socrates
entertained. 4. Most people say that they are diverted
from an object, or prompted to it, by birds, or by
the people who meet them ; but Socrates spoke as he
thought, for he said it was the divinity that was his
monitor. He also told many of his friends to do certain
things, and not to do others, intimating that the divinity
had forewarned him ; and advantage attended those who
obeyed his suggestions, but repentance, those who
disregarded them.

5. Yet who would not acknowledge that Socrates
wished to appear to his friends neither a fool nor a
boaster? But he would have seemed to be both, if,
after saying that intimations were given him by a god,
he had then been proved guilty of falsehood. It is mani-
fest, therefore, that he would have uttered no predic-
tions, if he had not trusted that they would prove true.
But who, in such matters, would trust to any one but a
god? And how could he, who trusted the gods, think
that there were no gods?

6. He also acted towards his friends according to his
convictions, for he recommended them to perform
affairs of necessary consequence in such a manner as he
thought that they would be best managed ; but concern-
ing those of which it was doubtful how they would
terminate, he sent them to take auguries whether they
should be done or not. 7. Those who would govern
families or cities well, he said, had need of divination ;
for to become skilful in architecture, or working in
brass, or agriculture, or in commanding men, or to
become a critic in any such arts, or a good reasoner,
or a skilful regulator of a household, or a well-qualified
general, he considered as wholly matters of learning,
and left to the choice of the human understanding ;
8. but he said that the gods reserved to themselves the
most important particulars attending such matters, of
which nothing was apparent to men ; for neither was it
certain to him who had sown his field well, who should
reap the fruit of it; nor certain to him who had built

Memorabilia of Socrates 3

a house well, who should inhabit it; nor certain to him
who was skilled in generalship, whether it would be for
his advantage to act as a general; nor certain to him
who was versed in political affairs, whether it would be
for his profit to be at the head of the state ; nor certain
to him who had married a beautiful wife in hopes of
happiness, whether he should not incur misery by her
means; nor certain to him who had acquired powerful
connections in the state, whether he might not be
banished by them : 9. and those who thought that none
of these things depended on the gods, but that all were
dependent on the human understanding, he pronounced
to be insane ; as he also pronounced those to be insane
who had recourse to omens respecting matters which
the gods had granted to men to discover by the exercise
of their faculties; as if, for instance, a man should
inquire whether it would be better to take for the driver
of his chariot, one who knows how to drive, or one who
does not know ; or whether it would be better to place
over his ship one who knows how to steer it, or one who
does not know ; or if men should ask respecting matters
which they may learn by counting, or measuring, or
weighing ; for those who inquired of the gods concern-
ing such matters he thought guilty of impiety, and said
that it was the duty of men to learn whatever the gods
had enabled them to do by learning, and to try to ascer-
tain from the gods by augury whatever was obscure to
men ; as the gods always afford information to those
to whom they are (rendered) propitious.

10. He was constantly in public, for he went in the
morning to the places for walking and the gymnasia ;
at the time when the market was full he was to be seen
there ; and the rest of the day he was where he was
likely to meet the greatest number of people ; he was
generally engaged in discourse, and all who pleased
were at liberty to hear him; n. yet no one ever either
saw Socrates doing, or heard him saying, anything
impious or profane; for he did not dispute about the
nature of things as most other philosophers disputed,
speculating how that which is called by sophists the
world was produced, and by what necessary laws every-

4 Xenophon

thing in the heavens is effected, but endeavoured to
show that those who chose such objects of contempla-
tion were foolish; 12. and used in the first place to
inquire of them whether they thought that they already
knew sufficient of human affairs, and therefore pro-
ceeded to such subjects of meditation, or whether, when
they neglected human affairs entirely, and speculated
on celestial matters, they thought that they were doing
what became them. 13. He wondered, too, that it was
not apparent to them that it is impossible for man to
satisfy himself on such points, since even those who
pride themselves most on discussing them, do not hold
the same opinions one with another, but are disposed
towards each other like madmen ; 14. for of madmen
some have no fear of what is to be feared, and others
fear what is not to be feared ; some think it no shame
to say or do anything whatever before men, and others
think that they ought not to go among men at all ; some
pay no respect to temple, or altar, or anything dedicated
to the gods, and others worship stones, and common
stocks, and beasts : so of those who speculate on the
nature of the universe, some imagine that all that exists
is one, others that there are worlds infinite in number ;
some that all things are in perpetual motion, others that
nothing is ever moved ; some that all things are gener-
ated and decay, and others that nothing is either
generated or decays.

15. He would ask, also, concerning such philo-
sophers, whether, as those who have learned arts prac-
tised by men, expect that they will be able to carry into
effect what they have learned, either for themselves, or
for any one else whom they may wish, so those who
inquire into celestial things, imagine that, when they
have discovered by what laws everything is effected,
they will be able to produce, whenever they please,
wind, rain, changes of the seasons, and whatever else
of that sort they may desire, or whether they have no
such expectation, but are content merely to know how
everything of that nature is generated. 16. Such were
the observations which he made about those who busied
themselves in such speculations ; but for himself, he

Memorabilia of Socrates 5

would hold discourse, from time to time, on what con-
cerned mankind, considering what was pious, what
impious ; what was becoming, what unbecoming ; what
was just, what unjust ; what was sanity, what insanity ;
what was fortitude, what cowardice ; what a state was,
and what the character of a statesman ; what was the
nature of government over men, and the qualities of
one skilled in governing them ; and touching on other
subjects, with which he thought that those who were
acquainted were men of worth and estimation, but that
those who were ignorant of them might justly be
deemed no better than slaves.

17. As to those matters, then, on which Socrates
gave no intimation what his sentiments were, it is not
at all wonderful that his judges should have decided
erroneously concerning him ; but it is wonderful that
they should have taken no account of such things as all
men knew. 18. For when he was a member of the
senate, and had taken the senator's oath, in which it
was expressed that he would vote in accordance with
the laws, he, being president in the assembly of the
people when they were eager to put to death Thrasyllus,
Erasinides, and their colleagues, by a single vote con-
trary to the law, refused, though the multitude were
enraged at him, and many of those in power uttered
threats against him, to put the question to the vote, but
considered it of more importance to observe his oath
than to gratify the people contrary to what was right,
or to seek safety against those who menaced him ;
19. for he thought that the gods paid regard to men,
not in the way in which some people suppose, who
imagine that the gods know some things and do not
know others, but he considered that the gods know all
things, both what is said, what is done, and what is
meditated in silence, and are present everywhere, and
give admonitions to men concerning everything human.

20. I wonder, therefore, how the Athenians were ever
persuaded that Socrates had not right sentiments con-
cerning the gods ; a man who never said or did anything
impious towards the gods, but spoke and acted in such
a manner with respect to them, that any other who had

6 Xenophon

spoken and acted in the same manner, would have been,
and have been considered, eminently pious.

CHAPTER II

Reply to the other charge against Socrates. He did not corrupt
the youth, for his whole teaching dissuaded them from vice,
and encouraged them to temperance and virtue of every kind,
sect. i-S. He exhorted them to obey the laws, 911. If
Critias and Alcibiades, who listened to his discourses, became
corrupt, the fault was not his, 11-28 ; he endeavoured to reclaim
them, till they deserted him ; and others, who resigned them-
selves wholly to his instructions, became virtuous and honour-
able men, 2848. Other frivolous assertions refuted, 4960.
His benevolence, disinterestedness, and general merits, 61-64.

1. IT also seems wonderful to me, that any should have
been persuaded that Socrates corrupted the youth ;
Socrates, who, in addition to what has been said of
him, was not only the most rigid of all men in the
government of his passions and appetites, but also most
able to withstand cold, heat, and every kind of labour;
and, besides, so inured to frugality, that, though he
possessed very little, he very easily made it a sufficiency.

2. How, then, being of such a character himself, could
he have rendered others impious, or lawless, or luxuri-
ous, or incontinent, or too effeminate to endure labour?
On the contrary, he restrained many of them from such
vices, leading them to love virtue, and giving them
hopes, that if they would take care of themselves, they
would become honourable and worthy characters.

3. Not indeed that he ever professed to be an instructor
in that way, but, by showing that he was himself such
a character, he made those in his society hope that, by
imitating him, they would become such as he was.

4. Of the body he was not neglectful, nor did he
commend those who were. He did not approve that a
person should eat to excess, and then use immoderate
exercise, but recommended that he should work off, by
a proper degree of exercise, as much as the appetite
received with pleasure; for such a habit, he said, was
peculiarly conducive to health, and did not prevent

Memorabilia of Socrates 7

attention to the mind. 5. He was not, however, fine
or ostentatious in his clothes or sandals, or in any of
his habits of life ; yet he did not make those about him
lovers of money, for he checked them in this as well as
other passions, and asked no remuneration from those
who desired his company. 6. He thought that those
who refrained from this (demanding a fee) consulted
their liberty, and called those who took money for their
discourses their own enslavers, since they must of neces-
sity hold discussions with those from whom they
received pay. 7. He expressed wonder, too, that any
one who professed to teach virtue, should demand
money, and not think that he gained the greatest profit
in securing a good friend, but fear that he whom he
had made an honourable and worthy character would not
retain the greatest gratitude towards his greatest bene-
factor. 8. Socrates, indeed, never expressed so much
to any one ; yet he believed that those of his associates
who imbibed what he approved, would be always good
friends both to himself and to others. How then could
a man of such a character corrupt the young, unless,
indeed, the study of virtue be corruption?

9. "But assuredly," said the accuser, "he caused
those who conversed with him to despise the established
laws, by saying how foolish it was to elect the magis-
trates of a state by beans, when nobody would be willing
to take a pilot elected by beans, or an architect, or a
flute-player, or a person in any other profession, which,
if erroneously exercised, would cause far less harm than
errors in the administration of a state ; " and declared
that "such remarks excited the young to contemn the
established form of government, and disposed them to
acts of violence." 10. But I think that young men who
exercise their understanding, and expect to become
capable of teaching their fellow-citizens what is for their
interest, grow by no means addicted to violence, know-
ing that on violence attend enmity and danger, but that,
by persuasion, the same results are attained without
peril, and with goodwill ; for those who are compelled
by us, hate us as if despoiled of something, while those
who are persuaded by us, love us as if they had received

8 Xenophon

a favour. It is not the part, therefore, of those who
cultivate the intellect to use violence ; for to adopt such
a course belongs to those who possess brute force with-
out intellect, n. Besides, he who would venture to
use force, had need of no small number of allies, but he
who can succeed with persuasion, has need of none, for,
though left alone, he would think himself still able to
persuade ; and it by no means belongs to such men to
shed blood, for who would wish to put another man to
death rather than to have him as a living subject per-
suaded to obey?

12. "But," said the accuser, "Critias and Alcibiades,
after having been associates of Socrates, inflicted a
great number of evils on the state ; for Critias was the
most avaricious and violent of all that composed the
oligarchy, and Alcibiades was the most intemperate,
insolent, and turbulent of all those in the democracy."
13. For whatever evil they did the state, I shall make
no apology ; but as to their intimacy with Socrates, I
will state how it took place. 14. These two men were
by nature the most ambitious of all the Athenians, and
wished that everything should be done by their means,
and that they themselves should become the most cele-
brated of all men. But they knew that Socrates lived
with the utmost contentment on very small means, that
he was most abstinent from every kind of pleasure,
and that he swayed those with whom he conversed just
as he pleased by his arguments; 15. and, seeing such to
be the case, and being such characters as they have just
been stated to be, whether will any one say that they
sought his society from a desire to lead such a life as
Socrates led, and to practise such temperance as he
practised, or from an expectation that, if they associ-
ated with him, they would become eminently able to
speak and act? 16. I myself, indeed, am of opinion,
that if a god had given them their choice, whether they
would live their whole lives as they saw Socrates living,
or die, they would have chosen rather to die ; and they
showed this disposition by what they did ; for as soon as
they considered themselves superior to their associates,
they at once started away from Socrates, and engaged

Memorabilia of Socrates 9

in political life, to qualify themselves for which they
had sought the society of Socrates.

17. Perhaps some one may observe on this point,
that Socrates should not have taught his followers
politics before he taught them self-control. To this
remark I make no reply at present; but I see that all
teachers make themselves examples to their pupils
how far they practise what they teach, and stimulate
them by precepts ; 18. and I know that Socrates made
himself an example to those who associated with him
as a man of honourable and excellent character, and
that he discoursed admirably concerning virtue and
other things that concern mankind. I know, too, that
those men exercised self-control as long as they con-
versed with Socrates, not from fear lest they should
be fined or beaten by him, but from a persuasion at
the time that it was best to observe such conduct.

19. Perhaps, however, many of those who profess to
be philosophers may say that a man once just, can ever
become unjust, or once modest, immodest; and that no
one who has once learned any of those things which can
be taught can ever become ignorant of it. But regard-
ing such points I am not of that opinion ; for I see that
as those who do not exercise the body, cannot perform
what is proper to the body, so those who do not exercise
the mind, cannot perform what is proper to the mind ;
for they can neither do that which they ought to do,
nor refrain from that from which they ought to refrain.
20. For which reason fathers keep their sons, though
they be of a virtuous disposition, from the society of
bad men, in the belief that association with the good
is an exercise of virtue, but that association with the
bad is the destruction of it. One of the poets also bears
testimony to this truth, who says,

p Air 9 t<r6\a $t$dtar V 5e
iiroXets /cal rttv &Wa v&ov.

From good men you will learn what is good ; but if you associate
with the bad, you will lose the understanding which is in you.

And another, who observes,

Aurctp ivV iyaObs r6 fj.4v ircucbs, &\\ort 5' 4<?6\&s.
A good man is at one time good and at another bad.
II B 457

to Xenophon

2.1. I also concur with them; for I see that as people
forget metrical compositions when they do not practise
the repetition of them, so forgetfulness of precepts of
instruction is produced in those who neglect them. But
where a person forgets moral admonitions, he forgets
also what the mind felt when it had a desire for self-
government; and, when he forgets this, it is not at all
wonderful that he forgets self-government also. 22. I
see, too, that those who are given up to a fondness for
drinking, and those who have fallen in love, are less
able to attend to what they ought to do, and to refrain
from what they ought not to do ; for many, who can
be frugal in their expenses before they fall in love, are,
after falling in love, unable to continue so ; and, when
they have exhausted their resources, they no longer
abstain from means of gain from which they previously
shrunk as thinking them dishonourable. 23. How is it
impossible, then, that he who has once had a control
over himself, may afterwards cease to maintain it, and
that he who was once able to observe justice, may
subsequently become unable? To me everything
honourable and good seems to be maintained by exer-
cise, and self-control not the least; for sensual desires,
generated in the same body with the soul, are constantly
exciting it to abandon self-control, and to gratify them-
selves and the body as soon as possible.

24. Critias and Alcibiades, then, as long as they
associated with Socrates, were able, with the assistance
of his example, to maintain a mastery over their
immoral inclinations ; but, when they were separated
from him, Critias, fleeing to Thessaly, formed con-
nections there with men who practised dishonesty
rather than justice ; and Alcibiades also, being sought
by many women, even of high rank, for his beauty, and
being corrupted by many men, who were well able to
seduce him by their flattery, on account of his influence
in the city and among the allies, and being also
honoured by the people, and easily obtaining the pre-
eminence among them, became like the wrestlers in the
gymnastic games, who, when they are fairly superior
to others, neglect their exercise ; so he grew neglectful

Memorabilia of Socrates n

of self-control. 25. When such was their fortune, and
when they were proud of their birth, elated with their
wealth, puffed up with their power, corrupted by many
associates, demoralised by all these means, and long
absent from Socrates, what wonder is it if they became
headstrong? 26. And then, if they did anything
wrong, does the accuser blame Socrates for it? and
does Socrates seem to the accuser deserving of no
praise, for having, when they were young, and when it
is likely that they were most inconsiderate and intract-
able, rendered them discreet? 27. Yet other affairs are
not judged of in such a way ; for what flute-player, or
what teacher of the harp, or what other instructor, if
he produces competent pupils, and if they, attaching
themselves to other masters, become less skilful, is
blamed for their deterioration? Or what father, if his
son, while he associated with one man, should be
virtuous, but afterwards, on uniting himself to some
other person, should become vicious, would blame
the former of the two? would he not rather, the more
corrupt his son became with the second, bestow the
greater praise on the first? Not even parents them-
selves, when they have their sons in their society, are
blamed if their sons do anything wrong, provided they
themselves are correct in their conduct. 28. In the
same manner it would be right to judge of Socrates ;
if he had done anything immoral, he would justly be
thought to be a bad man ; but if he constantly observed
morality, how can he reasonably bear the blame of vice
which was not in him?

29. Or even if he himself did nothing wrong, but
commended others when he saw them doing wrong, he
would justly be censured. When he perceived, how-
ever, that Critias was enamoured of Euthydemus, and
was seeking to have the enjoyment of his society, like
those who abuse the persons of others for licentious
purposes, he dissuaded him from his intention, by say-
ing that it was illiberal, and unbecoming a man of
honour and proper feeling, to offer supplications to the
object of his affections, with whom he wished to be held
in high esteem, beseeching and entreating him, like a

12 Xcnophon

beggar, to grant a favour, especially when such favour
was for no good end. 30. But as Critias paid no
regard to such remonstrances, and was not diverted
from his pursuit, it is said that Socrates, in the presence
of many others as well as of Euthydemus, observed that
" Critias seemed to him to have some feeling like that of
a pig, as he wished to rub against Euthydemus as swine
against stones." 31. Critias, in consequence, con-
ceived such a hatred to Socrates, that when he was one
of the Thirty Tyrants, and was appointed a law-maker
with Charicles, he remembered the circumstance to his
disadvantage, and inserted in his laws that "none
should teach the art of disputation," intending an insult
to Socrates, yet not knowing how to affect him in par-
ticular, but laying to his charge what was imputed to
the philosophers by the multitude, and calumniating him
to the people ; at least such is my opinion ; for I myself
never heard this from Socrates, nor do I remember
having known any one say that he heard it from him.

32. But Critias made it appear so ; for when the Thirty
had put to death many of the citizens, and those not
of the inferior class, and had encouraged many to acts
of injustice, Socrates happened to observe, that "it
seemed surprising to him if a man, becoming herdsman
of a herd of cattle, and rendering the cattle fewer and
in worse condition, should not confess that he was a
bad herdsman, and still more surprising if a man,
becoming governor of a city, and rendering the people
fewer and in worse condition, should not feel ashamedj-
and be conscious of being a bad governor of the city."^

33. This remark being repeated to the Thirty, Critias"
and Charicles summoned Socrates before them, showed
him the law, and forbade him to hold discourse with
the youth. Socrates inquired of them, if he might be*
permitted to ask a question as to any point in the pro-^
hibitions that might not be understood by him. They
gave him permission. 34. "Then," said he, "I arn^
prepared to obey the laws ; but that I may not uncon-
sciously transgress through ignorance, I wish to ascer-
tain exactly from you, ' whether it is because you think
that the art of reasoning is an auxiliary to what is

8* V Memorabilia of Socrates 13

rightly spoken, or to what is not rightly spoken, that
you give command to abstain from it; for if it be an
adjunct to what is rightly spoken, it is plain that we
have to abstain from speaking pghtly ; but if to what
is not rightly spoken, it is plain that we ought to
endeavour to speak rightly. ' " 35. Charicles, falling
into a passion with him, said, " Since, Socrates, you
are ignorant of this particular, we give you an order
more easy to be understood, not to discourse at all with
the young." "That it may not be doubtful, then,"
said Socrates, " whether I do anything contrary to what
is enjoined, define for me till what age I must consider
men to be young." "As long," replied Charicles, "as
they are not allowed to fill the office of senator, as not
being yet come to maturity of understanding ; and do
not discourse with such as are under thirty years of
age." 36. "And if I wish to buy anything," said
Socrates, "and a person under thirty years of age has
it for sale, may I not ask him at what price he sells it? "
"Yes, such questions as these," replied Charicles, "but
you are accustomed to ask most of your questions about
things, when you know very well how they stand ; such
questions, therefore, do not ask." "If then any young
," said he, "should ask me such a question as
' where does Charicles live?' or * where is Critias?'
may I not answer him if I know?" "Yes, you may
answer such questions," said Charicles. 37. "But,"
added Critias, "it will be necessary for you to abstain
speaking of those shoemakers, and carpenters,
and smiths ; indeed I think that they must now be worn
out, from being so often in your mouth. " " I must
therefore," said Socrates, "abstain from the lessons
I draw from these people, viz., lessons of justice, piety,
other such subjects." "Yes, by Jupiter," retorted
Charicles, "and you must abstain from lessons taken
from herdsmen; for, if you do not, take care lest you
yourstlf make the cattle fewer." 38. Hence it was
evident that they were angry with Socrates on account
of his remark about the cattle having been reported to
them.

What sort of intercourse Critias had with Socrates,

14 Xenophon

and how they stood towards each other, has now been
stated. 39. But I would say that no regular training is
derived by any one from a teacher who does not please
him ; and Critias and Alcibiades did not associate with
Socrates, while their association with him lasted, as
being an instructor that pleased them, but they were,
from the very first, eager to be af the head of the state,
for, while they still attended Socrates, they sought to
converse with none more than with those who were
most engaged in affairs of government. 40. Alcibiades,
it is said, before he was twenty years of age, held the
following discourse with Pericles, who was his
guardian, and chief ruler of the state, about laws.
41. "Tell me," said he, "Pericles, can you teach me
what a law is ? " " Certainly," replied Pericles. " Teach
me then, in the name of the gods," said Alcibiades, "for
I, hearing some persons praised as being obedient to
the laws, consider that no one can fairly obtain such
praise who does not know what a law is." 42. "You
desire no very difficult matter, Alcibiades," said
Pericles, " when you wish to know what a law is ; for
all those regulations are laws, which the people, on
meeting together and approving them, have enacted,
directing what we should do and what we should not
do." "And whether do they direct that we should do
good things, or that we should do bad things?"
"Good, by Jupiter, my child," said he, "but bad by no
means." 43. " And if it should not be the whole people,
but a few, as where there is an oligarchy, that should
meet together, and enact what we are to do, what are
such enactments?" "Everything," replied Pericles,
"which the supreme power in the state, on determining
what the people ought to do, has enacted, is called a
law." "And if a tyrant, holding rule over the state,
prescribes to the citizens what they must do, is such
prescription called a law?" "Whatever a tyrant in
authority prescribes," returned Pericles, " is also called
a law." 44. "What then, Pericles," asked Alcibiades,
"is force and lawlessness? Is it not when the stronger
obliges the weaker, not by persuasion, but by com-
pulsion, to do what he pleases?" "So it appears to

Memorabilia of Socrates 15

me," replied Pericles. "Whatever then a tyrant com-
pels the people to do, by enacting it without gaining
their consent, is that an act of lawlessness?" "Yes,"
said Pericles, "it appears to me that it is, for I retract
my admission that what a tyrant prescribes to the
people without persuading them, is a law." 45. "But
what the few enact, not from gaining the consent of the
many, but from having superior power, should we say
that that is force, or that it is not?" "Everything,"
said Pericles, "which one man obliges another to dc
without gaining his consent, whether he enact it in writ-
ing or not, seems to me to be force rather than law."
" Whatever, then, the whole people, when they are
stronger than the wealthier class, enact without their
consent, would be an act of force rather than a law? "
46. "Certainly, Alcibiades," said Pericles; "and I,
when I was of your age, was very acute at such dis-
quisitions ; for we used to meditate and argue about
such subjects as you now appear to meditate." "Would
therefore," said Alcibiades, "that I had conversed with
you, Pericles, at the time when you were most acute in
discussing such topics ! " 47. When Alcibiades and
Critias, therefore, began to think themselves superior
to those who were then governing the state, they no
longer attended Socrates (for he was not agreeable to
them in other respects, and they were offended, if they
went to him at all, at being reproved for any error that
they had committed), but devoted themselves to political
employments, with a view to which they had at first
associated with Socrates. 48. But Crito was also an
attendant on Socrates, as well as Chaerephon, Chaere-
crates, Hermocrates, Simmias, Cebes, and Phaedondes,
who, with others that attended him, did not seek his
society that they might be fitted for popular orators or
forensic pleaders, but that, becoming honourable and
good men, they might conduct themselves irreproach-
ably towards their families, connections, dependants,
and friends, as well as towards their country and their
fellow-citizens; and no one of all these, whether in
youth or at a more advanced age, either was guilty, or
was accused, of any crime.

1 6 Xenophon

49. "But Socrates," said the accuser, "taught chil-
dren to show contempt for their parents, persuading his
followers that he rendered them wiser than their fathers,
and observing that a son was allowed by the law to
confine his father on convicting him of being deranged,
using that circumstance as an argument that it was
lawful for the more ignorant to be confined by the
wiser." 50. But what Socrates said was, that he
thought he who confined another for ignorance, might
justly be himself confined by those who knew what he
did not know ; and, with a view to such cases, he used
to consider in what respect ignorance differed from mad-
ness, and expressed his opinion that madmen might be
confined with advantage to themselves and their friends,
but that those who did not know what they ought to
know, might reasonably learn from those who did know.

51. "But Socrates," proceeded the accuser, "not
only caused parents, but other relations, to be held in
contempt by his followers, saying that relatives were of
no profit to people who were sick, or to people going to
law, but that physicians aided the one, and lawyers the
other." 52. The accuser asserted, too, that Socrates
said concerning friends that "it was of no profit that
they were well-disposed, unless they were able also to
assist ; and that he insisted that those only were deserv-
ing of honour who knew what was for the advantage of
others and could make it intelligible to them ; and that
by thus persuading the young that he himself was the
wisest of mankind, and most capable of making others
wise, he so disposed his pupils towards him, that other
people were of no account with them in comparison
with himself." 53. I am aware, indeed, that he did
express himself concerning parents and other relatives,
and concerning friends, in such a manner as this; and
used to say, besides, that when the soul has departed,
in which alone intelligence exists, men take away the
body of their dearest friend, and put it out of sight as
soon as possible. 54. He was accustomed to say, also,
that every man, while he is alive, removes of himself
from his own body, which he loves most of all things,
and allows others to remove from it, everything that is

Memorabilia of Socrates 17

useless and unprofitable; since men themselves take off
portions of their nails, and hair, and callous parts, and
resign themselves to surgeons to cut and burn them
with labour and pain, and think it their duty even to
pay them money for their operations ; and the saliva
from the mouth, he said, men spit away as far as
possible, because, while it is in the mouth, it profits
them nothing, but is far more likely to harm them.
55. But such observations Socrates uttered, not to teach
any one of his followers to bury his father alive, or to
cut himself to pieces, but, by showing that what is
senseless is worthless, he exhorted each to study to
become as intelligent and useful as possible, so that,
whether he wished to be honoured by his father, by his
brother, or by any one else, he might not be neglectful
of himself through trusting to his relationship, but
might endeavour to be serviceable to those by whom he
desired to be respected.

56. The accuser also said that Socrates, selecting
the worst passages of the most celebrated poets, and
using them as arguments, taught those who kept him
company to be unprincipled and tyrannical. The verse
of Hesiod, for example,

5* ovtitv 6vei$os, itfpytii 8e tivfitios,
Work is no disgrace, but idleness is a disgrace,

they say that he used to explain as intimating that the
poet bids us abstain from no kind of work, dishonest
or dishonourable, but to do such work for the sake of
profit. 57. But when Socrates maintained that to be
busy was useful and beneficial for a man, and that to be
unemployed was noxious and ill for him, that to work
was a good, and to be idle an evil, he at the same time
observed that those only who do something good really
work, and are useful workmen, but those who gamble,
or do anything bad and pernicious, he called idle; and
in this view the sentiment of the poet will be unobjection-
able,

Work is no disgrace, but idleness is a disgrace.

58. That passage of Homer, too, the accuser stated that
he often used to quote, in which it is said that Ulysses,
II *B *57

i8 Xenophon

Whatever king or eminent hero he found,

Stood beside him, and detained him with gentle words :

" Illustrious chief, it is not fit that you should shrink back as a

coward ;

Sit down yourself, and make the rest of the people sit down."
But whatever man of the people he noticed, and found clamouring,
He struck him with his staff, and rebuked him with words :
"Worthless fellow, sit down in peace, and hear the exhortations

of others.
Who are much better than you ; for you are un warlike and

powerless,
Neither of account in the field nor in the council."

59. And he said that he used to explain it as if the poet
recommended that plebeians and poor people should be
beaten. Socrates, however, said no such thing (for he
would thus have given an opinion that he himself ought
to be beaten), but what he did say was, that those who
benefited others neither by word nor deed, and who
were incapable of serving the army, or the state, or the
common people, if necessity should arise, should, espe-
cially if, in addition to their incapacity, they were of an
insolent spirit, be curbed in every way, even though
they might be ever so rich. 60. But, contrary to the
charge of the accuser, Socrates was evidently a friend
to the common people, and of a liberal disposition ; for
though he received numbers of persons desirous to hear
him discourse, as well citizens as foreigners, he never
required payment for his communications from any one,
but imparted to every one in abundance from his stores,
of which some receiving fragments from him for
nothing, sold them at a great price to others, and were
not, like him, friends to the common people, for they
declined to converse with such as had not money to
give them. 61. But Socrates, in the eyes of other men,
conferred glory on the city, far more than Lichas, who
was celebrated in this respect, on that of the Lace-
daemonians ; for Lichas indeed entertained the strangers
that visited Lacedaemon at the Gymnopaediae, but
Socrates, through the whole course of his life, freely
imparted whatever he had to bestow, and thus benefited
in the highest degree all who were willing to receive
from him, making those who associated with him better
before he let them go.

62. To me, therefore, Socrates, being a man of such

Memorabilia of Socrates 19

a character, appeared to be worthy of honour rather
than of death ; and any one, considering his case accord-
ing to the laws, would find such to be the fact ; for, by
the laws, death is the punishment for a man if he be
found stealing, or stripping people of their clothes, or
cutting purses, or housebreaking, or kidnapping, or
committing sacrilege, of which crimes Socrates was the
most innocent of all men. 63. Nor was he ever the
cause of any war ending unfortunately for the state, or
of any sedition or treachery; nor did he ever, in his
private transactions, either deprive any man of what
was for his good, or involve him in evil; nor did he ever
lie under suspicion of any of the crimes which I have
mentioned.

64. How then could he have been guilty of the
charges brought against him? a man who, instead of
not acknowledging the gods, as was stated in the indict-
ment, evidently paid respect to the gods more than
other men ; and instead of corrupting the youth, as the
accuser laid to his charge, plainly led such of his asso-
ciates as had vicious inclinations, to cease from indulg-
ing them, and exhorted them to cherish a love of that
most honourable and excellent virtue, by which men
successfully govern states and families. How then,
pursuing such a course of conduct, was he not deserv-
ing of great honour from the city?

CHAPTER III

Confirmation of the character of Socrates given in the preceding
chapters. He worshipped the gods, and exhorted others to
worship them, sect. i. His notions how the gods were to be
supplicated, 2. His judgment as to what was acceptable to
them in a sacrifice, 3. His regard for omens, 4. His observ-
ance of temperance, and recommendation of it to others, 515.

i. BUT to show how he appeared to improve those who
associated with him, partly by showing them what his
character was, and partly by his conversation, I shall
record whatever I can remember of him relating to these
points.

As to what had reference to the gods, then, he

2O Xenophon

evidently acted and spoke in conformity with the answer
which the priestess of Apollo gives to those who inquire
how they ought to proceed with regard to a sacrifice,
to the worship of their ancestors, or to any such matter ;
for the priestess replies that they will act piously, if
they act in agreement with the law of their country ; and
Socrates both acted in this manner himself, and
exhorted otters to act similarly ; and such as acted in
any other way he regarded as doing what was not to
the purpose, and guilty of folly.

2. To the gods he simply prayed that they would
give him good things, as believing that the gods knew
best what things are good ; and those who prayed for
gold, or silver, or dominion, or anything of that kind,
he considered to utter no other sort of requests than
if they were to pray that they might play at dice, or
fight, or do anything else of which it is quite uncertain
what the result will be.

3. When he offered small sacrifices from his small
means, he thought that he was not at all inferior in
merit to those who offered numerous and great sacri-
fices from ample and abundant means ; for he said that
it would not become the gods to delight in large rather
than in small sacrifices ; since, if such were the case, the
offerings of the bad would oftentimes be more accept-
able to them than those of the good ; nor would life be
of any account in the eyes of men, if oblations from the
bad were better received by the gods than oblations
from the good ; but he thought that the gods had most
pleasure in the offerings of the most pious. He also
used to quote, with approbation, the verse,

K<5' SvvafjLiv 5* fpScty tep' bQavdrotcri Oeotffi,
Perform sacrifices to the gods according to your ability,

and used to say that it was a good exhortation to men,
with regard to friends, and guests, and all other rela-
tions of life, to perform according to their ability.

4. If anything appeared to be intimated to him from
the gods, he could no more have been persuaded to act
contrary to such intimation, than any one could have
persuaded him to take for his guide on a journey a

Memorabilia of Socrates 21

blind man, or one who did not know the way, instead of
one who could see, and did know it ; and he condemned
the folly of others, who act contrary to what is signified
by the gods, through anxiety to avoid the ill opinion of
men. As for himself, he undervalued everything
human, in comparison with counsel from the gods.

5. He disciplined his mind and body by such a course
of life, that he who should adopt a similar one, would, if
no supernatural influence prevented, live in good spirits
and uninterrupted health ; nor would he ever be in want
of the necessary expenses for it. So frugal was he,
that I do not know whether any one could earn so little
by the labour of his hands, as not to procure sufficient
to have satisfied Socrates. He took only so much food
as he could eat with a keen relish ; and, to this end, he
came to his meals so disposed that the appetite for his
meat was the sauce to it. Every kind of drink was
agreeable to him, because he never drank unless he was
thirsty. 6, If he ever complied with an invitation to go
to a feast, he very easily guarded, what is extremely
difficult to most men, against loading his stomach to
excess. Those who were unable to do so, he advised to
be cautious of eating when they were not hungry, and
of drinking when they were not thirsty ; for he said that
those were the things that disordered the stomach, the
head, and the mind ; 7. and he used to say, in jest, that
he thought Circe transformed men into swine, by enter-
taining them with abundance of such luxuries, but that
Ulysses, through the admonition of Mercury, and
through being himself temperate, and forbearing to par-
take of such delicacies to excess, was in consequence
not changed into a swine.

8. Such jests he would utter on these subjects, but
with an earnest meaning. As to love, his counsel was
to abstain rigidly from familiarity with beautiful per-
sons ; for he observed that it was not easy to be in
communication with such persons, and observe con-
tinence. Hearing, on one occasion, that Critobulus,
the son of Criton, had kissed the son of Alcibiades, a
handsome youth, he asked Xenophon, in the presence
of Critobulus, saying, "Tell me, Xenophon, did you not

22 Xenophon

think that Critobulus was one of the modest rather than
the forward, one of the thoughtful rather than of the
thoughtless and inconsiderate?" 9. "Certainly," re-
plied Xenophon. "You must now, then, think him
extremely headstrong and daring ; one who would even
spring upon drawn swords, and leap into the fire."
10. "And what," said Xenophon, "have you seen him
doing, that you form this opinion of him ? " " Why,
has he not dared," rejoined Socrates, "to kiss the son
of Alcibiades, a youth extremely handsome, and in the
flower of his age? " " If such a deed," returned Xeno-
phon, "is one of daring and peril, I think that even I
could undergo such peril." n. "Unhappy man!"
exclaimed Socrates, "and what do you think that you
incur by kissing a handsome person? Do you not
expect to become at once a slave instead of a freeman?
To spend much money upon hurtful pleasures? To
have too much occupation to attend to anything honour-
able and profitable? And to be compelled to pursue
what not even a madman would pursue?" 12. "By
Hercules," said Xenophon, "what extraordinary power
you represent to be in a kiss ! " " Do you wonder at
this? " rejoined Socrates; "are you not aware that the
Tarantula, an insect not as large as half an obolus, by
just touching a part of the body with its mouth, wears
men down with pain, and deprives them of their
senses?" "Yes, indeed," said Xenophon, "but the
Tarantula infuses something when it bites." 13. "And
do you not think, foolish man," rejoined Socrates, "that
beautiful persons infuse something when they kiss,
something which you do not see? Do you not know
that the animal, which they call a handsome and beau-
tiful object, is so much more formidable than the Taran-
tula, as those insects instil something when they touch,
but this creature, without even touching, but if a person
only looks at it, though from a very great distance,
instils something of such potency, as to drive people
mad? Perhaps indeed Cupids are called archers for
no other reason but because the beautiful wound from a
distance. But I advise you, Xenophon, whenever you
s^e any handsome person, to flee without looking behind

Memorabilia of Socrates 23

you; and I recommend to you, Critobulus, to absent
yourself from hence for a year, for perhaps you may in
that time, though hardly indeed, be cured of your
wound."

14. Thus he thought that those should act with
regard to objects of love who were not secure against
the attractions of such objects ; objects of such a nature,
that if the body did not at all desire them, the mind
would not contemplate them, and which, if the body did
desire them, should cause us no trouble. For himself,
he was evidently so disciplined with respect to such
matters, that he could more easily keep aloof from the
fairest and most blooming objects than others from the
most deformed and unattractive.

15. Such was the state of his feelings in regard to
eating, drinking, and amorous gratification ; and he
believed that he himself, with self-restraint, would have
no less pleasure from them, than those who took great
trouble to pursue such gratifications, and that he would
suffer far less anxiety.

CHAPTER IV

Socrates not only exhorted men to practise virtue, but led them to
the practice of it; his dialogue with Aristodemus, sect, i, 2.
Things formed for a purpose, must be the production, not of
chance, but of reason, 3, 4. The human frame is a structure
of great excellence, and admirably fitted for its purposes ; and
we must therefore suppose that man is the object of divine
forethought, 5-7. The order of things throughout the universe
shows that it is under the providence of a superior nature, 8,
9. The superiority of man over the inferior animals proves
that he is more immediately under the care of the higher
powers, 10-14. The gods also give instruction to man as to
his conduct, 15. That they care for man both individually
and collectively is evident from various considerations, 15, 16.
As the mind governs the body, so the providence of the gods
governs the world, 17. If men therefore worship the gods
rightly, they may feel persuaded that the gods will be ready
to aid them, 18, 19.

i. BUT if any suppose that Socrates, as some write and
speak of him on conjecture, was excellently qualified

24 Xenophon

to direct men to virtue, but incapable of leading them
forward in it, let them, considering not only the argu-
ments with which he refuted those who thought that
they knew everything; asking them questions in order
to check them; but what he used to say in his daily
intercourse with his associates, form an opinion
whether he was capable of making those who conversed
with him better. 2. I will first mention what I myself
once heard him advance in a dialogue with Aristodemus,
surnamed The Little, concerning the gods ; for having
heard that Aristodemus neither sacrificed to the gods,
when engaged on any enterprise, nor attended to
auguries, but ridiculed those who regarded such
matters, he said to him, "Tell me, Aristodemus, do you
admire any men for their genius? " " I do," replied he.
"Tell us their names, then," said Socrates. 3. "la
epic poetry I most admire Homer, in dithyrambic
Melanippides, in tragedy Sophocles, in statuary Poly-
cletus, in painting Zeuxis." 4. "And whether do those
who form images without sense and motion, or those
who form animals endowed with sense and vital energy,
appear to you the more worthy of admiration ? "
"Those who form animals, by Jupiter, for they are not
produced by chance, but by understanding." "And
regarding things of which it is uncertain for what pur-
pose they exist, and those evidently existing for some
useful purpose, which of the two would you say were
the productions of chance, and which of intelligence? "
"Doubtless those which exist for some useful purpose
must be the productions of intelligence." 5. "Does
not he, then," proceeded Socrates, "who made men at
first, appear to you to have given them, for some useful
purpose, those parts by which they perceive different
objects, the eyes to see what is to be seen, the ears to
hear what is to be heard? What would be the use of
smells, if no nostrils had been assigned us? What per-
ception would there have been of sweet and sour, and
of all that is pleasant to the mouth, if a tongue had not
been formed in it to have a sense of them? 6. In
addition to these things, does it not seem to you like the
work of forethought, to guard the eye, since it is tender,

Memorabilia of Socrates 25

with eyelids, like doors, which, when it is necessary to
use the sight, are set open, but in sleep are closed? To
make the eyelashes grow as a screen, that winds may
not injure it? To make a coping on the parts above
the eyes with the eyebrows, that the perspiration from
the head may not annoy them? To provide that the
ears may receive all kinds of sounds, yet never be
obstructed? and that the front teeth in all animals may
be adapted to cut, and the back teeth to receive food
from them and grind it? To place the mouth, through
which animals take in what they desire, near the eyes
and the nose? and since what passes off from the
stomach is offensive, to turn the channels of it away,
and remove them as far as possible from the senses?
can you doubt whether such a disposition of things,
made thus apparently with attention, is the result of
chance or of intelligence?" 7. "No, indeed, " replied
Aristodemus, "but to one who looks at those matters in
this light, they appear like the work of some wise
maker who studied the welfare of animals." "And to
have engendered in them a love of having offspring, and
in mothers a desire to rear their progeny, and to have
implanted in the young that are reared a desire of life,
and the greatest dread of death?" "Assuredly these
appear to be the contrivances of some one who designed
that animals should continue to exist."

8. "And do you think that you yourself have any
portion of intelligence?" "Question me, at least, and
I will answer." "And can you suppose that nothing
intelligent exists anywhere else? When you know that
you have in your body but a small portion of the earth,
which is vast, and a small portion of the water, which is
vast, and that your frame is constituted for you to
receive only a small portion of each of other things,
that are vast, do you think that you have seized for
yourself, by some extraordinary good fortune, intelli-
gence alone which exists nowhere else, and that this
assemblage of vast bodies, countless in number, is main-
tained in order by something void of reason ? "
9. " Yes ; for I do not see the directors of these things,
as I see the makers of things which are done here."

26 Xenophon

" Nor do you see your own soul, which is the director of
your body; so that, by like reasoning 1 , you may say that
you yourself do nothing with understanding, but every-
thing" by chance. "

10. " However, Socrates," said Aristodemus, " I do
not despise the gods, but consider them as too exalted
to need my attention." "But," said Socrates, "the
more exalted they are, while they deign to attend to
you, the more ought you to honour them." n. "Be
assured," replied Aristodemus, "that if I believed the
gods took any thought for men, I would not neglect
them." "Do you not, then, believe that the gods take
thought for men? the gods who, in the first place, have
made man alone, of all animals, upright (which upright-
ness enables him to look forward to a greater distance,
and to contemplate better what is above, and to be less
liable to injury, and have placed the eyes, and ears, and
mouth) ; and, in the next place, have given to other
animals only feet, which merely give them the capacity
of walking, while to men they have added hands, which
execute most of those things through which we are
better off than they. 12. And though all animals have
tongues, they have made that of man alone of such a
nature, as, by touching sometimes one part of the mouth,
and sometimes another, to express articulate sounds,
and to signify everything that we wish to communicate
one to another. Do you not see, too, that to other
animals they have so given the pleasures of sexual inter-
course as to limit them to a certain season of the year,
but that they allow them to us uninterruptedly till
extreme old age? 13. Nor did it satisfy the gods to
take care of the body merely, but, what is most import-
ant of all, they implanted in him the soul, his most
excellent part. For what other animal has a soul to
understand, first of all, that the gods, who have
arranged such a vast and noble order of things, exist?
What other species of animal, besides man, offers
worship to the gods? What other animal has a mind
better fitted than that of man, to guard against hunger
or thirst, or cold or heat, or to relieve disease, or to
acquire strength by exercise, or to labour to attain

Memorabilia of Socrates 27

knowledge ; or more capable of remembering whatever
it has heard, or seen, or learned? 14. Is it not clearly
evident to you, that, in comparison with other animals,
men live like gods, excelling them by nature, both in
body and mind? For an animal, having the body of an
ox, and the understanding of a man, would be unable
to execute what it might meditate ; and animals which
have hands, but are without reason, have no advantage
over others ; and do you, who share both these excellent
endowments, think that the gods take no thought for
you? What then must they do, before you will think
that they take thought for you?" 15. " I will think
so," observed Aristodemus, "when they send me, as
you say that they send to you, monitors, to show what I
ought, and what I ought not, to do." "But when they
send admonitions to the Athenians, on consulting them
by divination, do you not think that they admonish you
also? Or when they give warnings to the Greeks by
sending portents, or when they give them to the whole
human race, do they except you alone from the whole,
and utterly neglect you? 16. Do you suppose, too,
that the gods would have engendered a persuasion in
men that they are able to benefit or injure them, unless
they were really able to do so, and that men, if they had
been thus perpetually deluded, would not have become
sensible of the delusion? Do you not see that the
oldest and wisest of human communities, the oldest and
wisest cities and nations, are the most respectful to the
gods, and that the wisest age of man is the most
observant of their worship? 17. Learn also, my good
youth," continued Socrates, "that your mind, existing
within your body, directs your body as it pleases ; and
it becomes you therefore to believe that the intelligence
pervading all things directs all things as may be agree-
able to it, and not to think that while your eye can
extend its sight over many furlongs, that of the divinity
is unable to see all things at once, or that while your
mind can think of things here, or things in ^Egypt or
Sicily, the mind of the deity is incapable of regarding
everything at the same time. 18. If, however, as you
discover, by paying court to men, those who are willing

28 Xenophon

to pay court to you in return, and, by doing favours to
men, those who are willing to return your favours, and
as, by asking counsel of men, you discover who are
wise, you should, in like manner, make trial of the gods
by offering worship to them, whether they will advise
you concerning matters hidden from man, you will then
find that the divinity is of such power, and of such a
nature, as to see all things and hear all things at once,
to be present everywhere, and to have a care for all
things at the same time."

19. By delivering such sentiments, Socrates seems to
me to have led his associates to refrain from what was
impious, or unjust, or dishonourable, not merely when
they were seen by men, but when they were in solitude,
since they would conceive that nothing that they did
would escape the knowledge of the gods.

CHAPTER V

Temperance and self-control recommended : he that is destitute of
temperance can be profitable or agreeable neither to himself
nor others, sect. 1-4. Without temperance nothing can be
learned or done with due effect, 5. Socrates not only encour-
aged to temperance by precepts, but by his example, 6.

i. IF temperance, moreover, be an honourable and
valuable quality in a man, let us consider whether he at
all led (men) to it by reflections of the following kind.
" If, my friends, when a war was coming upon us, we
should wish to choose a man by whose exertions we
might ourselves be preserved, and might gain the
mastery over our enemies, should we select one whom
we knew to be unable to resist gluttony, or wine, or
sensuality, or fatigue, or sleep? How could we think
that such a man would either serve us, or conquer our
adversaries? 2. Or if, being at the close of life, we
should wish to commit to any one the guardianship of
our sons, or the care of our unmarried daughters, or the
preservation of our property, should we think an intem-
perate man worthy of confidence for such purposes?
Should we intrust to an intemperate slave our herds,

Memorabilia of Socrates 29

our granaries, or the superintendence of our agri-
culture? Should we be willing to accept such a slave
as an agent, or purveyor, even for nothing? 3. But if
we would not even accept an intemperate slave, how
can it be otherwise than important for every man to
take care that he himself does not become such a char-
acter? For the intemperate man is not injurious to his
neighbour and profitable to himself (like the avaricious,
who, by despoiling others of their property, seem to
enrich themselves), but, while he is mischievous to
others, is still more mischievous to himself, if it is,
indeed, mischievous in the highest degree, to ruin not
only his family, but his body and mind. 4. In society,
too, who could find pleasure in the company of such a
man, who, he would be aware, felt more delight in
eating and drinking than in intercourse with his friends,
and preferred the company of harlots to that of his
fellows? Is it not the duty of every man to consider
that temperance is the foundation of every virtue, and
to establish the observance of it in his mind before all
things? 5. For who, without it, can either learn any-
thing good, or sufficiently practise it? Who, that is a
slave to pleasure, is not in an ill condition both as to his
body and his mind? It appears to me, by Juno, that a
freeman ought to pray that he may never meet with a
slave of such a character, and that he who is a slave
to pleasure should pray to the gods that he may find
well-disposed masters ; for by such means only can a
man of that sort be saved."

6. While such were the remarks that he made, he
proved himself more a friend to temperance by his life
than by his words ; for he was not only superior to all
corporeal pleasures, but also to those attendant on^ the
acquisition of money ; thinking that he who received
money from any one, set up a master over himself, and
submitted to a slavery as disgraceful as any that
could be.

30 Xenophon

CHAPTER VI

Three dialogues of Socrates with Antipho. I. Antipho ridicules the
poverty and frugality of Socrates, and his forbearance to
receive pay for his instructions, sect. 1-3 ; Socrates replies
that, by not receiving remuneration, he is more at liberty to
choose his audience, 4, 5 ; that there are various advantages
attendant on plainness of diet and dress, 6, 7 ; that the frugal
man has the advantage over the man of pleasure in facilities
for self-improvement, for doing his duty to his country, and
for securing general happiness, 8-10. II. Antipho asserts
that Socrates might be a just man, but was by no means wise,
in accepting no payment, n, 12; Socrates replies that to sell
wisdom is to degrade it, and that more good is gained by the
acquisition of friends than of money, 13, 14. III. Antipho
asks Socrates why, when he trained others to manage public
affairs, he took no part in public affairs himself ; Socrates
replies that he was of more service to his country by training
many to govern it, than he could have been by giving his single
aid in the government of it, 15.

i. IT is due to Socrates, also, not to omit the dialogues
which he held with Antipho the sophist. Antipho, on
one occasion, wishing to draw away his associates from
him, came up to Socrates, when they were present, and
said, 2. "I thought, Socrates, that those who studied
philosophy were to become happier than other men ; but
you seem to have reaped from philosophy fruits of an
opposite kind ; at least you live in a way in which no
slave would continue to live with his master ; you eat
food, and drink drink, of the worst kind ; you wear a
dress, not only bad, but the same both summer and
winter, and you continue shoeless and coatless.
3. Money, which cheers men when they receive it, and
enables those who possess it to live more generously
and pleasantly, you do not take ; and if, therefore, as
teachers in other professions make their pupils imitate
themselves, you also shall produce a similar effect on
your followers, you must consider yourself but a teacher
of wretchedness." 4. Socrates, in reply to these
remarks, said, "You seem to me, Antipho, to have
conceived a notion that I live so wretchedly, that I feel
persuaded you yourself would rather choose to die than
pass vour life as I pass mine. Let us then consider

Memorabilia of Socrates 31

what it is that you find disagreeable in my mode of life.
5. Is it that while others, who receive money, must
perform the service for which they receive it, while I,
who receive none, am under no necessity to discourse
with any one that I do not like? Or do you despise my
way of living, on the supposition that I eat less whole-
some or less strengthening food than yourself? Or is
it that my diet is more difficult to procure than yours,
as being more rare and expensive? Or is it that what
you procure for yourself is more agreeable to you than
what I provide for myself is to me? Do you not know
that he who eats with the most pleasure is he who least
requires sauce, and that he who drinks with the greatest
pleasure is he who least desires other drink than that
which he has? 6. You know that those who change
their clothes, change them because of cold and heat,
and that men put on sandals that they may not be
prevented from walking through annoyances to the feet ;
but have you ever observed me remaining at home, on
account of cold, more than any other man, or fighting
with any one for shade because of heat, or not walking
wherever I please because my feet suffer? 7. Do you
not know that those who are by nature the weakest,
become, by exercising their bodies, stronger in those
things for which they exercise them, than those who
neglect them, and bear the fatigue of exercise with
greater ease? And do you not think that I, who am
constantly preparing my body by exercise to endure
whatever may happen to it, bear everything more easily
than you who take no exercise ? 8. And to prevent me
from being a slave to gluttony, or sleep, or other animal
gratifications, can you imagine any cause more efficient
than having other objects of attention more attractive
than they, which not only afford pleasure in the moment
of enjoying them, but give hopes that they will benefit
me perpetually? You are aware of this also, that those
who think themselves successful in nothing, are far
from being cheerful, but that those who regard their
agriculture, their seamanship, or whatever other occu-
pation they pursue, as going on favourably for them,
are delighted as with present success? 9. But do you

32 Xenophon

think that from all these gratifications so much pleasure
can arise as from the consciousness that you are grow-
ing better yourself, and are acquiring more valuable
friends? Such is the consciousness, then, which I con-
tinue to enjoy.

" But if there should be occasion to assist our friends
or our country, which of the two would have most
leisure to attend to such objects, he who lives as I live
now, or he who lives, as you think, in happiness?
Which of the two would most readily seek the field of
battle, he who cannot exist without expensive dishes,
or he who is content with whatever comes before him?
Which of the two would sooner be reduced by a siege,
he who requires what is most difficult to be found, or
he who is fully content with what is easiest to be met
with? 10. You, Antipho, resemble one who thinks that
happiness consists in luxury and extravagance; but I
think that to want nothing is to resemble the gods,
and that to want as little as possible is to r*ake the
nearest approach to the gods ; that the Divine nature
is perfection, and that to be nearest to the Divine nature
is to be nearest to perfection."

ii. On another occasion, Antipho, in a conversation
with Socrates, said, " I consider you indeed to be a just
man, Socrates, but by no means a wise one ; and you
appear to me yourself to be conscious of this ; for you
ask money from no one for the privilege of associating
with you ; although, if you considered a garment of
yours, or a house, or any other thing that you possess,
to be worth money, you would not only not give it to
anybody for nothing, but you would not take less than
its full value for it. 12, It is evident, therefore, that
if you thought your conversation to be worth anything,
you would demand for it no less remuneration than it
is worth. You may, accordingly, be a just man, be-
cause you deceive nobody from covetousness, but wise
you cannot be, as you have no knowledge that is of any
value." 13. Socrates, in reply, said, "It is believed
among us, Antipho, that it is possible to dispose of
beauty, or of wisdom, alike honourably or dishonour-
ably; for if a person sells his beauty for money to any

Memorabilia of Socrates 33

one that wishes to purchase, men call him a male
prostitute; but if any one makes a friend of a person
whom he knows to be an admirer of what is honourable
and worthy, we regard him as prudent : and, in like
manner, those who sell their wisdom for money, to any
that will buy, men call sophists, or, as it were, pros-
titutors of wisdom; but whoever makes a friend of a
person whom he knows to be deserving, by teaching him
all the good that he knows, we consider him to act the
part which becomes an honourable and good citizen.
14. As any other man, therefore, Antipho, takes delight
in a good horse, or dog, or bird, so I, to a still greater
degree, take delight in valuable friends ; and, if I know
anything good, I communicate it to them, and recom-
mend them, also, to any other teachers by whom I
conceive that they will be at all advanced in virtue. The
treasures, too, of the wise men of old, which they have
left written in books, I turn over and peruse in company
with my friends, and if we find anything good in them,
we pick it out, and think it a great gain if we thus
become useful to one another." To me, who heard him
utter these sentiments, Socrates appeared to be both
happy himself, and to lead those that listened to him
to honour and virtue.

15. Again, when Antipho asked him how he imagined
that he could make men statesmen, when he himself
took no part in state affairs, if indeed he knew anything
of them, " In which of the two ways," said he, " Antipho,
should I better promote the management of affairs ; if I
myself engage in them alone, or if I make it my care
that as many as possible may be qualified to engage in
them?"

CHAPTER VII

Dissuasions from ostentation. He that desires to be distinguished,
should endeavour to be what he would wish to seem. He that
pretends to be what he is not, exposes himself to great incon-
venience and ridicule, and may bring disgrace and detriment
on his country.

i. LET us consider also, whether, by dissuading his
followers from ostentation, he excited them to pursue

34 Xenophon

virtue. He always used to say that there was no better
road to honourable distinction, than that by which a
person should become excellent in that in which he
wished to appear excellent.

2. That he said what was just, he used to prove by
the following arguments. "Let us consider," he would
say, " what a person must do, if, not being a good flute-
player, he should wish to appear so? Must he not
imitate good flute-players in the adjuncts of their art?
In the first place, as flute-players procure fine dresses,
and go about with a great number of attendants, he
must act in a similar manner ; and as many people
applaud them, he must get many to applaud him; yet he
must never attempt to perform, or he will at once be
shown to be ridiculous, and not only a bad flute-player,
but a vain boaster. Thus, after having been at great
expense without the least benefit, and having, in addi-
tion, incurred evil repute, how will he live otherwise
than in uneasiness, unprofitableness, and derision?

3. " In like manner, if any one should wish to be
thought a good general, or a good steersman of a ship,
without being so, let us reflect what would happen. If,
when he longed to seem capable of performing the duties
of those characters, he should be unable to persuade
others of his capability, would not this be a trouble to
him? and, if he should persuade them of it, would it
not be still more unfortunate for him ? For it is evident
that he who is appointed to steer a vessel, or to lead
an army, without having the necessary knowledge,
would be likely to destroy those whom he would not
wish to destroy, and would come off himself with
disgrace and suffering."

4. By similar examples he showed that it was of no
profit for a man to appear rich, or valiant, or strong,
without being so ; for he said that demands were made
upon such persons too great for their ability, and that,
not being able to comply with them, when they seemed
to be able, they met with no indulgence.

5. He called him, also, no small impostor, who,
obtaining money or furniture from his neighbour by
persuasion, should defraud him ; but pronounced him

Memorabilia of Socrates 35

the greatest of all impostors, who, possessed of no valu-
able qualifications, should deceive men by representing
himself capable of governing his country. To me he
appeared, by discoursing in this manner, to deter his
associates from vain boasting.

BOOK II
CHAPTER I

Socrates, suspecting that Aristippus, a man of pleasure, was
aspiring to a place in the government, admonishes him that
temperance is an essential qualification in a statesman, sect.
1-7. But as Aristippus says that he looked only to a life of
leisure and tranquil enjoyment, Socrates introduces the ques-
tion, whether those who govern, or those who are governed,
live the happier life, 8-10. Aristippus signifies that he wished
neither to govern nor to be governed, but to enjoy liberty ;
and Socrates shows that such liberty as he desired is incon-
sistent with the nature of human society, 1113. Aristippus
still adhering to his own views, and declaring his intention not
to remain in any one country, but to visit and sojourn in
many, Socrates shows him the dangers of such a mode of life,
14-16. But as Aristippus proceeds to accuse those of folly who
prefer a life of toil in the affairs of government to a life of
ease, Socrates shows the difference between those who labour
voluntarily, and those who labour from compulsion, and
observes that nothing good is given to mortals without labour,
17-20 ; in illustration of which remark he relates the fable of
Prodicus, THE CHOICE OF HERCULES, 21-34.

i. HE appeared also to me, by such discourses as the
following, to exhort his hearers to practise temperance
in their desires for food, drink, sensual gratification,
and sleep, and endurance of cold, heat, and labour. But
finding that one of his associates was too intemper-
ately disposed with regard to such matters, he said to
him, "Tell me, Aristippus, if it were required of you
to take two of our youths and educate them, the one
in such a manner that he would be qualified to govern,
and the other in such a manner that he would never
seek to govern, how would you train them respectively?
Will you allow us to consider the matter by commencing
with their food, as with the first principles? " "Food,

36 Xenophon

indeed," replied Aristippus, " appears to me one of the
first principles; for a person could not even live if he
were not to take food." 2. "It will be natural for
them both, then," said Socrates, "to desire to partake
of food when a certain hour comes?" "It will be
natural," said Aristippus. "And which of the two,
then," said Socrates, "should we accustom to prefer the
discharge of any urgent business to the gratification of
his appetite?" "The one undoubtedly," rejoined
Aristippus, "who is trained to rule, that the business
of the state may not be neglected through his laziness,"
"And on the same person," continued Socrates, "we
must, \vhen they desire to drink, impose the duty of
being able to endure thirst?" "Assuredly," replied
Aristippus. 3. u And on which of the two should we
lay the necessity of being temperate in sleep, so as to
be able to go to rest late, to rise early, or to remain
awake if it should be necessary?" "Upon the same,
doubtless." "And on which ol the two should we
impose the obligation to control his sensual appetites,
that he may not be hindered by their influence from
discharging whatever duty may be required of him ? "
"Upon the same." "And on which of the two should
we enjoin the duty of not shrinking from labour, but
willingly submitting to it?" "This also is to be
enjoined on him who is trained to rule." "And to which
of the two would it more properly belong to acquire
whatever knowledge would assist him to secure the
mastery over his rivals?" "Far more, doubtless, to
him who is trained to govern, for without such sort of
acquirements there would be no profit in any of his
other qualifications." 4. "A man, then, who is thus
instructed, would appear to you less liable to be sur-
prised by his enemies than other animals, of which
some, we know, are caught by their greediness; and
others, though very shy, are yet attracted to the bait by
their desire to swallow it, and consequently taken ; while
others also are entrapped by drink." "Indisputably,"
replied Aristippus. "Are not others, too, caught
through their lust, as quails and partridges, which,
being attracted to the call of the female by desire and

Memorabilia of Socrates 37

hope ot enjoyment, and losing all consideration of
danger, fall into traps ? " To this Aristippus expressed
his assent. 5. "Does it not then," proceeded Socrates,
" appear to you shameful for a man to yield to the same
influence as the most senseless of animals ; as adulterers,
for instance, knowing that the adulterer Is in danger of
suffering what the law threatens, and of being watched,
and disgraced if caught, yet enter into closets ; and,
though there are such dangers and dishonours hanging
over the intriguer, and so many occupations that will
safely keep him from the desire of sensual gratifica-
tion, does it not seem to you the part of one tormented
with an evil genius, to run, nevertheless, into imminent
peril?" "It does seem so to me," said Aristippus.
6. "And since the greater part of the most necessary
employments of life, such as those of war and agri-
culture, and not a few others, are to be carried on in
the open air, does it not appear to you to show great
negligence, that the majority of mankind should he
wholly unexercised to bear cold and heat ? " Aristippus
replied in the affirmative. " Does it not then appear to
you that we ought to train him who is intended to rule,
to bear these inconveniences also without difficulty? "
"Doubtless," answered Aristippus. 7. "If, therefore,
we class those capable of enduring these things among
those who are qualified to govern, shall we not class
such as are incapable of enduring them among those
who will not even aspire to govern ? " Aristippus
expressed his assent. " In conclusion, then, since you
know the position of each of these classes of men, have
you ever considered in which of them you can reason-
ably place yourself?" 8. "I have indeed," said
Aristippus, "and I by no means place myself in the
class of those desiring to rule; for it appears to me that,
when it is a task of great difficulty to procure neces-
saries for one's self, it is the mark of a very foolish
man not to be satisfied with that occupation, but to add
to it the labour of procuring for his fellow-countrymen
whatever they need. And is it not the greatest folly in
him, that while many things which he desires are out
of his reach, he should, by setting himself at the head of

38 Xenophon

the state, subject himself, if he does not accomplish all
that the people desire, to be punished for his failure?
9. For the people think it right to use their governors
as I use my slaves ; for I require my slaves to supply
me with the necessaries of life in abundance, but to
touch none of them themselves; and the people think it
the duty of their governors to supply them with as many
enjoyments as possible, but themselves to abstain from
all of them. Those, therefore, who wish to undertake
much business themselves, and to provide it for others,
I would train in this manner, and rank among those
qualified to govern ; but myself I would number with
those who wish to pass their lives in the greatest pos-
sible ease and pleasure."

10. Socrates then said, "Will you allow us to con-
sider this point also, whether the governors or the
governed live with the greater pleasure ? " " By all
means," said Aristippus. " In the first place, then, of
the nations of which we have any knowledge, the
Persians bear rule in Asia, and the Syrians, Phrygians,
and Lydians are under subjection ; the Scythians govern
in Europe, and the Maeotians are held in subjection ; the
Carthaginians rule in Africa, and the Libyans are under
subjection. Which of these do you regard as living
with the greater pleasure? Or among the Greeks, of
whom you yourself are, which of the two appear to you
to live more happily, those who rule, or those who are
in subjection? " n. "Yet, on the other hand," said
Aristippus, " I do not consign myself to slavery ; but
there appears to me to be a certain middle path between
the two, in which I endeavour to proceed, neither
through power nor through slavery, but through liberty,
a path that most surely conducts to happiness." 12. " If
this path of yours, indeed," said Socrates, "as it lies
neither through sovereignty nor servitude, did not also
lie through human society, what you say would perhaps
be worth consideration ; but if, while living among man-
kind, you shall neither think proper to rule nor to be
ruled, and shall not willingly pay respect to those in
power, I think that you will see that the stronger know
how to treat the weaker as slaves, making them to

Memorabilia of Socrates 39

lament both publicly and privately. 13. Do those
escape your knowledge who cut their corn and fell their
trees when others have sown and planted them, and
who assail in every way such as are inferior to them,
and are unwilling to flatter them, until they prevail on
them to prefer slavery to carrying on war against their
superiors ? In private life, too, do you not see that the
spirited and strong enslave the timorous and weak, and
enjoy the fruits of their labours? " "But for my part,"
answered Aristippus, "in order that I may not suffer
such treatment, I shall not shut myself up in any one
state, but shall be a traveller everywhere.** 14. "Doubt-
less/* rejoined Socrates, "this is an admirable trick that
you propose; for since Sinnis, and Sciron, and Pro-
crustes were killed, nobody injures travellers. Yet
those who manage the government in their several
countries, even now make laws, in order that they may
not be injured, and attach to themselves, in addition to
such as are called their necessary connections, other
supporters; they also surround their cities with
ramparts, and procure weapons with which they may
repel aggressors, securing, besides all these means of
defence, other allies from abroad ; and yet those who
have provided themselves with all these bulwarks,
nevertheless suffer injury; 15. and do you, having no
protection of the sort, spending a long time on roads on
which a very great number are outraged, weaker than
all the inhabitants of whatever city you may arrive at,
and being such a character as those who are eager
to commit violence most readily attack, think, never-
theless, that you will not be wronged because you are a
stranger? Or are you without fear, because these
cities proclaim safety to any one arriving or departing?
Or because you think that you are such a slave as would
profit no master, for who would wish to keep in his
house a man not at all disposed to labour, and delight-
ing in the most expensive fare? 16. But let us con-
sider how masters treat slaves of such a sort. Do they
not tame down their fondness for dainties by hunger?
Do they not hinder them from stealing by excluding
them from every place from whence they may take any-

40 Xenophon

thing"? Do they not prevent them from running away
by putting fetters on them? Do they not overcome
their laziness by stripes? Or how do you yourself act,
when you find any one of your slaves to be of such a
disposition?" 17. "I chastise him," said Aristippus,
"with every kind of punishment, until I compel him to
serve me. But how do those, Socrates, who are trained
to the art of ruling, which you seem to me to consider
as happiness, differ from those who undergo hardships
from necessity, since they will have (though it be with
their own consent) to endure hunger, and thirst, and
cold, and want of sleep, and suffer all other inconveni-
ences of the same kind? 18. For I, for my own part,
do not know what difference it makes to a man who is
scourged on the same skin, whether it be voluntarily or
involuntarily, or, in short, to one who suffers with the
same body in all such points, whether voluntarily or
involuntarily, except that folly is to be attributed to him
,who endures troubles voluntarily." "What then,
Aristippus," said Socrates, "do not voluntary endur-
ances of this kind seem to you to differ from the involun-
tary, inasmuch as he who is hungry from choice may
eat when he pleases, and he who is thirsty from choice
may drink when he pleases, the same being the case
with regard to other voluntary sufferings, while he who
endures such hardships from necessity has no liberty to
relieve himself from them when he wishes? Besides, he
who undergoes trouble willingly, is cheered contemplat-
ing a successful issue, as the hunters of wild animals
bear fatigue with pleasure in the hope of capturing
them. 19. And such rewards of toil are indeed but of
small worth ; but as for those who toil that they may
acquire valuable friends, or that they may subdue their
enemies, or they may, by becoming vigorous in body
and mind, manage their own household judiciously, and
be of service to their friends and of advantage to their
country, how can you think that they labour for such
objects otherwise than cheerfully, or that they do not
live in happiness, esteeming themselves, and being
praised and envied by others? 20. But indolence, more-
over, and pleasures which offer themselves without

Memorabilia of Socrates 41

being sought, are neither capable of producing a good
constitution of body, as the teachers of gymnastic exer-
cises say, nor do they bring to the mind any knowledge
worthy of consideration ; but exercises pursued with
persevering labour lead men to the attainment of
honourable and valuable objects, as worthy men inform
us ; and Hesiod somewhere says,

Vice it is possible to find in abundance and with ease ; for the
way to it is smooth, and lies very near. But before the
temple of Virtue the immortal gods have placed labour, and
the way to it is long and steep, and at the commencement
rough ; but when the traveller has arrived at the summit, it
then becomes easy, however difficult it was at first.

A sentiment to which Epicharmus gives his testimony
in this verse,

The gods for labour sell us all good things ;

and in another place he says,

O wretched mortal, desire not what is soft, lest you find what
is hard.

21. Prodicus the sophist, also, in his narrative concern-
ing Hercules, which indeed he declaims to most people
as a specimen of his ability, expresses a similar notion
respecting virtue, speaking, as far as I remember, to the
following effect : For he says that Hercules, when he
was advancing from boyhood to manhood, a period at
which the young, becoming their own masters, begin
to give intimations whether they will enter on life by the
path of virtue or that of vice, went forth into a solitary
place, and sat down, perplexed as to which of these two
paths he should pursue ; 22. and that two female figures,
of lofty stature, seemed to advance towards him, the one
of an engaging and graceful mien, gifted by nature
with elegance of form, modesty of look, and sobriety of
demeanour, and clad in a white robe ; the other fed to
plumpness and softness, but made up both in her com-
plexion, so as to seem fairer and rosier than she really
was, and in her gesture, so as to seem more upright
than she naturally was; she had her eyes wide open,
and a robe through which her beauty would readily
II C 457

42 Xenophon

show itself ; she frequently contemplated her figure, and
looked about to see if any one else was observing her;
and she frequently glanced back at her own shadow.
23. As they approached nearer to Hercules, she, whom
I first described, came forward at the same pace, but
the other, eager to get before her, ran up to Hercules,
and exclaimed, " I see that you are hesitating, Hercules,
by what path you shall enter upon life ; if, then, you
make a friend of me, I will conduct you by the most
delightful and easy road, and you shall taste of every
species of pleasure, and pass through life without experi-
encing difficulties. 24. In the first place, you shall take
no thought of wars or state affairs, but shall pass your
time considering what meat or drink you may find to
gratify your appetite, what you may delight yourself by
seeing or hearing, what you may be pleased with smell-
ing or touching, with what objects of affection you may
have most pleasure in associating, how you may sleep
most softly, and how you may secure all these enjoy-
ments with the least degree of trouble. 25. If an appre-
hension of want of means, by which such delights may
be obtained, should ever arise in you, there is no fear
that I shall urge you to procure them by toil or suffer-
ing either of body or mind ; but you shall enjoy what
others acquire by labour, abstaining from nothing by
which it may be possible to profit, for I give my
followers liberty to benefit themselves from any source
whatever. "

26. Hercules, on hearing this address, said, "And
what, O woman, is your name?" "My friends," she
replied, "call me Happiness, but those who hate me,
give me, to my disparagement, the name of Vice."

27. In the meantime the other female approached,
and said, " I also am come to address you, Hercules,
because I know your parents, and have observed your
disposition in the training of your childhood, from which
I entertain hopes that if you direct your steps along the
path that leads to my dwelling, you will become an
excellent performer of whatever is honourable and noble,
and that I shall appear more honourable and dis-
tinguished in goodness. I will not deceive you, how-

Memorabilia of Socrates 43

ever, with promises of pleasure, but will set before you
things as they really are, and as the gods have appointed
them ; 28. for of what is valuable and excellent, the
gods grant nothing to mankind without labour and care ;
and if you wish the gods, therefore, to be propitious to
you, you must worship the gods; if you seek to be
beloved by your friends, you must serve your friends ;
if you desire to be honoured by any city, you must
benefit that city ; if you claim to be admired by all
Greece for your merit, you must endeavour to be of
advantage to all Greece; if you are anxious that the
earth should yield you abundance of fruit, you must
cultivate the earth ; if you think that you should enrich
yourself from herds of cattle, you must bestow care
upon herds of cattle ; if you are eager to increase your
means of war, and to secure freedom to your friends
and subdue your enemies, you must learn the arts of
war, and learn them from such as understand them, and
practise how to use them in the right way ; or if you
wish to be vigorous in body, you must accustom your
body to obey your mind, and exercise it with toil and
exertion."

29. Here Vice, interrupting her speech, said (as Pro-
dicus relates), " Do you see, Hercules, how difficult and
tedious a road to gratification this woman describes to
you, while I shall lead you, by an easy and short path,
to perfect happiness ? "

30. "Wretched being," rejoined Virtue, "of what
good are you in possession? Or what real pleasure do
you experience, when you are unwilling to do anything
for the attainment of it? You, who do not even wait
for the natural desire of gratification, but fill yourself
with all manner of dainties before you have an appetite
for them, eating before you are hungry, drinking before
you are thirsty, procuring cooks that you may cat with
pleasure, buying costly wines that you may drink with
pleasure, and running about seeking for snow in
summer ; while, in order to sleep with pleasure, you
prepare not only soft beds, but couches, with rockers
under your couches, for you do not desire sleep in con-
sequence of labour, but in consequence of having

44 Xenophon

nothing to do ; you force the sensual inclinations before
they require gratification, using- every species of con-
trivance for the purpose, and abusing male and female ;
for thus it is that you treat your friends, insulting their
modesty at night, and making them sleep away the
most useful part of their day. 31. Though you are one
of the immortals, you are cast out from the society of
the gods, and despised by the good among mankind;
the sweetest of all sounds, the praises of yourself, you
have never heard, nor have you ever seen the most
pleasing of all sights, for you have never beheld one
meritorious work of your own hand. Who would believe
you when you give your word for anything? Or who
would assist you when in need of anything? Or who,
that has proper feeling, would venture to join your
company of revellers? for while they are young they
grow impotent in body, and when they are older they
are impotent in mind ; they live without labour, and in
fatness, through their youth, and pass laboriously, and
in wretchedness, through old age; ashamed of what
they have done, oppressed with what they have to do,
having run through their pleasures in early years, and
laid up afflictions for the close of life. 32. But I am
the companion of the gods ; I associate with virtuous
men ; no honourable deed, divine or human, is done
without me; I am honoured, most of all, by the deities,
and by those among men to whom it belongs to honour
me, being a welcome co-operator with artisans, a faith-
ful household guardian to masters, a benevolent
assistant to servants, a benign promoter of the labours
of peace, a constant auxiliary to the efforts of war, an
excellent sharer in friendship. 33. My friends have a
sweet and untroubled enjoyment of meat and drink, for
they refrain from them till they feel an appetite. They
have also sweeter sleep than the idle; and are neither
annoyed if they lose a portion of it, nor neglect to do
their duties for the sake of it. The young are pleased
with praises from the old ; the old are delighted with
honours from the young. They remember their former
acts with pleasure, and rejoice to perform their present
occupations with success ; being, through my influence,

Memorabilia of Socrates 45

dear to the gods, beloved by their friends, and honoured
by their country. And when the destined end of life
comes, they do not lie in oblivion and dishonour, but,
celebrated with songs of praise, flourish for ever in the
memory of mankind. By such a course of conduct, O
Hercules, son of noble parents, you may secure the most
exalted happiness."

34. Nearly thus it was that Prodicus related the in-
struction of Hercules by Virtue; adorning the senti-
ments, however, with far more magnificent language
than that in which I now give them. It becomes you,
therefore, Aristippus, reflecting on these admonitions,
to endeavour to think of what concerns the future period
of your life.

CHAPTER II

A dialogue between Socrates and his son Lamprocles, who had
expressed resentment against his mother, on the duty of
children to their parents. The ungrateful are to be deemed
unjust, sect, i, 2. The greater benefits a person has received,
the more unjust is he if he is ungrateful ; and there are no
greater benefits than those which children experience from
their parents, 36. Hence it follows that a son ought to rever-
ence his mother, though she be severe, when he knows that
her severity proceeds from kind motives, 712. How great a
crime the neglect of filial duty is, appears from the fact that
it is punished by the laws and execrated by mankind, 13, 14.

i. "HAVING learned, one day, that Lamprocles, the
eldest of his sons, had exhibited anger against his
mother, "Tell me, my son," said he, "do you know that
certain persons are called ungrateful? " "Certainly,"
replied the youth. "And do you understand how it is
they act that men give them this appellation ? " "I do,"
said Lamprocles, "for it is those that have received a
kindness, and that do not make a return when they are
able to make one, whom they call ungrateful/* "They
then appear to you to class the ungrateful with the
unjust? " "I think so." 2. "And have you ever con-
sidered whether, as it is thought unjust to make slaves
of our friends, but just to make slaves of our enemies,

46 Xenophon

so it is unjust to be ungrateful towards our friends, but
just to be so towards our enemies?'* "I certainly
have," answered Lamprocles, "and from whomsoever a
man receives a favour, whether friend or enemy, and
does not endeavour to make a return for it, he is in my
opinion unjust."

3. ** If such, then, be the case," pursued Socrates,
44 ingratitude must be manifest injustice? " Lamprocles
expressed his assent. "The greater benefits, therefore,
a person has received, and makes no return, the more
unjust he must be." He assented to this position also.
"Whom, then," asked Socrates, "can we find receiving
greater benefits from any persons than children receive
from their parents? children whom their parents have
brought from non-existence into existence, to view so
many beautiful objects, and to share in so many bless-
ings, as the gods grant to men ; blessings which appear
to us so inestimable, that we shrink, in the highest
degree, from relinquishing them ; and governments have
made death the penalty for the most heinous crimes,
in the supposition that they could not suppress in-
justice by the terror of any greater evil. 4. You do not,
surely, suppose that men beget children merely to
gratify their passions, since the streets are full, as well
as the brothels, of means to allay desire ; but what we
evidently consider, is, from what sort of women the
finest children may be born to us, and, uniting with
them, we beget children. 5. The man maintains her
who joins with him to produce offspring, and provides,
for the children that are likely to be born to him, what-
ever he thinks will conduce to their support, in as great
abundance as he can ; while the woman receives and
bears the burden, oppressed and endangering her life,
and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which she
herself is supported ; and, at length, after bearing it the
full time, and bringing it forth with great pain, she
suckles and cherishes it, though she has received no
previous benefit from it, nor does the infant know by
whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it wants,
but she, conjecturing what will nourish and please it,
tries to satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time,

Memorabilia of Socrates 47

both night and day, submitting to the trouble and not
knowing what return she will receive for it. 6. Nor does
it satisfy the parents merely to feed their offspring, but
as soon as the children appear capable of learning any-
thing, they teach them whatever they know that may
be of use for their conduct in life; and whatever they
consider another more capable of communicating than
themiselves, they send their sons to him at their own
expense, and take care to adopt every course that their
children may be as much improved as possible."

7. Upon this the young man said, " But, even if she
has done all this, and many times more than this,
no one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humour." "And
which do you think," asked Socrates, " more difficult to
be endured, the ill-humour of a wild beast, or that of a
mother?" "I think," replied Lamprocles, "that of a
mother, at least of such a mother as mine is." "Has
she ever then inflicted any hurt upon you, by biting or
kicking you, as many have often suffered from wild
beasts?" 8. "No; but, by Jupiter, she says such
things as no one would endure to hear for the value
of all that he possesses." "And do you reflect,"
returned Socrates, "how much grievous trouble you
have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by
action, in the day and in the night, and how much
anxiety you have caused her when you were ill ? " " But
I have never said or done anything- to her," replied
Lamprocles, "at which she could feel ashamed."
9. "Do you think it, then," inquired Socrates, "a more
difficult thing for you to listen to what she says, than
for actors to listen when they utter the bitterest
reproaches against one another in tragedies?" "But
actors, I imagine, endure such reproaches easily, be-
cause they do not think that, of the speakers, the one
who utters reproaches, utters them with intent to do
harm, or that the one who utters threats, utters them
with any evil purpose.'* "Yet you are displeased at
your mother, although you well know that whatever she
says, she not only says nothing with intent to do you
harm, but that she wishes you more good than any other
human being. Or do you suppose that your mother

48 Xenophon

meditates evil towards you?" "No indeed," said
Lamprocles, "that I do not imagine." 10. "Do you
then say that this mother," rejoined Socrates, "who is
so benevolent to you, who, when you are ill, takes care
of you, to the utmost of her power, that you may
recover your health, 'and that you may want nothing
that is necessary for you, and who, besides, entreats the
gods for many blessings on your head, and pays vows
for you, is a harsh mother? For my part, I think that
if you cannot endure such a mother, you cannot endure
anything that is good. n. But tell me," continued he,
"whether you think that you ought to pay respect to
any other human being, or whether you are resolved to
try to please nobody, and to follow or obey neither a
general nor any other commander?" "No indeed,"
replied Lamprocles, " I have formed no such resolution."
12. "Are you then willing," inquired Socrates, "to
cultivate the good-will of your neighbour, that he may
kindle a fire for you when you want it, or aid you in
obtaining some good, or, if you happen to meet with
any misfortune, may assist you with willing and ready
help?" "I am," replied he. "Or would it make no
difference," rejoined Socrates, "whether a fellow-
traveller, or fellow-voyager, or any other person that
you met with, should be your friend or enemy? Or do
you think that you ought to cultivate their good-will? "
"I think that I ought," replied Lamprocles, 13. "You
are then prepared," returned Socrates, "to pay atten-
tion to such persons ; and do you think that you ought
to pay no respect to your mother, who loves you more
than any one else? Do you not know that the state
takes no account of any other species of ingratitude,
nor allows any action at law for it, overlooking such as
receive a favour and make no return for it, but that if
a person does not pay due regard to his parents, it
imposes a punishment on him, rejects his services, and
does not allow him to hold the archonship, considering
that such a person cannot piously perform the sacrifices
offered for the country, or discharge any other duty with
propriety and justice. Indeed if any one does not keep
up the sepulchres of his dead parents, the state inquires

Memorabilia of Socrates 49

into it in the examinations of candidates for office.
14. You therefore, my son, if you are wise, will entreat
the gods to pardon you if you have been wanting in
respect towards your mother, lest, regarding you as an
ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you
good ; and you will have regard, also, to the opinion of
men, lest, observing you to be neglectful of your
parents, they should all contemn you, and you should
then be found destitute of friends ; for if men surmise
that you are ungrateful towards your parents, no one
will believe that if he does you a kindness he will meet
with gratitude in return."

CHAPTER III

Socrates, hearing that two brothers, Chserephon and Chaerecrates,
had quarrelled, recommends brotherly love to Chaerecrates
by the following arguments. A brother ought to be regarded
as a friend, and esteemed more than wealth, sect, i ; for
wealth is an uncertain possession, if the possessor of it is
destitute of friends, 2, 3. Fraternal love an appointment of
Nature ; and men who have brothers are more respected than
those who have none, 4. Even though a brother should con-
ceive ill feelings towards us, we should still endeavour to con-
ciliate him, 5-9. How such conciliation may be effected, 10-
14. The endeavour to conciliate is still more the duty of a
younger than of an elder brother, and the more noble the
disposition of a brother is, the more easy will it be to con-
ciliate him, 15-17. Brothers should act in unison with one
another, like different members of the same body, 18, 19.

i. SOCRATES, having observed that Chserephon and
Chaerecrates, two brothers well known to him, were at
variance with each other, and having met with Chasre-
crates, said, "Tell me, Chserecrates, you surely are
not one of those men, are you, who think wealth more
valuable than brothers, when wealth is but a senseless
thing, and a brother endowed with reason, when
wealth needs protection, while a brother can afford
protection, and when wealth, besides, is plentiful, and
a brother but one? 2. It is wonderful, too, that a
man should consider brothers to be a detriment to
him, because he does not possess his brothers' for-
II *C 457

50 Xenophon

tunes, while he does not consider his fellow-citizens
to be a detriment, because he does not possess their
fortunes; but, in the latter case, he can reason with
himself, that it is better for him, living in society with
many, to enjoy a competency in security, than, living
alone, to possess all the property of his fellow-citizens
in fear of danger, while, with regard to brothers, he
knows not how to apply such reasoning. 3. Those who
are able, too, purchase slaves, that they may have
helpers in their work, and procure friends, as being in
need of supporters, while they neglect their brothers, as
if friends could be made of fellow-citizens, but could
not be made of brothers. 4. Yet it surely conduces
greatly to friendship to have been born of the same
parents, and to have been brought up together, since,
even among brutes, a certain affection springs up
between those that are reared together. In addition to
these considerations, men pay more respect to those
who have brothers than to those who have none, and
are less forward to commit aggression on them."

5. To this Chaerecrates made answer, "If, indeed,
Socrates, the dissension between us were not great, it
might perhaps be my duty to bear with my brother, and
not shun his society for slight causes; for a brother,
as you say, is a valuable possession, if he be such as he
ought to be ; but when he is nothing of the sort, and is
indeed quite the reverse of what he should be, why
should any one attempt impossibilities? " 6. "Whether,
then, Chserecrates," rejoined Socrates, "is Chaerephon
unable to please anybody, as he is unable to please you,
or are there some whom he certainly can please?"
"Yes," replied Chserecrates, "for it is for this very
reason that I justly hate him, that he can please others,
while to me he is on all occasions, whenever he comes
in contact with me, a harm rather than a good, both in
word and deed." 7. " Is the case then thus," said
Socrates, " that as a horse is a harm to him who knows
not how to manage him, and yet tries to do so, so a
brother is a harm, when a person tries to manage him
without knowing how to do it?" 8. "But how can I
be ignorant," replied Chaerecrates, "how to manage

Memorabilia of Socrates 51

my brother, when I know how to speak well of him
who speaks well of me, and to do well to him who does
well to me? As to one, however, who seeks to vex me
both by word and deed, I should not be able either
to speak well of him, or to act well towards him, nor
will I try." 9. "You speak strangely, Chaerecrates,"
rejoined Socrates, " for if a dog of yours were of service
to watch your sheep, and fawned upon your shepherds,
but snarled when you approached him, you would
forbear to show any ill feeling towards him, but would
endeavour to tame him by kindness ; but as for your
brother, though you admit that he would be a great
good to you if he were such as he ought to be, and
though you confess that you know how to act and speak
well with respect to him, you do not even attempt to
contrive how he may be of as great service as possible
to you." 10. "I fear, Socrates," replied Chaerecrates,
"that I have not wisdom enough to render Chaerephon
such as he ought to be towards me." "Yet there is no
need to contrive anything artful or novel to act upon
him," said Socrates, "as it appears to me; for I think
that he may be gained over by means which you already
know, and may conceive a high esteem for you."
ii. "Will you not tell me first," said the other,
"whether you have observed that I possess any love-
charm, which I was not aware that I knew? " "Answer
me this question," said Socrates: "if you wished to
induce any one of your acquaintance, when he offered
sacrifice, to invite you to his feast, what would you
do?" "I should doubtless begin by inviting him when
I offered sacrifice." 12. "And if you wished to prevail
on any of your friends to take care of your property,
when you went from home, what would you do? " "I
should certainly first undertake to take care of his
property, when he went from home." 13. "And if you
wished to induce an acquaintance in a foreign land to
receive you hospitably when you visited his country,
what would you do?" "I should unquestionably be
the first to receive him hospitably when he came to
Athens ; and if I wished him to be desirous to effect for
me the objects for which I went thither, it is clear that

52 Xenophon

I must first confer a similar service on him." 14. "Have
you not long been concealing that you are acquainted
with all the love-charms that exist among mankind?
Or are you afraid," continued Socrates, "to make the
first advances, lest you should seem to degrade yourself,
if you should be the first to propitiate your brother?
Yet he is thought to be a man deserving of great praise,
who is the first to do harm to the enemy, and to do good
to his friends. If, then, Chserephon had appeared to
me more likely than you to lead to this frame of mind,
I would have endeavoured to persuade him first to try
to make you his friend; but, as things stand, you seem
more likely, if you take the lead, to effect the desired
object." 15. "You speak unreasonably, Socrates,"
rejoined Chaerecrates, "and not as might be expected
from you, when you desire me, who am the younger, to
take the lead; for the established practice among all
men is quite the reverse, being that the elder should
always be first, both to act and speak." 16. "How,"
said Socrates; "is it not the custom everywhere that
the younger should yield the path to the ^Ider when he
meets him, not to receive him sitting, to honour him
with a soft couch, and give place to him in conversa-
tion? Do not therefore hesitate, my good young
friend, but endeavour to conciliate the man, and he will
very soon listen to you. Do you not see how fond of
honour, and how liberal-minded, he is? Mean-minded
persons you cannot attract more effectually than by
giving them something ; but honourable and good men
you may best gain by treating them in a friendly spirit."
17. "But what if he should become no kinder," said
Chserecrates, "after I have done what you advise?"
"What other risk," said Socrates, "will you run but
that of showing that you are kind and full of brotherly
affection, and that he is mean-spirited and unworthy
of any kindness? But I apprehend no such result; for
I conceive that when he finds you challenging him to
such a contest, he will be extremely emulous to excel
you in doing kindnesses both by word and deed. 18. At
present, you are in the same case as if the two hands,
which the gods have made to assist each other, should

Memorabilia of Socrates 53

neglect this duty, and begin to impede each other ; or as
if the two feet, formed by divine providence to co-
operate with one another, should give up this office,
and obstruct one another. 19. Would it not be a great
folly and misfortune to use for our hurt what was
formed for our benefit? And indeed, as it appears to
me, the gods have designed brothers to be of greater
mutual service than the hands, or feet, or eyes, or
other members which they have made in pairs for men ;
for the hands, if required to do things, at the same time,
at greater distance than a fathom, would be unable to
do them ; the feet cannot reach two objects, at the same
time, that are distant even a fathom; and the eyes,
which seem to reach to the greatest distance, cannot,
of objects that are much nearer, see at the same time
those that are before and behind them ; but brothers, if
they are in friendship, can, even at the greatest
distance, act in concert and for mutual benefit."

CHAPTER IV

On the value of friendship. Many are more desirous to acquire
property than friends, sect. 1-4. But no species of property
is more valuable, lasting, and useful than a good friend : his
qualities enumerated, 5-7.

i. I HEARD him, also, on one occasion, holding a dis-
course concerning friends, by which, as it seems to me,
a person might be greatly benefited, both as to the
acquisition and use of friends ; for he said that he had
heard many people observe that a true and honest friend
was the most valuable of all possessions, but that he
saw the greater part of mankind attending to anything
rather than securing friends. 2. He observed them, he
added, industriously endeavouring to procure houses
and lands, slaves, cattle, and furniture ; but as for a
friend, whom they called the greatest of blessings, he
saw the majority considering neither how to procure
one, nor how those whom they had might be retained.
3. Even when friends and slaves were sick, he said that
he noticed people calling in physicians to their slaves,

54 Xenophon

and carefully providing other means for their recovery,
but paying no attention to their friends; and that, if
both died, they grieved for their slaves, and thought
that they had suffered a loss, but considered that they
lost nothing in losing friends. Of their other possessions
they left nothing untended or unheeded, but when their
friends required attention, they utterly neglected them.
4. In addition to these remarks, he observed that he
saw the greater part of mankind acquainted with the
number of their other possessions, although they might
be very numerous, but of their friends, though but
few, they were not only ignorant of the number, but
even when they attempted to reckon it to such as asked
them, they set aside again some that they had previ-
ously counted among their friends ; so little did they
allow their friends to occupy their thoughts. 5. Yet in
comparison with what possession, of all others, would
not a good friend appear far more valuable? What
sort of horse, or yoke of oxen, is so useful as a truly
good friend? What slave is so well-disposed or so
attached, or what other acquisition so beneficial?
6. For a good friend interests himself in whatever is
wanting on the part of his friend, whether in his private
affairs, or for the public interests; if he is required to
do a service to any one, he assists him with the means;
if any apprehension alarms him, he lends him his aid,
sometimes sharing expenditure with him, sometimes
co-operating with him, sometimes joining with him to
persuade others, sometimes using force towards others ;
frequently cheering him when he is successful, and
frequently supporting him when he is in danger of
falling. 7. What the hands do, what the eyes foresee,
what the ears hear, what the feet accomplish, for each
individual, his friend, of all such services, fails to
perform no one; and oftentimes, what a person has
not effected for himself, or has not seen, or has not
heard, or has not accomplished, a friend has succeeded
in executing- for his friend ; and yet, while people try
to foster trees for the sake of their fruit, the greater
portion of mankind are heedless and neglectful of that
most productive possession which is called a friend.

Memorabilia of Socrates 55

CHAPTER V

On the different estimation in which different friends are to be
held. We ought to examine ourselves, and ascertain at what
value we may expect our friends to hold us.

i. I HEARD one day another dissertation of his, which
seemed to me to exhort the hearer to examine himself,
and ascertain of how much value he was to his friends.
Finding that one of his followers was neglectful of a
friend who was oppressed with poverty, he asked Anti-
sthenes, in the presence of the man that neglected his
friend, and of several others, saying, "Are there certain
settled values for friends, Antisthenes, as there are for
slaves? 2. For, of slaves, one, perhaps, is worth two
mina*, another not even half a mina, another five minae,
another ten. Nicias, the son of Niceratus, is said to
have bought an overseer for his silver mines at the price
of a whole talent. Let us therefore consider whether,
as there are certain values for slaves, there are also
certain values for friends." 3. "There are, un-
doubtedly," replied Antisthenes; "at least I, for my
part, should wish one man to be my friend rather than
have two minae ; another I should not value even at half
a mina ; another I should prefer to ten minae ; and
another I would buy for my friend at the sacrifice of all
the money and trouble in the world." 4. "If such be
the case, therefore," said Socrates, "it would be well
for each of us to examine himself, to consider of what
value he is in the estimation of his friends ; and to try
to be of as much value to them as possible, in order
that his friends may be less likely to desert him ; for I
often hear one man saying that his friend has aban-
doned him, and another, that a person whom he thought
to be his friend has preferred a mina to him. 5. I am
considering, accordingly, whether, as one sells a bad
slave, and parts with him for whatever he will fetch, so
there may be a temptation to give up a worthless friend,
when there is an opportunity of receiving more than he
is worth. Good slaves I do not often see sold at all,
or good friends abandoned."

56 Xenophon

CHAPTER VI

What sort of persons we should choose for our friend*, sect. 15.
How we may ascertain the characters of men, before we form
a friendship with them, 6, 7. How we may attach men to us
as friends, 8-13. Friendship can exist only between the good
and honourable, 14-19 ; between whom it will continue to
subsist in spite of differences of opinion, 19-28. Deductions
from the preceding remarks, 2939.

i. HE appeared to me, also, to make his followers wise
in examining what sort of persons it was right to
attach to themselves as friends, by such conversations
as the following. "Tell me, Critobulus," said he, "if
we were in need of a good friend, how should we pro-
ceed to look for one? Should we not, in the first place,
seek for a person who can govern his appetite, his
inclination to wine or sensuality, and sleep and idle-
ness ; for one who is overcome by such propensities
would be unable to do his duty either to himself or his
friend." "Assuredly he would not," said Critobulus.
" It appears then to you that we must avoid one who is
at the mercy of such inclinations?" "Undoubtedly,"
replied Critobulus. 2. "Besides," continued Socrates,
" does not a man who is extravagant and yet unable
to support himself, but is always in want of assistance
from his neighbour, a man who, when he borrows,
cannot pay, and when he cannot borrow, hates him who
will not lend, appear to you to be a dangerous friend? "
"Assuredly," replied Critobulus. "We must therefore
avoid such a character?" "We must indeed." 3.
"Again : what sort of friend would he be who has the
means of getting money, and covets great wealth, and
who, on this account, is a driver of hard bargains, and
delights to receive, but is unwilling to pay?" "Such
a person appears to me," said Critobulus, "to be a still
worse character than the former." 4. "What then do
you think of him, who, from love of getting money,
allows himself no time for thinking of anything else but
whence he may obtain it? " "We must avoid him, as
it seems to me ; for he would be useless to any one that
should make an associate of him." "And what do you

Memorabilia of Socrates 57

think of him who is quarrelsome, and likely to raise up
many enemies against his friends? " "We must avoid
him also, by Jupiter." " But if a man have none of
these bad qualities, but is content to receive obligations,
taking no thought of returning them?" " He also
would be useless as a friend. But what sort of person,
then, Socrates, should we endeavour to make our
friend?" 5. "A person, I think, who, being the
reverse of all this, is proof against the seductions of
bodily pleasures, is upright and fair in his dealings,
and emulous not to be outdone in serving those who
serve him, so that he is of advantage to those who
associate with him." 6. " How then shall we find proof
of these qualities in him, Socrates, before we associate
with him? " " We make proof of statuaries," rejoined
Socrates, "not by forming opinions from their words,
but, whomsoever we observe to have executed his
previous statues skilfully, we trust that he will execute
others well." 7. "You mean, then, that the man who
is known to have served his former friends, will doubt-
less be likely to serve such as may be his friends here-
after? " "Yes; for whomsoever I know to have previ-
ously managed horses with skill, I expect to manage
other horses also with skill."

8. "Be it so," said Critobulus; "but by what means
must we make a friend of him who appears to us worthy
of our friendship?" "In the first place," answered
Socrates, "we must consult the gods, whether they
recommend us to make him our friend." "Can you tell
me, then," said Critobulus, "how he, who appears
eligible to us, and whom the gods do not disapprove,
is to be secured? " 9. "Assuredly," returned Socrates,
"he is not to be caught by tracking him like the hare, or
by wiles, like birds, or by making him prisoner by force,
like enemies ; for it would be an arduous task to make
a man your friend against his will, or to hold him fast
if you were to bind him like a slave ; for those who
suffer such treatment are rendered enemies rather than
fri-ends." 10. "How then are men made friends?"
inquired Critobulus. "They say that there are certain
incantations, which those who know them, chant to

58 Xenophon

whomsoever they please, and thus make them their
friends ; and that there are also love-potions, which
those who know them, administer to whomsoever they
will, and are in consequence beloved by them."
ii. "And how can we discover these charms? " "You
have heard from Homer the song which the Sirens sung
to Ulysses, the commencement of which runs thus :

* Come hither, much-extolled Ulysses, great glory of the Greeks."*

"Did the Sirens then, by singing this same song to
other men also, detain them so that they were charmed
and could not depart from them ? " " No ; but they
sang thus to those who were desirous of being honoured
for virtue." 12. "You seem to mean that we ought to
apply as charms to any person, such commendations
as, when he hears them, he will not suspect that his
eulogist utters to ridicule him ; for, if he conceived
such a suspicion, he would rather be rendered an enemy,
and would repel men from him ; as, for instance, if a
person were to praise as beautiful, and tall, and strong,
one who is conscious that he is short, and deformed,
and weak.

"But," added Critobulus, "do you know any other
charms?" 13. "No," said Socrates, "but I have
heard that Pericles knew many, which he used to chant
to <jthe city, and make it love him." "And how did
Themistocles make the city love him ? " " Not, by
Jupiter, by uttering charms to it, but by conferring on
it some advantage." 14. "You appear to me to mean,
Socrates, that if we would attach to us any good person
as a friend, we ourselves should be good both in speak-
ing and acting." "And did you think it possible,"
said Socrates, "for a bad person to attach to himself
good men as his friends? " 15. "I have seen," rejoined
Critobulus, "bad orators become friends to good
orators, and men bad at commanding an army become
friends to men eminently good in the military art." 16.
"Do you, then," said Socrates, "regarding the subject
of which we are speaking, know any persons, who,
being themselves useless, can make useful persons their
friends?*' "No, by Jupiter," replied Critobulus; "but

Memorabilia of Socrates 59

if it is impossible for a worthless person to attach to
himself good and honourable friends, then tell me this,
whether it is possible for one who is himself honourable
and good, to become, with ease, a friend to the honour-
able and good." 17. "What perplexes you, Critobulus,
is, that you often see men who are honourable in their
conduct, and who refrain from everything disgraceful,
involved, instead of being friends, in dissensions with
one another, and showing more severity towards each
other than the worthless part of mankind." 18. "Nor
is it only private persons," rejoined Critobulus, "that
act in this manner, but even whole communities, which
have the greatest regard for what is honourable, and
are least inclined to anything disgraceful, are often
hostilely disposed towards one another.

19. "When I reflect on these things," continued
Critobulus, " I am quite in despair about the acquisition
of friends ; for I see that the bad cannot be friends with
one another ; for how can the ungrateful, or careless, or
avaricious, or faithless, or intemperate, be friends to
each other? indeed the bad appear to me to be alto-
gether disposed by nature to be mutual enemies rather
than friends. 20. Again, the bad, as you observe, can
never harmonise in friendship with the good; for how
can those who commit bad actions be friends with those
who abhor such actions? And yet, if those also who
practise virtue fall into dissensions with one another
about pre-eminence in their respective communities,
and, being zealous of their own 'interests,* even hate
each other, who will ever be friends, or among what
class of mankind shall affection and attachment be
found?" 21. "But these affections act in various
ways," rejoined Socrates, "for men have by nature
inclinations to attachment, since they stand in need of
each other, and feel compassion for each other, and
co-operate for mutual benefit, and, being conscious that
such is the case, have a sense of gratitude towards one
another ; but they have also propensities to enmity, for
such as think the same objects honourable and desir-
able, engage in contention for them, and, divided in
feelings, become enemies. Disputation and anger lead

60 Xenophon

to war; avarice excites ill-will; and envy is followed
by hatred. 22. But, nevertheless, friendship, insinuat-
ing itself through all these hindrances, unites together
the honourable and good; for such characters, through
affection for virtue, prefer the enjoyment of a moderate
competency without strife, to the attainment of
unlimited power by means of war; they can endure
hunger and thirst without discontent, and take only a
fair share of meat and drink, and, though delighted
with the attractions of youthful beauty, they can control
themselves, so as to forbear from offending those whom
they ought not to offend. 23. By laying aside all
avaricious feelings too, they can not only be satisfied
with their lawful share of the common property, but
can even assist one another. They can settle their
differences, not only without mutual offence, but even
to their mutual benefit. They can prevent their anger
from going so far as to cause them repentance ; and
envy they entirely banish, by sharing their own property
with their friends, and considering that of their friends
as their own.

24. "How, then, can it be otherwise than natural,
that the honourable and good should be sharers in
political distinctions, not only without detriment, but
even with advantage, to each other? Those indeed who
covet honour and office in states, merely that they may
have power to embezzle money, to do violence to others,
and to live a life of luxury, must be regarded as unprin-
cipled and abandoned characters, and incapable of
harmonious union with other men. 25. But when a
person wishes to attain honours in a community, in
order, not merely that he may not suffer wrong himself,
but that he may assist his friends as far as is lawful,
and may endeavour, in his term of office, to do some
service to his country, why should he not, being of such
a character, form a close union with another of similar
character? Will he be less able to benefit his friends if
he unite himself with the honourable and good, or will
he be less able to serve his country if he have the
honourable and good for his colleagues? 26. In the
public games, indeed, it is plain, that if the strongest

Memorabilia of Socrates 61

were allowed to unite and attack the weaker, they would
conquer in all the contests, and carry off all the prizes ;
and accordingly people do not permit them, in those
competitions, to act in such a manner; but since, in
political affairs, in which honourable and good men rule,
no one hinders another from serving his country in
concert with whomsoever he pleases, how can it be
otherwise than profitable for him to conduct affairs with
the best men as his friends, having these as colleagues
and co-operators, rather than antagonists, in his pro-
ceedings? 27. It is evident, too, that if one man com-
mences hostilities against another, he will need allies,
and will need a greater number of them, if he oppose
the honourable and good ; and those who consent to be
his allies must be well treated by him, that they may be
zealous in his interests ; and it is much better for him to
serve the best characters, who are the fewer, than the
inferior, who are more numerous ; for the bad require
far more favours than the good. 28. But strive with
good courage, Critobulus," he continued, "to be good
yourself, and, having become so, endeavour to gain the
friendship of men of honour and virtue. Perhaps I
myself also may be able to assist you in this pursuit of
the honourable and virtuous, from being naturally
disposed to love, for, for whatever persons I conceive
a liking, I devote myself with ardour, and with my
whole mind, to love them, and be loved in return by
them, regretting their absence to have mine regretted
by them, and longing for their society while they on
the other hand long for mine. 29. I know that you also
must cultivate such feelings, whenever you desire to
form a friendship with any person. Do not conceal
from my knowledge, therefore, the persons to -whom
you may wish to become a friend; for, from my care-
fulness to please those who please me, I do not think
that I am unskilled in the art of gaining men's
affections."

30. "Indeed, Socrates," replied Critobulus, "I have
long desired to receive such instructions as yours, espe-
cially if the same knowledge will help me in regard to
those who are amiable in mind, and handsome in

62 Xenophon

person." 31. "But, Critobulus," replied Socrates,
"there is nothing in the knowledge that I communicate
to make those who are handsome in person endure him
who lays hands upon them ; for I am persuaded that
men shrunk from Scylla because she offered to put her
hands on them ; while every one, they say, was ready to
listen to the Sirens, and were enchanted as they listened,
because they laid hands on no one, but sang to all men
from a distance." 32. "On the understanding, then,
that I shall lay my hands on no one," said Critobulus,
"tell me if you know any effectual means for securing
friends." " But will you never," asked Socrates, "apply
your lips to theirs? " " Be of good courage, Socrates,"
said Critobulus, "for I will never apply my lips to those
of any person, unless that person be beautiful." "You
have now said," rejoined Socrates, "the exact contrary
to what will promote your object ; for the beautiful
will not allow such liberties, though the deformed
submit to them with pleasure, thinking that they are
accounted beautiful for their mental qualities." 33. "As
I shall caress the beautiful, then," said Critobulus,
"and caress the good, teach me, with confidence, the
art of attaching my friends to me." "When, therefore,
Critobulus," said Socrates, "you wish to become a
friend to any one, will you permit me to say to him
concerning you, that you admire him, and desire to be
his friend? " "You may say so," answered Critobulus,
"for I have never known any one dislike those who
praised him." 34. "But if I say of you, in addition,
that, because you admire him, you feel kindly disposed
towards him, will you not think that false information
is given of you by me?" "No: for a kind feeling
springs up in myself also towards those whom I regard
as kindly disposed towards me." 35. "Such informa-
tion, then," continued Socrates, "I may communicate
regarding you to such as you may wish to make your
friends ; but if you enable me also to say concerning
you, that you are attentive to your friends ; that you
delight in nothing so much as in the possession of good
friends ; that you pride yourself on the honourable con-
duct of your friends not less than on your own ; that you

Memorabilia of Socrates 63

rejoice at the good fortune of your friends not less than
at your own ; that you are never weary of contriving*
means by which good fortune may come to your friends ;
and that you think it the great virtue of a man to sur-
pass his friends in doing* them good and his enemies in
doing them harm, I think that I shall be a very useful
assistant to you in gaining the affections of worthy
friends." 36. "But why," said Critobulus, "do you
say this to me, as if you were not at liberty to say of
me anything you please?" "No, by Jupiter," replied
Socrates ; " I have no such liberty, according to a
remark that I once heard from Aspasia ; for she said
that skilful match-makers, by reporting with truth good
points of character, had great influence in leading people
to form unions, but that those who said what was false,
did no good by their praises, for that such as were
deceived hated each other and the match-maker alike ;
and as I am persuaded that this opinion is correct, I
think that I ought not to say, when I praise you, any-
thing that I cannot utter with truth." 37. "You are,
therefore," returned Critobulus, "a friend of such a
kind to me, Socrates, as to assist me, if I have myself
any qualities adapted to gain friends ; but if not, you
would not be willing to invent anything to serve me."
"And whether, Critobulus," said Socrates, "should I
appear to serve you more by extolling you with false
praises, or by persuading you to endeavour to become a
truly deserving man? 38. If this point is not clear to
you, consider it with the following- illustrations : If,
wishing to make the owner of a ship your friend, I
should praise you falsely to him, pronouncing you a
skilful pilot, and he, believing me, should intrust his
ship to you to steer when you are incapable of steering
it, would you have any expectation that you would not
destroy both yourself and the ship? Or if, by false
representations, I should persuade the state, publicly,
to intrust itself to you as a man skilled in military
tactics, in judicial proceedings, or in political affairs,
what do you think that yourself and the state would
suffer at your hands? Or if, in private intercourse, I
should induce any of the citizens, by unfounded state-

64 Xenophon

ments, to commit their property to your care, as being
a diligent manager, would you not, when you came to
give proof of your abilities, be convicted of dishonesty,
and make yourself appear ridiculous? 39. But the
shortest, and safest, and best way, Critobulus, is, to
strive to be really good in that in which you wish to be
thought good. Whatever are called virtues among
mankind, you will find, on consideration, capable of
being increased by study and exercise. I am of opinion,
that it is in accordance with these sentiments, that we
ought to endeavour to acquire friends ; if you know any
other way, make me acquainted with it." "I should be
indeed ashamed, " replied Critobulus, u to say anything
in opposition to such an opinion ; for I should say what
was neither honourable nor true."

CHAPTER VII

Socrates endeavoured to alleviate the necessities of his friends by
his instructions, and by exhorting them to assist each other.
In this chapter it is particularly shown that any person of
liberal education may, when oppressed by poverty, honourably
use his talents and accomplishments for his support.

j. SUCH difficulties of his friends as arose from ignor-
ance, he endeavoured to remedy by his counsel ; such as
sprung from poverty, by admonishing them to assist
each other according to their means. With reference
to this point, I will relate what I know of him.

Observing Aristarchus, on one occasion, looking
gloomily, "You seem," said he, "Aristarchus, to be
taking something to heart; but you ought to impart
the cause of your uneasiness to your friends ; for per-
haps we may by some means lighten it." 2. "I am
indeed, Socrates," replied Aristarchus, "in great per-
plexity; for since the city has been disturbed, and many
of our people have fled to the Pirseeus, my surviving
sisters, and nieces, and cousins have gathered about
me in such numbers, that there are now in my house
fourteen free-born persons. At the same time, we
receive no profit from our lands, for the enemy are in

Memorabilia of Socrates 65

possession of them ; nor any rent from our houses, for
but few inhabitants are left in the city ; no one will buy
our furniture, nor is it possible to borrow money from
any quarter ; a person, indeed, as it seems to me, would
sooner find money by seeking it on the road, than get
it by borrowing. It is a grievous thing to me, therefore,
to leave my relations to perish ; and it is impossible for
me to support such a number under such circum-
stances." 3. Socrates, on hearing this, replied, "And
how is it that Ceramon, yonder, though maintaining a
great number of people, is not only able to procure what
is necessary for himself and them, but gains so much
more, also, as to be positively rich, while you, having
many to support, are afraid lest you should all perish
for want of necessaries?" "Because, assuredly,"
replied Aristarchus, "he maintains slaves, while I have
to support free-born persons." 4. "And which of the
two," inquired Socrates, "do you consider to be the
better, the free-born persons that are with you, or the
slaves that are with Ceramon?" "I consider the free
persons with me as the better." "Is it not then a dis-
grace that he should gain abundance by means of the
inferior sort, and that you should be in difficulties while
having with you those of the better class ? " " Such
certainly is the case ; but it is not at all wonderful ; for
he supports artisans; but I, persons of liberal educa-
tion." 5. "Artisans, then," asked Socrates, "are per-
sons that know how to make something useful? "
"Unquestionably," replied Aristarchus. "Is barley-
meal, then, useful?" "Very." "Is bread?" "Not
less so." "And are men's and women's garments,
coats, cloaks, and mantles, useful?" "They are all
extremely useful." "And do those who are residing
with you, then, not know how to make any of these
things?" "They know how to make them all, as I
believe." 6. "And are you not aware that from the
manufacture of one of these articles, that of barley-
meal, Nausicydes supports not only himself and his
household, but a great number of swine and oxen
besides, and gains, indeed, so much more than he
wants, that he often even assists the government with

66 Xenophon

his money? Are you not aware that Cyrebus, by
making bread, maintains his whole household, and lives
luxuriously ; that Demea, of Collytus, supports himself
by making cloaks, Menon by making woollen cloaks,
and that most ~ of the Megarians live by making
mantles? " "Certainly they do," said Aristarchus ; "for
they purchase barbarian slaves and keep them, in order
to force them to do what they please ; but I have with
me free-born persons and relatives." 7. "Then,"
added Socrates, "because they are free and related to
you, do you think that they ought to do nothing else
but eat and sleep? Among other free persons, do you
see that those who live thus spend their time more
pleasantly, and do you consider them happier, than
those who practise the arts which they know, and which
are useful to support life? Do you find that idleness
and carelessness are serviceable to mankind, either for
learning what it becomes them to know, or for remem-
bering what they have learned, or for maintaining the
health and strength of their bodies, or for acquiring and
preserving what is useful for the support of life, and
that industry and diligence are of no service at all?
8. And as to the arts which you say they know, whether
did they learn them as being useless to maintain life,
and with the intention of never practising any of them,
or, on the contrary, with a view to occupy themselves
about them, and to reap profit from them ? In which
condition will men be more temperate, living in idle-
ness, or attending to useful employments? In which
condition will they be more honest, if they work, or if
they sit in idleness meditating how to procure neces-
saries? 9. Under present circumstances, as I should
suppose, you neither feel attached to your relatives, nor
they to you, for you find them burdensome to you, and
they see that you are annoyed with their company.
From such feelings there is danger that dislike may
grow stronger and stronger, and that previous friendly
inclinations may be diminished. But if you take them
under your direction, so that they may be employed,
you will love them, when you see that they are service-
able to you, and they will grow attached to you, when

Memorabilia of Socrates 67

they find that you feel satisfaction in their society ; and
remembering past services with greater pleasure, you
will increase the friendly feeling resulting from them,
and consequently grow more attached and better dis-
posed towards each other. 10. If, indeed, they were
going to employ themselves in anything dishonourable,
death would be preferable to it ; but the accomplish-
ments which they know, are, as it appears, such as are
most honourable and becoming to women ; and all people
execute what they know with the greatest ease and
expedition, and with the utmost credit and pleasure. Do
not hesitate, therefore," concluded Socrates, "to recom-
mend to them this line of conduct, which will benefit
both you and them ; and they, as it is probable, will
cheerfully comply with your wishes." n. " By the
gods," exclaimed Aristarchus, "you seem to me to give
such excellent advice, Socrates, that though hitherto
I did not like to borrow money, knowing that, when I
had spent what I got, I should have no means of repay-
ing it, I now think that I can endure to do so, in order
to gain the necessary means for commencing work."

12. The necessary means were accordingly provided;
wool was bought ; and the women took their dinners
as they continued at work, and supped when they had
finished their tasks ; they became cheerful instead of
gloomy jn countenance, and, instead of regarding each
other with dislike, met the looks of one another with
pleasure ; they loved Aristarchus as their protector, and
he loved them as being of use to him. At last he came
to Socrates, and told him with delight of the state of
things in his house : adding that " the women complained
of him as being the only person in the house that ate
the bread of idleness." 13. "And do you not tell them,"
said Socrates, "the fable of the dog? For they say that
when beasts had the faculty of speech, the sheep said
to her master, * You act strangely, in granting nothing
to us who supply you with wool, and lambs, and cheese,
except what we get from the ground ; while to the dog,
who brings you no such profits, you give a share of the
food which you take yourself.' 14. The dog, hearing
these remarks, said, * Yes, by Jove, for I am he that

68 Xenophon

protects even yourselves, so that you are neither stolen
by men, nor carried off by wolves; while, if I were
not to guard you, you would be unable even to feed,
for fear lest you should be destroyed. ' In consequence
it is said that the sheep agreed that the dog should
have superior honour. You, accordingly, tell your
relations that you are, in the place of the dog, their
guardian and protector, and that, by your means, they
work and live in security and pleasure, without suffer-
ing injury from any one."

CHAPTER VIII

Socrates persuades Eutherus, who was working for hire, to seek
some more eligible employment, as his present occupation
was not suited for old age, and recommends to him the post
of steward to some rich man. An objection on the part of
Eutherus, that he should dislike to have to render an account
to a master, Socrates opposes with the remark that there is no
office in the world free from responsibility.

1. SEEING an old friend one day, after a considerable
interval of time, he said, "Whence do you come,
Eutherus? " " I am returned, Socrates,' 1 replied Euthe-
rus, " from my retirement abroad at the conclusion of the
war ; and I come now from the immediate neighbour-
hood ; for since we were robbed of all our possessions
beyond the borders, and my father left me nothing in
Attica, I am obliged to live in the city and work with
my own hands to procure the necessaries of life ; but
this seems to me better than to ask aid of anybody,
especially as I have nothing on which I could borrow."

2. "And how long," said Socrates, "do you think that
your body is able to work for hire? " " Not very long,
by Jupiter," replied Eutherus. "Then," said Socrates,
"when you grow older, you will doubtless be in want
of money for your expenses, and no one will be willing
to give you wages for your bodily labour." " What you
say is true," rejoined Eutherus. 3. " It will be better
for you, therefore," continued Socrates, "to apply your-
self immediately to some employment which will main-

Memorabilia of Socrates 69

tain you when you are old, and, attaching yourself to
some one of those that have larger fortunes (who re-
quires a person to assist him), and, superintending his
works, helping to gather in his fruits, and preserve his
property, to benefit him, and to be benefited by him in
return. " 4. "I should with great reluctance, Socrates,*'
said he, "submit to slavery. " "Yet those who have the
superintendence in states, and who take care of the
public interests, are not the more like slaves on that
account, but are thought to have more of the free-man."
5. " In a word, however," rejoined Eutherus, " I am not
at all willing to make myself responsible to any one."
"But assuredly, Eutherus," said Socrates, "it is not
very easy to find an employment in which a person
would not be responsible; for it is difficult to do any-
thing so as to commit no error ; and it is difficult, even
if you have done it without error, to meet with a con-
siderate judge ; for even in the occupation in which you
are now engaged I should wonder if it be easy for you
to go through it without blame. 6. But you must en-
deavour to avoid such employers as are given to cen-
sure, and seek such as are candid ; to undertake such
duties as you are able to do, and to decline such as you
cannot fulfil; and to execute whatever you take upon
you in the best manner and with the utmost zeal; for
I think that, by such conduct, you will be least exposed
to censure, you will most readily find assistance in time
of need, and you will live with the greatest ease and
freedom from danger, and with the best provision for
old age."

CHAPTER IX

Crito, a rich man, complaining that' he is harassed by informers,
Socrates recommends him to secure the services of Archide-
mus, a poor man well skilled in the law, to defend him against
them ; a plan by which both are benefited. Archidemus also
assists others, and gains both reputation and emolument.

i. I KNOW that he also heard Crito once observe, how
difficult it was for a man who wished to mind his own

70 Xenophon

business to live at Athens. "For at this ^ very time,"
added he, "there are people bringing actions against
me, not because they have suffered any wrong from
me, but because they think that I would rather pay
them a sum of money than have the trouble of law pro-
ceedings." 2. "Tell me, Crito," said Socrates, "do
you not keep dogs, that they may drive away the wolves
from your sheep? " "Certainly," answered Crito, "for
it is more profitable to me to keep them than not."
"Would you not then be inclined to keep a man also,
who would be willing and able to drive away from you
those that try to molest you?" "I would with plea-
sure," returned Crito, "if I were not afraid that he
would turn against me." 3. " But do you not see," said
Socrates, "that it would be much more pleasant for him
to serve himself by gratifying such a man as you than
by incurring your enmity. And be assured that there
are such characters here, who would be extremely
ambitious to have you for a friend."

4. In consequence of this conversation, they fixed
upon Archidemus, a man of great ability both in speak-
ing and acting, but poor ; for he was not of a character
to make money by every means, but was a lover of
honesty, too noble to take money from the informers.
Crito, therefore, whenever he gathered in his corn, or
oil, or wine, or wool, or anything else that grew on
his land, used to select a portion of it, and give it to
Archidemus ; and used to invite him whenever he sacri-
ficed, and paid him attention in every similar way. 5.
Archidemus, accordingly, thinking that Crito's house
would be a place of refuge for him, showed him much
respect, and quickly discovered, on the part of Crito's
accusers, many illegal acts, and many persons who
were enemies to those accusers, (one of) whom he sum-
moned to a public trial, in which it would be settled
what he should suffer or pay. 6. This person, being
conscious of many crimes, tried every means to get out
of the hands of Archidemus; but Archidemus would
not let him off, until he ceased to molest Crito, and gave
himself a sum of money besides.

7. When Archidemus had succeeded in this and

Memorabilia of Socrates 71

some other similar proceeding's, then, as when any
shepherd has a good dog, other shepherds wish 'to
station their flocks near him, in order to have the benefit
of his dog, so likewise many of the friends of Crito
begged him to lend them the services of Archidemus as
a protector. 8. Archidemus willingly gratified Crito
in this respect, and thus not only Crito himself was left
at peace, but his friends. And if any of those with
whom he was at variance taunted him with receiving
favours from Crito, and paying court to him, Archide-
mus would ask, " whether is it disgraceful to be bene-
fited by honest men, and to make them your friends
by serving them in return, and to be at variance with
the unprincipled, or to make the honourable and good
your enemies by trying to wrong them, and to make the
bad your friends by co-operating with them, and asso-
ciate with the vicious instead of the virtuous ? " From
this time Archidemus was one of Crito's friends, and
was honoured by the other friends of Crito.

CHAPTER X

Socrates exhorts Diodorus, a rich man, to aid his friend Hermo-
genes, who is in extreme poverty. A man endfeavours to
preserve the life of a slave, and ought surely to use greater
exertions to save a friend, who will well repay our kindness.

i. I AM aware that he also held a conversation with
Diodorus, one of his followers, to the following effect.
"Tell me, Diodorus," said he, "if one of your slaves
runs away, do you use any care to recover him? " 2.
"Yes, indeed," answered he, "and I call others to my
aid, by offering rewards for capturing him." "And if
any of your slaves falls ill," continued Socrates, "do
you pay any attention to him, and call in medical men,
that he may not die? " "Certainly," replied the other.
And if any one of your friends, who is far more
valuable to you than all your slaves, is in danger of
perishing of want, do you not think that it becomes
you to take care of him, that his life may be saved?
3. But you are not ignorant that Hermogenes is not

72 Xenophon

ungrateful, and would be ashamed, if, after being
assisted by you, he were not to serve you in return ; and
indeed to secure such a supporter as him, willing, well-
disposed, steady, and not only able to do what he is
directed, but capable of being useful of himself, and of
taking forethought, and forming plans for you, I con-
sider equivalent to the value of many slaves. 4. Good
economists say that you ought to buy, when you can
purchase for a little what is worth much ; but now, in
consequence of the troubled state of affairs, it is possible
to obtain good friends at a very easy rate." 5. "You
say well, Socrates, " rejoined Diodorus ; "and therefore
tell Hermogenes to come to me." "No, by Jupiter/'
said Socrates, "I shall not; for I think it not so
honourable for you to send for him as to go yourself
to him; nor do I consider it a greater benefit to him
than to you that this intercourse should take place.'*
6. Diodorus accordingly went to Hermogenes, and
secured, at no great expense, a friend who made it his
business to consider by what words or deeds he could
profit or please Diodorus.

BOOK III

CHAPTER I

Socrates used to exhort those who aspired to public offices to learn
the duties that would be required in them. The duties of a
military commander, and his responsibilities, sect. 1-5. He
must know many things besides military tactics, 6-11.

i. I WILL now show that Socrates was of great service
to those who aspired to posts of honour, by rendering
them attentive to the duties of the offices which they
sought.

Having heard that Dionysodorus had arrived at the
city, offering to teach the art of a general, he said to
one of those who were with him, whom he observed
to be desirous of obtaining that honour in the state, 2.
"It is indeed unbecoming, young man, that he who

Memorabilia of Socrates 73

wishes to be commander of an army in his country
should neglect to learn the duties of that office when
he has an opportunity of learning them ; and such a
person would be far more justly punished by his country
than one who should contract to make statues (for it),
when he had not learned to make them ; 3. for as the
whole state, in the perils of war, is intrusted to the care
of the general, it is likely that great advantages will
occur if he act well, and great evils if he fall into error.
How, then, would not he, who neglects to learn the
duties of the office, while he is eager to be elected to it,
be deservedly punished?" By making such observa-
tions, he induced the young man to go and learn.

4. When, after having learned, he returned to So-
crates again, he began to joke upon him, saying, " Since
Homer, my friends, has represented Agamemnon as
dignified, does not this young man, after learning to be
a general, seem to you to look more dignified than
before? For as he who has learned to play the lyre
is a lyrist, though he may not use the instrument, and
he who has learned the art of healing is a physician,
though he may not practise his art, so this youth will
from henceforth be a general, though no one may elect
him to command ; but he who wants the proper know-
ledge is neither general nor physician, even though he
be chosen to act as such by all the people in the world.
5. But," he continued, "in order that we may have a
better knowledge of the military art, in case any one
of us should have to command a troop or company
under you, tell us how he began to teach you general-
ship? " "He began," replied the youth, "with the
same thing with which he ended ; for he taught me
tactics, and nothing else." 6. "But," said Socrates,
"how small a part of the qualifications of a general is
this ! For a general must be skilful in preparing what
is necessary for war, able in securing provisions for his
troops, a man of great contrivance and activity, careful,
persevering, and sagacious; kind, and yet severe; open,
yet crafty; careful of his own, yet ready to steal from
others ; profuse, yet rapacious ; lavish of presents, yet
eager to acquire monev: cautious, yet enterprising; and
II D 457

74 Xenophon

many other qualities there are, both natural and ac-
quired, which he, who would fill the office of general
with ability, must possess. 7. It is good, indeed, to be
skilled in tactics; for a well-arranged army is very
different from a disorderly one; as stones and bricks,
wood and tiles, if thrown together in confusion, are of
no use whatever; but when the stones and tiles, mate-
rials not likely to rot or decay, are placed at the bottom
and the top, and the bricks and wood are arranged in
the middle (as in building), a house, which is a valuable
piece of property, is formed." 8. "What you have
said, Socrates," rejoined the youth, "is an exact illus-
tration of our practice ; for in the field of battle we must
place the bravest troops in the front and rear, and the
cowardly in the middle, that they may be led on by those
before them, and pushed forward by those behind." 9.
" If indeed he has taught you to distinguish the brave
and cowardly," rejoined Socrates, u that rule may be
of use; but if not, what profit is there in what you have
learned? for if he ordered you, in arranging a number
of coins, to lay the best first and last, and the worst in
the middle, and gave you no instructions how to distin-
guish the good and bad, his orders to you would be to
no purpose." "But indeed," he replied, "he did not
teach me this ; so that we must distinguish the brave
from the cowardly ourselves." 10. "Why should we
not consider then," said Socrates, "how we may avoid
mistakes as to that matter? " " I am willing," returned
the young man. " If then we had to capture a sum of
money, and were to place the most covetous men in
front, should we not arrange them properly?" "It
appears so to me." "And what must generals do when
entering on a perilous enterprise? Must they not place
the most ambitious in front?" "They at least," said
the young man, "are those who are ready to brave
danger for the sake of praise ; and they are by no
means difficult to discover, but will be everywhere con-
spicuous and easy to be selected." u. "But did your
instructor," inquired Socrates, "teach you to arrange
an army, merely, or did he tell you in what direction,
and in what manner, you must employ each division of

Memorabilia of Socrates 75

your forces?" "Not at all," replied he. "Yet there
are many occasions, on which it is not proper to draw
up an army, or to conduct it, in the same way." " But,
by Jupiter, he gave me no explanation as to such occa-
sions." "Go again, then, by all means," said So-
crates, "and question him; for if he knows, and is not
quite shameless, he will blush, after taking your money,
to send you away in ignorance."

CHAPTER II

A good general ought to take measures for the safety, main-
tenance, and success of his troops ; and not to study his own
honour alone, but that of his whole army.

i. HAVING met, on some occasion, a person who^had
been elected general, Socrates said to him, " Why is it,
do you think, that Homer has styled Agamemnon
1 Shepherd of the people '? Is it not for this reason,
that as a shepherd must be careful that his sheep be
safe, and have food, so a general must take care that
his soldiers be safe, and have provisions, and that the
object be effected for which they serve? and they serve,
no doubt, that they may increase their gratifications by
conquering the enemy. 2. Or why has he praised Aga-
memnon in the following manner, saying that he was
Both characters, a good king, and an efficient warrior?

Does he not mean that he would not have been ' an
efficient warrior/ if he had fought courageously alone
against the enemy, and if he had not been the cause of
courage to his whole army ; and that he would not have
been * a good king,' if he had attended to his own sub-
sistence only, and had not been the cause of comfort
to those over whom he ruled? 3. For a man is chosen
king, not that he may take good care of himself, but
that those who have chosen him may prosper by his
means; and all men, when they take the field, take it
that their lives may be rendered as happy as possible,
and choose generals that they may conduct them to the
accomplishment of that object. 4. It is incumbent on

76 Xenophon

the leader of an army, therefore, to render this to those
who have chosen him their leader. Nor is it easy to
find anything more honourable than such exertion, or
more disgraceful than an opposite course of conduct."

Thus considering what was the merit of a good
leader, he omitted other points in his character, and
left only this, that he should render those whom he com-
manded happy.

CHAPTER III

The duty of a commander of cavalry is twofold, to improve the
condition both of his men and his horses ; and' not to leave
the care of the horses to the troops, sect. 1-4. How he
should train his men, and how he should be himself qualified
to do so, 5-10. He should acquire oratorical power, that he
may incite his men to exertion, and fire them with the desire
of glory, 11-14.

i. I REMEMBER that he held a dialogue with a person
who had been chosen Hipparch, to the following pur-
port. "Could you tell me, young man," said he, "with
what object you desired to be a Hipparch? It certainly
was not for the sake of riding first among the cavalry ;
for the horse-archers are honoured with that dignity,
as they ride even before the Hipparchs." "You say
the truth," said the youth. "Nor was it, surely, for
the sake of being noticed, for even madmen are noticed
by everybody." "You say the truth in that respect
also." 2. " But was it, then, that you expect to render
the cavalry better, and present them in that condition to
your country, and that, if there should be need for the
services of cavalry, you hope, as their leader, to be the
author of some advantage to the state? " "I do hope
so, certainly." "And it will be truly honourable to
you," continued Socrates, "if you are able to effect that
object. But the command, to which you have been
chosen, takes charge of both the horses and riders?"
"It does so," said the young man. 3. "Come, then,
tell me this first of all, how you propose to render the
horses better? " "That," replied the other, "I do not

Memorabilia of Socrates 77

consider to be my business ; for I think that each man,
individually, must take care of his own horse." 4. "If,
then," said Socrates, "some of the^men should present
their horses before you so diseased in the feet, so weak
in the legs, or so feeble in body, and others theirs so
ill-fed, that they could not follow you; others, theirs
so unmanageable, that they would not remain where
you posted them ; others, theirs so vicious that it would
not be possible to post them at all ; what would be the
use of such cavalry to you? Or how would you be
able, at the head of them, to be of any service to your
country?" "You admonish me well," said the youth,
"and I will try to look to the horses as far as may be
in my power." 5. "And will you not also endeavour,"
asked Socrates, "to make the riders better? " " I will,"
said he. "You will first of all, then, make them more
expert in mounting their horses." "I ought to do so;
for if any of them should fall off, they would thus be
better prepared to recover themselves." 6. "If, then,"
said Socrates, "you should be obliged to hazard an en-
gagement, whether will you order your men to bring
the enemy down to the level sand on which you have
been accustomed to ride, or will you try to exercise
them on such ground as that on which the enemy may
show themselves?" "The latter method will be the
better," said the young man. 7. "Will you also take
any care that the greatest possible number of your men
may be able to hurl the dart on horseback? " "That
will be better too," replied he. "And have you con-
sidered how to whet the courage of your cavalry, which
makes them more courageous, and animate them
against the enemy? " "If I have not yet considered,"
said he, " I will now try to do so." 8. "And have you
at all considered how your cavalry may be induced to
obey you? For without obedience you will have no
profit either from horses or horsemen, spirited and
valiant as they may be." "You say the truth, So-
crates," said he; "but by what means can a leader most
effectually induce them to obedience?" 9. "You are
doubtless aware that in all circumstances men most
willingly obey those whom they consider most able to

78 Xenophon

direct ; for in sickness patients obey him whom they
think the best physician ; on ship-board, the passengers
obey him whom they think the best pilot, and in agri-
culture, people obey him whom they deem the best hus-
bandman. " "Unquestionably," said the young man.
"Is it not then likely, " said Socrates, "that in horse-
manship also, others will be most willing to obey him
who appears to know best what he ought to do? " 10.
" If, therefore, Socrates, I should myself appear the best
horseman among them, will that circumstance be suf-
ficient to induce them to obey me? " "If you convince
them in addition," said Socrates, "that it is better and
safer for them to obey you." "How, then, shall I
convince them of that? " "With much more ease," re-
plied Socrates, "than if you had to convince them that
bad things are better and more profitable than good."
ii. "You mean," said the young man, "that a com-
mander of cavalry, in addition to his other qualifica-
tions, should study to acquire some ability in speaking."
"And did you think," asked Socrates, "that you would
command cavalry by silence? Have you not reflected,
that whatever excellent principles we have learned ac-
cording to law, principles by which we know how to
live, we learned all through the medium of speech ; and
that whatever other valuable instruction any person
acquires, he acquires it by means of speech likewise?
Do not those who teach best, use speech most ; and
those who know the most important truths, discuss
them with the greatest eloquence? 12. Or have you
not observed, that when a band of dancers and
musicians is formed from this city, as that, for instance,
which is sent to Delos, no one from any other quarter
can compete with it ; and that in no other city is manly
grace shown by numbers of people like that which is
seen here?" "What you say is true," said he. 13.
" But it is not so much in sweetness of voice, or in size
and strength of body, that the Athenians excel other
people, as in ambition, which is the greatest incitement
to whatever is honourable and noble." "This also is
true," said he. 14. "Do you not think, then," said
Socrates, " that if any one should study to improve the

Memorabilia of Socrates 79

cavalry here, the Athenians would excel other people
in that department also (as well in the equipment of
their arms and horses as in the good order of the men,
and in boldly defying danger to encounter the enemy),
if they thought that by such means they would acquire
praise and honour? " "It is probable," said the young
man. "Do not delay, therefore," added Socrates, "but
try to excite your men to those exertions by which you
will both be benefited yourself, and your countrymen
through your means." "I will assuredly try," replied
he.

CHAPTER IV

Nicomachides complaining that the Athenians had not chosen him
general, though he was experienced in war, but Antisthenes,
who had seen no military service, Socrates proceeds to show
that Antisthenes, although he had never filled the office of
commander, might have qualities to indicate that he would
fill it with success.

i. SEEING Nicomachides, one day, coming from the
assembly for the election of magistrates, he asked him,
"Who have been chosen generals, Nicomachides?"
"Are not the Athenians the same as ever, Socrates? "
he replied ; " for they have not chosen me, who am worn
out with serving from the time I was first elected, both
as captain and centurion, and with having received so
many wounds from the enemy (he then drew aside his
robe, and showed the scars of the wounds), but have
elected Antisthenes, who has never served in the heavy-
armed infantry, nor done anything remarkable in the
cavalry, and who indeed knows nothing, but how to
get money." 2. "Is it not good, however, to know
this," said Socrates, "since he will then be able to get
necessaries for the troops? " " But merchants,** replied
Nicomachides, "are able to collect money; and yet
would not, on that account, be capable of leading an
army." 3. "Antisthenes, however," continued Socrates,
"is given to emulation, a quality necessary in a general.
Do you not know that whenever he has been chorus-
manager he has gained the superiority in all his

So Xenophon

choruses? " " But, by Jupiter," rejoined Nicomachides,
" there is nothing similar in managing a chorus and an
army." 4. "Yet Antisthenes," said Socrates, u though
neither skilled in music nor in teaching a chorus, was
able to find out the best masters in these departments.
"In the army, accordingly," exclaimed Nicomachides,
"he will find others to range his troops for him, and
others to fight for him!" 5. "Well, then," rejoined
Socrates, "if he find out and select the best men in
military affairs, as he has done in the conduct of his
choruses, he will probably attain superiority in this
respect also ; and it is likely that he will be more willing
to spend money for a victory in war on behalf of the
whole state, than for a victory with a chorus in behalf
of his single tribe." 6. "Do you say, then, Socrates,"
said he, "that it is in the power of the same man to
manage a chorus well, and to manage an army well? "
"I say," said Socrates, "that over whatever a man may
preside, he will, if he knows what he needs, and is able
to provide it, be a good president, whether he have the
direction of a chorus, a family, a city, or an army."
7. "By Jupiter, Socrates," cried Nicomachides, "I
should never have expected to hear from you that good
managers of a family would also be good generals."
"Come, then," proceeded Socrates, "let us consider
what are the duties of each of them, that we may under-
stand whether they are the same, or are in any respect
different." "By all means," said he. 8. "Is it not,
then, the duty of both," asked Socrates, "to render
those under their command obedient and submissive to
them? " "Unquestionably." "Is it not also the duty
of both to appoint fitting persons to fulfil the various
duties?" "That is also unquestionable." "To punish
the bad, and to honour the good, too, belongs, I think,
to each of them." "Undoubtedly." 9. "And is it not
honourable in both to render those under them well-
disposed towards them?" "That also is certain."
"And do you think it for the interest of both to gain
for themselves allies and auxiliaries or not?" "It
assuredly is for their interest." "Is it not proper for
both also to be careful of their resources?" "Assur-

Memorabilia of Socrates 81

edly." "And is it not proper for both, therefore, to be
attentive and industrious in their respective duties? "
10. "All these particulars," said Nicomachides, "are
common alike to both ; but it is not common to both to
fight." "Yet both have doubtless enemies," rejoined
Socrates. "That is probably the case," said the other.
" Is it not for the interest of both to gain the superiority
over those enemies?" n. "Certainly; but to say
nothing on that point, what, I ask, will skill in
managing a household avail, if it be necessary to
fight?" "It will doubtless, in that case, be of the
greatest avail," said Socrates; "for a good manager
of a house, knowing that nothing is so advantageous
or profitable as to get the better of your enemies when
you contend with them, nothing so unprofitable and
prejudicial as to be defeated, will zealously seek and
provide everything that may conduce to victory, will
carefully watch and guard against whatever tends to
defeat, will vigorously engage if he sees that his force
is likely to conquer, and, what is not the least important
point, will cautiously avoid engaging if he find himself
insufficiently prepared. 12. Do not, therefore, Nico-
machides, ""he added, "despise men skilful in managing
a household ; for the conduct of private affairs differs
from that of public concerns only in magnitude ; in
other respects they are similar ; but what is most to be
observed, is, that neither of them are managed without
men, and that private matters are not managed by one
species of men, and public matters by another; for
those who conduct public business make use of men not
at all differing in nature from those whom the managers
of private affairs employ ; and those who know how to
employ them, conduct either private or public affairs
judiciously, while those who do not know, will err in
the management of both."

II * D 457

82 Xenophon

CHAPTER V

Conversation of Socrates with Pericles the younger on the manner
in which the Athenians might be made to recover their ancient
spirit and ambition. They ought to be reminded of the deeds
of their ancestors, sect. 112 ; and to be taught that indolence
has been the cause of their degeneracy, 13. They ought to
revive the institutions of their forefathers, or imitate those of
the Lacedaemonians, 14 ; and to pay great attention to military
affairs, 15-25. How the territory of Attica might be best
secured against invasion, 26-28.

1. CONVERSING, on one occasion, with Pericles, the son
of the great Pericles, Socrates said, " I have hopes,
Pericles, that under your leadership the city will become
more eminent and famous in military affairs, and will
get the better of her enemies." "I wish, Socrates,"
said Pericles, " that what you say may happen ; but how
such effects are to be produced, I cannot understand."
"Are you willing, then," asked Socrates, "that we
should have some conversation on these points, and con-
sider how far there is a possibility of effecting what
we desire?" "I am quite willing," replied Pericles.

2. "Are you aware, then," said Socrates, "that the
Athenians are not at all inferior in number to the
Boeotians?" "I am," said Pericles. "And whether do
you think that a greater number of efficient and well-
formed men could be selected from the Boeotians, or
from the Athenians? " "The Athenians do not appear
to me to be inferior in this respect." "And which of
the two peoples do you consider to be best disposed
towards each other? " " I think that the Athenians are ;
for many of the Boeotians, being oppressed by the
Thebans, entertain hostile feelings towards them. But
at Athens I see nothing of the kind." 3. "But the
Athenians are moreover of all people most eager for
honour and most friendly in disposition ; qualities
which most effectually impel men to face danger in the
cause of glory and of their country." "The Athenians
are certainly not to be found fault with in these
respects." "And assuredly there is no people that have
a record of greater or more numerous exploits of their

Memorabilia of Socrates 83

ancestors than the Athenians ; a circumstance by which
many are prompted and stimulated to cultivate manly
courage and to become brave." 4. "All that you say
is true, Socrates, but you see that since the slaughter
of the thousand occurred at Lebadeia under Tolmides,
and that at Delium under Hippocrates, the reputation of
the Athenians has been lessened as far as regards the
Boeotians, and the spirit of the Boeotians has been raised
as far as regards the Athenians, so that the Boeotians,
indeed, who formerly did not dare, even on their own
soil, to meet the Athenians in the field without the aid
of the Spartans and other Peloponnesians, now threaten
to invade Attica single-handed ; while the Athenians,
who formerly, when the Boeotians were unsupported,
ravaged Boeotia, are afraid lest the Boeotians should lay
waste Attica." 5. "I perceive, indeed," said Socrates,
" that such is the case ; but the city seems to me now
to be more favourably disposed for any good general ;
for confidence produces in men carelessness, indolence,
and disobedience, but fear renders them more attentive,
obedient, and orderly. 6. You may form a notion of
this from people in a ship ; for as long as they fear
nothing, they are all in disorder, but as soon as they
begin to dread a storm, or the approach of an enemy,
they not only do everything that they are told to do, but
are hushed in silence, waiting for the directions to be
given, like a band of dancers." 7. "Well then," said
Pericles, "if they would now, assuredly, obey, it would
be time for us to discuss how we might incite them to
struggle to regain their ancient spirit, glory, and happi-
ness." 8. "If then," said Socrates, "we wished them
to claim property of which others were in possession,
we should most effectively urge them to lay claim to it,
if we proved that it belonged to their fathers, and was
their rightful inheritance ; and since we wish that they
should strive for pre-eminence in valour, we must show
them that such pre-eminence was indisputably theirs of
oid, and that if they now exert themselves to recover
it. they will be the most powerful of all people."
9. "How, then, can we convince them of this?" "!
think that we may do so, if we remind them that they

84 Xenophon

have heard that their most ancient forefathers, of whom
we have any knowledge, were the bravest of men. 11
io. " Do you allude to the dispute between the gods, of
which Cecrops and his assessors had the decision on
account of their valour?" "I do allude to that, and
to the education and birth of Erechtheus, and the war
which occurred in his time with the people of the whole
adjoining continent, as well as that which was waged
under the Heracleidae against the Peloponnesians, and
all the wars that were carried on under Theseus, in all
of which they showed themselves the bravest people of
their time; u. and also, if you please, to what their
descendants have since done, who lived not long before
our day, not only contending, with their own unassisted
strength, against the lords of all Asia and Europe, as
far as Macedonia (who inherited vast power and wealth
from their ancestors, and who had themselves per-
formed great achievements), but also distinguished
themselves, in conjunction with the Peloponnesians,
both by land and sea. They, doubtless, are celebrated
as having far surpassed other men of their time."
"They are so," said Pericles. 12. " In consequence,
though many migrations occurred in Greece, they
remained in their own country; and many, when con-
tending for their rights, submitted their claims to their
arbitration, while many others, also, when persecuted
by more powerful people, sought refuge with them."
13. "I wonder, indeed, Socrates," said Pericles, "how
our city ever degenerated." " I imagine," said Socrates,
"that as some athletes, owing to being prominent and
distinguished, grow idle, and are left behind by their
antagonists, so likewise the Athenians, after attaining
great pre-eminence, grew neglectful of themselves, and
consequently became degenerate."

14. "By what means, then," said Pericles, "could
they now recover their pristine dignity?" "It appears
to me," replied Socrates, "not at all difficult to discover;
for I think that if they learn what were the practices
of their ancestors, and observe them not less diligently
than they, they will become not at all inferior to them ;
but if they do not take that course, yet, if they imitate

Memorabilia of Socrates 85

those who are now at the head of Greece, adopting the
same principles as they do, and practising the same with
diligence equal to theirs, they will stand not at all below
them, and, if they use greater exertion, even above
them." 15. "You intimate," returned Pericles, "that
honour and virtue are far away from our city ; for when
will the Athenians reverence their elders as the Spartans
do, when they begin, even by their own fathers, to show
disrespect to older men? Or when will they exercise
themselves like them, when they not only are regardless
of bodily vigour, but deride those who cultivate it?
1 6. Or when will they obey the magistrates like them,
when they make it their pride to set them at nought?
Or when will they be of one mind like them, when,
instead of acting in concert for their mutual interests,
they inflict injuries on one another, and envy one another
more than they envy the rest of mankind? More than
any other people, too, do they dispute in their private
and public meetings ; they institute more law-suits
against one another, and prefer thus to prey upon one
another than to unite for their mutual benefit. They
conduct their public affairs as if they were those of a
foreign state ; they contend about the management of
them, and rejoice, above all things, in having power to
engage in such contests. 17. From such conduct much
ignorance and baseness prevail in the republic, and
much envy and mutual hatred are engendered in the
breasts of the citizens ; on which accounts I am con-
stantly in the greatest fear lest some evil should happen
to the state too great for it to bear." 18. "Do not by
any means suppose, Pericles," rejoined Socrates, "that
the Athenians are thus disordered with an incurable
depravity. Do you not see how orderly they are in
their naval proceedings, how precisely they obey the
presidents in the gymnastic games, and how, in the
arrangement of the choruses, they submit to the direc-
tions of their teachers in a way inferior to none? "
19. "This is indeed surprising," said Pericles, "that
men of that class should obey those who are set over
them, and that the infantry and cavalry, who are
thought to excel the ordinary citizens in worth and

86 Xenophon

valour, should be the least obedient of all the people."
20. "The council of the Areopagus, too," said Socrates,
"is it not composed of men of approved character?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Pericles. "And do you know
of any judges who decide causes, and conduct all their
business, with more exact conformity to the laws, or
with more honour and justice? " " I find no fault with
them," said Pericles. "We must not therefore despair,"
said Socrates, " as if we thought that the Athenians are
not inclined to be lovers of order." 21. "Yet in
military affairs," observed Pericles, "in which it is most
requisite to act with prudence, and order, and obedience,
they pay no regard to such duties." "It may be so,"
returned Socrates, "for perhaps in military affairs men
who are greatly deficient in knowledge have the com-
mand of them. Do you not observe that of harp-
players, choristers, dancers, wrestlers, or pancratiasts,
no one ventures to assume the direction who has not the
requisite knowledge for it, but that all, who take the
lead in such matters, are able to show from whom they
learned the arts in which they are masters ; whereas the
most of our generals undertake to command without
previous study? 22. I do not, however, imagine you to
be one of that sort; for I am sensible that you can^tell
when you began to learn generalship not less certainly
than when you began to learn wrestling. I am sure,
too, that you have learned, and keep in mind, many of
your father's principles of warfare, and that you have
collected many others from every quarter whence it was
possible to acquire anything that would add to your
skill as a commander. 23. I have no doubt that you
take great care that you may not unawares be ignorant
of anything conducive to generalship, and that, if you
have ever found yourself deficient in any such matters,
you have applied to persons experienced in them,
sparing neither presents nor civilities, that you might
learn from them what you did not know, and might
render them efficient helpers to you." 24. "You make
me well aware, Socrates," said Pericles, "that you do
not say this from a belief that I have diligently attended
to these matters, but from a wish to convince me that

Memorabilia ol bocrates 87

he who would be a general must attend to all such
studies; and I indeed agree with you in that opinion."
25. "Have you considered this also, Pericles," asked
Socrates, "that on the frontier of our territories lie
great mountains, extending down to Boeotia, through
which there lead into our country narrow and precipi-
tous defiles; and that our country is girded by strong
mountains, as it lies in the midst of them?" "Cer-
tainly," said he. 26. " Have you heard, too, that the
Mysians and Pisidians, who occupy extremely strong
positions in the country of the Great King, and who
are lightly armed, are able to make descents on the
king's territory, and do it great damage, while they
themselves preserve their liberty? " "This, too, I have
heard," said Pericles. 27. "And do you not think that
the Athenians," said Socrates, "if equipped with light
arms while they are of an age for activity, and occupy-
ing the mountains that fence our country, might do
great mischief to our enemies, and form a strong
bulwark for the inhabitants of our country? " " I think,
Socrates," said he, "that all these arrangements would
be useful." 28. "If these plans, then," concluded
Socrates, "appear satisfactory to you, endeavour, my
excellent friend, to act upon them ; for whatsoever of
them you carry into execution, it will be an honour to
yourself and an advantage to the state ; and if you fail
in the attempt for want of power, you will neither
injure the state nor disgrace yourself."

CHAPTER VI

Socrates, by his usual process of interrogation, leads Glaucon, a
young man who was extravagantly desirous of a post in the
government, to confess that he was entirely destitute of the
knowledge necessary for the office to which he aspired. He
then shows that, unless a ruler has acquired an exact know-
ledge of state affairs, he can do no good to his country or
credit to himself.

i. WHEN Glaucon, the son of Ariston, attempted to
harangue the people, from a desire, though he was not

88 Xenophon

yet twenty years of age, to have a share in the govern-
ment of the state, no one of his relatives, or other
friends, could prevent him from getting himself dragged
down from the tribunal, and making himself ridicu-
lous; but Socrates alone, who had a friendly feeling
towards him on account of Charmides the son ^ of
Glaucon, as well as on account of Plato, stopped him.
2. Meeting him by chance, he first stopped him by
addressing him as follows, that he might be willing to
listen to him: " Glaucon," said he, "have you formed
an intention to govern the state for us?" "I have,
Socrates," replied Glaucon. "By Jupiter," rejoined
Socrates, " it is an honourable office, if any other among
men be so; for it is certain that, if you attain your
object, you will be able yourself to secure whatever you
may desire, and will be in a condition to benefit your
friends; you will raise your father's house, and increase
the power of your country ; you will be celebrated, first
of all in your own city, and afterwards throughout
Greece, and perhaps also, like Themistocles, among the
Barbarians; and, wherever you may be, you will be an
object of general admiration." 3. Glaucon, hearing
this, was highly elated, and cheerfully stayed to listen.
Socrates next proceeded to say, "But it is plain,
Glaucon, that if you wish to be honoured, you must
benefit the state." "Certainly," answered Glaucon.
"Then, in the name of the gods," said Socrates, "do
not hide from us, but inform us with what proceeding
you will begin to benefit the state? " 4. But as Glaucon
was silent, as if just considering how he should begin,
Socrates said, "As, if you wished to aggrandise the
family of a friend, you would endeavour to make it
richer, tell me whether you will in like manner also
endeavour to make the state richer?" "Assuredly,"
said he. 5. "Would it then be richer, if its revenues
were increased?" "That is at least probable," said
Glaucon. "Tell me then," proceeded Socrates, "from
what the revenues of the state arise, and what is their
amount; for you have doubtless considered, in order
that if any of them fall short, you may make up the
deficiency, and that if any of them fail, you may procure

Memorabilia of Socrates 89

fresh supplies." " These matters, by Jupiter," replied
Glaucon, "1 have not considered." 6. "Well then,"
said Socrates, "if you have omitted to consider this
point, tell me at least the annual expenditure of the
state; for you undoubtedly mean to retrench whatever
is superfluous in it." "Indeed," replied Glaucon, "I
have not yet had time to turn my attention to that
subject." "We will therefore," said Socrates, "put
off making our state richer for the present; for how is
it possible for him who is ignorant of its expenditure
and its income to manage those matters?" 7. "But,
Socrates," observed Glaucon, "it is possible to enrich
the state at the expense of our enemies." "Extremely
possible indeed," replied Socrates, "if we be stronger
than they ; but if we be weaker, we may lose all that we
have." "What you say is true," said Glaucon.
8. "Accordingly," said Socrates, "he who deliberates
with whom he shall go to war, ought to know the force
both of his own country and of the enemy, so that, if
that of his own country be superior to that of the enemy,
he may advise it to enter upon the war, but, if inferior,
may persuade it to be cautious of doing so." "You say
rightly," said Glaucon. 9. "In the first place, then,"
proceeded Socrates, "tell us the strength of the country
by land and sea, and next that of the enemy." "But,
by Jupiter," exclaimed Glaucon, "I should not be able
to tell you on the moment, and at a word." "Well,
then, if you have it written down," said Socrates,
"bring it, for I should be extremely glad to hear what
it is." "But to say the truth," replied Glaucon, "I
have not yet written it down." 10. "We will therefore
put off considering about war before everything else,"
said Socrates, "for it is very likely that, on account of
the magnitude of those subjects, and as you are just
commencing your administration, you have not yet
examined into them. But to the defence of the country,
I am quite sure that you have directed your attention,
and that you know how many garrisons are in advan-
tageous positions, and how many not so, what number
of men would be sufficient to maintain them, and what
number would be insufficient, and that you will advise

90 Xenophon

your countrymen to make the garrisons in advantageous
positions stronger, and to remove the useless ones."
ii. "By Jove," replied Glaucon, "(I shall recommend
them to remove) them all, as they keep guard so negli-
gently, that the property is secretly carried off out of
the country." "Yet if we remove the garrisons," said
Socrates, " do you not think that liberty will be given to
anybody that pleases to pillage? But," added he,
"have you gone personally, and examined as to this
fact, or how do you know that the garrisons conduct
themselves with such negligence ? " "I form my con-
jectures," said he. "Well then," inquired Socrates,
"shall we settle about these matters also, when we no
longer rest upon conjecture, but have obtained certain
knowledge?" "Perhaps that," said Glaucon, "will be
the better course." 12. "To the silver mines, how-
ever," continued Socrates, "I know that you have not
gone, so as to have the means of telling us why a
smaller revenue is derived from them than came in
some time ago." "I have not gone thither," said he.
"Indeed the place," said Socrates, "is said to be un-
healthy, so that, when it is necessary to bring it under
consideration, this will be a sufficient excuse for you."
"You jest with me," said Glaucon. 13. "I am sure,
however," proceeded Socrates, "that you have not
neglected to consider, but have calculated, how long
the corn, which is produced in the country, will suffice
to maintain the city, and how much it requires for the
year, in order that the city may not suffer from scarcity
unknown to you, but that, from your own knowledge,
you may be able, by giving your advice concerning the
necessaries of life, to support the city, and preserve it."
"You propose a vast field for me," observed Glaucon,
"if it will be necessary for me to attend to such sub-
jects." 14. "Nevertheless," proceeded Socrates, "a
man cannot order his house properly, unless he ascer-
tains all that it requires, and takes care to supply it with
everything necessary; but since the city consists of
more than ten thousand houses, and since it is difficult
to provide for so many at once, how is it that you have
not tried to aid one first of all, suppose that of your

Memorabilia of Socrates 91

uncle, for it stands in need of help? If you be able to
assist that one, you may proceed to assist more ; but if
you be unable to benefit one, how will you be able to
benefit many? Just as it is plain that, if a man cannot
carry the weight of a talent, he need not attempt to
carry a greater weight." 15. "But I would improve
my uncle's house," said Glaucon," if he would but be
persuaded by me." "And then," resumed Socrates,
"when you cannot persuade your uncle, do you expect
to make all the Athenians, together with your uncle,
yield to your arguments? 16. Take care, Glaucon,
lest, while you are eager to acquire glory, you meet
with the reverse of it. Do you not see how dangerous
it is for a person to speak of, or undertake, what he
does not understand? Contemplate, among other men,
such as you know to be characters that plainly talk of,
and attempt to do, what they do not know, and consider
whether they appear to you, by such conduct, to obtain
more applause or censure, whether they seem to be
more admired or despised. 17. Contemplate, again,
those who have some understanding of what they say
and do, and you will find, I think, in all transactions,
that such as are praised and admired are of the number
of those who have most knowledge, and that those who
incur censure and neglect are among those that have
least. 1 8. If therefore you desire to gain esteem and
reputation in your country, endeavour to succeed in
gaining a knowledge of what you wish to do; for if,
when you excel others in this qualification, you proceed
to manage the affairs of the state, I shall not wonder if
you very easily obtain what you desire."

CHAPTER VII

Socrates exhorts Charmides, a man of ability, and acquainted with
public affairs, to take part in the government, that he may not
be charged with indolence, sect. 1-4. As Charmides distrusts
his abilities for public speaking, Socrates encourages him by
various observations, 5-9.

i. OBSERVING that Charmides, the son of Glaucon, a
man of worth, and of far more ability than those who

92 Xenophon

then ruled the state, hesitated to address the people,
or to take part in the government of the city, he said
to him, "Tell me, Charmides, if any man, who was able
to win the crown in the public games, and, by that
means, to gain honour for himself, and make his birth-
place more celebrated in Greece, should nevertheless
refuse to become a combatant, what sort of person
would you consider him to be ? " "I should certainly
think him indolent and wanting in spirit," replied Char-
mides. 2. "And if any one were able," continued
Socrates, "by taking part in public affairs, to improve
the condition of his country, and thus to attain honour
for himself, but should yet shrink from doing so, might
not he be justly regarded as wanting in spirit? " "Per-
haps so," said Charmides; "but why do you ask me
that question?" "Because," replied Socrates, "I
think that you yourself, though possessed of sufficient
ability, yet shrink from engaging even in those affairs
in which it is your duty as a citizen to take a share."
3. " But in what transaction have you discovered my
ability," said Charmides, "that you bring this charge
against me?" "In those conferences," answered
Socrates, "in which you meet those who are engaged
in the government of the state ; for when they consult
you on any point, I observe that you give them excel-
lent advice, and that, when they are in any way in the
wrong, you offer judicious objections." 4. "But it is
not the same thing, Socrates," said he, "to converse
with people in private, and to try one's powers at a
public assembly." "Yet," said Socrates, "he that is
able to count, can count with no less exactness before
a multitude than alone, and those who can play the harp
best in solitude are also the best performers on it in
company." 5. "But do you not see," said Charmides,
"that bashfulness and timidity are naturally inherent in
mankind, and affect us far more before a multitude
than in private conversations?" "But I am prompted
to remind you," answered Socrates, "that while you
neither feel bashfulness before the most intelligent, nor
timidity before the most powerful, it is in the presence
of the most foolish and weak that you are ashamed to

Memorabilia of Socrates 93

speak. 6. And is it the fullers among them, or the
cobblers, or the agricultural labourers, or the car-
penters, or the copper-smiths, or the ship-merchants,
or those who barter in the market, and meditate what
they may buy for little and sell for more, that you are
ashamed to address? For it is of all such characters
that the assembly is composed. 7. How then do you
think that your conduct differs from him, who, being
superior to well-practised opponents, should yet fear
the unpractised? For is not this the case with you,
that though you converse at your ease with those who
have attained eminence in state affairs, and of whom
some undervalue you, and though you are far superior
to many who make it their business to address the
people, you yet shrink from uttering your sentiments
before men who have never thought of political affairs,
and who have shown no disrespect for your talents,
from an apprehension that you may be laughed at?"
8. "And do not the people in the assembly," asked
Charmides, "appear to you often to laugh at those who
speak with great judgment?" "Yes," said Socrates,
"and so do the other sort of people; and therefore I
wonder at you, that you so easily silence one class of
persons when they do so, and yet think that you shall
not be able to deal with another. 9. Be not ignorant
of yourself, my friend, and do not commit the error
which the majority of men commit ; for most persons,
though they are eager to look into the affairs of others,
give no thought to the examination of their own. Do
not you, then, neglect this duty, but strive more and
more to attend to yourself; and do not be regardless
of the affairs of your country, if any department of them
can be improved by your means ; for, if they are in a
good condition, not only the rest of your countrymen,
but your own friends and yourself, will reap the greatest
benefit."

94 Xenophon

CHAPTER VIII

Socrates meets the captious questions of Aristippus about goodness
and beauty in such a manner as to show that nothing is good
or bad in itself, but only with reference to some object, sect.
1-3 ; and that nothing is beautiful or otherwise in itself, but
that the beautiful must be considered with regard to the useful,
4-7. His remarks on buildings, to the same effect, 8-10.

i. WHEN Aristippus attempted to confute Socrates, as
he himself had previously been confuted by him,
Socrates, wishing to benefit those who were with him,
gave his answers, not like those who are on their guard
lest their words be perverted, but like those who are
persuaded that they ought above all things to do what
is right. 2. What Aristippus had asked him, was,
"whether he knew anything good," in order that if he
should say any such thing as food, or drink, or money,
or health, or strength, or courage, he might prove
that it was sometimes an evil. But Socrates, reflecting
that if anything troubles us, we want something to
relieve us from it, replied, as it seemed best to do, " Do
you ask me whether I know anything good for a fever? "
3. "I do not." "Anything good for soreness of the
eyes?" "No." "For hunger? " " No, nor for hunger
either." "Well then," concluded Socrates, "if you ask
me whether I know anything good that is good for
nothing, I neither know anything, nor wish to know."

4. Aristippus again asking him if he knew anything
beautiful, he replied, "Many things." "Are they then,"
inquired Aristippus, "all like each other?" "Some of
them," answered Socrates, u are as unlike one another
as it is possible for them to be." "How then," said
he, "can what is beautiful be unlike what is beautiful? "
"Because, assuredly," replied Socrates, "one man, who
is beautifully formed for wrestling, is unlike another
who is beautifully formed for running; and a shield,
which is beautifully formed for defence, is as unlike as
possible to a dart, which is beautifully formed for being
forcibly and swiftly hurled." 5. "You answer me,"
said Aristippus, "in the same manner as when I asked
you whether you knew anything good. " " And do you

Memorabilia of Socrates 95

imagine," said Socrates, "that the good is one thing,
and the beautiful another ? Do you not know that with
reference to the same objects all things are both beau-
tiful and good? Virtue, for instance, is not good with
regard to some things and beautiful with regard to
others; and persons, in the same way, are called beau-
tiful and good with reference to the same objects; and
human bodies, too, with reference to the same objects,
appear beautiful and good ; and in like manner all other
things, whatever men use, are considered beautiful and
good with reference to the objects for which they are
serviceable." 6. "Can a dung-basket, then," said
Aristippus, "be a beautiful thing? " " Yes, by Jupiter,"
returned Socrates, " and a golden shield may be an ugly
thing, if the one be beautifully formed for its particular
uses, and the other ill formed." 7. "Do you say, then,
that the same things may be both beautiful and ugly ? "
"Yes, undoubtedly, and also that they may be good
and bad ; for oftentimes what is good for hunger is
bad for a fever, and what is good for a fever is bad for
hunger; oftentimes what is beautiful in regard to run-
ning is the reverse in regard to wrestling, and what is
beautiful in regard to wrestling is the reverse in regard
to running; for whatever is good is also beautiful, in
regard to purposes for which it is well adapted, and
whatever is bad is the reverse of beautiful, in regard
to purposes for which it is ill adapted."

8. When Socrates said, too, that the same houses
that were beautiful were also useful, he appeared to me
to instruct us what sort of houses we ought to build.
He reasoned on the subject thus, " Should not he, who
purposes to have a house such as it ought to be, contrive
that it may be most pleasant, and at the same time most
useful, to live in? 9. This being admitted," he said,
" is it not, then, pleasant to have it cool in summer, and
warm in winter? " When his hearers had assented to
this, he said, "In houses, then, that look to the south,
does not the sun, in the winter, shine into the porticoes,
while, in the summer, it passes over our heads, and
above the roof, and casts a shade? If it is well, there-
fore, that houses should thus be made, ought we not to

96 Xenophon

build the parts towards the south higher, that the sun in
winter may not be shut out, and the parts towards the
north lower, that the cold winds may not fall violently
on them? 10. To sum up the matter briefly, that would
be the most pleasant and the most beautiful residence,
in which the owner, at all seasons, would find the most
satisfactory retreat, and deposit what belongs to him
with the greatest safety."

Paintings and coloured decorations of the walls
deprive us, he thought, of more pleasure than they
give.

The most suitable ground for temples and altars, he
said, was such as was most open to view, and least
trodden by the public; for that it was pleasant for
people to pray as they looked on them, and pleasant
to approach them in purity.

CHAPTER IX

Various definitions of fortitude, prudence and temperance, mad-
ness, envy, idleness, command , happiness, given by Socrates.
Fortitude is not equal in all men ; it may be increased by
exercise, sect. 1-3. Prudence and temperance not distinct
from each other, 4. Justice, as well as other virtues, is
wisd<om, 5. The opposite to prudence is madness; ignorance
distinct from madness, 6, 7. Envy is uneasiness of mind at
the contemplation of the happiness of others, 8. Idleness is
forbearance from useful occupation, 9. Command is exer-
cised not by those who bear the name, merely, of kings and
rulers, but by those who know how to command, 1013. The
best object of human life is to act well; the difference between
acting well and acting fortunately, 14, 15.

i. BEING asked, again, whether Fortitude was a quality
acquired by education, or bestowed by nature, " I
think, " said he, "that as one body is by nature stronger
for enduring toil than another body, so one mind may
be by nature more courageous in meeting dangers than
another mind ; for I see that men who are brought up
under the same laws and institutions differ greatly from
each other in courage. 2. I am of opinion, however,
that every natural disposition may be improved, as to
fortitude, by training and exercise ; for it is evident that

Memorabilia of Socrates 97

the Scythians and Thracians would not dare to take
bucklers and spears and fight with the Lacedaemonians ;
and it is certain that the Lacedaemonians would not
like to fight the Thracians with small shields and jave-
lins, or the Scythians with bows. 3. In other things,
also, I see that men differ equally from one another by
nature, and make great improvements by practice;
from which it is evident that it concerns all, as well the
naturally ingenious as the naturally dull, to learn and
study those arts in which they desire to become worthy
of commendation."

4. Prudence and Temperance he did not distinguish;
for he deemed that he who knew what was honourable
and good, and how to practise it, and who knew what
was dishonourable, and how to avoid it, was both pru-
dent and temperate. Being also asked whether he
thought that those who knew what they ought to do,
but did the contrary, were prudent and temperate, he
replied, "No more than I think the [openly] imprudent
and intemperate to be so; for I consider that all [pru-
dent and temperate] persons choose from what is pos-
sible what they judge for their interest, and do it ; and
I therefore deem those who do not act [thus] judiciously
to be neither prudent nor temperate. "

5. He said, too, that justice, and every other virtue,
was [a part of] prudence, for that everything just, and
everything done agreeably to virtue, was honourable
and good; that those who could discern those things,
would never prefer anything else to them; that those
who could not discern them, would never be able to do
them, but would even go wrong if they attempted to
do them; and that the prudent, accordingly, did what
was honourable and good, but that the imprudent could
not do it, but went wrong even if they attempted to do
it; and that since, therefore, all just actions, and all
actions that are honourable and good, are done in
agreement with virtue, it is manifest that justice, and
every other virtue, is [comprehended in] prudence.

6. ^The opposite to prudence, he said, was Madness;
he did not, however, regard ignorance as madness;
though for a man to be ignorant of himself, and to

98 Xenophon

fancy and believe that he knew what he did not know,
he considered to be something closely bordering on
madness. The multitude, he observed, do not say that
those are mad who make mistakes in matters of which
most people are ignorant, but call those only mad who
make mistakes in affairs with which most people are
acquainted ; 7. for if a man should think himself so tall
as to stoop when going through the gates in the city
wall, or so strong as to try to lift up houses, or attempt
anything else that is plainly impossible to all men, they
say that he is mad ; but those who make mistakes in
small matters are not thought by the multitude to be
mad; but just as they call " strong desire " "love," so
they call "great disorder of intellect " "madness."

8. Considering what Envy was, he decided it to be
a certain annoyance, not such as arises, however, at the
ill success of friends, nor such as is felt at the good
success of enemies, but those only, he said, were envious
who were annoyed at the good success of their friends.
When some expressed surprise, that any one who had
a friendly feeling for another should feel annoyed at
his good fortune, he reminded them that many are so
disposed towards others as to be incapable of neglecting
them if they are unfortunate, but would relieve them
in ill fortune, though they are annoyed at their good
fortune. This feeling, he said, could never arise in the
breast of a sensible man, but that the foolish were con-
stantly affected with it.

9. Considering what Idleness was, he said that he
fouad most men did something ; for that dice-players
and buffoons did something; but he said that all such
persons were idle, for it was in their power to go and
do something better; he observed that a man was not
idle, however, in passing from a better employment to a
worse, but that, if he did so, he, as he [previously] had
occupation, acted in that respect viciously.

10. Kings and Commanders, he said, were not those
who held sceptres merely, or those elected by the multi-
tude, or those who gained authority by lot, or those
who attained it by deceit, but those who knew how to
command, n. For when some one admitted that it

Memorabilia of Socrates 99

was the part of a commander to enjoin what another
should do, and the part of him who was commanded,
to obey, he showed that in a ship the skilful man is the
commander, and that the owner and all the other people
in the ship were obedient to the man of knowledge;
that, in agriculture, those who had farms, in sickness,
those who were ill, in bodily exercises, those who prac-
tised them, and indeed all other people, who had any
business requiring care, personally took the manage-
ment of it if they thought that they understood it, but
if not, that they were not only ready to obey men of
knowledge who were present, but even sent for such as
were absent, in order that, by yielding to their direc-
tions, they might do what was proper. In spinning,
too, he pointed out that women commanded men, as
the one knew how to spin, and the other did not know.
12. But if any one remarked in reply to these observa-
tions, that a tyrant is at liberty not to obey judicious
advisers, he would say, "And how is he at liberty not
to obey, when a penalty hangs over him that does not
obey a wise monitor? for in whatever affair a person
does not obey a prudent adviser, he will doubtless err,
and, by erring, will incur a penalty." 13. If any one
also observed that a tyrant might put to death a wise
counsellor, "And do you think," he would say, "that
he who puts to death the best of his allies goes un-
punished, or that he is exposed only to casual punish-
ment? Whether do you suppose that a man who acts
thus lives in safety, or, rather, by such conduct brings
immediate destruction on himself? "

14. When some one asked him what pursuit he
thought best for a man, he replied, "good conduct."
When he asked him again whether he thought "good
fortune " a pursuit, he answered, " * Fortune ' and
* Conduct ' I think entirely opposed ; for, for a person
to light on anything that he wants without seeking it,
I consider to be ' good fortune,' but to achieve anything
successfully by learning and study, I regard as * good
conduct; ' and those who make this the object of their
pursuit appear to me to do well."

15. The best men, and those most beloved by the

ioo Xenophon

gods, he observed, were those who, in agriculture, per-
formed their agricultural duties well, those who, in
medicine, performed their medical duties well, and those
who, in political offices, performed their public duties
well ; but he who did nothing well, he said, was neither
useful for any purpose, nor acceptable to the gods.

CHAPTER X

Socrates was desirous to benefit artisans by discoursing with
them on the principles of their several arts. Of painting, sect,
j. Of representing perfect beauty, 2. Of expressing the
affections of the mind, 3-5. Of statuary, 6-8. In what the
excellence of a corslet consists, 9-14.

i. WHENEVER he conversed with any of those who
were engaged in arts or trades, and who wrought at
them for gain, he proved of service to them. Visiting
Parrhasius the painter one day, and entering into con-
versation with him, he said, "Pray, Parrhasius, is not
painting the representation of visible objects ! At least
you represent substances, imitating them by means of
colour, hollow and high, dark and light, hard and soft,
rough and smooth, fresh and old." "What you say is
true," said Parrhasius. 2. "And when you would
represent beautiful figures, do you, since it is not easy
to find one person with every part perfect, select, out
of many, the most beautiful parts of each, and thus
represent figures beautiful in every part ? " " We do
so," said he. 3. "And do you also," said Socrates,
"give imitations of the disposition of the mind, as it
may be most persuasive, most agreeable, most friendly,
most full of regret, or most amiable? Or is this in-
imitable? " "How can that be imitated, Socrates,"
said he, "which has neither proportion, nor colour, nor
any of the qualities which you just now mentioned, and
is not even a visible object?" 4. "Is it not often
observable in a man that he regards others with a
friendly or unfriendly look?" "I think so," said he.
"Is this then possible to be copied in the eyes?"
"Assuredly." "And at the good or ill fortune of

Memorabilia of Socrates 101

people's friends, do those who are affected at it, and
those who are not, appear to you to have the same sort
of look? " " No, indeed ; for they look cheerful at their
good, and sad at their evil, fortune." "Is it possible,
then, to imitate these looks? " "Unquestionably." 5.
" Surely, also, nobleness and generosity of disposition,
meanness and illiberality, modesty and intelligence, inso-
lence and stupidity, show themselves both in the looks
and gestures of men, whether they stand or move."
"What you say is just." "Can these peculiarities be
imitated?" "Certainly."" "Whether, then," said So-
crates, "do you think that people look with more plea-
sure on paintings in which beautiful, and good, and
lovely characters are exhibited, or those in which the
deformed, and evil, and detestable are represented? "
"There is a very great difference indeed, Socrates,"
replied Parrhasius.

6. Going once, too, into the workshop of Cleito, the
statuary, and beginning to converse with him, he
said, "I see and understand, Cleito, that you make
figures of various kinds, runners and wrestlers, pugilists
and pancratiasts, but how do you put into your statues
that which most attracts the beholders through the eye,
the lifelike appearance?" 7. As Cleito hesitated, and
did not immediately answer, Socrates proceeded to ask,
" Do you make your statues appear more lifelike by
assimilating your work to the figures of the living? "
"Certainly," said he. "Do you not then make your
figures appear more like reality, and more striking, by
imitating the parts of the body, that are drawn up or
drawn down, compressed or spread out, stretched or
relaxed, by the gesture? " " Undoubtedly," said Cleito.
"And the representation of the passions of men en-
gaged in any act, does it not excite a certain pleasure
in the spectators?" "It is natural, at least, that it
should be so," said he. "Must you not, then, copy the
menacing looks of combatants? And must you not
imitate the countenance of conquerors, as they look
joyful?" "Assuredly," said he. "A statuary, there-
fore," concluded Socrates, "must express the workings
of the mind by the form."

IO2 Xenophon

9. Entering the shop of Pistias, a corslet-maker, and
Pistias having shown him some well-made corslets, So-
crates observed, "By Juno, Pistias, this is an excellent
invention, that the corslet should cover those parts of
a man's body that need protection, and yet should
not hinder him from using his hands. 10. But tell me,
Pistias," he added, "why do you sell your corslets at a
higher price than other makers, though you neither
make them stronger nor of more costly materials ? "
" Because, Socrates, " said he, " I make them better pro-
portioned." "And do you make this proportion appear
in the measure or weight of your corslets,' that you set
a higher price on them? For I suppose that you do
not make them all equal or similar, if you make them
to fit (different persons)." "Indeed," replied he, "I
do make them to fit, for there would be no use in a
corslet without that quality." n. "Are not then," said
Socrates, "the bodies of some men well-proportioned,
and those of others ill-proportioned?" " Certainly,"
said Pistias. "How, then," asked Socrates, "do you
make a well-proportioned corslet fit an ill-proportioned
body? " "As I make it fit," answered Pistias; "for one
that fits is well-proportioned." 12. "You seem to me,"
said Socrates, "to speak of proportion considered not
independently, but with respect to the wearer, as if
you should say of a shield, or a cloak, that it is well-
proportioned to him whom it suits ; and such appears
to be the case with regard to other things, according
to what you say. 13. But, perhaps, there may be some
other considerable advantage in making to fit. " " Tell
me, Socrates," said he, "if you know any." "Those
corslets which fit," answered Socrates, "are less op-
pressive by their weight, than those which do not fit,
though they be both of equal weight ; while those which
do not fit are, either from hanging wholly on the
shoulders, or from pressing heavily on some other part
of the body, inconvenient and uneasy ; but those which
fit, as they have their weight distributed (so as to be
borne) partly by the collar-bone and shoulder, partly by
the upper part of the arm, and partly by the breast,
back, and stomach, appear almost like, not a burden

Memorabilia of Socrates 103

to be borne, but a natural appendage." 14. "You
have hit upon the very quality," said Pistias, "for which
I consider my manufacture deserving of the very highest
price; some, however, prefer purchasing ornamented
and gilded corslets." "Yet if on this account," said
Socrates, " they purchase such as do not fit, they appear
to me to purchase an ornamented and gilded annoyance.
But," added he, "since the body does not continue
always in the same position, but is at one time bent, and
at another straight, how can a corslet, which is exactly
fitted to it, suit it? " "It cannot by any means," said
Pistias. "You mean, therefore," said Socrates, "that
it is not those which are exactly fitted to the body that
suit, but those that do not gall in the wearing." " I say
what is clearly the case, Socrates," replied he, " and now
you exactly comprehend the matter."

CHAPTER XI

The visit of Socrates to Theodota, and his discourse with her,
sect. 1-9. He tells her that true friends are not acquired
without the manifestation of kind and good feelings, 9-12. He
reminds her that in gratifying the appetites we must guard
against satiety, 13, 14. His jests on taking leave of her, 15-
18.

i. THERE being at one time a beautiful woman in the
city, whose name was Theodota, a woman ready to form
a connection with any one that made advances to her,
and somebody in company with Socrates making men-
tion of her, and saying that the beauty of this woman
was beyond description, and that painters went to her
to take her portrait, to whom she showed as much of
her person as she could with propriety, "We ought
then to go and see her," remarked Socrates, "for it is
not possible to comprehend by hearing that which sur-
passes description." "Will you not be quick and follow
me, then," said he who had mentioned her.

2. Going, accordingly, to the house of Theodota,
and finding her standing to a painter, they contemplated
her figure ; and when the painter had left off, Socrates

IO4 Xenophon

said, " My friends, whether ought we to feel obliged to
Theodota for having shown us her beauty, or she to us
for having viewed it with admiration? If the exhibition
be rather of advantage to her, ought not she to feel
grateful to us, or if the sight has given rather more
pleasure to us, ought not we to feel grateful to her? "
3. Somebody saying that he spoke reasonably, he
added, " She, then, for the present, gains praise from
us, and, when we have spoken of her to others, will
gain profit in addition ; but as for us, we now desire to
embrace what we have seen, and shall go away excited,
and long for her after we are away from her; the
natural consequence of which is that we shall be her
adorers, and that she will be worshipped as our mis-
tress." "If this be the case, indeed," said Theodota,
" I must feel gratitude to you for coming to see me. "

4. Soon after, Socrates, seeing her most expensively
attired, and her mother with her in a dress and adorn-
ment above the common, with several handsome female
attendants, not unbecomingly apparelled, and her house
richly furnished in other respects, said to her, "Tell
me, Theodota, have you an estate? " "Not I, indeed,"
replied she. " But perhaps you have a house that brings
you an income?" "Nor a house either," said she.
" Have you then any slaves that practise handicrafts ? "
"No, nor any slaves." "How then," said Socrates,
"do you procure subsistence?" "If any one becomes
my friend," she replied, "and is willing to benefit me,
he is my means of subsistence." 5. "By Juno, Theo-
dota," rejoined Socrates, "and he is an excellent ac-
quisition to you ; and it is much better to have a flock
of friends than of sheep, oxen, and goats. But," added
he, "do you leave it to chance whether a friend, like a
fly, shall wing his way to you, or do you use any con-
trivance (to attract them)? " 6. "And how," said she,
"can I find a contrivance for such a purpose? " "Much
more readily," said he, "than spiders can; for you
know how they try to get subsistence ; they weave fine
nets, and feed upon whatever falls into them." 7. "And
do you advise me, too," said she, "to weave a net?"
"Yes," said he, "for you ought not to think that you

Memorabilia of Socrates 105

will catch friends, the most valuable prey that can be
taken, without art. Do you not see how many arts
hunters use to catch hares, an animal of but little
worth? 8. As the hares feed in the night, they procure
dogs for hunting by night, with which they chase them ;
as they conceal themselves in the day, they provide
other dogs, which, perceiving by the smell the way
that they have gone from their feeding-place to their
forms, trace them out ; and as they are swift of foot, so
as soon to escape from view by running, they procure
also other dogs, of great speed, that they may be caught
by pursuit ; and because some of them escape even from
these dogs, they stretch nets across the path by which
they flee, that they may fall into them and be entangled."
9. "By what art of this kind, then," said she, "can I
catch friends? " "If," said he, "instead of a dog, you
get somebody to track and discover the lovers of beauty,
and the wealthy, and who, when he has found them,
will contrive to drive them into your nets. " " And what
nets have I? " said she. 10. "You have one at least,"
he replied, "and one that closely embraces its prey,
your person ; and in it you have a mind, by which you
understand how you may gratify a person by looking
at him, and what you may say to cheer him, and learn
that you ought to receive with transport him who shows
concern for you, and to shut out him who is insolent,
to attend carefully on a friend when he is ill, to rejoice
greatly with him when he has succeeded in anything
honourable, and to cherish affection in your whole soul
for the man who sincerely cares for you. To love I am
sure that you know, not only tenderly, but with true
kindness of heart ; and your friends try to please you, I
know, because you conciliate them, not with words
merely, but by your behaviour towards them." "In-
deed," replied Theodota, " I use none of these schemes."
ii. "Yet," said Socrates, "it is of great importance to
deal with a man according to his disposition, and with
judgment ; for by force you can neither gain nor keep a
friend, but by serving and pleasing him the animal is
easily taken and attached to you." "What you say is
true," said she.

n -__E 457

io6 Xenophon

12. "It becomes you, therefore," proceeded Socrates,
" in the first place, to request of your lovers only such
favours as they will perform with least cost to them-
selves; and you must then make a return by obliging
them in a similar way ; for thus they will become most
sincerely attached to you, and will love you longest,
and benefit you most. 13. But you will please them
most, if you grant them favours only when they solicit
them; for you see that even the most savoury meats,
if a person offer them to another before he has an
appetite for them, appear to him distasteful; and in
the satisfied they excite even loathing ; but if one offers
food to another after having raised an appetite in him,
it seems, though it be of a very ordinary kind, ex-
tremely agreeable." 14. "How then can I," said she,
"excite such an appetite in any one of those that visit
me? " "If when they are satiated," said he, "you, in
the first place, neither offer yourself to them, nor remind
them of you, until, coming to an end of their satiety,
they again feel a desire for you ; and, when they do feel
such desire, remind them (of your fondness) by the most
modest address, and by showing yourself willing to
gratify them, holding back, at the same time, until they
are filled with impatient longing; for it is far better to
grant the same favours at such a time, than before they
had an appetite for them." 15. "Why do not you,
then, Socrates," said she, "become my helper in secur-
ing friends?" "I will indeed," said he, "if you can
persuade me." "And how then," said she, "can I per-
suade you? " "You yourself will seek and find means
to do so, if you should at all need me." "Come often
to see me, then," said she. 16. Then Socrates, joking
upon her easy life, said, " But, Theodota, it is not easy
for me to find leisure ; for my own numerous occupations,
private and public, allow me no rest ; and I have female
friends also, who will not suffer me to leave them day
or night, learning from me love-charms and incan-
tations." 17. "Do you then know such arts, too,
Socrates?" said Theodota. "Through what other
influence do you suppose that Apollodorus here, and
Antisthenes, never leave me? and through what other

Memorabilia of Socrates 107

influence do you suppose that Cebes and Simmias come
to me from Thebes? Be assured, that such effects were
not produced without many love-charms, incantations,
and magic wheels." 18. "Lend me, then, your magic
wheel," said she, "that I may set it a-going, first of all,
against yourself." "But, by Jupiter," exclaimed So-
crates, " I do not wish that I should be drawn to you,
but that you should come to me." "I^will come then,"
said she, "only take care to let me in." "I will let
you in," replied he, "if another more acceptable than
you be not within."

CHAPTER XII

Socrates shows the benefit of gymnastic exercises, as well on the
health of the mind as on that of the body, sect'. 1-4. The
advantages of health and vigour, 5-8.

i. NOTICING that Epigenes, one of his followers, was
both very young and weak in body, he said to him,
"How very unlike an athlete you are in frame, Epi-
genes! " "I am not an athlete, Socrates," replied he.
"You are not less of an athlete," rejoined Socrates,
"than those who are going to contend at the Olympic
games. Does the struggle for life with the enemy,
which the Athenians will demand of you when cir-
cumstances require, seem to you to be a trifling
contest? 2. Yet, in the dangers of war, not a few,
through weakness of body, either lose their lives, or
save them with dishonour ; many, from the same cause,
are taken alive, and, as prisoners of war, endure for the
rest of their lives, if such should be their fate, the bit-
terest slavery; or, falling into the most grievous hard-
ships, and paying for their ransom sometimes more than
they possess, pass the remainder of their existence in
want of necessaries, and in the endurance of affliction ;
and many, too, incur infamy, being thought to be
cowards merely from the imbecility of their bodily
frame. 3. Do you think lightly of such penalties at-
tached to weakness of body, or do you expect that you
will endure such calamities with ease? I believe that

io8 Xenophon

what he must bear who attends to the health of his body,
is far lighter and more pleasant than such afflictions.
Or do you suppose that an ill condition of body is more
salutary and advantageous than a good condition ? Or
do you despise the benefits secured by a good state of
the body? 4. Yet the lot which falls to those who
have their bodies in good condition is exactly the reverse
of that which falls to those who have them in ill con-
dition ; for those who have their bodies in a good state
are healthy and strong ; and many, from being possessed
of this advantage, save themselves with honour amid the
struggles of war, and escape every peril ; many, also,
assist their friends and benefit their country, and, for such
services, are thought worthy of favour, acquire great
glory, and attain the highest dignities ; and, on these ac-
counts, pass the rest of their lives with greater pleasure
and honour, and bequeath finer fortunes to their chil-
dren. 5. Nor, because the city does not require warlike
exercises publicly, ought we, on that account, to neglect
them privately, but rather to practise them the more;
for be well assured that neither in any other contest,
nor in any affair whatever, will you at all come off the
worse because your body is better trained (than that of
other men) ; since the body must bear its part in what-
ever men do; and in all the services required from the
body, it is of the utmost importance to have it in the
best possible condition ; 6. for even in that in which you
think that there is least exercise for the body, namely,
thinking, who does not know that many fail greatly
from ill-health? and loss of memory, despondency, irrit-
ability, and madness, often, from ill-health of body,
attack the mind with such force as to drive out ali
previous knowledge. 7. But to those who have their
bodies in good condition, there is great assurance from
danger, and no danger of suffering any such calamity
from weakness of constitution ; whilst it is likely, rather,
that a healthy state of body will avail to produce con-
sequences the reverse of those which result from an
unhealthy state of it; and, indeed, to secure conse-
quences the reverse of what we have stated, what would
a man in his senses not undergo? 8. It is disgraceful,

Memorabilia of Socrates 109

too, for a person to grow old in self-neglect, before he
knows what he would become by rendering himself
well-formed and vigorous in body ; but this a man who
neglects himself cannot know ; for such advantages are
not wont to come spontaneously."

CHAPTER XIII

Several brief sayings of Socrates. We should not be offended at
rudeness of manner more than at personal defects, sect. i.
Fasting the best remedy for loathing of food, 2. We should
not be too nice as to food or drink, 3. He that punishes his
slave, should consider whether he himself deserves like pun-
ishment, 4. Admonitions to travellers, 5. It is disgraceful to
him who has been trained in the gymnasium to be outdone by
a slave in enduring toil, 6.

i. A PERSON being angry, because, on saluting another,
he was not saluted in return, " It is an odd thing," said
Socrates to him, "that if you had met a man ill-con-
ditioned in body, you would not have been angry, but
to have met a man rudely disposed in mind provokes
you."

2. Another person saying that he ate without plea-
sure, "Acumenus," said Socrates, "prescribes an excel-
lent remedy for that disease." The other asking,
"What sort of remedy?" "To abstain from eating,"
said Socrates; "for he says that, after abstaining, you
will live with more pleasure, less expense, and better
health."

3. Another saying that the water which he had to
drink at his house was warm, "When you wish to
bathe in warm water, then," said Socrates, "it will be
ready for you." "But it is (too) cold to bathe in," said
the other. "Are your slaves, then," asked Socrates,
"inconvenienced by drinking or bathing in it? " "No,
by Jupiter," replied he ; "for I have often wondered how
cheerfully they use it for both those purposes." "And
is the water in your house," said Socrates, "or that in
the temple of ^sculapius, the warmer for drinking? "
"That at the temple of ^Esculapius," replied he. "And
which is the colder for bathing in, that at your house,

no Xenophon

or that in the temple of Amphiaraus? " "That in the
temple of Amphiaraus," said he. " Consider, then,"
said Socrates, "that you run the risk of being harder to
please than your slaves or the sick."

4. Another person beating his attendant severely,
Socrates asked him why he was so angry at the slave.
"Because," said he, "he is very gluttonous and very
stupid, very covetous and very idle." "And have you
ever reflected," rejoined Socrates, "which of the two
deserves the greater number of stripes, you or your
slave?"

5. A person being afraid of the journey to Olympia,
"Why," said Socrates to him, "do you fear the jour-
ney? Do you not walk about at home almost all day?
And, if you set out thither, you will walk and dine,
walk and snp, and go to rest. Do you not know that
if you were to extend (in a straight line) the walks which
you take in five or six days, you would easily go from
Athens to Olympia? But it will be better for you to
start a day too soon than a day too late ; for to be
obliged to extend your days' journeys beyond a moderate
length is disagreeable; but to spend one day more on
the road gives great ease; and it is better, therefore,
to hasten to start than to hurry on the way."

6. Another saying that he was utterly wearied with
a long journey, Socrates asked him whether he carried
any burden. "No, by Jupiter," said he, "I did not,
except my cloak." "And did you travel alone," said
Socrates, "or did an attendant accompany you? " "An
attendant was with me." "Was he empty-handed, or
did he carry anything ? " " He carried, certainly, the
bedding and other utensils." "And how did he get
over the journey ? " " He appeared to me to come off
better than myself." "If you, then, had been obliged
to carry his burden, how do you imagine that you would
have fared? " "Very ill, by Jupiter; or rather, I should
not have been able to carry it at all." "And how can
you think that it becomes a man trained to exercise to
be so much less able to bear fatigue than a slave? "

Memorabilia of Socrates in

CHAPTER XIV

Table-talk of Socrates in praise of frugality. In contributions to
feasts, one guest should not strive to surpass another in the
quality or quantity of what he contributes, sect. i. He may
be called tyo<t>Ayos, flesh-eater, who eats flesh alone, or with
very little bread, 2-4. He that eats of many dishes at once
acts foolishly in various ways, 5, 6. He may be truly said
f)o>x"T0cu, to banquet, who lives on plain and wholesome food,
7-

i. WHEN, among a number of persons who had met
together to sup, some brought little meat, and others a
great quantity, Socrates desired the attendant either to
set the smallest dish on the table for common partici-
pation, or to distribute a portion of it to each. They,
accordingly, who had brought a great deal were
ashamed not to partake of what was put on table for
the company in general, and not, at the same time, to
put their own on table in return. They therefore offered
their own dishes for the participation of the company;
and when they had no greater share than those who
brought but little, they ceased to buy meat at great
cost.

2. Observing one of those at table with him taking
no bread, but eating meat by itself, and a discussion
having arisen at the same time about names, for what
cause any particular name was given, "Can we tell,"
said Socrates, " for what cause a man should be called
<tyo<ayo ? For everybody eats flesh with his bread
when he has it; but I do not suppose that people are
called 6i/fo<ay6i on that account." "I should think
not," said one of the company. 3. "But," said
Socrates, " if a person should eat meat by itself without
bread, not for the purpose of training, but of gratifying
his appetite, whether would he seem to be an <tyo<ayos
or not ? " " Scarcely any other would more justly seem
so," said he. "And he that eats a great deal of meat
with very little bread," said another of the company,
"what should he be called?" "To me," replied
Socrates, "it appears that he would justly be called
s, and when other men pray to the gods for

112 Xenophon

abundance of corn, he may pray for abundance of flesh. tf
4. When Socrates said this, the young man, thinking
that the words were directed at him, did not indeed
leave off eating meat, but took some bread with it.
Socrates, observing him do so, said, "Notice this young
man, you that sit near him, whether he takes bread to
his meat, or meat to his bread."

5. Seeing another of the company taste of several
dishes with the same piece of bread, " Can any cookery
be more extravagant," said he, "or more adapted to
spoil dishes, than that which he practises who eats of
several at the same time, putting all manner of sauces
into his mouth at once? For as he mixes together more
ingredients than the cooks, he makes what he eats more
expensive ; and as he mixes what they forbear to mix as
being incongruous, he, if they do right, is in the wrong,
and renders their art ineffectual. 6. And how can it be
otherwise than ridiculous," he added, for a man to pro-
vide himself with cooks of the greatest skill, and then,
though he pretends to no knowledge of their art, to
undo what has been done by them? But another thing
happens to him who is accustomed to eat of several
dishes at once ; for, if he has not several sorts of meat
before him, he thinks himself stinted, missing what he
has been used to. But he who is accustomed to make
one piece of bread, and one piece of meat, go together,
will be able to partake contentedly of one dish when
several are just at hand."

7. He observed also that &>xr0<u, "to fare well,"
was in the language of the Athenians called cV&W
"to eat;" and that the c$, "well," was added to
denote that we should eat such food as would disorder
neither mind nor body, and such as would not be difficult
to be procured; so that he applied vo>xr0<u, "to fare
well," to those who fared temperately.

Memorabilia of Socrates 113

BOOK IV

CHAPTER I

Socrates liked the society of young men ; how he judged of them ;
his desire that they should be well educated, sect, i, a. The
more powerful the mind in youth, the more likely it is, if ill
trained, to run into vice, 3, 4. Happiness does not depend
on riches, but on knowledge, and on being useful to our
fellow-creatures, and gaining their esteem, 5.

i. So serviceable was Socrates to others, in every kind
of transaction, and by every possible means, that to
any one who reflects on his usefulness (even though he
possess but moderate discernment), it is manifest that
nothing was of greater benefit than to associate with
Socrates, and to converse with him, on any occasion,
or on any subject whatever ; since even the remembrance
of him, when he is no longer with us, benefits in no
small degree those who were accustomed to enjoy his
society, and accepted him (as a Teacher) ; for he sought
to improve his associates not less in his humorous than
in his serious conversation. 2. He would often say that
he loved some particular person; but he was evidently
enamoured, not of those formed by nature to be beau-
tiful, but of those naturally inclined to virtue. He judged
of the goodness of people's abilities from their quick-
ness in learning the things to which they gave their
attention, from their remembrance of what they learned,
and from their desire for all those branches of know-
ledge by means of which it is possible to manage a
family, state, and the universe well, and to govern men
and their affairs with success ; for he thought that such
characters, when instructed, would not only be happy
themselves, and regulate their own families judiciously,
but would be able to render other men, and other com-
munities (besides their own) happy. 3. He did not
however make advances to all in the same manner.
Those who thought that they had good natural abilities,
but despised instruction, he endeavoured to convince*
that minds which show most natural power have most
n *

ii4 Xenophon

need of education, pointing out to them that horses of
the best breed, which are high-spirited and obstinate,
become, if they are broken in when young, most useful
and valuable, but if they are left unbroken, remain quite
unmanageable and worthless; and that when hounds
are of the best blood, able to endure toil, and eager to
attack beasts, those well trained are most serviceable
for the chase, and every way excellent, but, if untrained,
are useless, rabid, and disobedient. 4. In like manner,
he showed that men of the best natural endowments,
possessed of the greatest strength of mind, and most
energetic in executing what they undertake, became,
if well disciplined and instructed in what they ought to
do, most estimable characters, and most beneficent to
society (as they then performed most numerous and
important services), but that, if uninstructed, and left
in ignorance, they proved utterly worthless and mis-
chievous ; for that, not knowing what line of conduct
they ought to pursue, they often entered upon evil
courses, and, being haughty and impetuous, were
difficult to be restrained or turned from their purpose,
and thus occasioned very many and great evils.

5. But those who prided themselves on their wealth,
and thought that they required no education, but
imagined that their riches would suffice to effect what-
soever they desired, and to gain them honour from man-
kind, he tried to reduce to reason by saying that the
man was a fool who thought that he could distinguish
the good and the evil in life without instruction ; and
that he also was a fool, who, though he could not
distinguish them, thought that he would procure what-
ever he wished, and effect whatever was for his interest,
by means of his wealth. He also said that the man
was void of sense, who, not being qualified to pursue
what was for his good, fancied that he would be pros-
perous in the world, and that everything necessary for
his comfort was fully, or at least sufficiently, provided
for him ; and that he was equally void of sense, who,
though he knew nothing, thought that he would seem
good for something because of his riches, and, though
evidently despicable, would gain esteem {through their
influence).

Memorabilia of Socrates 115

CHAPTER II

No dependence to be placed on natural abilities without education.
Socrates proceeds to show Euthydemus, a self-conceited young
man, that in every art it is proper to have recourse to in-
structors, sect, i, 2. He shows the folly of a man who
should pretend to have learned everything of himself, 3-5,
The necessity of instruction in the art of government, 6-7.
By a long series of interrogations Socrates reduces Euthy-
demus to acknowledge his ignorance and incompetence, 8-23.
The value of self-knowledge, 2430. Further instructions
given to Euthydemus, 30-40.

i. I WILL now show how Socrates addressed himself
to such as thought that they had attained the highest
degree of knowledge, and prided themselves on their
ability. Hearing that Euthydemus, surnamed the
Handsome, had collected many writings of the most
celebrated poets and sophists, and imagined that by
that means he was outstripping his contemporaries in
accomplishments, and had great hopes that he would
excel them all in talent for speaking and acting, and
finding, by his first inquiries about him, that he had not
yet engaged in public affairs on account of his youth,
but that, when he wished to do any business, he usually
sat in a bridle-maker's shop near the Forum, he went
himself to it, accompanied by some of his hearers; 2.
and as somebody asked, first of all, "whether it was
from his intercourse with some of the wise men, or from
his own natural talents, that Themistocles attained such
a pre-eminence above his fellow-citizens, that the
republic looked to him whenever it wanted the service
of a man of ability," Socrates, wishing to excite the
attention of Euthydemus, said that "it was absurd to
believe that men of ability could not master the lowest
mechanical arts without competent instructors, and to
imagine that ability to govern a state, the most im-
portant of all arts, might spring up in men by the
unassisted efforts of nature."

3. On another occasion, when Euthydemus was one
of the company, and Socrates saw him leaving the
meeting, from apprehension lest he should seem to
admire him for his wisdom, he observed, " It is evident,
my friends, from the studies that he pursues, that

n6 Xenophon

Euthydemus here, when he comes of age, and the
government give liberty of discussion on any point, will
not refrain from offering his counsel ; and I imagine that
he has already framed an exordium for his public
oration, taking precaution that he may not be thought
to have learned anything from anybody ; and it is pretty
certain, therefore, that when he begins to speak, he will
make his opening thus 14. * I, O men of Athens, have
never learned anything from any person, nor, though I
heard of some that were skilled in speaking and acting,
have I sought to converse with them ; nor have I been
anxious that any one of the learned should become my
master ; but I have done the exact contrary ; for I have
constantly avoided not only learning anything from any
one, but even the appearance of learning anything;
nevertheless I will offer you such advice as may occur to
me without premeditation/ 5. So it might be proper for
those to commence a speech who desired to obtain a
medical appointment from the government ; indeed it
would be necessary for them to commence their speech
in this way : ' I, O men of Athens, have never learned
the medical art from any one, nor have been desirous
that any physician should be my instructor; for I have
constantly been on my guard, not only against learning
anything of the art from any one, but even against
appearing to have learned the medical art ; nevertheless
confer on me this medical appointment; for I will
endeavour to learn by making experiments upon you. ' "
At this mode of opening a speech all who were present
burst out into laughter.

6. As Euthydemus had now evidently begun to
attend to what Socrates was saying, but was cautious
of speaking himself, as thinking by his silence to clothe
himself with reputation for modesty, Socrates, wishing
to cure him of that fancy, said, " It is indeed strange,
that those who desire to play on the lyre, or on the flute,
or to ride, or to become expert in any such accom-
plishment, should endeavour to practise, as constantly
as possible, that in which they desire to excel, and not
by themselves merely, but with the aid of such as are
considered eminent in those attainments, attempting

Memorabilia of Socrates 117

and undergoing* everything, so as to do nothing with-
out their sanction, as supposing that they can by no
other means attain reputation; but that of those who
wish to become able to speak and act in affairs of
government, some think that they will be suddenly
qualified to achieve their object, without preparation or
study, and by their own unassisted efforts. 7. Yet
these pursuits are manifestly more difficult of attain-
ment than those, inasmuch as of the very many who
attempt them a much smaller number succeed in them;
and it is evident, therefore, that those who pursue the
one are required to submit to longer and more diligent
study than those who pursue the other."

8. Socrates used at first to make such remarks, while
Euthydemus merely listened ; but when he observed that
he stayed, while he conversed, with more willing-ness,
and hearkened to him with more attention, he at last
came to the bridle-maker's shop unattended. As
Euthydemus sat down beside him, he said, "Tell me,
Euthydemus, have you really, as I hear, collected many
of the writings of men who are said to have been wise? "
"I have indeed, Socrates," replied he, "and I am still
collecting, intending to persevere till I get as many as
I possibly can." 9. "By Juno," rejoined Socrates, "I
feel admiration for you, because you have not preferred
acquiring treasures of silver and gold rather than of
wisdom ; for it is plain you consider that silver and
gold are unable to make men better, but that the
thoughts of wise men enrich their possessors with
virtue." Euthydemus was delighted to hear this com-
mendation, believing that he was thought by Socrates
to have sought wisdom in the right course. 10.
Socrates, observing that he was gratified with the
praise, said, "And in what particular art do you wish
to become skilful, that you collect these writings?"
As Euthydemus continued silent, considering what reply
he should make, Socrates again asked, "Do you wish
to become a physician? for there are many writings
of physicians." "Not I, by Jupiter," replied Euthy-
demus. "Do you wish to become an architect, then?
for a man of knowledge is needed for that art also '*

n8 Xenophon

"No, indeed," answered he. "Do you wish to become
a good geometrician, like Theodoras ?" "Nor a geo-
metrician either," said he. "Do you wish then to
become an astronomer?" said Socrates. As Euthy-
demus said "No," to this, "Do you wish then," added
Socrates, "to become a rhapsodist? for they say that
you are in possession of all the poems of Homer.'
"No indeed," said he, "for I know that the rhapsodists,
though accurate in the knowledge of poems, are, as
men, extremely foolish." n. "You are perhaps desir-
ous then," proceded Socrates, "of attaining that talent
by which men become skilled in governing states, in
managing households, able to command, and qualified
to benefit other men as well as themselves ? " "I indeed
greatly desire," said he, "Socrates, to acquire that
talent." "By Jupiter," returned Socrates, "you aspire
to a most honourable accomplishment, and a most
exalted art, for it is the art of kings, and is called the
royal art. But," added he, "have you ever considered
whether it is possible for a man who is not just to be
eminent in that art? " "I have certainly," replied he;
"and it is not possible for a man to be even a good
citizen without justice." 12. " Have you yourself, then,
made yourself master of that virtue? " " I think," said
he, " Socrates, that I shall be found not less just than
any other man." "Are there then works of just men,
as there are works of artisans?" "There are, doubt-
less," replied he. "Then," said Socrates, "as artisans
are able to show their works, would not just men be
able also to tell their works? " "And why should not
I," asked Euthydemus, "be able to tell the works of
justice; as also indeed those of injustice; for we may
see and hear of no small number of them every day? "

13. "Are you willing then," said Socrates, "that we
should make a delta on this side, and an alpha on that,
and then that we should put whatever seems to us to
be a work of justice under the delta, and whatever seems
to be a work of injustice under the alpha?" "If you
think that we need those letters," said Euthydemus,
"make them." 14. Socrates, having made the letters as
he proposed, asked, "Does falsehood then exist among

Memorabilia of Socrates 119

mankind? " "It does assuredly," replied -he. "Under
which head shall we place it? " "Under injustice, cer-
tainly." "Does deceit also exist?" "Unquestion-
ably/* "Under which head shall we place that?"
"Evidently under injustice." "Does mischievousness
exist?" "Undoubtedly." "And the enslaving of
men?" ^"That, too, prevails." "And shall neither of
these things be placed by us under justice, Euthy-
demus?" "It would be strange if they should be,"
said he. 15. "But," said Socrates, "if a man, being
chosen to lead an army, should reduce to slavery an
unjust and hostile people, should we say that he com-
mitted injustice?" "No, certainly," replied he.
" Should we not rather say that he acted justly ? "
"Indisputably." "And if, in the course of the war
with them, he should practise deceit?" "That also
would be just," said he. "And if he should steal and
carry off their property, would he not do what was
just? " "Certainly," said Euthydemus; "but I thought
at first that you asked these questions only with refer-
ence to our friends." "Then," said Socrates, "all that
we have placed under the head of injustice, we must
also place under that of justice." " It seems so," replied
Euthydemus. 16. "Do you agree, then," continued
Socrates, " that, having so placed them, we should
make a new distinction, that it is just to do such things
with regard to enemies, but unjust to do them with
regard to friends, and that towards his friends our
general should be as guileless as possible?" "By all
means," replied Euthydemus. 17. "Well, then," said
Socrates, "if a general, seeing his army dispirited,
should tell them, inventing a falsehood, that auxiliaries
were coming, and should, by that invention, check the
despondency of his troops, under which head should we
place such an act of deceit?" "It appears to me,"
said Euthydemus, "that we must place it under justice."
" And if a father, when his son requires medicine, and
refuses to take it, should deceive him, and give him the
medicine as ordinary food, and, by adopting such decep-
tion, should restore him to health, under which head
must we place such an act of deceit?" "It appears

I2O Xenophon

to me that we must put it under the same head." "And
if a person, when his friend was in despondency, should,
through fear that he might kill himself, steal or take
away his sword, or any other weapon, under which head
must we place that act?" "That, assuredly, we must
place under justice." 18. "You say, then," said
Socrates, "that not even towards our friends must we
act on all occasions without deceit?" "We must not
indeed," said he, "for I retract what I said before, if I
may be permitted to do so." "It is indeed much better
that you should be permitted," said Socrates, "than
that you should not place actions on the right side.
19. But of those who deceive their friends in order to
injure them (that we may not leave even this point
unconsidered), which of the two is the more unjust, he
who does so intentionally or he who does so involun-
tarily? " "Indeed, Socrates," said Euthydemus, "I no
longer put confidence in the answers which I give; for
all that I said before appears to me now to be quite
different from what I then thought; however, let me
venture to say that he who deceives intentionally is
more unjust than he who deceives involuntarily."

20. "Does it appear to you, then, that there is a way
of learning and knowing what is just, as there is of
learning and knowing letters?" "I think there is."
"And which should you consider the better scholar,
him who should purposely write or read incorrectly, or
him who should do so unawares ? " " Him who should
do so purposely, for, whenever he pleased, he would be
able to do both correctly." "He, therefore, that pur-
posely writes incorrectly may be a good scholar, but he
who does so involuntarily is destitute of scholarship ? "
"How can it be otherwise?" "And whether does he
who lies and deceives intentionally know what is just,
or he who does so unawares?" "Doubtless he who
does so intentionally." "You therefore say that he
who knows letters is a better scholar than he who does
not know?" "Yes." "And that he who knows what
is just is more just than he who does not know? " "I
seem to say so; but I appear to myself to say this I
know not how." 21. "But what would you think of

Memorabilia of Socrates 121

the man, who, wishing to tell the truth, should never
give the same account of the same thing, but, in speak-
ing of the same road, should say at one time that it
led towards the east, and at another towards the west,
and, in stating the result of the same calculation,
should sometimes assert it to be greater and sometimes
less, what, I say, would you think of such a man?"
" It would be quite clear that he knew nothing of what
he thought he knew."

22. "Do you know any persons called slave-like?"
" I do. " " Whether for their knowledge or their ignor-
ance?" "For their ignorance, certainly." "Is it then
for their ignorance of working in brass that they receive
this appellation?" "Not at all." "Is it for their
ignorance of the art of building?" "Nor for that."
" Or for their ignorance of shoe-making ? " " Not on
any one of these accounts; for the contrary is the case,
as most of those who know such trades are servile."
" Is this, then, an appellation of those who are ignorant
of what is honourable, and good, and just?" "It
appears so to me." 23. "It therefore becomes us to
exert ourselves in every way to avoid being like slaves."
" But, by the gods, Socrates," rejoined Euthydemus,
"I firmly believed that I was studying philosophy, by
which I should, as I expected, be made fully acquainted
with all that was proper to be known by a man striving
after honour and virtue ; but now, how dispirited must
you think I feel, when I see that, with all my previous
labour, I am not even able to answer a question about
what I ought most of all to know, and am acquainted
with no other course which I may pursue to become
better ! "

24. Socrates then said, "Tell me, Euthydemus, have
you ever gone to Delphi?" "Yes, twice," replied he.
"And did you observe what is written somewhere on
the temple wall, KNOW THYSELF?" "I did." "And
did you take no thought of that inscription, or did
you attend to it, and try to examine yourself, to ascer-
tain what sort of character you are ? " "I did not
indeed try, for I thought that I knew very well already,
since I should hardly know anything else if I did not

122 Xenophon

know myself." 25. "But whether does he seem to you
to know himself, who knows his own name merely, or
he who (like people buying horses, who do not think
that they know the horse that they want to know, until
they have ascertained whether he is tractable or unruly,
whether he is strong- or weak, swift or slow, and how he
is as to other points which are serviceable or disadvan-
tageous in the use of a horse, so he), having ascertained
with regard to himself how he is adapted for the service
of mankind, knows his own abilities?" "It appears
to me, I must confess, that he who does not knew his
own abilities, does not know himself." 26. "But is it
not evident," said Socrates, "that men enjoy a great
number of blessings in consequence of knowing them-
selves, and incur a great number of evils, through being
deceived in themselves? For they who know them-
selves know what is suitable for them, and distinguish
between what they can do and what they cannot; and,
by doing what they know how to do, procure for them-
selves what they need, and are prosperous, and, by
abstaining from what they do not know, live blamelessly,
and avoid being unfortunate. By this knowledge of
themselves, too, they can form an opinion of other men,
and, by their experience of the rest of mankind, obtain
for themselves what is good, and guard against what
is evil. 27. But they who do not know themselves, but
are deceived in their own powers, are in similar case
with regard to other men, and other human affairs, and
neither understand what they require, nor what they are
doing, nor the characters of those with whom they con-
nect themselves, but, being in error as to all these
particulars, they fail to obtain what is good, and fall
into evil. 28. They, on the other hand, who under-
stand what they take in hand, succeed in what they
attempt, and become esteemed and honoured ; those who
resemble them in character willingly form connections
with them; those who are unsuccessful in their affairs
desire to be assisted with their advice, and to prefer
them to themselves; they place in them their hopes of
good, and love them, on all these accounts, beyond all
other men. 29. But those, again, who do not know

Memorabilia of Socrates 123

what they are doing, who make an unhappy choice in
life, and are unsuccessful in what they attempt, nor
only incur losses and sufferings in their own affairs, but
become, in consequence, disreputable and ridiculous,
and drag out their lives in contempt and dishonour.
Among states, too, you see that such as, from ignor-
ance of their own strength, go to war with others that
are more powerful, are, some of them, utterly over-
thrown, and others reduced from freedom to slavery."
30. " Be assured, therefore," replied Euthydemus,
" that I feel convinced we must consider self-knowledge
of the highest value ; but as to the way in which we
must begin to seek self-knowledge, I look to you for
information, if you will kindly impart it to me."
31. "Well, then," said Socrates, "you doubtless fully
understand what sort of things are good, and what sort
are evil." "Yes, by Jupiter," replied Euthydemus,
"for if I did not understand such things, I should be
in a worse condition than slaves are." "Come then,"
said Socrates, "tell me what they are." "That is not
difficult/ 1 said he, "for, in the first place, health I con-
sider to be a good, and sickness an evil, and, in the
next, looking to the causes of each of them, as drink,
food, and employments, I esteem such as conduce to
health to be good, and such as lead to sickness to be
evil." 32. "Consequently," said Socrates, "health and
sickness themselves, when they are the causes of any
good, will be good, and when they are the causes of any
evil, will be evil." "But when," exclaimed Euthy-
demus, "can health be the cause of evil, and sickness
of good?" "When, for example," said Socrates,
"some portion of a community, from being in good
health, take part in a disgraceful expedition by land, or
a ruinous voyage by sea, or in any other such matters,
which are sufficiently common, and lose their lives,
while others, who are left behind from ill-health, are
saved." "What you say is true," said Euthydemus,
"but you see that some men share in successful enter-
prises from being in health, while others, from being
in sickness, are left out of them." "Then," said
Socrates, "those things which are sometimes bene-

124 Xenophon

ficial, and sometimes injurious are not more good than
evil? " "Nothing, by Jupiter, is clear according to this
way of reasoning. 33. But as to wisdom, Socrates, it
is indisputably a good thing ; for what business will not
one who is wise conduct better than one who is
untaught? " "Have you not heard, then, of Daedalus,"
said Socrates, " how he was made prisoner by Minos on
account of his wisdom, and compelled to serve him as
a slave; how he was cut off, at once, from his country
and from liberty, and how, when he endeavoured to
escape with his son, he lost the child, and was unable
to save himself, but was carried away among bar-
barians, and made a second time a slave ?" "Such a
story is told, indeed," said Euthydemus. "Have you
not heard, too, of the sufferings of Palamedes? for
everybody says that it was for his wisdom he was
envied and put to death by Ulysses." "That, too, is
said," replied Euthydemus. "And how many other
men do you think have been carried off to the king on
account of their wisdom, and made slaves there? "

34. "But as to happiness, Socrates," said Euthy-
demus, "that at least appears to be an indisputable
good." "Yes, Euthydemus," replied Socrates, "if we
make it consist in things that are themselves indisput-
ably good." "But what," said he, "among things con-
stituting happiness can be a doubtful good ? "
"Nothing," answered Socrates, "unless we join with
it beauty, or strength, or wealth, or glory, or any other
such thing." 35. "But we must assuredly join them
with it," said Euthydemus; "for how can a person be
happy without them ? " " We shall then join with it, by
Jupiter," said Socrates, "things from which many
grievous calamities happen to mankind ; for many, on
account of their beauty, are ruined by those who are
maddened with passion for their youthful attractions ;
many, through confidence in their strength, have entered
upon undertakings too great for it, and involved them-
selves in no small disasters; many, in consequence of
their wealth, have become enervated, been plotted
against, and destroyed ; and many, from the glory and
power that they have acquired in their country, have

Memorabilia of Socrates 125

suffered the greatest calamities.*' 36. "Well, then,"
said Euthydemus, "if I do not say what is right when
I praise happiness, I confess that I do not know what
we ought to pray for to the gods."

"These points, however," proceeded Socrates, "you
have perhaps not sufficiently considered, from too con-
fident a belief that you were already well acquainted
with them; but since you intend to be at the head of
a democratic government, you doubtless know what a
democracy is." "Assuredly," said he. 37. "Do you
think it possible for a person to know what a democracy
is, without knowing what the Demos is?" "No, in-
deed." "And what do you conceive the Demos to be? "
"I conceive it to be the poorer class of citizens." "Do
you know, then, which are the poor?" "How can I
help knowing?" "You know then which are the
rich?" "Just as well as I know which are the poor."
"Which sort of persons then do you call poor, and
which sort rich?" "Those who have not sufficient
means to pay for the necessaries of life, I regard as
poor; those who have more than sufficient, I consider
rich." 38. "Have you ever observed, then, that to
some who have very small means, those means are not
only sufficient, but that they even save from them, while,
to many, very large fortunes are not sufficient?" "I
have indeed," said Euthydemus, "(for you very properly
put me in mind of it), since I have known some princes,
who, from poverty, have been driven to commit injustice
like the very poorest people." 39. "Then," said
Socrates, "if such be the case, we must rank such
princes among the Demos, and those that have but little
we must rank, if they be good managers, among the
rich?" "My own want of knowledge, indeed," said
Euthydemus, " obliges me to admit even this ; and I am
considering whether it would not be best for me to be
silent; for I seem to know absolutely nothing."

He went away, accordingly, in great dejection, hold-
ing himself in contempt, and thinking that he was in
reality no better than a slave.

40. Of those who were thus treated by Socrates,
many came to him no more ; and these he regarded as

1 26 Xenophon

too dull to be improved. But Euthydemus, on the
contrary, conceived that he could by no other means
become an estimable character, than by associating with
Socrates as much as possible; and he in consequence
never quitted him, unless some necessary business
obliged him to do so. He also imitated many of his
habits.

When Socrates saw that he was thus disposed, he no
longer puzzled him with questions, but explained to
him, in the simplest and clearest manner, what he
thought that he ought to know, and what it would be
best for him to study.

CHAPTER III

The necessity of temperance or self-control, and of right notions
concerning the gods, sect, i, 2. The gods have a providential
care for mankind, 3-9. Other animals are formed by the
gods for the use of man, 10. In addition to the senses
common to man with the inferior animals, the gods have
given him reason and speech, u, 12. Though we do not see
the gods, we are convinced of their existence from their works,
13, 14. We ought therefore to pay them honour according to
our means, 15-18.

i. SOCRATES was never in haste that his followers
should become skilful in speaking, in action, or in
invention, but, previous to such accomplishments, he
thought it proper that a love of self-control should be
instilled into them ; for he considered ^that those who
had acquired those qualifications were, if devoid of self-
control, only better fitted to commit injustice and to do
mischief. 2. In the first place, therefore, he endeavoured
to impress his associates with right feelings towards
the gods. Some, who were present with him when he
conversed with others on this subject, have given an
account of his discourses; but I myself was with him
when he held a conversation with Euthydemus to the
following effect.

3. "Tell me," said he, "Euthydemus, has it ever
occurred to you to consider how carefully the gods have
provided for men everything that they require?" "It

Memorabilia of Socrates 127

has indeed never occurred to me," replied he. "You
know at least," proceeded Socrates, "that we stand in
need, first of all, of light, with which the gods supply
us." "Yes, by Jupiter," answered Euthydemus, "for
if we had no light, we should be, as to the use of our
eyes, like the blind." "But, as we require rest, they
afford us night, the most suitable season for repose."
"That is assuredly," said Euthydemus, "a subject for
thankfulness." 4. "Then because the sun, being lumin-
ous, shows us the hours of the day, and everything else,
while the night, being dark, prevents us from making
such distinctions in it, have they not caused the stars to
shine in the night, which show us the night-watches,
and under the direction of which we perform many
things that we require?" "So it is," said he. "The
moon, too, makes plain to us not only the divisions of
the night, but also of the month." "Assuredly," said
he. 5. " But that, since we require food, they should
raise it for us from the earth, and appoint suitable
seasons for the purpose, which prepare for us, in
abundance and every variety, not only things which we
need, but also things from which we derive pleasure,
(what do you think of such gifts?)" "They certainly
indicate love for man." 6. "And that they should
supply us with water, an element of such value to us,
that it causes to spring up, and unites with the earth
and the seasons in bringing to maturity, everything
useful for us, and assists also to nourish ourselves, and,
being mixed with all our food, renders it easier of
digestion, more serviceable, and more pleasant; and
that, as we require water in great quantities, they
should supply us with it in such profusion, (what do you
think of such a gift?) " "That also," said he, "shows
thought for us." 7. "That they should also give us
fire, a protection against cold and darkness, an
auxiliary in every art and in everything that men
prepare for their use, (for, in a word, men produce
nothing of any consequence among the various things
necessary to life, without the aid of fire,) (what do you
think of such a gift?)" "That, likewise," said he,
"excels in philanthropy.** 8. ["That they should

128 Xenophon

diffuse the air also around us everywhere in such
abundance, as not only to preserve and support life, but
to enable us to cross the seas by means of it, and to get
provisions by sailing hither and thither among foreign
lands, is not this a boon inexpressibly valuable ? " " It
is indeed inexpressibly so," replied he.) "That the
sun, too, when it turns towards us in the winter, should
approach to mature some things, and to dry up others
whose season (for ripening) has passed away ; and that,
having effected these objects, he should not come nearer
to us, but turn back, as if taking care lest he should hurt
us by giving us more heat than is necessary ; and that
when again, in his departure, he arrives at the point at
which it becomes evident that, if he were to go beyond
it, we should be frozen by the cold, he should again turn
towards us, and approach us, and revolve in that precise
part of the heaven in which he may be of most advan-
tage to us, what do you think of things so regulated? "
"By Jupiter,'* replied Euthydemus, "they appear to be
appointed solely for the sake of man." 9. "Again,
that the sun, because it is certain that we could not
endure such heat or cold if it should come upon us
suddenly, should approach us so gradually, and retire
from us so gradually, that we are brought imperceptibly
to the greatest extremes of both, (what do you think of
that appointment?)" "I am reflecting, indeed," said
Euthydemus, "whether the gods can have any other
business than to take care of man; only this thought
embarrasses me, that other animals partake in these
benefits."

10. " But is^ not this also evident," said Socrates,
"that these animals are produced and nourished for the
sake of man? For what other animal derives so many
benefits from goats, sheep, horses, oxen, asses, and
other such creatures, as man? To me it appears that
he gains more advantages from them than from the
fruits of the earth; at least he is fed and enriched not
less from the one than from the other; and a great
portion of mankind do not use the productions of the
earth for food, but live by herds of cattle, supported by
their milk, and cheese, and flesh ; and all men tame and

Memorabilia of Socrates 129

train the useful sort of animals, and use them as help
for war and other purposes. " " I agree with what you
say on that point," said Euthydemus, "for I see some
animals much stronger than we, rendered so subservient
to men that they use them for whatever they please."
ii. "But that, since there are numberless beautiful and
useful objects in the world, greatly differing from one
another, the gods should have bestowed on men senses
adapted to each of them, by means of which we enjoy
every advantage from them ; that they should have
implanted understanding in us, by means of which we
reason about what we perceive by the senses, and,
assisted by the memory, learn how far everything is
beneficial, and contrive many plans, by which we enjoy
good and avoid evil; 12. and that they should have
given us the faculty of speech, by means of which by
information we impart to one another, whatever is
good, and participate in it, enact laws, and enjoy con-
stitutional government, what think you of such bless-
ings ? " " The gods certainly appear, Socrates, to
exercise the greatest care for man in every way." "And
that, since we are unable to foresee what is for our
advantage with regard to the future, they should assist
us in that respect, communicating what will happen to
those who inquire of them by divination, and instructing
them how their actions may be most for their benefit,
(what thoughts does that produce in you?)" "The
gods seem to show you, Socrates," rejoined he, "more
favour than other men, since they indicate to you, with-
out being asked, what you ought to do, and what not
to do."

13. "And that I speak the truth, you yourself also
well know, if you do not expect to see the bodily forms
of the gods, but will be content, as you behold their
works, to worship and honour them. Reflect, too, that
the gods themselves give us this intimation; for the
other deities that give us blessings, do not bestow any
of them by coming manifestly before our sight ; and he
that orders and holds together the whole universe, in
which are all things beautiful and good, and who
preserves it, for us who enjoy it, always unimpaired,

130 Xeiiophon

undisordered, and undecaying, obeying his will swifter
than thought and without irregularity, is himself mani-
fested (only) in the performance of his mighty works,
but is invisible to us while he regulates them. 14. Con-
sider also that the sun, which appears manifest to all,
does not allow men to contemplate him too curiously,
but, if any one tries to gaze on him steadfastly, deprives
him of his sight. The instruments of the deities you
will likewise find imperceptible ; for the thunderbolt, for
instance, though it is plain that it is sent from above,
and works its will with everything with which it comes
in contact, is yet never seen either approaching, or
striking, or retreating; the winds, too, are themselves
invisible, though their effects are evident to us, and we
perceive their course. The soul of man, moreover,
which partakes of the divine nature if anything else in
man does, rules, it is evident, within us, but is itself
unseen. Meditating on these facts, therefore, it behoves
you not to despise the unseen gods, but, estimating
their power from what is done by them, to reverence
what is divine."

15. "I feel clearly persuaded, Socrates," said Euthy-
demus, "that I shall never fail, in the slightest degree,
in respect for the divine power, but I am dejected at
the thought that no one among mankind seems to me
ever to requite the favours of the gods without due
gratitude." 16. "But be not dejected at that reflection,
Euthydemus," said Socrates, "for you know that the
deity at Delphi, whenever any one consults him how he
may propitiate the gods, answers, ACCORDING TO THE
LAW OF YOUR COUNTRY; and it is the law, indeed, every-
where, that every man should propitiate the gods with
offerings according to his ability ; and how, therefore,
can any man honour the gods better or more piously,
than by acting as they themselves direct? 17. It
behoves us, however, not to do less than we are able,
for, when any one acts thus, he plainly shows that he
does not honour the gods. But it becomes him who
fails, in no respect, to honour the gods according to his
means, to be of good courage, and to hope for the
greatest blessings ; for no one can reasonably hope for

Memorabilia of Socrates 131

greater blessings from others than from those who are
able to benefit him most ; nor on any other grounds than
by propitiating them ; and how can he propitiate them
better than by obeying them to the utmost of his
power ?"

18. By uttering such sentiments, and by acting
according to them himself, he rendered those who con-
versed with him more pious and prudent.

CHAPTER IV

Socrates inculcated a love of justice into his followers. He gave
them an example of adherence to justice in his own life, sect.
1-4. He commences a conversation with Hippias, a sophist,
4-9. It is better to be just than merely to talk of justice, 10,
ii ; it is a part of justice to obey the laws ; what a law is, 12-
14 ; who are the best magistrates in states, 15 ; a general
observance of the laws maintains concord, 16-18 ; there are
certain unwritten laws, which it is not possible to transgress
without incurring punishment, 19-24 ; to observe the divine
laws is to be just, 25.

i. CONCERNING justice, too, he did not conceal what
sentiments he entertained, but made them manifest even
by his actions, for he conducted himself, in his private
capacity, justly and beneficently towards all men, and,
as a citizen, he obeyed the magistrates in all that the
laws enjoined, both in the city and on military expedi-
tions, so that he was distinguished above other men
for his observance of order. 2. When he was president
in the public assembly, he would not permit the people
to give a vote contrary to law, but opposed himself, in
defence of the laws, to such a storm of rage on the part
of the populace as I think that no other man could have
withstood. 3. When the Thirty Tyrants commanded him
to do anything contrary to the laws, he refused to obey
them ; for both when they forbade him to converse with
the young, and when they ordered him, and some others
of the citizens, to lead a certain person away to death,
he alone did not obey, because the order was given
contrary to the laws. 4. When he was accused by
Meletus, and others were accustomed, before the

132 Xenophon

tribunal, to speak so as to gain the favour of the
judges, and to flatter them, and supplicate them, in
violation of the laws, and many persons, by such prac-
tices, had often been acquitted by the judges, he re-
fused, on his trial, to comply with any practices opposed
to the laws, and though he might easily have been ac-
quitted by his judges, if he had but in a slight degree
adopted any of those customs, he chose rather to die
abiding by the laws than to save his life by transgress-
ing them.

5. He held conversations to this effect with others on
several occasions, and I know that he once had a dia-
logue of the following kind, concerning justice, with
Hippias of Elis ; for Hippias, on his return to Athens
after an absence of some time, happened to come in the
way of Socrates as he was observing to some people
how surprising it was that, if a man wished to have
another taught to be a shoemaker, or a carpenter, or a
worker in brass, or a rider, he was at no loss whither
he should send him to effect his object ; [nay, that
every place, as some say, was full of persons who would
make a horse or an ox observant of right for any one
that desired ;] while as to justice, if any one wished
either to learn it himself, or to have his son or his slave
taught it, he did not know whither he should go to
obtain his desire. 6. Hippias, hearing -this remark,
said, as if jesting with him, "What ! are you still saying
the same things, Socrates, that I heard from you so
long ago? " "Yes," said Socrates, "and what is more
wonderful, I am not only still saying the same things,
but am saying them on the same subjects; but you,
perhaps, from being possessed of such variety of know-
ledge, never say the same things on the same subjects."
"Certainly," replied Hippias, "I do always try to say
something new. " 7. " About matters of which you have
certain knowledge, then," said Socrates, "as, for in-
stance, about the letters of the alphabet, if any one were
to ask you how many and what letters are in the word
* Socrates,' would you try to say sometimes one thing,
and sometimes another; or to people who might ask
you about numbers, as whether twice five are ten, would

Memorabilia of Socrates 133

you not give the same answer at one time as at
another?" "About such matters, Socrates," replied
Hippias, " I, like you, always say the same thing ; but
concerning justice I think that I have certainly some-
thing to say now which neither you nor any other person
can refute." 8. "By Juno," returned Socrates, "it is a
great good that you say you have discovered, since the
judges will now cease from giving contradictory sen-
tences, the citizens will cease from disputing about
what is just, from going to law, and from quarrelling,
and communities will cease from contending about their
rights and going to war; and I know not how I can
part with you till I have learned so important a benefit
from its discoverer." 9. "You shall not hear it, by
Jupiter," rejoined Hippias, "until you yourself declare
what you think justice to be ; for it is enough that you
laugh at others, questioning and confuting everybody,
while you yourself are unwilling to give a reason to
anybody, or to declare your opinion on any subject."

10. "What then, Hippias," said Socrates, "have you not
perceived that I never cease declaring my opinion as
to what I conceive to be just?" "And what is this
opinion of yours? " said Hippias. " If I make it known
to you, not by words merely, but by actions, do not
deeds seem to you to be a stronger evidence than
words?" "Much stronger, by Jupiter," said Hippias,
" for many who say what is just do what is unjust, but
a man who does what is just cannot be himself unjust."

11. "Have you ever then found me bearing false wit-
ness, or giving malicious information, or plunging my
friends or the state into quarrels, or doing anything
else that is unjust?" "I have not." "And do you
not think it justice to refrain from injustice?" "You
are plainly now," said Hippias, "endeavouring to avoid
expressing an opinion as to what you think just; for
what you say is, not what the just do, but what they
do not do." 12. "But I thought," rejoined Socrates,
"that to be unwilling to do injustice was a sufficient
proof of justice. If this, however, does not satisfy
you, consider whether what I next say will please you
better ; for I assert that what is in conformity with the

134 Xenophon

laws is just. 1 ' "Do you say, Socrates, that to be con-
formable to the laws, and to be just, is the same thing r>
"I do indeed. " 13. "(I am puzzled); for I do not
understand what you call conformable to law, or what
you call just." "Do you know the laws of the state.'
said Socrates. " I do," said the other. " And what do
you consider them to be?" "What the citizens in
concert have enacted as to what we ought to do, and
what we ought to avoid doing." "Would not he, there-
fore," asked Socrates, "be an observer of the laws, who
should conduct himself in the community agreeably
to those enactments, and he be a violator of the laws
who transgresses them?" "Undoubtedly," said Hip-
pias. " Would not he then do what is just who obeys
the laws, and he do what is unjust who disobeys
them? " "Certainly." "Is not he then just who does
what is just, and he unjust who does what is unjust? "
" How can it be otherwise? " " He therefore that con-
forms to the laws is just," added Socrates, "and he
who violates the laws, unjust."

14. "But," objected Hippias, "how can any one
imagine the laws, or obedience to them, to be a matter
of absolute importance, when the very persons who
make them often reject and alter them? " "(That objec-
tion is of no consequence," said Socrates), "for states,
which have commenced war, often make peace again."
"Undoubtedly they do," said Hippias. "What differ-
ence will there be in your conduct, then, think you, if
you throw contempt on those who obey the laws,
because the laws may be changed, and if you blame
those who act properly in war, because peace may be
made? Do you condemn those who vigorously support
their country in war?" "I do not indeed," replied
Hippias. 15. "Have you ever heard it said of Lycur-
gus the Lacedaemonian, then," said Socrates, "that he
would not have made Sparta at all different from other
states, if he had not established in it, beyond others, a
spirit of obedience to the laws? Do you not know, too,
that of magistrates in states, those are thought the best
who are most efficient in producing obedience to the
laws, and that that state, in which the citizens pay

Memorabilia of Socrates 135

most respect to the laws, is in the best condition in
peace, and invincible in war? 16. The greatest bless-
ing to states, moreover, is concord; and the senates
and principal men in them often exhort the citizens to
unanimity ; and everywhere throughout Greece it is a
law that the citizens shall take an oath to observe con-
cord, an oath which they everywhere do take; but I
conceive that this is done, not that the citizens may
approve of the same choruses, or that they may praise
the same flute-players, or that they may prefer the same
poets, or that they may take delight in the same spec-
tacles, but that they may obey the laws; for while the
citizens adhere to these, states will be eminently power-
ful and happy ; but without such unanimity, no state
can be well governed, nor any family well regulated.
17. As an individual citizen, too, how could any person
render himself less liable to penalties from the govern-
ment, or more likely to have honours bestowed upon
him, than by being obedient to the laws? How else
would he incur fewer defeats in the courts of justice, or
how more certainly obtain sentence in his favour? To
whom would any one believe that he could more safely
confide his money, or his sons or daughters? Whom
would the whole community deem more trustworthy
than him who respects the laws? From whom would
parents, or relatives, or domestics, or friends, or citi-
zens, or strangers, more certainly obtain their rights?
To whom would the enemy sooner trust in cessation of
arms, or in making a truce, or articles of peace? To
whom would people more willingly become allies than
to the observer of the laws, and to whom would the
allies more willingly trust the leadership, or command
of a fortress, or of a city? From whom would any one
expect to meet with gratitude, on doing him a kind-
ness, sooner than from the observer of the laws? Or
whom would any one rather serve than him from whom
he expects to receive a return? To whom would any
one more desire to be a friend, or less desire to be an
enemy, than such a man? With whom would any one
be less inclined to go to war, than with him to whom
he would most wish to be a friend, and least of all an

136 Xenophon

enemy, and to whom the greatest part of mankind
would wish to be friends and allies, and but a small
number to be antagonists and enemies? 18. I, there-
fore, Hippias, pronounce that to obey the laws and to
be just is the same; if you hold an opinion to the con-
trary, tell me." "Indeed, Socrates," rejoined Hippias,
" I do not know that I entertain any sentiments
opposed to what you have said of justice."

19. "But are you aware, Hippias," continued So-
crates, "that there are unwritten laws? " "You mean
those," said Hippias, "that are in force about the same
points everywhere." "Can you affirm, then, that men
made those laws? " "How could they," said Hippias,
"when they could not all meet together, and do not
all speak the same language? " "Whom then do you
suppose to have made these laws? " "I believe," said
he, "that it was the gods who made these laws for men,
for among all men the first law is to venerate the gods."
20. "Is it not also a law everywhere to honour
parents?" "It is so." "Is it not a law, too, that
parents shall not intermarry with their children, nor
children with their parents?" "This does not as yet,
Socrates, appear to me to be a law of the gods? "
"Why?" "Because I find that some nations trans-
gress it." 21. "Many others, too, they transgress,"
said Socrates ; " but those who violate the laws made
by the gods incur punishment which it is by no means
possible for man to escape, as many transgressors of
the laws made by men escape punishment, some by
concealment, others by open violence." 22. "And what
sort of punishment, Socrates," said he, "cannot parents
escape who intermarry with their children, and children
who intermarry with their parents ? " " The greatest
of all punishments, by Jupiter," replied Socrates, "for
what greater penalty can those who beget children
incur, than to have bad children?" 23. "How then,"
said Hippias, "do they necessarily have bad children,
when nothing hinders but that they may be good them-
selves, and have children by good partners?" "Be-
cause," returned Socrates, "it is not only necessary
that those who have children by each other should be

Memorabilia of Socrates 137

good, but that they should be in full bodily vigour. Or
do you suppose that the seed of those who are at the
height of maturity is similar to that of those who have
not yet reached maturity, or to that of those who are far
past it? " "By Jupiter," replied Hippias, "it is not at
all likely that it should be similar." "Which of the
two then is the better? " "Doubtless that of those at
full maturity." "That of those who are not at full
maturity, then, is not sufficiently energetic." "Prob-
ably not." "Accordingly they ought not to have chil-
dren?" "No." "Do not those, therefore, who have
children under such circumstances, have them as they
ought not?" "So it appears to me." "What other
persons, therefore, will have bad children, if not these? "
"Well," said Hippias, "I agree with you on this point
also."

24. " Is it not everywhere a law, also," said Socrates,
"that men should do good to those who do good to
them?" "It is a law," answered Hippias, "but it is
transgressed." "Those therefore who transgress it
incur punishment," continued Socrates, "by being de-
prived of good friends, and being compelled to have
recourse to those who hate them. Are not such as do
service to those who seek it of them good friends, and
are not those who make no return to such as serve them
hated by them for their ingratitude ; and yet, because
it is for their advantage to have their support, do they
not pay the greatest court to them?" "Indeed, So-
crates," replied Hippias, "all these things seem to suit
the character of the gods ; for that the laws themselves
should carry with them punishments for those who
transgress them, appears to me to be the appointment
of a lawgiver superior to man."

25. "Whether, therefore, Hippias," added Socrates,
u do you consider that the gods appoint as laws, what
is agreeable to justice, or what is at variance with
justice? " "Not what is at variance with justice, cer-
tainly," said Hippias, "for scarcely would any other
make laws in conformity with justice, if a god were not
to do so." "It is the pleasure of the gods, therefore,
Hippias," concluded Socrates, "that what is in con-

II F 457

138 Xenophon

formity with justice should also be in conformity with
the laws."

By uttering such sentiments, and acting in agree-
ment with them, he rendered those who conversed with
him more observant of justice.

CHAPTER V

Socrates rendered his followers better qualified for public life. The
necessity of temperance, sect, i, 2 ; the evils of intemperance,
3-7 ; the benefits arising from temperance, 8-10 ; the conduct
of the temperate man, n, 12.

i. I WILL now relate how he rendered his followers
better qualified for the management of public business.
Thinking it expedient that temperance should be ob-
served by him who would succeed in anything honour-
able, he first made it evident to those who conversed
with him, that he practised this virtue beyond all other
men, and then, by his discourse, he exhorted his fol-
lowers, above everything, to the observance of temper-
ance. He continued always, therefore, both himself to
be mindful of, and to remind all his followers of, what-
ever was conducive to virtue ; and I know that he once
held a conversation on temperance with Euthydemus to
the following effect: 2. "Tell me," said he, "Euthy-
demus, do you regard liberty as an excellent and honour-
able possession for an individual or a community?"
"The most excellent and honourable that can be,"
replied he. 3. "Do you consider him, then, who is
held under control by the pleasures of the body, and is
rendered unable, by their influence, to do what is best
for him, to be free? " "By no means," replied Euthy-
demus. "Perhaps, then, to do what is best seems to
you to be freedom, but to be under influences which will
hinder you from doing it, you consider to be want of
freedom?" "Assuredly," said he. 4. "Do not the
intemperate appear to you, then, to be absolutely with-
out freedom?" "Yes, by Jupiter, and naturally so."
"And whether do the intemperate appear to you to be
merely prevented from doing what is best, or to be

Memorabilia of Socrates 139

forced, also, to do what is most dishonourable?"
"They appear to me," replied Euthydemus, "to be not
less forced to do the one than they are hindered from
doing the other." 5. "And what sort of masters do
you consider those to be, who hinder men from doing
what is best, and force them to do what is worst?"
"The very worst possible, by Jupiter," replied he.
" And what sort of slavery do you consider to be the
worst? " "That," said he, "under the worst masters."
"Do not then the intemperate," said Socrates, "endure
the very worst of slavery?" "It appears so to me,"
answered Euthydemus. 6. " And does not intemper-
ance seem to you, by banishing from men prudence,
the greatest good, to drive them into the very opposite
evil? Does it not appear to you to hinder them from
attending to useful things, and learning them, by draw-
ing them away to pleasure, and frequently, by captivat-
ing those who have a perception of good and evil, to
make them choose the worse instead of the better? "
"Such is the case," said he. 7. "And whom can we
suppose, Euthydemus, to have less participation in
self-control than the intemperate man? for assuredly the
acts of self-control and of intemperance are the very
opposite to each other." " I assent to this also," said he.
" And do you think that anything is a greater hindrance
to attention to what is becoming, than intemperance? "
"I do not." "And do you imagine that there is any
greater evil to man, than that which makes him prefer
the noxious to the beneficial, which prompts him to
pursue the one and to neglect the other, and which
forces him to pursue a contrary course of conduct to
that of the wise? " "There is none," said Euthydemus.
8. "Is it not natural, then," said Socrates, "that
temperance should be the cause of producing in men
effects contrary to those which intemperance pro-
duces? " "Undoubtedly," said Euthydemus. "Is it
not natural, therefore, also, that what produces those
contrary effects should be best for man ? " " It is
natural," said he. "Is it not consequently natural,
then, Euthydemus, that temperance should be best for
man?" "It is so, Socrates," said he. 9. "And have

140 Xenophon

you ever reflected upon this, Euthydemus? " "What? "
"That even to those pleasures, to which alone intem-
perance seems to lead men, it cannot lead them, but
that temperance produces greater pleasure than anything
else?" "How?" said he. "Because intemperance, by
not allowing men to withstand hunger, thirst, or the
desire of sensual gratification, or want of sleep (through
which privations alone is it possible for them to eat, and
drink, and gratify other natural appetites, and go to
rest and sleep with pleasure, waiting and restraining
themselves until the inclinations may be most happily
indulged), hinders them from having any due enjoyment
in acts most necessary and most habitual ; but temper-
ance, which alone enables men to endure the privations
which I have mentioned, alone enables them to find any
delight worthy of mention in the gratifications to which
I have alluded." "What you say," observed Euthy-
demus, "is indisputably true." 10. "To learn what is
honourable and good, moreover, and to study those
accomplishments by which a man may ably govern him-
self, judiciously regulate his household, become useful
to his friends and the state, and gain the mastery over
his enemies (from which studies arise not only the
greatest advantages, but also the greatest pleasures),
and of which the temperate have enjoyment while they
practise them, but the intemperate have no share in any
of them, to whom can we say that it less belongs to
attend to such things, than to him who has the least
power to pursue them, being wholly occupied in atten-
tion to present pleasures?" n. "You seem to me,
Socrates," said Euthydemus, "to say that the man who
is under the influence of bodily pleasures, has no par-
ticipation in any one virtue." "For what difference is
there, Euthydemus," said he, "between an intemperate
man and the most ignorant brute? How will he, who
has no regard to what is best, but seeks only to enjoy
what is most seductive by any means in his power,
differ from the most senseless cattle ? To the temperate
alone it belongs to consider what is best in human pur-
suits, to distinguish those pursuits, according to experi-
ence and reason, into their several classes, and then to
choose the good and refrain from the evil."

Memorabilia of Socrates 141

12. Thus it was, he said, that men became most
virtuous and happy, and most skilful in reasoning ; and
he observed that the expression 8toA.eyeo-0<u, " to reason,"
had its origin in people's practice of meeting together to
reason on matters, and distinguishing them, StaAeyovras,
according to their several kinds. It was the duty
of every one, therefore, he thought, to make himself
ready in this art, and to study it with the greatest dili-
gence; for that men, by the aid of it, became most
accomplished, most able to guide others, and most acute
in discussion.

CHAPTER VI

The value of skill in argument and definition, sect. i. Definition
of PIETY, 2-4 ; of JUSTICE, 5, 6 ; of WISDOM, 7 ; of GOODNESS
and BEAUTY, 8, 9 ; of COURAGE, 10, n. Some other definitions,
12. Remarks on the Socratic method of argument, 13-15.

i. I WILL now endeavour to show that Socrates ren-
dered those who associated with him more skilful in
argument. For he thought that those who knew the
nature of things severally, would be able to explain
them to others ; but as to those who did not know, he
said that it was not surprising that they fell into error
themselves, and led others into it. He therefore never
ceased to reason with his associates about the nature
of things. To go through all the terms that he denned,
and to show how he defined them, would be a long task ;
but I will give as many instances as I think will suffice
to show the nature of his reasoning.

2. In the first place, then, he reasoned of PIETY, in
some such way as this. "Tell me," said he, " Euthy-
demus, what sort of feeling do you consider piety to
be?" "The most noble of all feelings," replied he.
"Can you tell me, then, who is a pious man? " "The
man, I think, who honours the gods." "Is it allowable
to pay honour to the gods in any way that one
pleases?" "No; there are certain laws in conformity
with which we must pay our honours to them." 3. " He,
then, who knows these laws, will know how he must
honour the gods? " " I think so." " He therefore who

142 Xenophon

knows how to pay honour to the gods, will not think
that he ought to pay it otherwise than as he knows? "
"Doubtless not." "But does any one pay honours to
the gods otherwise than as he thinks that he ought to
pay them?" "I think not." 4. "He therefore who
knows what is agreeable to the laws with regard to the
gods, will honour the gods in agreement with the laws? 1 '
"Certainly." "Does not he, then, who honours the
gods agreeably to the laws honour them as he ought? "
"How can he do otherwise? " "And he who honours
them as he ought, is pious?" "Certainly." "He
therefore who knows what is agreeable to the laws with
regard to the gods, may be justly defined by us as a
pious man? " " So it appears to me," said Euthydemus.
5. " But is it allowable for a person to conduct himself
towards other men in whatever way he pleases ? "
" No ; but with respect to men also, he who knows what
is in conformity with the laws, and how men ought,
according- to them, to conduct themselves towards each
other, will be an observer of the laws." "Do not those,
then, who conduct themselves towards each other ac-
cording to what is in conformity with the laws, conduct
themselves towards each other as they ought? " " How
can it be otherwise?" "Do not those, therefore, who
conduct themselves towards each other as they ought,
conduct themselves well?" "Certainly." "Do not
those, then, that conduct themselves well towards each
other, act properly in transactions between man and
man?" "Surely." "Do not those, then, who obey
the laws, do what is just? " " Undoubtedly." 6. " And
do you know what sort of actions are called just?"
"Those which the laws sanction." "Those, therefore,
who do what the laws sanction, do what is just, and
what they ought?" "How can it be otherwise?"
"Do you think that any persons yield obedience to the
laws who do not know what the laws sanction ? " "I
do not." "And do you think that any who know what
they ought to do, think that they ought not to do it? "
"I do not think so." "And do you know any persons
that do other things than those which they think they
ought to do? " "I do not." "Those, therefore, who

Memorabilia of Socrates 143

know what is agreeable to the laws in regard to men, do
what is just? " "Certainly." "And are not those who
do what is just, just men? " "Who else can be so? "
"Shall we not define rightly, therefore," concluded
Socrates, "if we define those to be just who know what
is agreeable to the laws in regard to men ? " " It appears
so to me," said Euthydemus.

7. " And what shall we say that WISDOM is ? Tell me,
whether do men seem to you to be wise, in things which
they know, or are there some who are wise in things
which they do not know? " "In what they know, cer-
tainly ; for how can a man be wise in things of which
he knows nothing? " "Those, then, who are wise, are
wise by their knowledge? " "By what else can a man
be wise, if not by his knowledge?" "Do you think
wisdom, then, to be anything else than that by which
men are wise?" "I do not." "Is knowledge, then,
wisdom?" "It appears so to me." "Does it appear
to you, however, that it is possible for a man to know
all things that are?" "No, by Jupiter; not even, as
I think, a comparatively small portion of them." " It is
not therefore possible for a man to be wise in all
things?" "No, indeed." "Every man is wise, there-
fore, in that only of which he has a knowledge? " " So
it seems to me."

8. "Shall we thus, too, Euthydemus," said he, "in-
quire what is GOOD?" "How?" said Euthydemus.
"Does the same thing appear to you to be beneficial to
everybody?" "No." "And does not that which is
beneficial to one person appear to you to be sometimes
hurtful to another? " "Assuredly." "Would you say,
then, that anything is good that is not beneficial? " " I
would not." "What is beneficial, therefore, is good, to
whomsoever it is beneficial? " "It appears so to me,"
said Euthydemus.

9. "And can we define the BEAUTIFUL in any other
way than if you term whatever is beautiful, whether a
person, or a vase, or anything else whatsoever, beau-
tiful for whatever purpose you know that it is beau-
tiful? " "No, indeed," said Euthydemus. "For what-
ever purpose, then, anything may be useful, for that

144 Xenophon

purpose it is beautiful to use it? " " Certainly." " And
is anything beautiful for any other purpose than that for
which it is beautiful to use it? " " For no other pur-
pose," replied he. "What is useful is beautiful, there-
fore, for that purpose for which it is useful?" "So
I think,'* said he.

10. "As to COURAGE, Euthydemus," said Socrates,
"do you think it is to be numbered among excellent
things ? " "I think it one of the most excellent," replied
Euthydemus. " But you do not think courage a thing
of use for small occasions? " "No, by Jupiter, but for
the very greatest." "Does it appear to you to be use-
ful, with regard to formidable and dangerous things,
to be ignorant of their character?" "By no means."
"They, therefore, who do not fear such things, because
they do not know what they are, are not courageous? "
"Certainly not; for, in that case, many madmen and
even cowards would be courageous." "And what do
you say of those who fear things that are not formid-
able?" "Still less, by Jupiter, should they be called
courageous." "Those, then, that are good, with refer-
ence to formidable and dangerous things, you consider
to be courageous, and those that are bad, cowardly? "
"Certainly." n. "But do you think that any other
persons are good, with reference to terrible and danger-
ous circumstances, except those who are able to con-
duct themselves well under them? " "No, those only,"
said he. "And you think those bad with regard to
them, who are of such a character as to conduct them-
selves badly under them?" "Whom else can I think
so?" "Do not each, then, conduct themselves under
them as they think they ought?" "How can it be
otherwise?" "Do those, therefore, who cannot con-
duct themselves properly under them, know how they
ought to conduct themselves under them ? " " Doubtless
not." "Those then who know how they ought to con-
duct themselves under them, can do so? " "And they
alone." "Do those, therefore, who do not fail under
such circumstances, conduct themselves badly under
them? " " I think not." "Those, then, who do conduct
themselves badly under them, do fail? " " It seems so."

Memorabilia of Socrates 145

" Those, therefore, who know how to conduct them-
selves well in terrible and dangerous circumstances are
courageous, and those who fail to do so are cowards? "
"They at least appear so to me," said Euthydemus.

12. Monarchy and tyranny he considered to be both
forms of government, but conceived that they differed
(greatly) from one another; for a government over
men with their own consent, and in conformity with
the laws of free states, he regarded as a monarchy ; but
a government over men against their will, and not
according to the law of free states, but just as the ruler
pleased, a tyranny ; and wherever magistrates were
appointed from among those who complied with the
injunctions of the laws, he considered the government to
be an aristocracy ; wherever they were appointed accord-
ing to their wealth, a plutocracy ; and wherever they
were appointed from among the whole people, a
democracy.

13. Whenever any person contradicted him on any
point, who had nothing definite to say, and who perhaps
asserted, without proof, that some person, whom he
mentioned, was wiser, or better skilled in political
affairs, or possessed of greater courage, or worthier in
some such respect [than some other whom Socrates had
mentioned], he would recall the whole argument, in
some such way as the following, to the primary pro-
position : 14. " Do you say that he whom you commend,
is a better citizen than he whom I commend ? " "I do
say so." "Why did we not then consider, in the first
place, what is the duty of a good citizen? " " Let us do
so." "Would not he then be superior in the manage-
ment of the public money who should make the state
richer?" "Undoubtedly." "And he in war who
should make it victorious over its enemies? " "Assur-
edly." "And in an embassy he who should make friends
of foes?" "Doubtless." "And he in addressing the
people who should check dissension and inspire them
with unanimity? " " I think so." When the discussion
was thus brought back to fundamental principles, the
truth was made evident to those who had opposed him.

15. When he himself went through any subject in

II *F 457

146 Xenophon

argument, he proceeded upon propositions of which the
truth was generally acknowledged, thinking that a sure
foundation was thus formed for his reasoning. Accord-
ingly, whenever he spoke, he, of all men that I have
known, most readily prevailed on his hearers to assent
to his arguments ; and he used to say that Homer had
attributed to Ulysses the character of a sure orator, as
being able to form his reasoning on points acknowledged
by all mankind.

CHAPTER VII

How Socrates rendered his followers JJLTJXO-VIKO^S , ingenious and
adapted for business; his frankness and sincerity, i. How
far he thought that Geometry should be studied, 2, 3. How
far he recommended that Astronomy should be pursued, 4-7.
Vain investigations to be avoided, 8. Regard to be paid to
health, 9. Counsel to be asked of the gods, 10.

i. THAT Socrates expressed his sentiments with sin-
cerity to those who conversed with him, is, I think,
manifest from what I have said. I will now proceed to
show how much it was his care that his followers should
be competently qualified for employments suited to their
powers. Of all men that I have known, he was the
most anxious to discover in what occupation each of
those who attended him was likely to prove skilful ; and
of all that it becomes a man of honour and virtue to
know, he taught them himself, whatever he knew, with
the utmost cheerfulness; and what he had not sufficient
knowledge to teach, he took them to those who knew,
to learn.

2. He taught them also how far it was proper that
a well-educated man should be versed in any department
of knowledge. Geometry, for instance, he said that a
man should study until he should be capable, if occasion
required, to take or give land correctly by measurement ;
or to divide it or portion it out for cultivation ; and this,
he observed, it was so easy to learn, that he who gave
any attention at all to mensuration, might find how
large the whole earth was, and perfectly understand
how it was measured. 3. But of pursuing the study

Memorabilia of Socrates 147

of geometry to diagrams hard to understand, he dis-
approved; for he said that he could not see of what
profit they were, though he himself was by no means
unskilled in them; but he remarked that they were
enough to consume a man's whole life, and hinder
him from attaining many other valuable branches of
knowledge.

4. He recommended his followers to learn astronomy
also, but only so far as to be able to know the hour of
the night, the month, and the season of the year, with
a view to travelling by land or sea, or distinguishing
the earth, the periods of their revolutions, and the
divisions of the above mentioned times, to profit by the
signs for whatever other things are done at a certain
period of the night, or month, or year. These par-
ticulars, he said, were easily learned from men who
hunted by night, from pilots, and from many others
whose business it was to know them. 5. But to con-
tinue the study of astronomy so far as to distinguish
the bodies which do not move in the same circle with
the heaven, the planets, and the irregular stars, and to
weary ourselves in inquiring into their distances from
the earth, the periods of their revolutions, and the
causes of all these things, was what he greatly dis-
countenanced ; for he saw, he said, no profit in these
studies either, though he had himself given attention to
them; since they also, he remarked, were enough to
wear out the life of a man, and prevent him from
attending to many profitable pursuits.

6. Concerning celestial matters in general, he dis-
suaded every man from becoming a speculator how the
divine power contrives to manage them ; for he did not
think that such points were discoverable by man, nor
did he believe that those pleased the gods who inquired
into things which they did not wish to make known. He
observed, too, that a man who was anxious about such
investigations, was in danger of losing his ^ senses, not
less than Anaxagoras, who prided himself highly on ex-
plaining the plans of the gods, lost his. 7. For Anax-
agoras, when he said that fire and the sun were of the
same nature, did not reflect that people can easily look

148 Xenophon

upon fire, but cannot turn their gaze on the sun, and
that men, if exposed to the rays of the sun, have com-
plexions of a darker shade, but not if exposed to fire;
he omitted to consider, too, that of the productions of
the earth, none can come fairly to maturity without the
rays of the sun, while, if warmed by the heat of the fire,
they all perish ; and when he said that the sun was a
heated stone, he forgot that a stone placed in the fire
does not shine, or last long, but that the sun continues
perpetually the most luminous of all bodies.

8. He advised his followers also to learn computa-
tions, but in these, as in other things, he exhorted them
to avoid useless labour ; as far as it was of any profit,
he investigated everything himself, and went through it
with his associates.

9. He earnestly recommended those who conversed
with him to take care of their health, both by learning
whatever they could respecting it from men of experi-
ence, and by attending to it, each for himself, through-
out his whole life, studying what food or drink, or what
exercise, was most suitable for him, and how he might
act in regard to them so as to enjoy the best health ; for
he said it would be difficult for a person who thus at-
tended to himself to find a physician that would tell
better than himself what was conducive to his health.

10. But if any one desired to attain to what was
beyond human wisdom, he advised him to study divina-
tion ; for he said that he who knew by what signs the
gods give indications to men respecting human affairs,
would never fail of obtaining counsel from the gods.

CHAPTER VIII

Socrates, though condemned to death, was not convicted of false-
hood with regard to his DAEMON. His resolution to die. His
innocence inspires him with courage. He thinks it good to
die, and escape the evils of old age. Summary of the argu-
ments of the Memorabilia.

i. BUT if any one thinks that he was convicted of
falsehood with regard to his DAEMON, because sentence

Memorabilia of Socrates 149

of death was pronounced on him by the judges although
he said that the daemon admonished him what he ought
and what he ought not to do, let him consider, in the
first place, that he was already so advanced in years
that he must have ended his life, if not then, at
least not long after; and, in the next, that he relin-
quished only the most burdensome part of life, in which
all feel their powers of intellect diminished, while, in-
stead of enduring this, he acquired great glory by
proving the firmness of his mind, pleading his cause,
above all men, with the greatest regard to truth, in-
genuousness, and justice, and bearing his sentence at
once with the utmost resignation and the utmost
fortitude.

2. It is indeed acknowledged that no man, of all that
are remembered, ever endured death with greater glory ;
for he was obliged to live thirty days after his sentence,
because the Delian festival happened in that month, and
the law allowed no one to be publicly put to death until
the sacred deputation should return from Delos ; and
during that time he was seen by all his friends living in
no other way than at any preceding period ; and, let it
be observed, throughout all the former part of his life he
had been admired beyond all men for the cheerfulness
and tranquillity with which he lived. 3. How could
any one have died more nobly than thus? Or what
death could be more honourable than that which any
man might most honourably undergo? Or what death
could be happier than the most honourable? Or what
death more acceptable to the gods than the most happy?

4. I will also relate what I heard respecting him from
Hermogenes, the son of Hipponicus, who said that after
Meletus had laid the accusation against him, he heard
him speaking on any subject rather than that of his
trial, and remarked to him that he ought to consider
what defence he should make, but that he said at first,
" Do I not appear to you to have passed my whole life
meditating on that subject? " and then, when he asked
him "How so?" he said that "he had gone through life
doing nothing but considering what was just and ab-
staining from what was unjust, which he conceived to

150 Xenophon

be the best meditation for his defence." 5. Hermogenes
said again, " Do you not see, Socrates, that the judges
at Athens have already put to death many innocent
persons, from being offended at their language, and
have allowed many that were guilty to escape ? " " But,
by Jupiter, Hermogenes," replied he, "when I was pro-
ceeding, a while ago, to study my address to the judges,
the daemon testified disapprobation." "You say what
is strange," rejoined Hermogenes. "And do you think
it strange," inquired Socrates, "that it should seem
better to the divinity that I should now close my life?
Do you not know, that, down to the present time, I
would not admit to any man that he has lived either
better or with more pleasure than myself ? for I consider
that those live best who study best to become as good
as possible ; and that those live with most pleasure who
feel the most assurance that they are daily growing
better and better. 7. This assurance I have felt, to the
present day, to be the case with respect to myself ; and,
associating with other men, and comparing myself with
others, I have always retained this opinion respecting
myself; and, not only I, but my friends also, maintain
a similar feeling with regard to me, not because they
love me (for those who love others may be thus affected
towards the objects of their love), but because they think
that while they associated with me they became greatly
advanced in virtue. 8. If I shall live a longer period,
perhaps I shall be destined to sustain the evils of old
age, to find my sight and hearing weakened, to feel my
intellect impaired, to become less apt to learn, and more
forgetful, and, in fine, to grow inferior to others in all
those qualities in which I was once superior to them. If
I should be insensible to this deterioration, life would
not be worth retaining ; and, if I should feel it, how
could I live otherwise than with less profit, and with less
comfort? 9. If I am to die unjustly, my death will be
a disgrace to those who unjustly kill me ; for if injustice
is a disgrace, must it not be a disgrace to do anything
unjustly? But what disgrace will it be to me, that
others could not decide or act justly with regard to me?
10. Of the men who have lived before me, I see that the

Memorabilia of Socrates 151

estimation left among posterity with regard to such as
have done wrong, and such as have suffered wrong, is
by no means similar ; and I know that I also, if I now
die, shall obtain from mankind far different considera-
tion from that which they will receive who took my life ;
for I know that they will always bear witness to me that
I have never wronged any man, or rendered any man
less virtuous, but that I have always endeavoured to
make those better who conversed with me." Such
discourse he held with Hermogenes, and with others.

n. Of those who knew what sort of man Socrates
was, such as were lovers of virtue, continue to regret
him above all other men, even to the present day, as
being most useful to them in their pursuit of virtue. To
me, being such as I have described him, so pious that he
did nothing without the sanction of the gods ; so just,
that he wronged no man even in the most trifling affair,
but was of service, in the most important matters, to
those who enjoyed his society ; so temperate, that he
never preferred pleasure to virtue ; so wise, that he
never erred in distinguishing better from worse, needing
no counsel from others, but being sufficient in himself
to discriminate between them ; so able to explain and
settle such questions by argument ; and besides, so
capable of discerning character, of confuting those who
were in error, and of exhorting them to virtue and
honour, he seemed to be such as the best and happiest
of men would be. But if any one disapproves of my
opinion, let him compare the conduct of others with that
of Socrates, and determine accordingly.

THE
DEFENCE OF SOCRATES

BEFORE HIS

JUDGES

BY XENOPHON

I HAVE always considered the manner, in which
Socrates behaved after he had been summoned to his
trial, as most worthy of our remembrance ; and that, not
only with respect to the defence he made for himself,
when standing before his judges; but the sentiments
he expressed concerning his dissolution. For, although
there be many who have written on this subject, and
all concur in setting forth the wonderful courage and
intrepidity wherewith he spake to the assembly ; so that
it remaineth incontestable, that Socrates did thus
speak; yet that it was his full persuasion, that death
was more eligible for him than life at such a season,
they have by no means so clearly manifested ; whereby
the loftiness of his style, and the boldness of his speech,
may wear at least the appearance of being imprudent
and unbecoming.

But Hermogenes, the son of Hipponicus, was his
intimate friend ; and from him it is we have heard those
things of Socrates, as sufficiently prove the sublimity of
his language was only conformable to the sentiments
of his mind. For, having observed him, as he tells us,
choosing rather to discourse on any other subject than
the business of his trial; he asked him, "If it was not
necessary to be preparing for his defence?" And
" What ! " said he, " my Hermogenes suppose you I
have not spent my whole life in preparing for this very
thing?" Hermogenes desiring he would explain him-
self, "I have," said he, "steadily persisted, throughout
life, in a diligent endeavour to do nothing which is

152

The Defence of Socrates 153

unjust ; and this I take to be the best, and most honour-
able preparation."

"But see you not," said Hermogenes, "that ofttimes
here in Athens, the judges, influenced by the force of
oratory, condemn those to death who no way deserve
it; and, not less frequently, acquit the guilty, when
softened into compassion by the moving complaints, or
the insinuating eloquence of those who plead their cause
before them ? "

"I know it," replied Socrates; "and therefore, twice
have I attempted to take the matter of my defence under
consideration : but the genius always opposed me."

Hermogenes having expressed some astonishment at
these words, Socrates proceeded :

"Doth it then appear marvellous to you, my Hermo-
genes, that God should think this the very best time
for me to die? Know you not, that hitherto I have
yielded to no man, that he hath lived more uprightly,
or even more pleasurably than myself; possessed, as
I was, of that well-grounded self-approbation, arising
from the consciousness of having done my duty, both
to the gods and men : my friends also bearing their
testimony to the integrity of my conversation ! But
now if my life is prolonged and I am spared even to
old age what can hinder, my Hermogenes, the infirm-
ities of old age from falling upon me? My sight will
grow dim, my hearing, heavy : less capable of learning,
as more liable to forget what I have already learnt ; and
if, to all this, I become sensible of my decay, and
bemoan myself on the account of it, how can I say that
I still lived pleasantly? It may be too," continued
Socrates, "that God, through His goodness, hath
appointed for me, not only that my life should terminate
at a time which seems the most seasonable, but the
manner in which it will be terminated shall also be the
most eligible : for, if my death is now resolved upon, it
must needs be that they who take charge of this matter,
will permit me to choose the means supposed the most
easy; free, too, from those lingering circumstances
which keep our friends in anxious suspense for us, and
fill the mind of the dying man with much pain and

154 Xenophon

perturbation. And when nothing offensive nothing
unbecoming, is left on the memory of those who are
present; but the man is dissolved while the body is yet
found ; and the mind still capable of exerting itself
benevolently; who can say, my Hermogenes, that so to
die is not most desirable? And with good reason,"
continued Socrates, "did the gods oppose themselves at
what time we took the affair of my escape under
deliberation ; and determined that every means should
be diligently sought after to effect it; since, if our
designs had been carried into execution, instead of ter-
minating my life in the manner I am now going ; I had
only gained the unhappy privilege of finding it put an
end to by the torments of some disease, or the lingering
decays incident to old age ; when all things painful flow
in upon us together, destitute of every joy which might
serve to soften and allay them.

"Yet think not, my Hermogenes, the desire of death
shall influence me beyond what is reasonable ; I will not
set out with asking it at their hands; but if, when I
speak my opinion of myself, and declare what T think
I have deserved, both of gods and men, my judges are
displeased, I will much sooner submit to it, than meanly
intreat the continuance of my life, whereby I should
only bring upon myself many, and far greater evils,
than any I had taken such unbecoming pains to
deprecate. "

In this manner Socrates replied to Hermogenes and
others ; and his enemies having accused him of " not
believing in the gods, whom the city held sacred; but,
as designing to introduce other and new deities; and,
likewise, of his having corrupted the youth/' Hermo-
genes farther told me that Socrates, advancing towards
the Tribunal, thus spake :

" What I chiefly marvel at, O ye judges ! is this :
whence Melitus inferreth, that I esteem not those as
gods whom the city hold sacred. For that I sacrificed
at the appointed festivals, on our common altars, was
evident to all others; and might have been to Melitus,
had Melitus been so minded. Neither yet doth it seem
to be asserted with greater reason that my design was

The Defence of Socrates 155

to introduce new deities among us, because I have often
said, * That it is the voice of God which giveth me
significations of what is most expedient; ' since they
themselves who observe the chirping of birds, or those
ominous words spoken by men, ground their conclusions
on no other than voices. For, who among you doubteth
whether thunder sendeth forth a voice? or whether it be
not the very greatest of all auguries? The Pythian
priestess herself; doth not she likewise, from the
tripod, declare, by a voice t the divine oracles? And,
truly, that God foreknoweth the future; and also
showeth it to whomsoever He pleaseth, I am no way
singular, either in believing or asserting ; since all man-
kind agree with me herein; this difference only
excepted, that whereas they say, it is from auguries,
omens, symbols and diviners, whence they have their
notices of the future : I, on the contrary, impute all
those premonitions, wherewith I am favoured, to a
Genius ; and I think, that in so doing, I have spoken,
not only more truly, but more piously, than they who
attribute to birds the divine privilege of declaring things
to come ; and that I lied not against God, I have this
indisputable proof ; that whereas I have often communi-
cated to many of my friends the divine counsels, yet
hath no man ever detected me of speaking falsely."

No sooner was this heard, but a murmuring arose
among his judges ; some disbelieving the truth of what
he had said, while others envied him for being, as they
thought, more highly favoured of the gods than they.
But Socrates, still going on, "Mark," said he, "I pray;
and attend to what is yet more extraordinary, that such
of you as are willing may still the more disbelieve that
I have been thus favoured of the Deity. Chaerephon,
inquiring of the oracle at Delphos concerning me, was
answered by Apollo himself, in the presence of many
people, * That he knew no man more free, more just,
or more wise than /."

On hearing this the tumult among them visibly
increased; but Socrates, still going on, "And yet,
Lycurgus, the Lacedaemonian lawgiver, had still greater
things declared of him; for, on his entering into the

156 Xenophon

temple, the Deity thus accosted him, ' I am considering, J
said he, * whether I shall call thee a god, or a man ! '
Now Apollo compared me not to a god. This, indeed,
he said, ' That I by far excelled man : ' howbeit, credit
not too hastily what ye have heard, though coming
from an oracle; but let us thoroughly examine those
things which the Deity spake concerning me.

" Say then, where have you ever known any one less
enslaved to sensual appetite ; whom more free than the
man who submits not to receive gift or reward from the
hands of any other ? Whom can you deservedly esteem
more just than he who can so well accommodate him-
self to what he hath already in his own possession as
not even to desire what belongeth to another ? Or how
can he fail of being accounted wise who, from the time
he first began to comprehend what was spoken, never
ceased to seek and search out, to the very best of his
power, whatever was virtuous and good for man? And,
as a proof that in so doing- I have not laboured in vain,
ye yourselves know that many of our citizens, yea, and
many foreigners also, who made virtue their pursuit,
always preferred as their chief pleasure the conversing
with me. Whence was it, I pray you, that when every
one knew my want of power to return any kind of
pecuniary favour, so many should be ambitious to
bestow them on me? Why doth no man call me his
debtor, yet many acknowledge they owe me much?
When the city is besieged, and every other person
bemoaning his loss, why do I appear as in no respect
the poorer than while it remained in its most prosperous
state? And what is the cause that when others are
under a necessity to procure their delicacies from
abroad at an exorbitant rate, I can indulge in pleasures
far more exquisite by recurring to the reflections in my
own mind? And now, O ye judges ! if, in whatsoever
I have declared of myself, no one is able to confute me
as a false speaker, who will say I merit not approbation,
and that not only from the gods, but men !

" Nevertheless, you, O Melitus, have asserted that I
diligently applying myself to the contemplation and
practice of whatever is virtuous * corrupt the youth;'

The Defence of Socrates 157

and, indeed, we well know what it is to corrupt them.
But show us, if in your power, whom of pious I have
made impious; of modest, shameless; of frugal, pro-
fuse? Who, from temperate is become drunken; from
laborious, idle or effeminate by associating with me?
Or, where is the man who hath been enslaved, by my
means, to any vicious pleasure whatsoever? "

" Nay, verily ! " said Melitus, " but I know of many
whom thou hast persuaded to obey thee rather than
their parents."

"And with good reason," replied Socrates, "when the
point in question concerned education ; since no man
but knows that I made this my chief study ; and which
of you, if sick, prefers not the advice of the physician
to his parents? Even the whole body of the Athenian
people, when collected in the public assembly, do not
they follow the opinion of him whom they think the
most able, though he be not of their kindred? And, in
the choice of a general, do you not to your fathers,
brothers, nay even to yourselves, prefer the man whom
ye think the best skilled in military discipline? "

"Certainly," returned Melitus; "neither can any one
doubt of its being most expedient."

*' How then could it escape being regarded even by
you, Melitus, as a thing deserving the highest admira-
tion ; that, while in every other instance the man who
excels in any employment is supposed not only entitled
to a common regard, but receives many, and those
very distinguishing marks of honour, I, on the contrary,
am persecuted even to death because I am thought by
many to have excelled in that employment which is the
most noble; and which hath for its aim the greatest
good to mankind, by instructing our youth in the
knowledge of their duty, and planting in the mind each
virtuous principle ! "

Now, doubtless, there were many other things spoken
at the trial, not only by Socrates, but his friends, who
were most zealous to support him ; but I have not been
careful to collect all that was spoken, yet think I have
done enough to show, and that most plainly, that the
design of Socrates in speaking at this time was no other

158 Xenophon

than to exculpate himself from anything that might
have the least appearance of impiety towards the gods,
or of injustice towards men. For, with regard to death,
he was no way solicitous to importune his judges, as
the custom was with others : on the contrary, he
thought it the best time for him to die. And that he
had thus determined with himself was still the more
evident after his condemnation; for when he was
ordered to fix his own penalty, he refused to do it,
neither would he suffer any other to do it for him : say-
ing that to fix a penalty implied a confession of guilt.
And afterwards, when his friends would have with-
drawn him privately, he would not consent; but asked
them with a smile, "If they knew of any place beyond
the borders of Attica where death could not approach
him?"

The trial being ended, Socrates, as it is related, spake
to his judges in the following manner :

"It is necessary, O ye judges, that all they who
instructed the witnesses to bear, by perjury, false testi-
mony against me; as well as all those who too readily
obeyed their instructions, should be conscious to them-
selves of much impiety and injustice; but that I, in any
wise, should be more troubled and cast down than
before my condemnation, I see not, since I stand here
unconvicted of any of the crimes whereof I was accused ;
for no one hath proved against me that I sacrificed to
any new deity, or by oath appealed to, or even made
mention of, the names of any other than Jupiter, Juno,
and the rest of the deities, which, together with these,
our city holds sacred; neither have they once shown
what were the means I made use of to corrupt the
youth at the very time that I was enuring them to a life
of patience and frugality. As for those crimes to which
our laws have annexed death as the only proper punish-
ment sacrilege, man-stealing, undermining of walls,
or betraying of the city my enemies do not even say
that any of these things were ever once practised by
me. Wherefore I the rather marvel that ye have now
judged me worthy to die.

" But it is not for me to be troubled on that account ;

The Defence of Socrates 159

for if I die unjustly, the shame must be theirs who put
me unjustly to death; since, if injustice is shameful,
so likewise every act of it ; but no disgrace can it bring
on me, that others have not seen that I was innocent.
Palamedes likewise affords me this farther consolation ;
for being, like me, condemned undeservedly, he fur-
nishes, to this very day, more noble subjects for praise
than the man who had iniquitously caused his destruc-
tion ; and I am persuaded that I also shall have the
attestation of the time to come, as well as of that which
is past already ; that I never wronged any man or made
him more depraved ; but, contrariwise, have steadily
endeavoured throughout life to benefit those who con-
versed with me; teaching them, to the very utmost of
my power, and that without reward, whatever could
make them wise and happy."

Saying this, he departed; the cheerfulness of his
countenance, his gesture and whole deportment bearing
testimony to the truth of what he had just declared.
And, seeing some of those who accompanied him weep-
ing, he asked what it meant? and why they were now
afflicted? "For knew ye not," said he, "long ago,
even by that whereof I was produced, that I was born
mortal? If, indeed, I had been taken away, when the
things which are most desirable flowed in upon me
abundantly, with good reason it might have been
lamented, and by myself as well as others. But if I
am only to be removed when difficulties of every kind
are ready to break in upon me, we ought rather to
rejoice, as though my affairs went on the most
prosperously."

Apollodorus being present, one who loved Socrates
extremely, though otherwise a weak man, he said to
him, "But it grieveth me, my Socrates, to have you
die so unjustly !" Socrates, with much tenderness,
laying his hand upon his head, answered, smiling, "And
what, my much-loved Apollodorus ! wouldst thou rather
they had condemned me justly ? "

It is likewise related that on seeing Anytus pass by,
"There goes a man," said he, "not a little vainglorious
on supposing he shall have achieved something great

160 Xenophon

and noble in putting me to death because I once said,
' that since he himself had been dignified with some of
the chief offices in the city, it was wrong in him to
breed up his son to the trade of a tanner ; ' but he must
be a fool," continued Socrates, "who seeth not that
he who at all times performs things useful and excel-
lent is alone the hero. And truly, " added Socrates, "as
Homer makes some who were near the time of their
dissolution look forward into futurity, I, likewise, have
a mind to speak somewhat oraculously. Now it hap-
pened I was once for a short time with this same son of
Anytus ; and plainly perceiving he neither wanted talents
nor activity, therefore I said it was not fitting that the
young man should continue in such a station. But con-
tinuing as he still doth, destitute at the same time of any
virtuous instructor to guide and restrain him within the
bounds of duty, he must soon fall a prey to some evil
inclination that will hurry him headlong into vice and
ruin."

And in thus speaking Socrates prophesied not
untruly; for the young man delighted so much in wine
that he ceased not drinking whether night or day;
whereby he became perfectly useless to his country, to
his friends, and even to himself. The memory of
Anytus was likewise held in the highest detestation;
and that not only on the account of his other crimes,
but for the scandalous manner in which he had educated
his son.

Now it cannot be doubted but Socrates, by speaking
thus highly of himself, incurred the more envy, and
made his judges still the more eager to condemn him :
yet I think, indeed, he only obtained that fate which
the gods decree to those they most love : a discharge
from life when life is become a burthen ; and that, by
a means, of all others the most easy. Yet here, as well
as on every other occasion, Socrates demonstrated the
firmness of his soul. For although he was fully per-
suaded that to die would be the best for him, yet did he
not discover any anxious solicitude, any womanish long-
ings for the hour of his dissolution, but waited its
approach with the same steady tranquillity and

The Defence of Socrates 161

unaffected complacency with which he afterwards went
out of life. And truly, when I consider the wisdom and
greatness of soul, so essential to this man, I find it not
more out of my power to forget him than to remember
and not praise him. And if among those who are most
studious to excel in virtue there be any who hath found
a person to converse with more proper than Socrates,
for promoting his design, verily we may well pronounce
him the most fortunate of all mankind.

THE BANQUET OF XENOPHON

I. I AM of opinion that as well the sayings as the
actions of great men deserve to be recorded, whether
they treat of serious subjects with the greatest applica-
tion of mind, or, giving themselves some respite, unbend
their thoughts to diversions worthy of them. You will
know, by the relation I am going to make, what it was
inspired me with this thought, being myself present.

During the festival of Minerva there was a solemn
tournament whither Callias, who tenderly loved Auto-
licus, carried him, which was soon after the victory
which that youth had obtained at the Olympic games.
When the show was over, Callias, taking Autolicus and
his father with him, went down from the city to his house
at the Pirseum, with Nicerates the son of Nicias.

But upon the way meeting Socrates, Hermogenes,
Critobulus, Antisthenes and Charmides discoursing
together, he gave orders to one of his people to conduct
Autolicus and those of his company to his house, and
addressing himself to Socrates and those who were with
him, "I could not," says he, u have met with you more
opportunely ; I treat to-day Autolicus and his father, and
if I am not deceived, persons who like you have their
souls purified by refined contemplations would do much
more honour to our assembly than your colonels of
horse, captains of foot, and other gentlemen of business,
who are full of nothing but their offices and employ-
ments. You are always upon the banter, said Socrates;
for since you gave so much money to Protagoras,
Gorgias and Prodicus to be instructed in wisdom, you
make but little account of us, who have no other assist-
ance but from ourselves to acquire knowledge. It is true,
said Callias, hitherto I have concealed from you a thou-
sand fine things I learnt in the conversation of those
gentlemen ; but if you will sup with me this evening, I
will teach you all I know, and after that, I do not doubt,
you will say I am a man of consequence.

162

The Banquet 163

Socrates and the rest thanked him with the civility
that was due to a person of so high a rank that had
invited them in so obliging a manner ; and Callias, show-
ing an unwillingness to be refused, they at last accepted
the invitation, and went along with him. After they had
done bathing and anointing, as was the custom before
meals, they all went into the eating-room, where Auto-
licus was seated by his father's side, and each of the rest
took his place according to his age or quality.

The whole company became immediately sensible of
the power of beauty, and every one at the same time
silently confessed that by natural right the sovereignty
belonged to it, especially when attended with modesty
and a virtuous bashfulness. Now Autolicus was one of
that kind of beauties ; and the effect which the sight of
so lovely a person produced was to attract the eyes of the
whole company to him as one would do to flashes of
lightning in a dark night. All hearts surrendered to his
power and paid homage to the sweet and noble mien and
features of his countenance and the manly gracefulness
of his shape.

It is very certain that in those who are divinely in-
spired by some good daemon there appears something
which makes them beheld with the strictest attention
and a pleasing astonishment ; whereas those who are
possessed by some evil genius or power, besides the
terror that appears in their looks, they talk in a tone that
strikes horror, and have a sort of unbounded vehemence
in all they say and do that comes but little short of
madness. Thence it is, as it was in this case, that those
who are touched with a just and well regulated love
discover in their eyes a charming sweetness, in the tone
of the voice a musical softness, and in their whole deport-
ment something that expresses in dumb show the innate
virtue of their soul.

At length they sat down to supper, and a profound
silence was observed, as though it had been enjoined,
when a certain buffoon named Philip knocked at the door
and bade the servant that opened it tell the gentlemen
he was there, and that he came to sup with them;
adding, there was no occasion to deliberate whether he

1 64 Xenophon

should let him in, for that he was perfectly well fur-
nished with everything that could be necessary towards
supping well on free-cost, his boy being weary with
carrying nothing in his belly, and himself extremely
fatigued with running about to see where he could fill
his own. Callias, understanding the arrival of this new
guest, ordered him to be let in, saying, we must not
refuse him his dish, and at the same time turned his eyes
towards Autolicus, to discover, probably, the judgment
he made of what had passed in the company with rela-
tion to him ; but Philip coming into the room, " Gentle-
men,'* says he, "you all know I am a buffoon by profes-
sion, and therefore am come of my own accord. I chose
rather to come uninvited than put you to the trouble of
a formal invitation, having an aversion to ceremony."
"Very well," said Callias, "take a place, then, Philip;
the gentlemen here are full of serious thoughts, and I
fancy they will have occasion for somebody to make
them laugh."

While supper lasted Philip failed not to serve them up
now and then a dish of his profession ; he said a thou-
sand ridiculous things; but not having provoked one
smile, he discovered sufficient dissatisfaction. Some
time after he fell to it again, and the company heard
him again without being moved. Thereupon up he got,
and throwing his cloak over his head, laid himself down
at his full length on his couch without eating one bit
more. What is the matter? says Callias; has any
sudden illness taken you? Alas, cried he, fetching a
deep sigh from his heart, the quickest and most sensible
pain that ever I felt in my whole life, for since there is
no more laughing in the world, it is plain my business
is at an end, and I have nothing now to do but to make
a decent exit. Heretofore I have been called to every
jolly entertainment to divert the company with my
buffooneries ; but to what purpose should they now invite
me? I can as soon become a god as say one serious
word, and to imagine any one will give me a meal in
hopes of a return in kind is a mere jest, for my spit was
never yet laid down for supper; such a custom never
entered my doors.

The Banquet 165

While Philip talked in this manner he held his hand-
kerchief to his eyes and personated to admiration a man
grievously afflicted. Upon which every one comforted
him, and promised if he would eat they would laugh as
much as he pleased. The pity which the company
showed Philip having made Critobulus almost burst
his sides, Philip uncovered his face and fell to his supper
again, saying, Rejoice, my soul, and take courage, this
will not be thy last good meal; I see thou wilt yet be
good for something.

II. They had now taken away and made effusion of
wine in honour of the gods, when a certain Syracusian
entered, leading in a handsome girl, who played on the
flute, another that danced and showed very nimble feats
of activity, and a beautiful little boy, who danced, and
played perfectly well on the guitar. After these had
sufficiently diverted the company, Socrates, addressing
himself to Callias, In truth, says he, you have treated us
very handsomely, and have added to the delicacy of
eating other things delightful to our seeing and hearing".

But we want perfumes to make up the treat,
answered Callias, what say you to that? Not at all,
replied Socrates ; perfumes like habits are to be used
according to decency : some become men, and others
women ; but I would not that one man should perfume
himself for the sake of another; and for the women,
especially such as the wife of Critobulus or Nicerates,
they have no occasion for perfumes, their natural sweet-
ness supplying the want of them. But it is otherwise if
we talk of the smell of that oil that is used in the
Olympic games or other places of public exercise; this
indeed is sweeter to the men than perfumes to the
women ; and when they have been for some time disused
to it, they only think on it with a greater desire. If you
perfume a slave and a freeman, the difference of their
birth produces none in the smell ; and the scent is per-
ceived as soon in the one as the other ; but the odour of
honourable toil, as it is acquired with great pains and
application, so it is ever sweet and worthy of a brave
man. This is agreeable to young men, said Lycon, but
as for you and me, who are past the age of these public

1 66 Xenophon

exercises, what perfumes ought we to have? That of
virtue and honour, said Socrates.

Lycon. And where is this sort of perfume to be had?

Soc. Not in the shops, I assure you.

Lycon. Where, then?

Soc. Theognis sufficiently discovers where when he
tells us in his poem,

When virtuous thoughts warm the celestial mind
With generous heat, each sentiment's refin'd ;
The immortal perfumes breathing from the heart,
With grateful odours, sweeten every part.
But when our vicious passions fire the soul,
The clearest fountains grow corrupt and foul ;
The virgin springs which should untainted flow,
Run thick, and blacken all the stream below.

Do you understand this, my son, said Lycon to Auto-
licus? He not only understands it, but will practise it
too, said Socrates, and I am satisfied when he comes to
contend for that noble prize he will choose a master to
instruct him such as you shall approve of, who will be
capable of giving him rules to attain it.

Then they began all to reassume what Socrates had
said ; one affirmed there was no master to be found that
was qualified to instruct others in virtue ; another said
it could not be taught ; and a third maintained that if
virtue could not be taught, nothing else could. Very
well, said Socrates ; but since we cannot agree at present
in our opinions about this matter, let us defer the ques-
tion to another opportunity and apply ourselves to what
is before us ; for I see the dancing girl entering at the
other end of the hall ; and she has brought her cymbals
along with her. At the same time the other girl took her
flute, the one played and the other danced to admiration ;
the dancing girl throwing up and catching again her
cymbals so as to answer exactly the cadency of the
music, and that with a surprising dexterity. Socrates,
who observed her with pleasure, thought it deserved
some reflection ; and therefore, said he, this young girl
has confirmed me in the opinion I have had of a long
time, that the female sex are nothing inferior to ours,
excepting only in strength of body, or perhaps steadiness

The Banquet 167

of judgment. Now you gentlemen that have wives
amongst us may take my word for it, they are capable of
learning anything you are willing they should know to
make them more useful to you. If so, sir, said Anti-
sthenes, if this be the real sentiment of your heart, how
comes it you do not instruct Xantippe, who is, beyond
dispute, the most insupportable woman that is, has been,
or ever will be ? I do with her, said Socrates, like those
who would learn horsemanship ; they do not choose easy
tame horses, or such as are manageable at pleasure, but
the highest mettled and hardest mouthed, believing if
they can tame the natural heat and impetuosity of these,
there can be none too hard for them to manage. I pro-
pose to myself very near the same thing, for having
designed to converse with all sorts of people, I believed
I should find nothing to disturb me in their conversation
or manners, being once accustomed to bear the unhappy
temper of Xantippe.

The company relished what Socrates said, and the
thought appeared very reasonable. Then a hoop being
brought in, with swords fixed all around it, their points
upwards, and placed in the middle of the hall, the
dancing girl immediately leapt head-foremost into it
through the midst of the points and then out again with
a wonderful agility. This sight gave the company more
surprise and fear than pleasure, every one believing she
would wound herself; but she received no harm, and
performed her feats with all the courage and assurance
imaginable.

The company may say what they please, said Socrates,
but if I am not mistaken nobody will deny but courage
may be learnt, and that there are masters for this virtue
in particular ; though they will not allow it in the other
virtues we were just now speaking of ; since a girl, you
see, has the courage to throw herself through the midst
of naked swords which I believe none of us dare venture
upon. Truly, said Antisthenes, to whom Socrates
spoke, the Syracusian may soon make his fortune if he
would but show this girl in a full theatre, and promise
the Athenians that for a considerable sum of money he
would instruct them to be as little afraid of the Lace-

1 68 Xenophon

daemonian lances as this girl of her swords. Ah I cries
the buffoon, what pleasure should I take to see Pisander,
that grave counsellor of state, taking lessons from this
girl; he that is like to swoon away at the sight of a
lance, and says it is a barbarous cruel custom to go to
war and kill men.

After this the little boy danced, which gave occasion
to Socrates to say, you see this child who appeared
beautiful enough before is yet much more so now, by his
gesture and motion, than when he stood still. You talk,
said Charmides, as if you were inclinable to esteem the
trade of a dancing-master. Without doubt, said
Socrates, when I observe the usefulness of that exer-
cise, and how the feet, the legs, the neck, and indeed the
whole body are all in action, I believe whoever would
have his body supple, easy, and healthful should learn to
dance. And in good earnest I am resolved to take a
lesson of the Syracusian whenever he pleases. But it
was replied, when you have learnt to, do all this little
boy does, what advantage can it be to you ? I shall then
dance, said Socrates. At which all the company burst
out a-laughing ; but Socrates, with a composed and seri-
ous countenance, methinks you are pleasant, said he ;
what is it tickles you? is it because dancing is not a
wholesome exercise, or that after it we do not eat and
sleep with more pleasure? You know those who
accustom themselves to the long foot-race have gener-
ally thick legs and narrow shoulders ; and on the con-
trary, our gladiators and wrestlers have broad shoulders
and small legs. Now, instead of producing such effects,
the exercise of dancing occasions in us so many various
motions, and agitating all the members of the body with
so equal a poise, renders the whole of a just proportion,
both with regard to strength and beauty. What reason
then can you find to laugh when I tell you I design to
dance? I hope you would not think it decent for a man
of my age to go into a public school and unrobe myself
before all the company to dance; I need not do that;
a parlour like this we are in will serve my turn. You
may see by this little boy that one may sweat as well in
a little room as an academy or a public place ; and in

The Banquet 169

a winter you may dance in a warm apartment; in
summer, if the heat be excessive, in the shade. When I
have told you all this, laugh on, if you please, at my say-
ing I design to dance. Besides, you know I have a belly
something larger than I could wish ; and are you sur-
prised if I endeavour to bring it down by exercise?
Have you not heard that Charmides, the other morning,
when he came to visit me, found me dancing? Very
true, said Charmides, and I was extremely surprised,
and afraid you had lost your senses ; but when you had
given me the same reasons you have now, I went back
to my house, and, though I cannot dance, I began to
move my hands and legs and practise over some lessons
which I remembered something of when I was young.

Faith, said Philip to Socrates, I believe your thighs
and shoulders are exactly of the same weight, so that if
you put one into one scale, and the other into the other,
as the civil magistrate weighs bread in the market-place,
you will not be in danger of being forfeited, for there is
not an ounce, no, not a grain difference between them.
Well, then, said Callias, when you have an inclination for
a lesson of dancing, Socrates, pray call upon me, that
we may learn together. With all my heart, answered
Socrates. And 1 could wish, said Philip, that some one
would take the flute and I let Socrates and me dance
before this good company ; for methinks I have a mighty
mind that way. With that he jumped up and took
two or three frisks round the hall in imitation of the
dancing boy and girl. Upon which everybody took
notice that all those gestures or motions that were so
beautiful and easy in the little boy appeared awkward
and ridiculous in Philip ; and when the little girl, bend-
ing backwards, touched her heels with her head and
flung herself swiftly round three or four times like a
wheel, Philip would needs do the same, but in a manner
very different ; for bending himself forward, and
endeavouring to turn round, you may imagine with what
success he came off. Afterwards, when every one praised
the child for keeping her whole body in the exactest and
most regular motion in the dance, Philip bade the music
strike up a brisker tune and began to move his head, his

II G 457

1 70 Xenophon

arms and his heels all at once, till he could hold out no
longer; then, throwing himself on the couch, he cried
out, I have exercised myself so thoroughly that I have
already one good effect of it, I am plaguey thirsty. Boy,
bring the great glass that stands on the sideboard and
fill it up to me, for I must drink. Very well, said
Callias, the whole company shall drink, if you please,
master Philip, for we are thirsty too with laughing at
you. It is my opinion, too, said Socrates, that we
drink; wine moistens and tempers the spirits and lulls
the cares of the mind to rest, as opium does the body.
On the other hand it revives our joys, and is oil to the
dying flame of life. It is with our bodies as with seeds
sown in the earth ; when they are over-watered they can-
not shoot forth, and are unable to penetrate the surface
of the ground ; but when they have just so much moisture
as is requisite, we may behold them break through the
clod with vigour ; and pushing boldly upwards, produce
their flowers and then their fruits. It is much the same
thing with us ; if we drink too much, the whole man is
deluged, his spirits are overwhelmed, and is so far from
being able to talk reasonably, or indeed to talk at all,
that it is with the utmost pain he draws his breath. But
if we drink temperately and small draughts at a time, the
wine distils upon our lungs like sweetest morning dew
(to use the words of that noble orator Gorgias). It is
then the wine commits no rape upon our reason, but
pleasantly invites us to agreeable mirth. Every one was
of his opinion, and Philip said he had something to offer,
which was this : your servants, said he, that wait at the
sideboard should imitate good coachmen, who are never
esteemed such till they can turn dexterously and quick.
The advice was immediately put in practice, and the
servants went round and filled every man his glass.

III. Then the little boy, tuning his guitar to the flute,
sung and played at the same time ; which gave mighty
satisfaction to all the company. Upon this Charmides
spoke. What Socrates, said he, just now offered about
the effects of wine may, in my opinion, with little differ-
ence, be applied to music and beauty, especially when
they are found together ; for I begin, in good earnest, to

The Banquet 171

be sensible that this fine mixture buries sorrow, and is at
the same time the parent of love. Whereupon Socrates
took occasion to say, if these people are thus capable of
diverting 1 us, I am well assured we are now capable our-
selves, and I believe nobody here doubts it. In my
judgment it would be shameful for us, now we are met
together, not to endeavour to benefit one another by
some agreeable or serious entertainment. What say you,
gentlemen ? They generally replied, begin then the dis-
course from which we are to hope so good an effect. I
hope, said Socrates, to obtain that favour of Callias, if
he would but give us a taste of those fine things he learnt
of Prodicus : you know he promised us this, when we
came to sup with him. With all my heart, said Callias ;
I am willing, but on condition that you will all please to
contribute to the conversation, and every one tell, in his
turn, what it is he values himself most upon. Be it so,
said Socrates. I will tell you, then, added Callias, what
I esteem most and value myself chiefly upon ; it is this,
that I have it in my power to make men better. How so,
said Antisthenes, will you teach them to become rich or
honest? Justice is honesty, replied Callias. You are in
the right, said Antisthenes, I do not dispute it ; for
though there are some occasions when even courage or
wisdom may be hurtful to one's friends or the govern-
ment, yet justice is ever the same, and can never mix
with dishonesty. When therefore every one of us, says
Callias, has told wherein he chiefly values himself, and
is most useful to others, I shall then likewise make no
scruple to tell you by what arts I am able to perform
what I told you ; that is, to make men better.

Soc. But, Nicerates, what is the thing that you value
yourself most upon?

Nic. It is that my father, designing to make a
virtuous man of me, ordered me to get by heart every
verse of Homer; and I believe I can repeat you at this
minute the whole Iliad and Odysses. But you know
very well, said Antisthenes, every public rehearser or
ballad-singer does the same at all the corners of the
streets. I acknowledge it, said Nicerates, nor does a
day pass but I go to hear them.

172 Xenophon

Ant. I think them a pack of scandalous wretches.
What say you?

Nic. I am of your opinion.

Soc. It is certain they do not know the sense of one
verse they recite; but you who have given so much
money to Hesimbrotus, Anaximander and other wise
men to instruct you in wisdom, you cannot be ignorant
of anything.

Now it is your turn, Critobulus, continued Socrates;
tell us, then, if you please, what is it you value your-
self most upon? On beauty, replied he. But will you
say, Socrates, that yours is such as will help to make us
better ?

Soc. I understand you, but if I do not make that out
anon, then blame me. What says Antisthenes? Upon
what does he value himself?

Ant. I think I can value myself upon nothing in this
world equal to that of being rich.

He had scarce done speaking when Hermogenes took
him up and asked him how much he was worth? Faith,
not one halfpenny, said Antisthenes.

Her. But you have a good estate in land.

Ant. I may perhaps have just as much as may afford
dust for Autolicus the next time he has a mind to
wrestle.

Soc. Charmides, will you, in few words, acquaint us
what it is you value yourself most upon.

Char. Poverty.

Soc. Very well ; you have made an excellent choice ;
it is indeed in itself of an admirable nature ; nobody will
be your rival ; you may preserve it without care, and
even negligence is its security. There are not small
r-easons, you see.

Call. But since you have asked the whole company,
may we not inquire of you, Socrates, what it is you value
yourself upon?

When Socrates, putting on a very grave and solemn
air, answered coldly and without hesitation, I value
myself upon procuring. The gravity of the speaker,
and the manner of speaking a word so little expected
from Socrates, set the whole company a-laughing. Very

The Banquet 173

well, gentlemen, said he, I am glad you are pleased,
but I am very certain this profession of mine, if I apply
myself closely to it, will bring in money enough if I
pleased.

When Lycon, pointing to Philip, well, what say you?
You, I suppose, value yourself upon making men laugh?
Yes, certainly, said Philip, and have I not more reason
to be proud of myself for this than that fine spark Calli-
pides, who is so fond, you know, of making his audience
weep when he recites his verses in the theatre? But,
Lycon, said Antisthenes, let us know what it is you
value yourself most upon? What gives you greatest
content? You know very well, answered he, what I
esteem the most, and which gives me the greatest plea-
sure : it is to be the father of such a son as Autolicus.

And for your son, said some of the company, he, no
question, values himself most upon carrying the prize
the other day at the Olympic games. Not so, I assure
you, said Autolicus, blushing. And then the whole com-
pany, turning their eyes with pleasure towards him, one
of them asked him, what is it then, Autolicus, you value
yourself most upon? It is, replied he, that I am the son
of such a father; and at the same time turned himself
lovingly towards him for a kiss. Callias, who observed
it, said to Lycon, do not you know yourself to be the
richest man in the world? I cannot tell that, replied
Lycon ; and yet it is true, said Callias, for you would not
change this son of yours for the wealth of Persia.

Lycon. Be it so, I am then the richest man in the
world, nor will I contradict your opinion.

Then Nicerates, addressing himself to Hermogenes,
what is it, said he, that you value yourself most upon?
On virtue, answered he, and the power of my friends ;
and that with these two advantages I have yet the good
fortune to be beloved by these friends.

Then every one, looking upon him, began to inquire
who were his friends? I will satisfy you, said he, as
you shall see when it comes to my turn."

IV. Then Socrates resumed the discourse; now you
have all, said he, declared your opinions as to what you
value yourselves most upon ; it remains that you prove it.

174 Xenophon

Let us now, then, hear every man's reasons, if you
please, for his opinion.

Hear me first, then, said Callias, for though you have
all been long inquiring what justice is, I alone have
found the secret to make men just and honest.

Soc. How so?

Call. By giving them money.

At these words, Antisthenes, rising up, asked him
hastily, is justice to be found in the heart or the pocket?

Call. In the heart.

Ant. And would you then make us believe that by
filling a bag with money you can make the heart honest
or just?

Call. Most assuredly.

Ant. How?

Call. Because when they have all things necessary for
life, they will not for the world run any hazard by com-
mitting evil actions.

Ant. But do they repay you again what they receive
of you ?

Call. Not at all.

Ant. Nothing but gratitude, I hope, good thanks for
good money.

Call. Not that neither; for I can tell you something
you will hardly believe; I have found some people of so
evil a nature that they love me less for receiving benefits
from me. Then Antisthenes replied briskly :

Ant. That is wonderful, you make men just and
honest to others, and they prove unjust and dishonest
only to you ?

Call. Not so wonderful neither ! Have we not archi-
tects and masons who build houses for other men and
live in hired lodgings themselves? Have patience, my
master, said he, turning to Socrates, and I will prove
this beyond dispute. You need not, said Socrates, for
besides what you allege for a proof there is another that
occurs to me : do you not see there are certain diviners
who pretend to foretell everything to other people and
are entirely ignorant of what is to happen to themselves.
Socrates said no more.

It is now my turn to speak, said Nicerates; hear

The Banquet 175

then what I am going to say, attend to a conversation
which will necessarily make you better and more polite.
You all know, or I am much mistaken, there is nothing
that relates to human life but Homer has spoke of it.
Whoever then would learn Economy, Eloquence, Arms,
whoever would be master of every qualification that is
to be found in Achilles, Ajax, Ulysses or Nestor, let him
but apply himself to me and he shall become perfect in
them, for I am entirely master of all that. Very well,
said Antisthenes, you have learnt likewise the art of
being a king; for you may remember Homer praises
Agamemnon for that he was,

A noble warrior and a mighty prince.

Nic. I learnt too from Homer how a coachman
ought to turn at the end of his career. He ought to
incline his body to the left and give the word to the horse
that is on the right, and make use at the same time of a
very loose rein. I have learnt all this from him, and
another secret too, which, if you please, we will make
trial of immediately : the same Homer says somewhere
that an onion relishes well with a bottle. Now let some
of your servants bring an onion, and you will see with
what pleasure you will drink. I know very well, said
Charmides, what he means; Nicerates, gentlemen,
thinks deeper than you imagine. He would willingly
go home with the scent of an onion in his mouth thatjhis
wife may not be jealous or suspect he has been kissing
abroad. A very good thought, said Socrates, but per-
haps I have one full as whimsical and worthy of him :
it is, that an onion does not only relish wine but victuals
too, and gives a higher seasoning ; but if we should eat
them now after supper, they would say we had com-
mitted a debauch at Callias's; no, no, said Callias, you
can never think so ; but onions, they say, are very good
to prepare people for the day of battle and inspire
courage; you know they feed cocks so against they
fight; but our business at present, I presume, is love,
not war, and so much for onions.

Then Critobulus began; I am now, said he, to give
my reasons why I value myself so much upon my beauty ;

176 Xenophon

"if I am not handsome (and I know very well what I
think of the matter), you ought all of you to be accounted
impostors, for without being obliged to it upon oath,
when you were asked what was your opinion of me, you
all swore I was handsome ; and I thought myself obliged
to believe you, being men of honour that scorned a lie ;
if then I am really handsome, and you feel the same
pleasure that I do when I behold another beautiful
person, I am ready to call all the gods to witness that
were it in my choice either to reign king of Persia or be
that beauty, I would quit the empire to preserve my
form. In truth, nothing in this world touches me so
agreeably as the sight of Kleinias ; and I could will-
ingly be blind to all other objects if I might but always
enjoy the sight of Kleinias alone.

I curse my slumbers, doubly curse the night,
That hides the lovely boy from my desiring sight :
But, oh ! I bless the chearful god's return,
And welcome with my praise the ruddy morn :
Light with the morn returns, return my fair,
He is my light, the morn restores my dear.

"There is something more in the matter besides this
to be considered. A person that is vigorous and strong
cannot attain his designs but by his strength and vigour ;
a brave man by his courage ; a scholar by his learning
and conversation; but the beautiful person does all this
without any pains by being only looked at. I know very
well how sweet the possession of wealth is, but I would
sacrifice all to Kleinias, and I should with more pleasure
give all my estate to him than to receive a thousand
times more from any other. I would lay my liberty at his
feet if he would accept me for his slave ; fatigue would
be much more agreeable to me than repose, and dangers
than ease if endured in the service of Kleinias. If then
you boast yourself so much, Callias, that you can make
men honester by your wealth, I have much more reason
to believe I am able to produce in them all sorts of virtue
by the mere force of beauty; for when beauty inspires,
it makes its votaries generous and industrious ; they
thereby acquire a noble thirst after glory and a contempt
.of dangers ; and all this attended with an humble and

The Banquet 177

respectful modesty; which makes them blush to ask
what they wash most to possess. I think the govern-
ment is stark mad that they do not choose for generals
the most beautiful persons in the state ; for my part I
would go through fire to follow such a commander, and I
believe you would all do the same for me. Doubt not,
then, Socrates, but beauty may do much good to man-
kind ; nor does it avail to say beauty does soon fade ; for
there is one beauty of a child, another of a boy, another
of a man. There is likewise a beauty of old age, as in
those who carry the consecrated branches at the feast
of Minerva ; for you know for that ceremony they make
choice always of the handsomest old men. Now if it is
desirable to obtain without trouble what one wishes, I
am satisfied that without speaking one word I should
sooner persuade that little girl and boy to kiss me than
any of you, with all the arguments you can use, no, not
you yourself, Socrates, with all the strength of your
extolled eloquence." Why, Critobulus, do you give
yourself this air of vanity, said Socrates, as if you were
handsomer than me? Doubtless, replied Critobulus, if
I have not the advantage of you in beauty, 1 must be
uglier than the Sileni, as they are painted by the poets.
(Now Socrates had some resemblance to those figures.)

Soc. Take notice, if you please, that this article of
beauty will be soon decided anon, after every one has
taken his turn to speak ; nor shall we call Paris to make
a judgment for us, as he did in the case of the three
goddesses about the apple; and all these present, who
you would make us believe desire to kiss you, shall
determine it.

Crit. And why may not Kleinias be as good a judge
of this matter?

Soc. Kleinias must needs have a large possession of
your heart, seeing by your good will you would never
name any other name but his.

Crit. True, and yet when I do not speak of him, do
you think he lives not in my memory? I assure you if
I were a painter or a statuary, I could draw his picture
or statue by the Idea of him in my mind as well as if
he were to sit to it.
u * G 457

178 Xenophon

Soc. Since then you have his image in your heart,
and that image resembles him so strongly, why is it that
you importune me continually to carry you to places
where you are sure to meet him?

Crit. It is because the sight of Kleinias only gives
me real joy.

The idea does no solid pleasure give.

He must within my sight, as well as fancy, live.

Hermogenes interrupted the discourse, and addressing
himself to Socrates, said, you ought not to abandon
Critobulus in the condition he is in, for the violent trans-
port and fury of his passion makes me uneasy for him,
and I know not where it may end.

Soc. What? Do you think he is become thus only
since he was acquainted with me? You are mightily
deceived ; for 1 can assure you this fire has been kindled
ever since they were children. Critobulus 's father
having observed it, begged of me that I would take
care of his son, and endeavour, if I could, by all means,
to cure him of it. He is better now ; things were worse
formerly : for I have seen when Kleinias appeared in
company, Critobulus, poor creature, would stand as one
struck dead, without motion, and his eyes so fixed upon
him as if he had beheld Medusa 's head, insomuch that it
was impossible almost for me to bring him to himself.

I remember one day after certain amorous glances
(this is between ourselves only) he ran up to him and
kissed him ; and, heaven knows, nothing gives more fuel
to the fire of love than kisses. For this pleasure is not
like others, which either lessen or vanish in the enjoy-
ment ; on the contrary it gathers strength the more it is
repeated ; and flattering our souls with sweet and
favourable hopes, bewitches our minds with a thousand
beautiful images. Thence it may be that to love and to
kiss are frequently expressed by the same word in the
Greek; and it is for that reason, I think, he that would
preserve the liberty of his soul should abstain from kiss-
ing handsome people. What then, said Charmides,
must I be afraid of coming near the fair? Nevertheless
I remember very well, and I believe you do so too,

The Banquet 179

Socrates, that being one day in company with Crito-
bulus, as we were searching together for a passage in
some author, you held your head very close to his ; and
I thought you seemed to take pleasure in touching his
naked shoulder with yours. Ah ! replied Socrates, I
will tell you truly how I was punished for it for five days
after; I thought I felt in my shoulder a certain tickling
pain as if 1 had been bit by gnats or pricked with
nettles; and I must confess, too, that during all that
time I felt a certain, hitherto unknown, pain at my
heart. But Critobulus, take notice what I am going to
tell you before this good company ; it is, that I would
not have you come too near me till you have as many
hairs upon your chin as your head.

Thus the conversation between these gentlemen was
sometimes serious, sometimes in raillery. After this
Callias took up the discourse ; it is your turn now, says
he, Charmides, to tell us what reasons you have for
valuing yourself so much upon poverty ; I will, replied
Charmides, and without delay. "Is anything more cer-
tain than that it is better to be brave than a coward, a
freeman than a slave, to be credited than distrusted, to
be inquired after for your conversation than to court
others or theirs ? These things I believe may be granted
me without much difficulty ; now when I was rich, I was
in continual fear of having my house broken by thieves
and my money stole, or my throat cut upon the account
of it. Besides all this, I was forced to keep in fee with
some of these pettifogging rascals that retain to the law,
who swarm all over the town like so many locusts. This
I was forced to do, because they were always in a con-
dition to hurt me ; and I had no way to retaliate upon
them. Then I was obliged to bear public offices at my
own charges, and to pay taxes ; nor was it permitted me
to go abroad to travel to avoid that expense. But now
that my estate which I had without the frontiers of our
republic is all gone, and my land in Attica brings me in
no rent, and all my household goods are exposed to sale,
I sleep wonderfully sound, and stretched upon my bed
as one altogether fearless of officers. The government is
now no more jealous of me, nor I of it ; thieves fright

i8o Xenophon

me not, and I myself affright others. I travel abroad
when I please; and when I please I stay at Athens.
What is to be free, if this is not ? Besides, rich men pay
respect to me; they run from me to leave me the chair
or to give me the wall. In a word, I am now perfectly
a king ; I was then perfectly a slave. I have yet another
advantage from my poverty : I then paid tribute to the
republic; now the republic pays tribute to me; for it
maintains me. Then every one snarled at me because I
was often with Socrates : now that I am poor I may con-
verse with him or any other I please without anybody's
being uneasy at it. I have yet another satisfaction;
in the days of my estate either the government or my
ill fortune were continually clipping it : now that is all
gone, it is impossible to get anything of me ; he that has
nothing can lose nothing. And I have the continual
pleasure of hoping to be worth something again one
time or other.'*

Do not you pray heartily against riches, says Callias ?
And if you should happen to dream you were rich, would
you not sacrifice to the gods to avert the ill omen ? No,
no, replied Charmides ; but when any flattering hope
presents I wait patiently for the success. Then Socrates,
turning to Antisthenes, and what reason have you, said
he, who have very little or no money, to value yourself
upon wealth?

Ant. " Because I am of opinion, gentlemen, that
poverty and wealth are not in the coffers of those we call
rich or poor, but in the heart only ; for I see numbers of
very rich men who believe themselves poor ; nor is there
any peril or labour they will not expose themselves to,
to acquire more wealth. I knew two brothers the other
day who shared equally their father's estate. The first
had enough and something to spare ; the other wanted
everything. I have heard likewise of some princes so
greedy of wealth that they were more notoriously
criminal in the search of it than private men ; for though
the latter may sometimes steal, break houses, and sell
free persons to slavery to support the necessities of life,
yet those do much worse : they ravage whole countries,
put nations to the sword, enslave free states ; and all

The Banquet 181

this for the sake of money, and to fill the coffers of their
treasury. The truth is, I have a great deal of compas-
sion for these men when I consider the distemper that
afflicts them. Is it not an unhappy condition to have a
great deal to eat, to eat a great deal, and yet never be
satisfied? For my part, though I confess I have no
money at home, yet I want none ; because I never eat
but just as much as will satisfy my hunger ; nor drink
but to quench my thirst. I clothe myself in such
manner that 1 am as warm abroad as Callias, with all his
great abundance. And when 1 am at home, the floor
and the wall, without mats or tapestry, make my
chamber warm enough for me. And as for my bed,
such as it is, I find it more difficult to awake than to fall
asleep in it. If at any time a natural necessity requires
me to converse with women, I part with them as well
satisfied as another. For those to whom I make my
addresses, having not much practice elsewhere, are as
fond of me as if I were a prince. But do not mistake
me, gentlemen, for governing my passion in this as in
other things : I am so far from desiring to have more
pleasure in the enjoyment that I wish it less ; because,
upon due consideration, I find those pleasures that touch
us in the most sensible manner deserve not to be
esteemed the most worthy of us. But observe the chief
advantage I reap from my poverty; it is, that in case
the little I have should be taken entirely from me, there
is no occupation so poor, no employment in life so
barren, but would maintain me without the least uneasi-
ness, and afford me a dinner without any trouble. For
if I have an inclination at any time to regale myself and
indulge my appetite, I can do it easily ; it is but going- to
market, not to buy dainties (they are too dear), but my
temperance gives that quality to the most common food ;
and by that means the contentedness of my mind supplies
me with delicacies that are wanting in the meat itself.
Now it is not the excessive price of what we eat that
gives it a relish; but it is necessity and appetite. Of
this I have experience just now while I am speaking ;
for this generous wine of Thasos that I am now drink-
ing, the exquisite flavour of it is the occasion that I

1 82 Xenophon

drink it now without thirst, and consequently without
pleasure. Besides all this, I find it is necessary to live
thus in order to live honestly. For he that is content
with what he has will never covet what is his neigh-
bour 's. Further, it is certain, the wealth I am speaking
of makes men liberal : for Socrates, from whom I have
all mine, never gave it me by number or weight ; but
whenever I was willing to receive he loads me always
with as much as I can carry. I do the same by my
friends ; I never conceal my plenty. On the contrary, I
show them all I have, and at the same time I let them
share with me. It is from this, likewise, I am become
master of one of the most delightful things in the world ;
I mean that soft and charming leisure that permits me to
see everything that is worthy to be seen; and to hear
everything that is worthy to be heard. It is, in one word,
that which affords me the happiness of hearing Socrates
from morning to night ; for he, having no great venera-
tion for those that can only count vast sums of gold and
silver, converses only with them who he finds are agree-
able to him, and deserve his company." Truly, said
Callias, I admire you and these your excellent riches
for two reasons : first, that hereby you are no slave to
the government ; and secondly, that nobody can take it
ill you do not lend them money. Pray do not admire
him for the last, said Nicerates ; for I am about to
borrow of him what he most values; that is, to need
nothing ; for by reading Homer, and especially that
passage where he says,

Ten golden talents, seven three-legg'd stools,
Just twenty cisterns, and twelve charging steeds,

I have so accustomed myself from this passage to be
always upon numbering and weighing, that I begin to
fear I shall be taken for a miser. Upon this they all
laughed heartily ; for there was nobody there but believed
Nicerates spoke what he really thought, and what were
his real inclinations.

After this, one spoke to Hermogenes ; it is yours now,
said he, to tell us who are your friends ; and make it
appear that if they have much power they have equal
will to serve you with it; and consequently that you
have reason to value yourself upon them.

The Banquet 183

Her. There is one thing, gentlemen, universally
received among barbarians as well as Greeks; and that
is, that the gods know both the present and what is to
come ; and for that reason they are consulted and applied
to by all mankind with sacrifices to know of them what
they ought to do. This supposes that they have the
power to do us good or evil ; otherwise why should we
pray to them to be delivered from evils that threaten us,
or to grant us the good we stand in need of ? Now these
very gods, who are both all-seeing and all-powerful, they
are so much my friends, and have so peculiar a care of
me, that be it night, be it day, whether 1 go anywhere
or take anything in hand, they have me ever in their
view and under their protection, and never lose me out
of their sight. They foreknow all the events and all the
thoughts and actions of us poor mortals ; they forewarn
us by some secret prescience impressed on our minds, or
by some good angel or dream, what we ought to avoid
and what we ou^ht to do. For my part, I have never
had occasion yet to repent these secret impulses given
me by the gods, but have been often punished for
neglecting them. There is nothing in what you have
said, added Socrates, that should look incredible ; but
I would willingly hear by what services you oblige the
gods to be so much your friends, and to love and take
all this care of you? That is done very cheap, and at
little or no expense, replied Hermogenes, for the praises
I give them cost me nothing. If I sacrifice to them
after I have received a blessing from them, that very
sacrifice is at their own charge. I return them thanks
on all occasions ; and if at any time I call them to
witness, it is never to a lie, or against my conscience.
Truly, said Socrates, if such men as you have the gods
for their friends, and I am sure they have, it is certain
those gods take pleasure in good actions and the practice
of virtue."

Here ended their serious entertainment. What fol-
lowed was of another kind ; for all of them turning to
Philip asked him what it was he found so very valuable
in his profession ? Have I not reason to be proud of my
trade, said he, all the world knowing me to be a
buffoon? If any good fortune happens to them, they

184 Xenophon

cheerfully invite me; but when any misfortune comes
they avoid me like the plague, lest I should make them
laugh in spite of themselves. Nicerates interrupting him,
you have reason indeed, said he, to boast of your pro-
fession, for it is quite otherwise with me. When my
friends have no occasion for me they avoid me like the
plague ; but in misfortunes they are ever about me, and
by a forged genealogy will needs claim kindred with
me, and at the same time carry my family up as high
as the gods. Very well, said Charmides, now to the
rest of the company.

Well, Mr. Syracusian, what is it gives you the greatest
satisfaction, or that you value yourself most upon? I
suppose it is that pretty little girl of yours. Quite con-
trary, says he, I have much more pain than pleasure
upon her account. I am in constant apprehension and
fear when I see certain people so busy about her and
trying all insinuating ways to ruin her. Ah ! said
Socrates, what wrong could they pretend to have
received from that poor young creature, to do her a
mischief? Would they kill her?

Syr. I do not speak of killing ; you do not take me ;
they would willingly go to bed to her.

Soc. Suppose it were so ; why must the girl be ruined
therefore ?

Syr. Ay, doubtless.

Soc. Do not you lie in bed with her yourself?

Syr. Most certainly, all night long.

Soc. By Juno, thou art a happy fellow to be the only
man in the world that doth not ruin those you lie with.
Well, then, according to your account, what you are
proudest of must be that you are so wholesome and so
harmless a bedfellow?

Syr. But you are mistaken ; it is not her I value myself
for, neither.

Soc. What, then?

Syr. That there are so many fools in the world. For
it is these kind of gentlemen who come to see my chil-
dren dance and sing that supply me with the necessaries
of life, which otherwise I might want.

I suppose then, said Philip, that was the meaning of

The Banquet 185

your prayer you made the other day before the altar,
when you asked the gods that there might be plenty of
everything in this world wherever you came, but of
judgment and good sense?

Immortal Beings, grant my humble prayer ;
Give Athens all the blessings you can spare ;
Let them abound in plenty, peace, and pence,
But never let them want a dearth of sense.

All is well hitherto, said Callias ; but, Socrates, what
reason have you to make us believe you are fond of the
profession you attributed to yourself just now? for really
I take it for a scandalous one.

Soc. First let us understand one another; and know
in few words what this artist is properly to do whose
very name has made you so merry. But, to be brief,
let us, in short, fix upon some one thing that we may
all agree in. Shall it be so? Doubtless, answered all
the company. And during the thread of his discourse
they made him no other answer but Doubtless. Having
begun so; is it not certainly true, said Socrates, that the
business of an artist of that kind is to manage so as
that the person they introduce be perfectly agreeable to
one that employs him? Doubtless, they replied. Is it
not certain, too, that a good face and fine clothes does
mightily contribute towards the making such a person
agreeable? Doubtless. Do you not observe that the
eyes of the same person look, at some times, full of
pleasure and kindness; and at other times with an air of
aversion and scorn? Doubtless. What, does not the
same voice sometimes express itself with modesty and
sweetness, and sometimes with anger and fierceness?
Doubtless. Are there not some discourses that naturally
beget hatred and aversion; and others that conciliate
love and affection? Doubtless. If then this artist be
excellent in his profession, ought he not to instruct those
that are under his direction which way to make them-
selves agreeable to others in all these things I have
mentioned? Doubtless. But who is most to be valued?
He who renders them agreeable to one person only, or
he that renders them agreeable to many ? Are you nol

1 86 Xenophon

for the last? Some of them answered him as before,
with Doubtless; and the rest said it was very plain that
it was much better to please a great many than a few.
That is very well, said Socrates; we agree upon every
head hitherto; but what if the person we are speaking
of can instruct his pupil to gain the hearts of a whole
state? Will you not say he is excellent in his art ? This
they all agreed was clear. And if he can raise his
scholars to such perfection, has he not reason to be
proud of his profession ? And deserves he not to receive
a handsome reward? Every one answered it was their
opinion he did. Now, said Socrates, if there is such a
man to be found in the world, it is Antisthenes, or I am
mistaken.

Ant. How, Socrates ! Will you make me one of your
scurvy profession?

Soc. Certainly, for I know you are perfectly skilled in
what may properly be called an Appendix to it.

Ant. What is that?

Soc. Bringing people together.

To this Antisthenes with some concern replied, Did
you ever know me guilty of a thing of this kind ?

Soc. Yes, but keep your temper. You procured
Callias for Prodicus, finding the one was in love with
philosophy, and the other in want of money. You did
the same before, in procuring Callias for Hippias, who
taught him the art of memory, and he is become such a
proficient that he is more amorous now than ever; for
whatever beauty he sees he can never forget, so per-
fectly has he learnt of Hippias the art of memory. You
have done yet more than this, Antisthenes ; for lately
praising a friend of yours, of Heraclea, to me, it gave
me a great desire to be acquainted with him. At the
same time you praised me to him, which occasioned his
desire to be acquainted with me; for which I am
mjghtily obliged to you, for I find him a very worthy
man. Praising likewise in the same manner Esquilius
to me, and me to him, did not your discourse in-
flame us both with such mutual affection that we
searched every day for one another with the utmost
impatience till we became acquainted? Now, having

The Banquet 187

observed you capable of bringing about such desirable
things, had not I reason to say you are an excellent
bringer of people together? I know very well that one
who is capable of being useful to his friend in fomenting
mutual friendship and love between that friend and
another he knows to be worthy of him, is likewise
capable of begetting the same disposition between
towns and states : he is able to make state-marriages ;
nor has our republic or our allies a subject that may be
more useful to them. And yet you were angry with me,
as if I had affronted you when I said you were master
of this art.

Ant. That is true, Socrates ; but my anger is now
over, and were I really what you say I am, I must have
a soul incomparably rich.

V. Now you have heard in what manner every one
spoke, when Callias began again, and said to Critobu-
lus, will you not then venture into the lists with
Socrates and dispute beauty with him?

Soc. I believe not ; for he knows my art gives me some
interest with the judges.

Crit. Come, I will not refuse to enter the lists for
once with you ; pray, then, use all your eloquence, and
let us know how you prove yourself to be handsomer
than me.

Soc. That shall be done presently; bring but a light,
and the thing is done.

Crit. But in order to state the question well, you will
give me leave to ask a few questions?

Soc. I will.

Crit. But, on second thoughts, I will give you leave
to ask what questions you please first.

Soc. Agreed. Do you believe beauty is nowhere to
be found but in man?

Crit. Yes, certainly, in other creatures too, whether
animate, as a horse or bull, or inanimate things, as tve
say, that is a handsome sword, or a fine shield, etc.

Soc. But how comes it, then, that things so very
different as these should yet all of them be handsome?

Crit. Because they are well made, either by art or
nature, for the purposes they are employed in.

i 88 Xenophon

Soc. Do you know the use of eyes ?

Crit. To see.

Soc. Well ! it is for that very reason mine are hand-
somer than yours.

Crit. Your reason?

Soc. Yours see only in a direct line ; but as for mine,
I can look not only directly forward as you, but sideways
too, they being seated on a kind of ridge on my face
and staring out.

Crit. At that rate a crab has the advantage of all other
animals in matter of eyes.

Soc. Certainly ; for theirs are incomparably more solid
and better situated than any other creature's.

Crit. Be it so as to eyes ; but as to your nose, would
you make me believe that yours is better shaped than
mine?

Soc. There is no room for doubt, if it be granted,
that God made the nose for the sense of smelling ; for
your nostrils are turned downward, but mine are wide
and turned up towards heaven. To receive smells that
come from every part, whether from above or below.

Crit. What ! is a short flat nose then more beautiful
than another?

Soc. Certainly ; because being such, it never hinders
the sight of both eyes at once ; whereas a high nose parts
the eyes so much by its rising that it hinders their seeing
both of them in a direct line.

Crit. As to your mouth, I grant it you, for if God
has given us a mouth to eat with, it is certain yours
will receive and chew as much at once as mine at thrice.

Soc. Do not you believe, too, that my kisses are more
luscious and sweet than yours, having my lips so thick
and large?

Crit. According to your reckoning, then, an ass's lips
are more beautiful than mine.

Soc. And lastly, I must excel you in beauty for this
reason; the Naiades, notwithstanding they are sea-
goddesses, are said to have brought forth the Sileni ;
and sure I am much more like them than you can pretend
to be. What say you to that ?

Crit. I say it is impossible to hold a dispute with you,

The Banquet 189

Socrates; and therefore let us determine this point by
ballotting, and so we shall know presently who has the
best of it, you or I ; but pray let it be done in the dark,
lest Antisthenes' riches and your eloquence should
corrupt the judges.

Whereupon the little dancing boy and girl brought in
the ballotting box, and Socrates called at the same time
for a flambeau to be held before Critobulus that the
judges might not be surprised in their judgment. He
desired likewise that the conqueror, instead of garters
and ribbands, as were usual in such victories, should
receive a kiss from every one of the company. After
this they went to ballotting, and it was carried unani-
mously for Critobulus. Whereupon Socrates said to
him, indeed, Critobulus, your money has not the same
effect with Callias's, to make men juster; for yours, I
see, is able to corrupt a judge upon the bench.

VI. After this some of the company told Critobulus
he ought to demand the kisses due to his victory ; and
the rest said it was proper to begin with him who made
the proposition. In short, every one was pleasant in his
way except Hermogenes, who spoke not one word all
the time, which obliged Socrates to ask him if he knew
the meaning of the word Paroinia?

Her. If you ask me what it is precisely, I do not
know ; but if you ask my opinion of it, perhaps I can
tell you what it may be.

Soc. That is enough.

Her. I believe then that Paroinia signifies the pain and
uneasiness we undergo in the company of people that
we are not pleased with. Be assured then, said Socrates,
this is what has occasioned that prudent silence of yours
all this time.

Her. How my silence? When you were all speaking.

Soc. No, but your silence when we have done speak-
ing and made a full stop.

Her. Well said, indeed ! No sooner one has done,
but another begins to speak ; and I am so far from being
able to get in a sentence that I cannot find room to edge
in a syllable. Ah, then, said Socrates, cannot you assist
a man that is thus out of humour? Yes, said Callias;

Xenophon

for I will be bold to say when the music begins again
everybody will be silent as well as Hermogenes.

Her. You would have me do then as the poet Nico-
strates, who used to recite his grand Iambics to the
sound of his flute. And it would be certainly very pretty
if I should talk to you all the time the music played ; for
God's sake do so, said Socrates, for as the harmony is
the more agreeable that the voice and the instrument go
together, so your discourse will be more entertaining
for the music that accompanies it; and the more delight-
ful still if you give life to your words by your gesture
and motion, as the little girl does with her flute. But
when Antisthenes, said Callias, is pleased to be angry in
company, what flute will be tuneable enough to his
voice ?

Ant. I do not know what occasion there will be for
flutes tuned to my voice; but I know that when I am
angry with any one, in dispute, I am loud enough, and
I know my own weak side.

As they were talking thus the Syracusian, observing
they took no great notice of anything he could show
them, but that they entertained one another with sub-
jects out of his road, he was out of all temper with
Socrates, who he saw gave occasion at every turn for
some new discourse. Are you, said he to him, that
Socrates who is surnamed the Contemplative?

Soc. Yes, said Socrates; and is it not much more
preferable to be called so than by another name for some
opposite quality?

Syr. Let that pass ; but they do not only say in general
that Socrates is contemplative, but that he contemplates
things that are sublime.

Soc. Know you anything in the world so sublime and
elevated as the gods?

Syr. No ; but I am told your contemplations run not
that way; they say they are but trifling, and that in
stretching after things above your reach your inquiries
are good for nothing.

Soc. It is by this, if I deceive not myself, that I
attain to the knowledge of the gods, for it is from above
that the gods make us sensible of their assistance ; it is

The Banquet 191

from above they inspire us with knowledge. But if what
I have said appears dry and insipid, you are the cause
for forcing me to answer you.

Syr. Let us then talk of something else ; tell me then
the just measure of the skip of a flea, for I hear you are
a subtle geometrician and understand the mathematics
perfectly well.

But Antisthenes, who was displeased with his dis-
course, addressing himself to Philip, told him, you are
wonderful happy, I know, in making comparisons ; pray
who is this Syracusian like, Philip ; does he not resemble
a man that is apt to give affronts and say shocking
things in company? Faith, said Philip, he appears so
to me, and I believe to everybody else. Have a care,
said Socrates, do not affront him, lest you fall under
the same character yourself that you would give him.

Phil. Suppose I compare him to a well-bred person,
I hope nobody will say I affront him then?

Soc. So much the more, said Socrates ; such a com-
parison must needs affront him to some purpose.

Phil. Would you then that I compare him to some one
that is neither honest nor good?

Soc. By no means.

Phil. Who must I compare him to then ? To nobody ?

Soc. Nobody.

Phil. But it is not proper we should be silent at a
feast.

Soc. That is true, but it is as true we ought rather to
be silent than say anything we ought not to say.

VII. Thus ended the dispute between Socrates and
Philip ; however, some of the company were for having
Philip make his comparisons, others were against it, as
not liking that sort of diversion ; so that there was a
great noise about it in the room. Which Socrates,
observing, very well, said he, since you are for speaking
all together, it were as well in my opinion that we
should sing together, and with that he began to sing
himself. When he had done they brought the dancing
girl one of those wheels the potters use with which she
was to divert the company in turning herself round it.
Upon which Socrates, turning to the Syracusian, I

I9 2 Xenophon

believe I shall pass for a contemplative person indeed,
said he, as you called me just now, for I am now con-
sidering how it comes to pass that those two little actors
of yours give us pleasure in seeing them perform their
tricks without any pain to themselves, which is what I
know you design. I am sensible that for the little girl to
jump head foremost into the hoop of swords with their
points upwards, as she has done just now, must be a
very dangerous leap, but I am not convinced that such a
spectacle is proper for a feast ; I confess likewise it is a
surprising sight to see a person writing and reading at
the same time that she is carried round with the motion
of the wheel as the girl has done ; but yet I must own
it gives me no great pleasure. For would it not be
much more agreeable to see her in a natural easy posture
than putting her handsome body into an unnatural agita-
tion merely to imitate the motion of a wheel ? Neither is
it so rare to meet with surprising and wonderful sights,
f or ^ here is one before our eyes, if you please to take
notice of it. Why does that lamp, whose flame is pure
and Bright, give all the light to the room when that
looking-glass gives none at all ; and yet represents dis-
tinctly all objects in its surface? Why does that oil
which is in its own nature wet augment the flame, and
that water ^ which is wet likewise extinguish it? But
these questions are not proper at this time ; and indeed
if the two children were to dance to the sound of the
flute, dressed in the habits of nymphs, the Graces, or the
four seasons of the year, as they are commonly painted,
they might undergo less pain and we receive more
pleasure. You are in the right, sir, said the Syracusian
to Socrates, and I am going to represent something of
that kind that certainly must divert you ; and at the same
time went out to make it ready, when Socrates began a
new discourse.

VIII. "What then,'* said he, "must we part without
saying a word of the attributes of that great daemon or
power who is present here, and equals in age the im-
mortal gods, though to look at he resembles but a child ?
That daemon who, by his mighty power, is master of all
things; and yet is ingrafted into the very essence and

The Banquet 193

constitution of the soul of man (I mean love). We may,
indeed, with reason extol his empire as having more
experience of it than the vulgar, who are not initiated
into the mysteries of that great God as we are. Truly to
speak for one, I never remember, I was without being
in love; I know too that Charmides has had a great
many lovers, and being much beloved has loved again.
As for Critobulus, he is still of an age to love and to
be beloved ; and Nicerates too, who loves so passionately
his wife, at least as report goes, is equally beloved by
her. And who of us does not know that the object of
that noble passion and love of Hermogenes is virtue and
honesty? Consider, pray, the severity of his brows, his
piercing and fixed eyes, his discourse so composed and
strong, the sweetness of his voice, the gaiety of his
manners. And, what is yet more wonderful in him,
that so beloved as he is by his friends the gods, he does
not disdain us mortals. But for you, Antisthenes, are
you the only person in the company that does not love? "

Ant No ! for in faith I love you, Socrates, with all my
heart.

Then Socrates, rallying him, and counterfeiting an
angry air, said, do not trouble me with it now ; you see I
have other business upon my hands at present.

Ant. I confess you must be an expert master of the
trade you valued yourself so much upon a while ago; for
sometimes you will not be at the pains to speak to me,
and at other times you pretend your daemon will not
permit you, or that you have other business.

Soc. Spare me a little, Antisthenes; I can bear well
enough any other troubles that you give me, and I will
always bear them as a friend ; but I blush to speak of the
passion you have for me, since I fear you are not
enamoured with the beauty of my soul, but with that of
my body.

"As for you, Callias, you love as well as the rest of
us : for who is it that is ignorant of your love for Auto-
licus ? It is the town talk, and foreigners as well as our
citizens are acquainted with it. The reasons for your
loving him I believe to be that you are both of you born
of illustrious families, and at the same time are both

194 Xenophon

possessed of personal qualities that render you yet more
illustrious. For me, I always admired the sweetness
and evenness of your temper ; but much more, when I
consider that your passion for Autolicus is placed on a
person who has nothing luxurious or affected in him ;
but in all things shows a vigour and temperance worthy
of a virtuous soul, which is a proof at the same time that
if he is infinitely beloved, he deserves to be so.

" I confess indeed I am not firmly persuaded whether
there be but one Venus or two, the celestial and the
vulgar; and it may be with this goddess as with Jupiter,
who has many different names, though there is still but
one Jupiter. But I know very well that both the Venuses
have altogether different altars, temples and sacrifices ;
the vulgar Venus is worshipped after a common negli-
gent manner; whereas the celestial one is adored in
purity and sanctity of life. The vulgar inspires mankind
with the love of the body only, but the celestial fires the
mind with the love of the soul, with friendship and a
generous thirst after noble actions. I hope that it is
this last kind of love that has touched the heart of
Callias ; this I believe, because the person he loves is
truly virtuous ; and whenever he desires to converse with
him, it is in the presence of his father, which is a proof
his love is perfectly honourable.

" Upon which Hermogenes began to speak : I have
always admired you, Socrates, on every occasion, but
much more now than ever. You are complaisant to
Callias and indulge his passion. And this your com-
plaisance is agreeable to him, so it is wholesome and
instructive, teaching him in what manner he ought to
love. That is true, said Socrates ; and that my advice
may please him yet the more, I will endeavour to prove
that the love of the soul is incomparably preferable to
that of the body. I say, then, and we all feel the truth
of it, that no company can be truly agreeable to us with-
out friendship ; and we generally say, whoever entertains
a great value and esteem for the manners and behaviour
of a man, he must necessarily love him. We know like-
wise, that among those who love the body only, they
many times disapprove the humour of the person they so

The Banquet 195

love, and hate perhaps at the same time the mind and
temper, while they endeavour to possess the body. Yet
further, let us suppose a mutual passion between two
lovers of this kind, it is very certain that the power of
beauty, which gives birth to that love, does soon decay
and vanish ; and how is it possible that love built on
such a weak foundation should subsist, when the cause
that produced it has ceased? But it is otherwise with
the soul, for the more she ripens, and the longer she
endures, the more lovely she becomes. Besides, as the
constant use of the finest delicates is attended in progress
of time with disgust, so the constant enjoyment of the
finest beauty palls the appetite at last. But that love
that terminates on the bright qualities of the soul be-
comes still more and more ardent ; and, because it is in its
nature altogether pure and chaste, it admits of no satiety.
Neither let us think with some people that this passion,
so pure and so chaste, is less charming or less strong
than the other. On the contrary, those who love in this
manner are possessed of all that we ask, in that our
common prayer to Venus, ' Grant, O goddess, that we
say nothing but what is agreeable, and do nothing but
what does please. ' Now I think it is needless to prove
that a person of a noble mien, generous and polite,
modest and well-bred, and in a fair way to rise in the
state, ought first to be touched with a just esteem for
the good qualities of the person he courts, for this will be
granted by all. But I am going to prove in few words,
that the person thus addressed to must infallibly return
the love of a man that is thus endued with such shining
accomplishments. For is it possible for any one to
hate a man who he believes has infinite merit, and who
makes his addresses to him upon the motive of doing
justice to his honour and virtue, rather than from a
principle of pleasing his appetite? And how great is
the contentment we feel when we are persuaded that no
light faults or errors shall ever disturb the course of a
friendship so happily begun, or that the diminution of
beauty shall never lessen one's affection ! How can it
ever happen otherwise, but that persons who love one
another thus tenderly, and with all the liberties of a

196 Xenophon

pure and sacred friendship, should take the utmost
satisfaction in one another's company, in discoursing
together, with an entire confidence, in mingling their
mutual interests and rejoicing in their good fortune and
bearing a share in their bad? Such lovers must needs
partake of one another 's joy or grief, be merry and
rejoice with one another in health, and pay the closest
and tenderest attendance on one another when sick,
and express rather a greater concern for them when
absent than present. Does not Venus and the Graces
shower down their blessings on those who love thus?
For my part, I take such to be perfectly happy ; and
a friendship like this must necessarily persevere to the
end of their lives, uninterrupted and altogether pure.
But I confess I cannot see any reason why one that
loves only the exterior beauty of the person he courts
should be loved again. Is it because he endeavours to
obtain something from the other that gives him pleasure,
but the other shame ? Or is it because in the conduct of
their passion they carefully conceal the knowledge of it
from their parents or friends? Somebody, perhaps, may
object that we ought to make a different judgment of
those who use violence and of those who endeavour to
gain their point by the force of persuasion ; but I say
these last deserve more hatred than the first. The first
appear in their proper colours for wicked persons ; and
so every one is on their guard against such open
villainy; whereas the last, by sly insinuations, does
insensibly corrupt and defile the mind of the person they
pretend to love. Besides, why should they who barter
their beauty for money be supposed to have a greater
affection for the purchasers than the trader who sells his
goods in the market-place has for his chapman that
pays him down the price? Do not be surprised, then,
if such lovers as these meet often with the contempt
they deserve. There is one thing more in this case
worthy of your consideration ; we shall never find that
the love which terminates in the noble qualities of the
mind has ever produced any dismal effects. But there
are innumerable examples of tragical consequences
which have attended that love which is fixed only on

The Banquet 197

the beauty of the body. Chiron and Phoenix loved
Achilles, but after a virtuous manner, without any
other design than to render him a more accomplished
person. Achilles likewise loved and honoured them in
return, and held them both in the highest veneration.
And indeed I should wonder if one that is perfectly
accomplished should not entertain the least contempt
for those who admire only their personal beauty. Nor is
it hard to prove, Callias, that gods and heroes have
always had more passion and esteem for the charms of
the soul than those of the body : at least, this seems to
have been the opinion of our ancient authors. For we
may observe in the fables of antiquity that Jupiter, who
loved several mortals upon the account of their per-
sonal beauty only, never conferred upon them immor-
tality. Whereas it was otherwise with Hercules,
Castor, Pollux and several others; for having admired
and applauded the greatness of their courage and the
beauty of their minds, he enrolled them in the number
of the gods. And whatever some affirm to the contrary
of Ganymede, I take it he was carried up to heaven
from mount Olympus, not for the beauty of his body but
that of his mind. At least his name seems to confirm
my opinion, which in the Greek seems to express as
much as * To take pleasure in good counsel and in
the practice of wisdom. ' When Homer represents
Achilles so gloriously revenging the death of Patroclus,
it was not properly the passion of love that produced
that noble resentment, but that pure friendship and
esteem he had for his partner in arms. Why is it that
the memory of Pylades and Orestes, Theseus and
Perithous and other demi-gods are to this day so highly
celebrated? Was it for the love of the body, think
you ? No ! by no means : it was the particular esteem
and friendship they had for one another, and the mutual
assistance every one gave to his friend in those
renowned and immortal enterprises which are to this
day the subject of our histories and hymns. And, pray,
who are they that performed those glorious actions?
Not they that abandoned themselves to pleasure, but
they that thirsted after glory ; and who to acquire that

198 Xenophon

glory underwent the severest toils and almost insuper-
able difficulties.

"You are then infinitely obliged to the gods, Callias,
who have inspired you with love and friendship for
Autolicus. It is certain Autolicus has the most ardent
passion for glory ; since, in order to carry the prize at
the Olympic games and be proclaimed victor by the
heralds with sound of trumpet as he lately was, he must
needs have undergone numberless hardships and the
greatest fatigues; for no less was required towards
gaining the victory in so many different exercises. But
if he proposes to himself, as I am sure he does, to
acquire further glory to become an ornament to his
family, beneficent to his friends, to extend the limits
of his country by his valour, and by all honest
endeavours to gain the esteem oT barbarians as well as
Greeks, do not you believe he will always have the
greatest value for one who he believes may be useful
and assistant to him in so noble a design? If you
would then prove acceptable, Callias, to any one you
love, you ought to consider and imitate those methods
by which Themistocles rose to the first dignities of the
state and acquired the glorious title of THE DELIVERER OF
GREECE; the methods by which Pericles acquired that
consummate wisdom which proved so beneficial, and
brought immortal honour to his native country. You
ought to ponder well how it was that Solon became the
lawgiver to this republic of Athens, and by what honour-
able means the Lacedaemonians have arrived to such
wonderful skill in the art of war : and this last you may
easily acquire by entertaining, as you do at your house,
some of the most accomplished Spartans. When you
have sufficiently pondered all these things and imprinted
those noble images upon your mind, doubt not but your
country will some time or other court you to accept the
reins of government, you having already the advantage
of a noble birth and that important office of high priest
which gives you a greater lustre already than any of
your ancestors could ever boast of. And let me add
that air of greatness which shines in your person, and
that strength and vigour that is lodged in so handsome

The Banquet 199

a body, capable of the severest toils and the most
difficult enterprises."

Socrates, having said all this to Callias, addressed
himself to the company and said, " I know very well this
discourse is too serious for a feast, but you will not be
surprised when you consider that our commonwealth
has been always fond of those who, to the goodness of
their natural temper, have added an indefatigable search
after glory and virtue. And in this fondness of mine
for such men I but imitate the genius of my country."

After this the company began to entertain one
another upon the subject of this last discourse of
Socrates ; when Callias, with a modest blush in his
face, addressed himself to him ; you must then lend
me, said he, the assistance of your art, to which you
gave such a surprising name a while ago, to render me
acceptable to the commonwealth, and that when it shall
please my country to instruct me with the care of its
affairs, I may so behave myself as to preserve its good
opinion, and never do anything but what tends to the
public good. You will certainly succeed, do not doubt
it, said Socrates. You must apply yourself in good
earnest to virtue, and not content yourself, as some
people do, with the appearance of it only, as if that
might suffice. For know, Callias, that false glory can
never subsist long. Flattery or dissimulation may for
a while varnish over such a rotten structure ; but it must
tumble down at last. On the contrary, solid glory will
always maintain its post ; unless God, for some secret
reasons hid from us, think fit to oppose its progress;
otherwise, that sublime virtue, which every man of
honour should aim at, does naturally reflect back upon him
such rays of glory as grow brighter and brighter every
day in proportion as his virtue rises higher and higher.

IX. The discourse being ended, Autolicus rose to
take a walk, and his father, following him, turned
towards Socrates and said, Socrates, I must declare
my opinion, that you are a truly honest man.

After this there was an elbow chair brought into the
middle of the room, and the Syracusian appearing at
the same time, gentlemen, said he, Ariadne is just now
entering, and Bacchus, who has made a debauch to-day

2oo Xenophon

with the gods, is coming down to wait upon her; and
I can assure you they will both divert the company and
one another. Immediately Ariadne entered the room,
richly dressed in the habit of a bride, and placed herself
in the elbow chair. A little after Bacchus appeared,
while at the same time the girl that played on the flute
struck up an air that used to be sung at the festival of
that god. It was then that the Syracusian was admired
for an excellent master in his art : for Ariadne, being
perfectly well instructed in her part, failed not to show,
by her pretty insinuating manner, that she was touched
with the air of the music ; and that though she rose not
from her chair to meet her lover, yet she expressed
sufficiently the great desire she had to do it. Bacchus,
perceiving it, came on dancing towards her in the most
passionate manner, then sat himself down on her lap,
and taking her in his arms kissed her. As for Ariadne,
she personated to the life a bride's modesty, and for a
while, looking down to the ground, appeared in the
greatest confusion; but at length, recovering herself,
she threw her arms about her lover's neck and returned
his kisses. All the company expressed the great satis-
faction the performance gave them ; and indeed nothing
could be better acted, nor accompanied with more grace
in the acting. But when Bacchus rose and took Ariadne
by the hand to lead her out, they were still more pleased ;
for the pretty couple appeared to embrace and kiss one
another after a much more feeling manner than is
generally acted on the stage. Then Bacchus addressing
himself to Ariadne, said, "Doest thou love me, my
dearest creature? Yes, yes, answered she; let me die
if I do not; and will love thee to the last moment of
my life." In fine, the performance was so lively and
natural that the company came to be fully convinced of
what they never dreamed of before ; that the little boy
and girl were really in love with one another : which
occasioned both the married guests, and some of those
that were not, to take horse immediately and ride back
full speed to Athens with the briskest resolutions
imaginable. I know not what happened afterwards ;
but for Socrates and some who stayed behind, they went
a-walking with Lycon, Autolicus and Callias.

LYSIS

I WAS walking straight from the Academy to the St.
Lyceum, by the road which skirts the outside of the II.
walls, and had reached the little gate where is the source p.
of the Panops, when I fell in with Hippothales, the son 203
of Hieronymus, Ctesippus the Paeanian, and some more
young men, standing together in a group. Hippo-
thales, seeing me approach, called out, Ha, Socrates,
whither and whence?

From the Academy, I replied, and I am going straight
to the Lyceum.

Straight to us, I hope, cried he. Won't you turn
in? it will be worth your while.

Turn in where ? said I ; and whom do you mean by
us? There, he replied, pointing out to me an enclosure
facing the wall, with a door open. There we are pass-
ing our time, he added ; we whom you see, and a great
many other fine fellows too.

And what's all this, pray? and how are you passing
your time?

This is a palaestra that has been lately erected, and 2 4
we are passing our time principally in conversations,
of which we should be very glad to give you a share.

You are very kind, I answered. And who is your
teacher there?

A friend and admirer of yours, Miccus.

And no ordinary man either, I rejoined ; a most com-
petent sophist.

Won't you come with us, then, he said, to see both
him and all our party there too?

Here, where I am, was my reply, I should like first
to be informed, what I am to enter for, and who is your
prime beauty?

Some think one, and some another, Socrates. But
whom do you think, Hippothales? tell me this. He
answered only with a blush. So I added, Hippothales,
H H 457 201

202 Plato

son of Hieronymus, there is no longer any need for you
to tell me whether you are in love or not, since I am
sure you are not only in love, but pretty far gone in it
too by this time. For though in most matters I am a
poor useless creature, yet by some means or other I have
received from heaven the gift of being able to detect at
a glance both a lover and a beloved. On hearing this,
he blushed still more deeply than before. Whereupon
Ctesippus broke in, It is very fine of you, Hippothales,
turning red in this way, and making such a fuss about
telling Socrates the name, when he is quite sure, if he
stays ever so short a time in your company, to be bored
to death by hearing it always repeated. At any rate,
Socrates, he has deafened our ears for us, and filled them
full of Lysis. Nay, if he be but a little tipsy when he
talks of him, we can easily fancy, on waking, even the
next morning, that we are still hearing the name of
Lysis. But his constant talk about him, bad as it is,
is not the worst ; nothing like so bad as when he begins
to deluge us with his poems and speeches, and, worse
and worse, to sing a song on his darling in a porten-
tous voice, which we are compelled to listen to with
patience.

Your Lysis must be quite a juvenile, I rejoined; I
conjecture this from my not knowing the name when
you mentioned it.

Why, they don't often call him by his own name,
Socrates ; he still goes by his father's, the latter being
so well known. Still, I am sure, you cannot be a
stranger to the boy's appearance; that's quite enough
to know him by.

Say, then, whose son he is.

Democrates's of CExone, his eldest.

Well done, Hippothales, said I. A noble, and in
every way a brilliant choice is this which you have
; made. But come now, go on about him with me, just
as you do with your friends here, that I may know what
language a lover ought to hold with regard to his
favourite, either to his face or before others.

And do you really, Socrates, set any value on what
this fellow says?

Lysis

203

Do you mean, I asked, absolutely to deny being in
love with the person he mentions?

No, not that, he answered; but I do the making
verses or speeches on him.

He is out of his senses, doting, mad, cried Ctesippus ;
but, I replied, I don't want to hear any of your verses,
Hippothales, nor any song either that you may have
composed upon your darling; but I should like to have
an idea of their sense, that I may know how you behave
toward your favourite.

Ctesippus will tell you all about it, Socrates, I don't
doubt; he must remember it well enough, if it be true,
as he says, that I dinned it into his ears till he was deaf.

Oh, I know it, cried Ctesippus, right thoroughly too.
It is such a joke, Socrates. The idea of a lover devoting
himself exclusively to the object of his love, and yet
having nothing of a personal interest to say to him that
any child might not say; isn't it absurd? But stories
that all the city rings with, about Democrates, and Lysis
the boy's grandfather, and all his ancestors their
wealth, their breeds of horses, their victories at the
Pythian, Isthmian, Nemean with four steeds and single
all these he works into poem and speech, aye, and
stories too, still further out of date than these. For in
a sort of poem the other day, he gave us the whole
account of Hercules 's entertainment, telling us how their
ancestor received that hero into his house on the
strength of his relationship, being himself son of Zeus,
by the daughter of the founder of CExone. Yes,
Socrates, such, among others, are the old wives' tales
that our lover here is ever singing and reciting, and
condemning us moreover to listen to.

On hearing this, I said to the lover, You ridiculous
Hippothales, before you have gained the victory, you
compose and sing a hymn of praise on yourself.

It isn't on myself, Socrates, that I either make or
sing it.

You fancy not, said I.

How is it so? said he.

In every way, I replied, these songs have reference
to you. If you succeed in winning such a youth as you

2O4 Plato

describe, all that you have said and sung will redound
to your honour, and be in fact your hymn of triumph,
as if you had gained a victory in obtaining such a
favourite. But if he escape your grasp, then the higher
the eulogium you have passed on him, the greater will
be the blessings which you will seem to have missed,
and the greater consequently the ridicule you will incur.
All connoisseurs, therefore, in matters of love, are care-
ful of praising their favourites before they have won
them, from their doubts as to the result of the affair.
Moreover, your beauties, when lauded and made much
of, become gorged with pride and arrogance. Don't
you think so?

I do, he replied.

And the more arrogant they are, the harder they
become to be caught ?

It is to be expected, at any rate.

Well, what should you say to a huntsman that
frightened the prey he was in chase of, and rendered it
harder to be caught?

That he was a very sorry one, certainly.

And if by speech and song he renders it wild instead
of luring it, he can be no favourite of the Muses ; can
he?

I think not.

Have a care then, Hippothales, that you do not lay
yourself open with your poetry to all these reproaches.
And yet I am sure, that to a man who injured himself
by his poetry, you would not be willing to accord the
title of a good poet, so long as he did himself harm.

No, indeed, that would be too unreasonable, he
replied. But it is on this very account, Socrates, that
I put myself in your hands, and beg you to give me
any advice you may have to bestow, as to the course of
conduct or conversation that a lover ought to adopt in
order to render himself agreeable to the object of his
affection.

That were no such easy matter, I replied. But if
you would bring me to speech of Lysis, perhaps I could
give you a specimen of what you ought to say to him,
in place of the speeches and songs which you are in the

Lysis

205

habit of treating him with, according to your friends
here.

Well, there is no difficulty in that, he rejoined. If
you will only go into the palaestra with Ctesippus, and
sit down and begin to talk, I have little doubt that he
will come to you of his own accord ; for he is singularly
fond of listening; and, moreover, as they are keeping
the Hermaea, boys and men are all mixed up together
to-day. So he is pretty certain to join you. But if he
does not, Ctesippus knows him, through his cousin
Menexenus, who is Lysis's particular friend. You can
get Ctesippus, therefore, to summon him, in case he
does not come of himself.

This be our plan, I cried. And taking Ctesippus
with me, I walked towards the palaestra, the rest
following.

On entering we found that the boys had finished
their sacrifices, and, the ceremony being now pretty
well over, were playing together at knuckle-bones, all
in their holiday-dress. The greater part were carrying
on their game in the court outside, but some of them
were in a corner of the undressing-room, playing at odd
and even with a number of bones which they drew out
of small baskets. Round these were stationed others
looking on, among whom was Lysis; and he stood in
the midst of boys and youths with a chaplet on his
head, unmatched in face or form. You would say he 207
was not beautiful merely, but even of a noble mien.
For ourselves, we withdrew to the opposite part of the
room, and sitting down, as nothing was going on there,
began to talk. While thus engaged, Lysis kept turn-
ing round and eyeing us, evidently wishing to join us.
For some time though he remained in doubt, not liking
to walk up alone. But when Menexenus looked in from
his game in the court, and on seeing Ctesippus and me,
came to sit down with us, Lysis also followed at sight
of his friend, and took a seat by his side. There came
up, moreover, the rest of our party, among them Hippo-
thales ; who, seeing them form into a good-sized group,
screened himself behind them in a position where he did
not think he could be seen by Lysis ; so fearful was he

206 Plato

of giving him offence. And thus placed near him, he
listened to our conversation.

I began it by turning my eyes on Menexenus, and
saying, Son of Demophon, which of you two is the
elder?

It is a disputed point, he replied.

And do you dispute, too, which is the better fellow?

Right heartily, was his answer.

And so too, I suppose, which is the more beautiful?

At this they both laughed. I will not ask you, I
added, which is the wealthier; for you are friends, are
you not?

Oh dear, yes ! they both cried.

And friends, they tell us, share and share alike; so
in this respect, at any rate, there will be no difference
between you, if only you give me a true account of your
friendship.

To this they both assented.

I was then proceeding to enquire which of the two
excelled in justice, and which in wisdom, when some
one came up and carried off Menexenus, telling him that
the master of the palaestra wanted him I presume, on
business connected with the sacrifice. Accordingly he
left us, and I went on questioning Lysis. Lysis, said I,
I suppose your father and mother love you very dearly?

Very dearly, he answered.

They would wish you then to be as happy as
possible.

Of course.

Do you think a man happy if he is a slave, and may
not do anything he wants?

No, that indeed I don't.

Well, if your father and mother love you, and wish
you to become happy, it is clear that they try in every
way to make you happy.

To be sure they do.

They allow you then, I suppose, to do what you wish,
and never scold you, or hinder you from doing what you
want to do?

Yes, but they do though, Socrates, and pretty fre-
quently too.

Lysis

207

How? said I. They wish you to be happy, and yet 208
hinder you from doing what you want. But tell me
this : If you wanted to ride on one of your father's
chariots, and take the reins during a race, would they
not allow you?

No, most assuredly they would not.

Whom would they then? I asked.

There is a charioteer paid by my father.

Paid ! cried I. Do they allow a paid servant in
preference to you to do what he pleases with the horses,
and, what is more, give him money for so doing?

Not a doubt about it, Socrates, he replied.

Well, but your pair of mules I am sure they let you
drive; and even if you wished to take the whip and
whip them, they would allow you.

Allow me, would they? said he.

Would they not? said I. Is there no one allowed
to whip them?

Of course there is ; the mule-driver.

Is he a slave or free?

A slave, he answered.

A slave then, it appears, they think of more account
than you, their son ; they entrust their property to him
rather than to you : and they allow him to do what he
pleases, while you they hinder. But answer me further.
Do they let you rule yourself, or not even allow you
this?

Rule myself ! I should think not, said he.

You have some one to rule you, then ?

Yes, my governor here.

Not a slave ?

Yes, but he is, though, ours.

Shocking ! I exclaimed. A free man to be ruled by
a slave. But how, pray, does this governor exercise his
authority ?

He takes me to school, of course.

And do you mean to say that they rule you there,
too, the schoolmasters ?

Most certainly they do.

Very many then, it appears, are the masters and
rulers whom your father sets over you on purpose. But

208 Plato

come now, when you go home to your mother, she, I
am sure, lets you do what you please that you may be
as happy as she can make you either with her wool
or her loom, when she is spinning. It cannot possibly
be that she hinders you from touching her comb or her
shuttle, or any other of her spinning implements.

He burst out a-laughing. I can assure you, Socrates,
he said, she not only hinders me, but would get me a
good beating if I did touch them.

Beating ! cried I. You haven't done your father or
mother any wrong, have you?

Not I, he answered.

Whatever is the reason, then, that they hinder you,
in this shocking manner, from being happy, and acting
as you please ; and keep you, all the day long, in a state
of bondage to some one or other, and, in a word, of
doing hardly anything at all you want to do? So that
it seems you get no good whatever from your fortune,
large as it is, but all have control over it, rather than
you ; nor, again, from that beautiful person of yours ;
for it, too, is under the care and charge of other people,
while you, poor Lysis, have control over nothing at all,
nor do a single thing you wish.

Because I'm not old enough yet, Socrates.

That should be no hindrance, son of Democrates,
since there are things, I fancy, which both your father
and mother allow you to do, without waiting for you to
be old enough. When they wish, for example, to have
anything written or read, it is you, I conceive, whom
they appoint to the office, before any one else in the
house. Isn't it?

Beyond a question, he replied.

In these matters, then, you are allowed to do as
you please : you may write whichever letter you like
first, and whichever you like second. And in reading
you enjoy the same liberty. And when you take up
your lyre, neither father nor mother, I imagine, hinders
you from tightening or loosening such strings as you
choose, or from playing with your fingers or stick, as
you may think proper. Or do they hinder you in
such matters?

Lysis 209

Oh dear, no ! he exclaimed.

What in the world, then, can be the reason, Lysis,
that in these matters they don't hinder you, while in the
former they do?

I suppose it is, Socrates, because I understand the
one, and don't understand the other.

Oh ! that's it, is it, my fine fellow? It is not, then,
for you to be old enough that your father is waiting in
all cases; but on the very day that he thinks you are
wiser than he is, he will hand over to you himself and
his property.

I shouldn't wonder, said he.

Nor I, said I. But again. Does your neighbour
follow the same rule that your father does with regard
to you? Do you expect he will hand over to you his
house to manage, as soon as he thinks you have a better
idea of the management of a house than he has himself ;
or will he keep it in his own hands?

Hand it over to me, I should think.

And the Athenians? Will they, do you imagine,
hand over to you their matters directly they perceive
that you are wise enough to manage them?

Yes, I expect so.

But come now, I asked, what will the great king
do? When his meat is cooking, will he allow his eldest
son, heir to the throne of Asia, to throw into the gravy
whatever he chooses ; or us, rather, if we come before
him, and prove that we have a better idea than his son
has of dressing a dish?

Us, to be sure, said he.

And the prince he won't allow to put in the least
morsel even ; while with us he would make no difficulty,
though we wished to throw in salt by handfuls?

Exactly.

Once more. If his son had something the matter
with his eyes, would he allow him to touch them himself,
if he thought him ignorant of the healing art, or rather 210
hinder him?

Hinder him.

But against us, on the other hand, if he conceived us
to be skilled in the art, he would, I imagine, make no
II*H 457

2io Plato

objection, even though we wished to force open the
eyes, and sprinkle in ashes, as he would suppose us
to be rightly advised.

True, he would not.

And so, with everything else whatsoever, he would
entrust it to us rather than to himself or his son, if he
believed that we knew more about it than either of them
did.

Necessarily he would, Socrates.

You see then, said I, how the case stands, dear Lysis.
All matters of which we have a good idea will be put
into our hands by all people, whether Greeks or bar-
barians, men or women ; we shall act, with regard to
them, exactly as we please ; no one will intentionally
stand in our way; and not only shall we be free our-
selves in these matters, but we shall be lords over
others, and they will be in fact our property, as we shall
have the enjoyment of them. With regard to matters,
on the other hand, into which we have acquired no
insight, no one will ever allow us to act as we think
proper, but all persons, to the best of their power, will
hinder us from meddling with them ; not only strangers,
but even our own father and mother, and if we possess
any nearer relation ; and we ourselves, in these matters,
shall be subject to others, and they will be, in fact, the
property of others, as we shall derive no advantage from
them. Do you allow this to be the case?

I do.

Will any one, then, count us his friends, will any
one love us in those matters in which we are of no
use?

Indeed no.

According to this, then, not even you are loved by
your own father, nor is any one else by any one else in
the world, in so far as you or he is useless?

So it would appear, he said.

If, therefore, you acquire knowledge, my spn, all men
will be friendly to you, all men will be attached to you ;
for you will be useful and good. If not, you will have
no friend in any one, not even in your father or mother,
or any of your own family. Now is it possible, Lysis,

Lysis

211

for a man to have a great idea of himself in those
matters of which he has as yet no idea?

How can he possibly? he replied.

And if you still require, as you do, an instructor, you
are still without ideas.

True, he answered.

It cannot be, then, that you have a great idea of
yourself, if as yet you have no idea.

No, really, Socrates, I don't see how I can.

On receiving this reply from Lysis, I turned my eyes
on Hippothales, and was on the point of making a great
blunder. For it came into my head to say, This is the
way, Hippothales, that you should talk to your favour-
ite, humbling and checking, instead of puffing him up
and pampering him, as you now do. However, on
seeing him writhing with agitation at the turn the con-
versation was taking, I recollected that though standing
so near, he didn't wish to be seen by Lysis. So
I recovered myself in time, and forbore to address
him.

At this moment, too, Menexenus returned and took 211
the seat by Lysis, from which he had previously arisen.
Whereupon Lysis, in a boyish fondling way, said to me
in a low voice, so that Menexenus couldn't hear, I say,
Socrates, say over again to Menexenus what you have
been saying to me.

No, Lysis, I replied ; you must tell him that : you
were certainly attending.

I should think I was too, he rejoined.

Try to remember it then, as well as you can, that you
may give him a clear account of the whole ; and if
there's anything you forget, ask me about it some other
day the first time you meet me.

Well, I'll do as you tell me, Socrates, with all my
heart; you may rely upon that. But say something
else to him now, will you, that I, too, may hear it, till
it's time for me to go home.

Well, I must do so, I replied, since it's you who bid
me. But mind you come to my aid, if Menexenus tries
to baffle me. You know, don't you, that he's fond of a
dispute?

212 Plato

Oh yes, desperately, I know. And that's the very
reason I want you to talk with him.

That I may make myself ridiculous, eh?

Oh dear, no, Socrates, but that you may put him
down.

Put him down, indeed, cried I ; that's no such easy
matter. He's a redoubtable man, this; a scholar of
Ctesippus's. And here's his master too, himself, to help
him don't you see? Ctesippus.

Trouble yourself about no one, Socrates, he said ; but
begin, attack him.

As you will, said I.

At this point of our bye-play Ctesippus cried out,
What's that you two there are feasting on by your-
selves, without giving us a share?

Never fear, said I, you shall have a share. There's
something I've said that Lysis here doesn't understand.
He says, though, he thinks Menexenus knows, and bids
me ask him.

Why don't you ask him then? he rejoined.

Just what I mean to do, I replied. Answer, Menexe-
nus, the questions I ask. From my earliest childhood
I have had a particular fancy ; every one has. One
longs for horses, another for dogs, a third for money, a
fourth for office. For my part, I look on these matters
with equanimity, but on the acquisition of friends, with
all a lover's passion ; and I would choose to obtain a
good friend rather than the best quail or cock in the
world ; I should prefer one to both horse and dog ; nay,
I fully believe, that I would far sooner acquire a friend
and companion, than all the gold of Darius, aye, or
12 than Darius himself. So fond am I of friendship. On
seeing, therefore, you and Lysis, I am lost in wonder,
while I count you most happy, at your being able, at
your years, to acquire this treasure w'th such readiness
and ease ; in that you, Menexenus, have gained so early
and true a friend in Lysis, and he the same in you ;
while I, on the contrary, am so far from making the
acquisition, that I do not even know how one man
becomes the friend of another, but wish on this very
point to appeal to you as a connoisseur. Answer me

Lysis

213

this. As soon as one man loves another, which of the
two becomes the friend? the lover of the loved, or the
loved of the lover? Or does it make no difference?

None in the world, that I can see, he replied.

How? said I; are both friends, if only one loves?

I think so, he answered.

Indeed ! is it not possible for one who loves, not to
be loved in return by the object of his love?

It is.

Nay, is it not possible for him even to be hated?
treatment, if I mistake not, which lovers frequently
fancy they receive at the hands of their favourites.
Though they love their darlings as dearly as possible,
they often imagine that they are not loved in return,
often that they are even hated. Don't you believe this
to be true?

Quite true, he replied.

Well, in such a case as this, the one loves, the other
is loved.

Just so.

Which of the two, then, is the friend of the other?
the lover of the loved, whether or no he be loved in
return, and even if he be hated, or the loved of the
lover? or is neither the friend of the other, unless both
love each other?

The latter certainly seems to be the case, Socrates.

If so, I continued, we think differently now from
what we did before. Then it appeared that if one loved,
both were friends ; but now, that unless both love,
neither are friends.

Yes, I'm afraid we have contradicted ourselves.

This being the case then, the lover is not a friend
to anything that does not love him in return.

Apparently not.

People, then, are not friends to horses, unless their
horses love them in return, nor friends to quails or to
dogs, nor again, to wine or to gymnastics, unless their
love be returned; nor friends to wisdom, unless wisdom
loves them in return. But in each of these cases, the
individual loves the object, but is not a friend to it, and
the poet is wrong who says :

214 Plato

Happy the man who, to whom he's a friend, has children, and

horses
Mettlesome, dogs of the chase, guest in a far away land.

I don't think he is wrong, Socrates.

But do you think he's right?

Yes, I do.

The lover then, it appears, Menexenus, is a friend
to the object of his love, whether the object love, or
even hate him. Just as to quite young children, who
213 are either not yet old enough to love, or who are old
enough to feel hatred when punished by father or
mother, their parents, all the time even that they are
being hated, are friends in the very highest degree.

Yes, such appears to be the case.

By this reasoning, then, it is not the object of love
that is the friend, but the lover.

Apparently.

And so, not the object of hatred that is the enemy,
but the hater.

Clearly.

It frequently happens, then, that people are enemies
to those who love them, and friends to those who hate
them ; that is, are enemies to their friends, and friends
to their enemies; if it be true that the lover is the
friend, but not the loved. But surely, my dear friend,
it were grossly unreasonable, nay, rather, I think alto-
gether impossible, for a man to be a friend to his enemy,
and an enemy to his friend.

Yes, Socrates, it does seem impossible.

Well, then, if this be impossible, it must be the object
of the love that is the friend to the lover.

Clearly.

And so again, the object of the hatred that is the
enemy to the hater.

Necessarily.

But if this be true, we cannot help arriving at the
same conclusion as we did in the former case ; namely,
that it often happens that a man is not a friend, but
even an enemy to a friend ; as often, that is, as he is not
loved, but even hated by the man whom he loves : and
often again, that he is not an enemy, but even a friend

Lysis

215

to an enemy, as often, in fact, as he is not hated, but
even loved by the man whom he hates.

No, I'm afraid we can't.

What are we to do then, said I, if neither those who
love are to be friends, nor those who are loved, nor,
again, those who both love and are loved? Are there
any other people beside these that we can say become
friends to each other?

To tell you the truth, Socrates, said he, I don't see
my way at all.

Is it possible, Menexenus, said I, that from first to
last we have been conducting our search improperly?

I am sure I think it is, Socrates, cried Lysis. And
he blushed as he said so. For the. words seemed to
burst from him against his will in the intensity of the
interest he was paying to the conversation ; an interest
which his countenance had evinced all the time we were
talking.

I then, wishing to relieve Menexenus, and charmed
with the other's intelligence, turned to Lysis, and direct-
ing my discourse to him, observed, Yes, Lysis, you are
quite right, I think, in saying that if we had conducted
our search properly, we should never have lost our-
selves in this manner. Let us proceed, however, on
this line of inquiry no longer for I look upon it as a
very difficult sort of road but let us go back again to
that point at which we turned aside, and follow in the
steps of the poets. For poets, I conceive, are as good 214
as fathers and guides to us in matters of wisdom. Well,
the poets, if I mistake not, put forward no slight claims
for those who happen to be friends, but tell us that it
is God himself who makes them friends, by leading
them one to another. They express, if I remember
right, their opinion thus :

Like men, I trow, to like God ever leads,

and makes them known. You have met with the verse,
have you not?

Oh, yes.

And also with the writings of those learned sages
which tell the same story; namely, that like must of

216 Plato

necessity be ever friendly with like. And these are
they, if I mistake not, who talk and write on nature
and the universe.

True, they are.

Well, do you think they are right in what they say?
I asked.

Perhaps, said he.

Perhaps, I answered, in half; perhaps, too, even in
all; only we don't understand. For, as it appears to
us, the nearer wicked men come to each other, and the
more they see of each other, the greater enemies they
become. For they injure each other. And it is impos-
sible, I take it, for men to be friends, if they injure and
are injured in turn.

So it is, he replied.

By this, then, it would appear, that half of their
assertion cannot be true, if we suppose them to mean
that wicked men are like one another.

So it would.

But they mean to say, I imagine, that the good are
like and friendly with the good; but that the bad, as
is remarked of them in another place, are not ever even
like themselves, but are variable and not to be reckoned
upon. And if a thing be unlike and at variance with
itself, it will be long, I take it, before it becomes like
to or friendly with anything else. Don't you think so
too?

I do, he answered.

When, therefore, my friend, our authors assert that
like is friendly with like, they mean, I imagine, to inti-
mate, though obscurely enough, that the good man is
a friend to the good man only; but that the bad man
never engages in a true friendship either with a good
or a bad man. Do you agree? He nodded assent.
We know then now, I continued, who it is that are
friends; for our argument shows us that it must be
those who are good.

Quite clearly too, I think, said he.

And so do I, I rejoined. Still there is a something
in the way that troubles me ; so let us, with the help of
heaven, see what it is that I suspect. Like men are

Lysis

217

friendly with like men, in so far as they are like, and
such a man is useful to such a man. Or rather, let
us put it in this way. Is there any good or harm
that a like thing can do to a like thing, which it
cannot also do to itself? is there any that can be done 215
to it, which cannot also be done to it by itself? And
if not, how can such things be held in regard by each
other, when they have no means of assisting one an-
other? Can this possibly be?

No, not possibly.

And if a thing be not held in regard, can it be a
friend ?

Certainly not.

But, you will say, the like man is not a friend to the
like man ; but the good will be a friend to the good, in
so far as he is good, not in so far as he is like.

Perhaps I may.

And I should rejoin, Will not the good man, in so
far as he is good, be found to be sufficient for himself?

Yes.

And if sufficient, he will want nothing so far as his
sufficiency goes.

Of course not.

And if he does not want anything, he won't feel
regard for anything either.

To be sure not.

And what he does not feel regard for, he cannot love.

Not he.

And if he does not love, he won't be a friend.

Clearly not.

How then, I wonder, will the good be ever friends
at all with the good, when neither in absence do they
feel regret for each other, being sufficient for them-
selves apart, nor *vhen present together have they any
need of one another? Is there any possible way by
which such people can be brought to care for each
other?

None whatever.

And if they do not care for each other, they cannot
possibly be friends.

True, they cannot.

2i 8 Plato

Look and see then, Lysis, how we have been led into
error; if I mistake not, we are deceived in the whole,
and not only in the half.

How so? he asked.

Once upon a time, I replied, I heard a statement made
which has just this moment flashed across my mind;
it was, that nothing is so hostile to like as like, none
so hostile to the good as the good. And among other
arguments, my informant adduced the authority of
Hesiod, telling me that, according to him,

Potter ever jars with potter, bard with bard, and poor with poor.

And so, he added, by a universal and infallible law the
nearer any two things resemble one another, the fuller
do they become of envy, strife, and hatred ; and the
greater the dissimilarity, the greater the friendship.
For the poor are obliged to make themselves friends of
the rich, and the weak of the strong, for the sake of
their assistance ; the sick man also must be friendly with
the physician; and, in short, every one who is without
knowledge must feel regard and affection for those who
possess it. Nay, he proceeded with increased magnifi-
cence of position to assert, that the like was so far from
being friendly with the like, that the exact opposite was
the case ; the more any two things were contrary, the
more were they friendly to each other. For everything,
he says, craves for its contrary, and not for its like ; the
dry craves for moisture, the cold for heat, the bitter
for sweetness, the sharp for bluntness, the empty to be
filled, the full to be emptied. And everything else
follows the same rule. For the contrary, he added, is
food to the contrary, the like can derive no advantage
from the like. And I can assure you I thought him
216 extremely clever as he said all this, he stated his case
so well. But you, my friends, what do you think of it?

Oh, it seems very fair at first hearing, said Me-
nexenus.

Shall we admit then that nothing is so friendly to
a thing as its contrary?

By all means.

But if we do, Menexenus, will there not spring upon

Lysis 219

us suddenly and uncouthly and exultingly those uni-
versal-knowledge men, the masters of dispute, and ask
us, whether there is anything in the world so contrary
to enmity as friendship? And if they do, what must
be our answer? Can we possibly help admitting that
they are right?

No, we cannot.

Well then, they will say, is friendship a friend to
enmity, or enmity to friendship?

Neither one nor the other, he replied.

But justice, I suppose, is a friend to injustice, tem-
perance to intemperance, good to evil.

No, I don't think this can be the case.

Well but, I rejoined, if one thing is friend to another
thing in virtue of being its contrary, these things must
of necessity be friendly.

So they must, he allowed.

It follows then, I think, that neither like is friendly
with like, nor contrary with contrary.

Apparently it does.

Well, then, said I, let us look again, and see whether
we be not still as far as ever from finding friendship,
since it is clearly none of these things I have mentioned,
but whether that which is neither good nor evil may
not possibly turn out, however late, to be friendly with
the good.

How do you mean? he asked.

Why, to tell you the truth, said I, I don't know
myself, being quite dizzied by the entanglement of the
subject. I am inclined though to think that, in the
words of the old proverb, the Beautiful is friendly.
Certainly the friendly has the appearance of being
something soft and smooth and slippery ; and probably
it is from being of this character that it slides and slips
through our fingers so easily. Now I am of this
opinion, because the good, I assert, is beautiful. Don't
you think so?

I do, said he.

I further assert, with a diviner's foresight, that to
the beautiful and good that which is neither good nor
evil is friendly. And my reasons for divining this I

22O PlatO

will tell you. I conceive I recognize three distinct
classes, good, evil, and, thirdly, that which is neither
good nor evil. Do you allow this distinction?

I do.

Now that good is friendly with good, or evil with
evil, or good with evil, we are hindered by our previous
arguments from believing. It remains then that, if
there be anything friendly with anything, that which is
neither good nor evil must be friendly either with the
good or with that which resembles itself. For nothing,
I am sure, can be friendly with evil.

True.

But neither can like be friendly with like; this we
also said, did we not?

We did.

That then which is neither good nor evil will not be
friendly with that which resembles itself.

Clearly not.

It follows then, I conceive, that friendship can only
exist between good and that which is neither evil nor
good.
217 Necessarily, as it appears.

What think you then, my children, I proceeded to
say ; is our present position guiding us in a right direc-
tion? If we look attentively, we perceive that a body
which is in health has no need whatever of the medical
art or of any assistance ; for it is sufficient in itself.
And therefore no one in health is friendly with a
physician on account of his health.

Just so, he replied.

But the sick man is, I imagine, on account of his
sickness.

Undoubtedly.

Sickness, you will allow, is an evil, the art of medicine
both useful and good.

Yes.

But a body, if I mistake not, in so far as it is a body,
is neither good nor evil.

Exactly.

A body though is compelled, on account of sickness,
to embrace and love the medical art

Lysis

221

I think so.

That, then, which is neither evil nor good becomes
friendly with good, on account of the presence of evil.

Apparently.

But evidently it becomes so, before it is itself made
evil by the evil which it contains ; for, once become evil,
it can no longer, you will allow, be desirous of or
friendly with good ; for evil, we said, cannot possibly
be friendly with good.

No, it cannot possibly.

Now mark what I say. I say that some things are
themselves such as that which is present with them,
some things are not such. For example, if you dye a
substance with any colour, the colour which is dyed in
is present, I imagine, with the substance which is dyed.

To be sure it is.

After the process then, is the dyed substance such,
in point of colour, as that which is applied?

I don't understand, he said.

But you will thus, said I. If any one were to dye
your locks of gold with white-lead, would they, after
the dyeing, be, or appear, white?

Appear.

And yet whiteness would, at any rate, be present
with them.

True.

But still they would not, as yet, be at all the more
white on that account ; but though whiteness is present
with them, they are neither white nor black.

Precisely.

But when, my dear Lysis, old age has brought upon
them this same colour, then they become really such as
that which is present with them, white by the presence
of white.

Yes, indeed they do.

This, then, is the question I want to ask. If a thing
be present in a substance, will the substance be such as
that which is present with it; or will it be such, if the
thing is present under certain conditions, under certain
conditions, not?

The latter rather, said he.

222 Plato

That then which is neither evil nor good is, in some
cases, when evil is present with it, not evil as yet; in
other cases it has already become such.

Exactly.

Well then, said I, when it is not evil as yet, though
evil be present with it, this very presence of evil makes
it desirous of good ; but the presence which makes it evil
deprives it, at the same time, of its desire and friend-
218 ship for good. For it is no longer a thing neither evil
nor good, but already evil; and evil, we said, cannot
be friendly with good.

True, it cannot be.

On the same ground then we may further assert, that
those who are already wise are no longer friends to
wisdom, be they gods, or be they men ; nor, again, are
those friends to wisdom who are so possessed of fool-
ishness as to be evil ; for no evil and ignorant man is a
friend to wisdom. There remain then those who possess
indeed this evil, the evil of foolishness, but who are not,
as yet, in consequence of it, foolish or ignorant, but still
understand that they do not know the things they do
not know. And thus, you see, it is those who are
neither good nor evil, as yet, that are friends to wisdom,
(philosophers), but those who are evil are not friends ;
nor again are the good. For that contrary is not
friendly with contrary, nor like with like, was made
apparent in the former part of our discourse. Do you
remember?

Oh perfectly, they both cried.

Now then, Lysis and Menexehus, I continued, we
have, as it appears, discovered, beyond a dispute, what
it is that is friendly, and not friendly. Whether in
respect of the soul, or of the body, or of anything else
whatsoever, that, we pronounce, which is neither evil
nor good is friendly with good on account of the
presence of evil. To this conclusion they both yielded
a hearty and entire assent.

For myself, I was rejoicing, with all a hunter's
delight, at just grasping the prey I had been so long
in chase of, when presently there came into my mind,
from what quarter I cannot tell, the strangest sort of

Lysis

223

suspicion. It was, that the conclusions to which we
had arrived were not true; and, sorely discomfited, I
cried, Alack-a-day, Lysis, alack, Menexenus ; we have,
1 fear me, but dreamed our treasure.

Why so? said Menexenus.

I am afraid, I answered, that, just as if with lying
men, we have fallen in with some such false reasonings
in our search after friendship.

How do you mean? he asked.

Look here, said I. If a man be a friend, is he a
friend to some one, or not?

To some one, of course.

For the sake of nothing, and on account of nothing,
or for the sake and on account of something?

For the sake of and on account of something.

Is he a friend to that thing, for the sake of which he
is a friend to his friend, or is he to it neither friend nor
foe?

I don't quite follow, he said.

No wonder, said I ; but perhaps you will if we take
this course ; and I too, I think, shall better understand
what I am saying. The sick man, as we just now said,
is a friend to the physician. Is he not?

He is.

On account of sickness, for the sake of health?

Yes.

Sickness is an evil?

Beyond a doubt.

But what is health? I asked; a good, an evil, or
neither one nor the other ?

A good, he replied.

We further stated, I think, that the body, a thing 219
neither good nor evil, is, on account of sickness, that
is to say, on account of an evil, a friend to the medical
art. And the medical art is a good ; and it is for the
sake of health that the medical art has received the
friendship; and health is a good, is it not?

It is.

Is the body a friend, or not a friend, to health?

A friend.

And a foe to sickness?

224 Plato

Most decidedly.

That, then, it appears, which is neither good nor evil,
is a friend to good on account of an evil to which it is
a foe, for the sake of a good to which it is a friend?

So it seems.

The friendly, then, is a friend for the sake of that to
which it is a friend, on account of that to which it is a
foe?

Apparently.

Very well, said I. But arrived as we are, I added,
at this point, let us pay all heed, my children, that we
be not misled. That friend is become friend to friend,
that is to say, that like is become friend to like, which
we declared to be impossible, is a matter I will allow
to pass ; but there is another point which we must at-
tentively consider, in order that we may not be deceived
by our present position. A man is a friend, we said,
to the medical art for the sake of health.

We did.

Is he a friend to health too?

To be sure he is.

For the sake of something?

Yes.

For the sake of something, then, to which he is
friendly, if this, too, is to follow our previous admission?

Certainly.

But is he not again a friend to that thing for the sake
of some other thing to which he is a friend?

Yes.

Can we possibly help, then, being weary of going on
in this manner ; and is it not necessary that we advance
at once to a beginning, which will not again refer us to
friend upon friend, but arrive at that to which we are
in the first instance friends, and for the sake of which
we say we are friends to all the rest?

It is necessary, he answered.

This, then, is what I say we must consider, in order
that all those other things, to which we said we were
friendly, for the sake of that one thing, may not, like so
many shadows of it, lead us into error, but that we may
establish that thing as the first, to which we are really

Lysis

225

and truly friends. For let us view the matter thus : If
a man sets a high value upon a thing ; for instance, if,
as is frequently the case, a father prizes a son above
everything else he has in the world, may such a father
be led by the extreme regard he has for his son, to set
a high value upon other things also? Suppose, for
example, he were to hear of his having drunk some
hemlock; would he set a high value on wine, if he
believed that wine would cure his son?

Of course he would.

And on the vessel also which contained the wine?

Certainly.

Do you mean to say, then, that he sets an equal
value on both, on a cup of earthenware and his own
son, on his own son and a quart of wine? Or is the
truth rather thus? all such value as this is set not on
those things which are procured for the sake of another
thing, but on that for the sake of which all such things
are procured. We often talk, I do not deny, about
setting a high value on gold and silver ; but is the truth
on this account at all the more thus? No, what we
value supremely is that, whatever it may be found to
be, for the sake of which gold, and all other subsidiaries,
are procured. Shall we not say so?

Unquestionably.

And does not the same reasoning hold with regard to
friendship? When we say we are friendly to things 220
for the sake of a thing to which we are friendly, do
we not clearly use a term with regard to them which
belongs to another? And do we not appear to be in
reality friendly only with that in which all these so
called friendships terminate?

Yes, he said, this would appear to be the truth.

With that, then, to which we are truly friendly, we
are not friendly for the sake of any other thing to which
we are friendly.

True, we are not.

This point, then, we dismiss, as sufficiently proved.
But, to proceed, are we friends to good?

I imagine so.

And good is loved on account of evil, and the case

226 Plato

stands thus. If, of the three classes that we just now
distinguished, good, evil, and that which is neither evil
nor good, two only were to be left to us, but evil were
to be removed out of our path, and were never again
to come in contact either with body or soul, or any other
of these things, which in themselves we say are neither
good nor evil, would it not come to pass that good
would no longer be useful to us, but have become use-
less? for if there were nothing any more to hurt us, we
should have no need whatever of any assistance. And
thus you see it would then be made apparent that it
was only on account of evil that we felt regard and
affection for good, as we considered good to be a medi-
cine for evil, and evil to be a disease; but where there
is no disease, there is, we are aware, no need of
medicine. This, then, it appears, is the nature of good ;
it is loved on account of evil by us who are intermediate
between evil and good ; but in itself, and for itself, it is
of no use.

Yes, he said, such would seem to be the case.

It follows, then, I think, that the original thing to
which we are friendly, that wherein all those other
things terminate to which we said we were friendly for
the sake of another thing, bears to these things no
resemblance at all. For to these things we called our-
selves friendly for the sake of another thing to which
we were friendly; but that to which we are really
friendly appears to be of a nature exactly the reverse of
this, since we found that we were friendly to it for the
sake of a thing to which we were unfriendly, and, if
this latter be removed, we are, it seems, friendly to it
no longer.

Apparently not, said he, according at least to our
present position.

But tell me this, said I. If evil be extinguished,
will it no longer be possible to feel hunger or thirst, or
221 any similar desire? or will hunger exist, as long as man
and the whole animal creation exists, but exist without
being hurtful? And will thirst, too, and all other
desires exist, but not be evil, inasmuch as evil is
extinct?

Lysis

227

It is ridiculous though, to ask what will exist or not
exist, in such a case; for who can know? but this, at
any rate, we do know, that even at present it is possible
for a man to be injured by the sensation of hunger, and
possible for him also to be profited. Is it not?

Certainly it is.

And so, too, a man who feels thirst, or any similar
desire, may feel it in some cases with profit to himself,
in other cases with hurt, and in other cases again, with
neither one nor the other.

Assuredly he may.

Well, if evil is being extinguished, is there any
reason in the world for things that are not evil to be
extinguished with it?

None whatever.

There will exist, then, those desires which are neither
evrl nor good, even if evil be extinct.

Clearly.

Is it possible for a man who is desirous and
enamoured not to love that of which he is desirous and
enamoured?

I think not.

There will exist then, it appears, even if evil be
extinct, certain things to which we are friendly.

Yes, there will.

But if evil were the cause of our being friendly to
anything, it would not be possible, when evil was
extinct, for any man to be friendly to anything ; for if
a cause be extinct, surely it is no longer possible for
that to exist of which it was the cause.

True, it is not.

But above, we agreed that the friendly loved some-
thing, and on account of something, and at the same
time we were of opinion, that it was on account of evil,
that that, which is neither good nor evil, loved the
good.

So we were.

But now, it appears, we have discovered some other
cause of loving and being loved.

So it does.

Is it true, then, as we were just now saying, that

228 Plato

desire is the cause of friendship, and that whatever
desires is friendly to that which it desires, and friendly
at the time of its feeling- the desire; and was all that,
which we previously said about being friendly, mere idle
talk, put together after the fashion of a lengthy poem?

I am afraid it was, he replied.

But that, I continued, which feels desire, feels desire
for that of which it is in want. Does it not?

Yes.

And that which is in want is friendly with that of
which it is in want.

I imagine so.

And becomes in want of that which is taken from it?

Of course.

That then which belongs to a man, is found, it seems,
Lysis and Menexenus, to be the object of his love, and
friendship, and desire.

They both assented.

If, then, you two are friendly to each other, by some
tie of nature you belong to each other?

To be sure we do, they cried together.

And so, in general, said I, if one man, my children,
is desirous and enamoured of another, he can never
222 have conceived his desire, or love, or friendship, without
in some way belonging to the object of his love, either
in his soul, or in some quality of his soul, or in dis-
position, or in form.

I quite believe you, cried Menexenus ; but Lysis said
not a word.

Well, then, I continued, that which by nature belongs
to us, it has been found necessary for us to love.

So it appears, said Menexenus.

It cannot possibly be then, but that a true and
genuine lover is loved in return by the object of his
love. To this conclusion Lysis and Menexenus nodded
a sort of reluctant assent, while Hippothales in his
rapture kept changing from colour to colour.

I, however, with a view of reconsidering the subject,
proceeded to say. Well, if there is a difference between
that which belongs to us and that which is like, we are
now, I conceive, in a condition to say what is meant

Lysis

229

by a friend; but if they happen to be the same, it's no
such easy matter to get rid of our former assertion,
that like was useless to like, in so far as it was like ; for
to admit ourselves friendly with that which is useless,
were outrageous. What say you then, said I, since
we are, as it were, intoxicated by our talk, to our allow-
ing that there is a difference between that which belongs
and that which is like?

Let us do so by all means, he replied.

Shall we further say, that good belongs to every one,
and that to every one evil is a stranger ; or rather, that
good belongs to good, evil to evil, and that which is
neither evil nor good, to that which is of the same
nature?

They both agreed that the latter was their opinion in
each particular.

It appears then, said I, that we have fallen again
into positions, with regard to friendship, which we
previously rejected. For, according to our present
admission, the unjust will be no less friendly to the
unjust, and the evil no less friendly to the evil, than
the good to the good.

So it would appear, said he.

And again, said I, if we assert, that what is good,
and what belongs to us, are one and the same, will it
not result that none are friendly with the good but the
good? And this, too, I think, is a position in which
we imagined that we proved ourselves wrong. Don't
you remember?

Oh, yes, they both cried.

What other way then is left us of treating the sub-
ject? Clearly none. I therefore, like our clever
pleaders at the bar, request you to reckon up all that
I have said. If neither those who love or are loved,
neither the like nor the unlike, nor the good, nor those
who belong to us, nor any other of all the suppositions
which we passed in review they are so numerous that
I can remember no more if, I say, not one of them
is the object of friendship, I no longer know what I
am to say.

With this confession, I was just on the point of

230 Plato

rousing to my aid one of the elders of our party, when
all of a sudden, like beings of another world, there
came down upon us the attendants of Menexenus and
Lysis, holding their brothers by the hand, and calling
out to the young gentlemen to come home, as it was
already late. At first, both we and the bystanders
were for driving them off, but finding that they did not
mind us at all, but grumbled at us in sad Greek, and
persisted in calling the boys ; fancying, moreover, that
from having tippled at the feast, they would prove
awkward people to deal with, we owned ourselves
vanquished, and broke up the party.

However, just as they were leaving, I managed to
call out, Well, Lysis and Menexenus, we have made
ourselves rather ridiculous to-day, I, an old man, and
you children. For our hearers here will carry away
the report, that though we conceive ourselves to be
friends with each other you see I class myself with
you we have not as yet been able to discover what
we mean by a friend.

PROTAGORAS

SOCRATES AND FRIEND

Friend. Ha, Socrates, where do you appear from? ^
though I can hardly doubt that it is from a chase after *
the bloom of Alcibiades. Well, I saw the man only P*
the other day, and I can assure you I thought him 39
looking still beautiful, though between ourselves,
Socrates, he is a man by this time, and his chin is
getting pretty well covered with beard.

Soc. And what of that? Sure you don't disapprove
of Homer's assertion, "that no age is so graceful as
the beardling's prime"? And this is just the age of
Alcibiades.

Fr. Be that as it may, Socrates, I want to know
about matters now. Is it from him that you make
your appearance, and how is the youth disposed
towards you?

Soc. Very well, I think, and never better than to-
day. For he has been taking my side, and saying a
great deal in my favour. And in point of fact, I have
only just left him. I have, however, something strange
to tell you. Though he was in the room all the while,
he was so far from engrossing my attention, that I
frequently forgot his existence altogether.

Fr. Why, whatever can have happened between you
and him, to produce such an effect as this? You surely
don't mean to say that you have met with any one
more beautiful here in Athens?

Soc. Yes I do, much more beautiful.

Fr. More beautiful ! a citizen or a foreigner?

Soc. A foreigner.

Fr. From what country ?

Soc. Abdera.

Fr. And did this stranger really appear to you so
beautiful a person that you accounted him more beau-
tiful than the son of Clinias?

232 Plato

Soc. Indeed he did. For how, my good friend, can
the supremely wise fail of being accounted more
beautiful?

Fr. Ho, ho, Socrates, you have just left one of our
wise men, have you?

Soc. Say, rather, the wisest man of the present day,
unless you would refuse this title to Protagoras.

Fr. Protagoras, do you say? is he in Athens?

Soc. He is, and has been here now two days.

Fr. And you are just come, I suppose, from his
310 company?

Soc. Yes, and from a very long conversation with
him.

Fr. Oh pray repeat it to us, then, unless you have
something to hinder you. Just turn out this boy, and
sit down in his place.

Soc. With all my heart ; and I shall be much obliged
to you for listening.

Fr. And I am sure we shall be so to you for
speaking.

Soc. The obligation, then, will be mutual. I will
therefore begin.

Last night, or rather very early this morning,
Hippocrates, the son of Apollodorus, and brother of
Phason, came and knocked very violently at my door
with his stick, and as soon as they opened to him,
rushed into the house in the greatest haste, calling out
with a loud voice, Socrates, are you awake or asleep?
Recognising his voice, I said to myself, Ho, Hippocra-
tes here ; turning to him, Have you any news ?

None but what is good, he answered.

So much the better, I rejoined. But what is the
matter; what has made you come here so early?

Protagoras is arrived, said he, standing by my side.

Yes, the day before yesterday, I replied ; have you
only just heard it?

Only just, I assure you, only last night While thus
speaking, he felt about the bed on which I lay, and
sitting down at my feet, continued, Only yesterday
evening, on my return at a very late hour from CEnoe.
For my slave Satyrus ran away ; and I was just going

Protagoras 233

to tell you that I meant to pursue him, when something
else came into my head, and I forgot it. And when I
came back, it was not till we had supped and were
going to bed, that my brother informed me of the arrival
of Protagoras. Whereupon, late as it was, I started
up with the intention of coming immediately to you,
but on second thoughts it seemed too far gone in the
night. As soon, however, as sleep released me after
my fatigue, I rose up at once and hurried here.

On hearing this, being well acquainted with my
friend's vehement and excitable nature, I said to him,
Well, what does this matter to you? does Protagoras
do you any harm?

Yes, that he does, said he with a laugh ; he keeps his
wisdom to himself, and does not make me wise.

But I have no doubt, said I, that if you only give him
money enough, he will make you wise too.

I would, ye gods ! he cried, it only depended on this ;
if it did, I would not spare the last farthing of my own
fortune, or of my friends' either. But in point of fact,
Socrates, the very object I have in coming here now is
to ask you to speak to him on my behalf. For, to say
nothing of my being so young, I have never even seen
Protagoras in my life, or heard him speak ; for I was
quite a boy when he was here before. However, all
the world applaud the man, and say that he is wonder-
fully clever in discourse. So pray let us go to him 3 '
at once, that we may find him indoors. He is staying,
I am told, with Callias, the son of Hipponicus. Let us
start.

Not yet, said I, it is too early. Rather let us turn
into the court here, and walk about and talk, till it is
light. And then we can go. For Protagoras seldom
stirs out ; so that you need not be afraid, we shall in
all probability find him at home.

After this we rose up from the bed, and went out
into the court. And while we were walking up and
down, with a view of trying the strength of Hip-
pocrates, I sifted him with the following questions.
Hippocrates, said I, you are now proposing to call upon
Protagoras and pay him a sum of money as a fee for
II 1 457

234 Plato

your attendance. Now tell me; in what capacity, on
his part, do you mean to visit him, and what do you
expect to become yourself by so doing? Take a similar
case. If you had conceived the idea of going to your
namesake Hippocrates of Cos, of the house of the Ascle-
piads, and paying him a sum of money as a fee for your
tuition ; and if you were to be asked what Hippocrates
was, that you meant to pay him this money, what
should you answer?

I should say, he replied, a physician.

And what do you expect to become?

A physician, he answered.

Again, if you had taken it into your head to go to
Polyclitus of Argos or our Athenian Phidias, and pay
them a fee for your tuition, and you were to be asked,
what Polyclitus and Phidias were, that you intended to
pay them this money, what should you reply?

Statuaries, of course.

And what do you expect to become yourself?

A statuary, to be sure.

Well, said I, here are you and I now going to Pro-
tagoras; and when arrived there we shall be prepared
to pay him a sum of money as a fee for your tuition. If
our own funds prove adequate to his demand, so much
the better ; if they are deficient, we shall not hesitate
to drain the purses of our friends. Now, suppose some
man were to see us thus earnestly bent on the matter,
and to say, My good friends, Socrates and Hippocrates,
what do you mean to pay Protagoras as? Tell me,
what would be our answer to this question? What
distinct name is currently given to Protagoras, in the
same way that the name of statuary is given to Phidias,
and of poet to Homer? what analogous designation do
we hear applied to Protagoras?

Well, there is no denying, he replied, that men do
call our friend a sophist.

It is then, I suppose, as a sophist that we are going
to pay him our monies.

Yes.

Now, suppose you were further asked, And what do
312 you expect to become yourself, that you go to Pro-

Protagoras 235

tag-oras? At this he blushed. By this time there was
just a glimpse of day, so that I could see his face.
Why, said he, if this be at all like the two former cases,
it is clear that I must expect to become a sophist.

And should not you, I solemnly ask, be ashamed of
showing- yourself a sophist in the eyes of Greece?

Yes, Socrates, I certainly should, if I must speak
what I really think.

But possibly, Hippocrates, you are of opinion that
the instructions to be afforded by Protagoras will not
be given on this sort of principle, but rather resemble
those you received from your masters in writing and
music and gymnastics. For you were instructed in each
of these latter professions, not with a view of becoming
a craftsman therein yourself, but of accomplishing the
education which is deemed proper for an unprofessional
gentleman.

Yes, Socrates, said he, I am quite of opinion that
this is rather the character of Protagoras's instructions.

Are you aware then, I asked, what you are now about
to do, or are you blind?

To what?

Blind to the fact, that you are about to consign your
soul to the care of a man, who is, you say, a sophist,
while what in the world such sophist is, you know not,
or I am much surprised. And yet if you know not this,
neither do you know to what you are abandoning your
soul, whether it be to a good or an evil thing.

I think I know, he answered.

Well, what do you think a sophist means?

I think, said he, as the name imports, that it means
a man who is learned in wisdom.

Yes, said I, but as much may be said for painters
and architects; they also may be described as men
learned in wisdom. But if we were asked, what the
wisdom is in which painters are learned, we should
doubtless say, In that which relates to the production
of pictures. And so for the rest. But if we were to be
further asked, What is the wisdom in which a sophist
is learned? what is the production that he superintends?
what would be our reply?

236

Plato

Why, what else should it be, Socrates, but that he
superintends the production of an able speaker?

If so, said I, our answer might possibly be true, but
certainly not sufficient. For it would draw on us the
further inquiry, But what is the subject on which the
sophist makes a man able to speak? The musician
makes his pupil able to speak on the subject in which
it makes him learned, in music, that is, does he not?

He does.

Well, said I, what is the subject on which the sophist
makes a man able to speak? obviously on that in which
he makes him learned, is it not?

One would expect so, at any rate.

What, then, I proceeded, is that, in which the sophist
is both learned himself and makes his pupil learned
also?

This, Socrates, I confess, I cannot tell you.
313 Young man, I rejoined, what are you doing? are you
aware of the danger to which you are about to expose
your soul ? If you had had occasion to entrust your body
to any one's care, on the chance of its becoming either
healthy or depraved, frequent would have been your
deliberations on the propriety of the measure ; you would
have summoned both friends and relatives to a con-
sultation, and taken many days to consider the matter;
yet now, when your soul is concerned, your soul, which
you prize far more highly than your body, and whereon
your all depends for good or ill, according as it turns
out healthy or depraved ; when this, I say, is at stake,
you communicate neither with your father, nor your
brother, nor with any of us your friends ; you ask none
of us whether or no you ought to entrust your soul to
this stranger who is come to Athens ; but having heard
of his arrival only last evening, as you tell me, you
come here early in the morning, not to take thought or
counsel on the matter, but prepared to spend both your
own fortune and your friends', as if you had already
made up your mind that, come what might, you must be
the pupil of Protagoras; a man whom, as you admit,
you are neither acquainted with, nor have even so much
as spoken to in your life, but whom you call a sophist,

Protagoras 237

while what this sophist is, to whom you are about to
entrust yourself, you are plainly ignorant.

Yes, Socrates, said he; such would appear, from
what you say, to be the case.

Hippocrates, I continued, is not a sophist a sort of
merchant, or retail-dealer in the wares upon which the
soul subsists? for myself, I esteem him something of the
kind.

And what does the soul subsist upon, Socrates? he
asked.

Instruction, of course, I replied ; and let us be careful,
my dear friend, that the sophist does not impose upon
us, by praising the quality of his wares, just as is done
by those who traffic in food for the body, by the mer-
chant, that is, and the tradesman. For these dealers
are ignorant, if I mistake not, of the commodities which
they supply ; they cannot tell which article is good or bad
for the body though they praise them all alike in the
sale any more than their customers can unless they
happen to be versed in the gymnastic or medical art.
And, exactly in the same way, those who hawk about
their instructions from city to city, selling wholesale
and retail to all who bid, are in the habit of praising
their whole stock alike; yet some of these too, my
good friend, may very likely be unable to tell us which
of their wares is good, and which bad for the soul,
while their customers will be equally ignorant, unless
here again there chance to be among them some skilled
in the medicine of the soul. If then you happen to be
a judge of these matters, and can say which is good,
and which is bad, there is no danger in your buying
instructions from Protagoras, or any other person what-
ever; but if not, take care, my good Hippocrates, that 314
you do not stake and imperil your dearest treasures.
For, I can assure you, there is a far greater risk in the
purchase of instruction than in that of food. When
you buy meat and drink from the tradesman and mer-
chant, you may carry them away in different vessels;
and before admitting them into your body, by eating
or drinking, you are at liberty to lay them down in
your house, and, calling in qualified advisers, deliberate

238

Plato

what is fit to be eaten or drunk, and what to be rejected ;
what, moreover, is the proper quantity that may be
taken, and what the proper time for taking it. So that
in this purchase the danger is not great. But instruc-
tion you cannot possibly carry away in a different
vessel ; as soon as you have paid down the price, you
must of necessity receive the instruction in your soul
itself; and when you have learnt it, go home a worse,
or a better man. Let us, therefore, take advice on this
question with our elders, for we are still too young to
settle so great a matter. Since, however, we have
started the plan, let us go and hear our sophist, and
afterwards confer with others on what we have heard ;
for, beside Protagoras, we shall find there Hippias of
Elis, and, I think, also Prodicus of Ceos, and many
other learned professors.

This resolution taken, we set out on our expedition.
When arrived at the gate, we stopped to discuss a
question which had fallen out between us on the road,
and which we wished to bring to a satisfactory conclu-
sion before entering the house. Accordingly we stood
talking at the entrance till we had settled the matter.
Now the porter, an eunuch, must, I imagine, have over-
heard us; and I am inclined to think that, on account
of the multitude of sophist-callers, he feels disgust for
all who come to the house. At any rate, when we had
knocked at the door, and he had opened it, and caught
sight of us, Bah ! he cried out, more sophists, I declare.
My master's engaged. At the same time, with both his
hands, he slammed the door in our faces, with all the
will in the world. So we knocked again ; but our friend,
without opening, called out, Sirs, have you not heard
that my master is engaged? But, good porter, I urged,
we are neither come to call upon Callias, nor are we
sophists ; so cheer up. It is Protagoras that we want
to see, take in our names. At length, with the great-
est difficulty, we prevailed on the fellow to open us the
door.

On entering, we found Protagoras walking up and
down one of the porticoes. And, in the same line with
him, there walked on one side Callias, the son of

Protagoras 239

Hipponicus, and his half-brother Paralus, the son of 31 5
Pericles, and Charmides, the son of Glaucon; on the
other there was Pericles' other son, Xanthippus, and
Philippides, the son of Philomelus; and, moreover,
Antimoerus of Mende, who enjoys the greatest reputa-
tion of all Protagoras 's pupils, and is taking lessons
professionally, with the view of becoming a sophist
himself. Behind these distinguished individuals there
followed a crowd of listeners, composed principally, as
it appeared to me, of the foreigners whom Protagoras
sweeps with him from the several cities he passes
through, luring them, like an Orpheus, with his voice,
and they follow at the sound, enchanted. There were,
however, among them some of our own countrymen as
well. On looking at this attendant band, I was par-
ticularly charmed to observe the excellent care they took
never to get into the way of Protagoras. The moment
the great master and his party turned, deftly and
daintily did these gentlemen file off to the right and
left, and, wheeling round, take their places, on each
occasion, behind him, in the most admirable order.

Next after him my eyes observed, as Homer has it,
Hippias of Elis, sitting in the opposite portico on a high
chair; and on stools around him, I remarked Eryx-
imachus the son of Acumenus, Phaedrus of Myrrhine, and
Andron the son of Androtion, beside a number of
foreigners from his own town of Elis and other cities.
And they appeared to be plying him with questions on
natural science, and especially on astronomy, while he
sitting aloft on his throne, was dispensing to them their
several answers, and explaining all their difficulties.

There too, moreover, I beheld a Tantalus ; for Prodi-
cus of Ceos had lately come to Athens. Now this
professor was established in a small room which Hip-
pocrates had been in the habit of using as a store closet.
On the present occasion, however, Callias has been
forced, by the influx of guests, to empty it of its con-
tents and turn it into a spare bed-chamber. Here then
was Prodicus, still in bed, and wrapped up in what
appeared to be a great quantity of sheep-skins and
blankets. On sofas near him were sitting Pausanias of

240 Plato

Ceramis, and close by the side of Pausanias a young lad
of a noble disposition, as far as I could judge, and cer-
tainly of a most beautiful form. I thought I heard his
name was Agathon, and I should not be surprised if he
turns out to be Pausanias 's favourite. Beside this
stripling there were the two Adimantuses, sons of Cepis
and Leucolopides, and some others. But what they
were talking about I was unable to catch from the
outside, notwithstanding my intense anxiety to hear
Prodicus, so supremely, nay divinely clever do I ac-
316 count the man; for the gruffness of his voice caused
a kind of buzzing in the room, which rendered all he
said indistinct. We had not been long in the house,
when there came in after us Alcibiades the fair, as you
call him with my full assent, and Critias the son of
Calloeschrus.

After we had spent a few minutes in noticing the par-
ticulars I have mentioned, we walked up to Protagoras,
and I said, Protagoras, it is to see you that I and my
friend Hippocrates here have called.

Would you like, said he, to speak with me alone, or
before the rest?

To us, I replied, it makes no difference in the world ;
when you have heard our object in coming, you can
judge for yourself. Well, what is your object? he
asked.

Hippocrates, said I, presenting him, is a native of
Athens, son of Apollodorus, of a great and wealthy
house. For himself, he is considered in point of natural
ability a fair match for the youth of his age : and he is
desirous, I believe, of making a figure in the state, a
result which he expects more readily to attain by attach-
ing himself to you. Now then that you have heard our
errand, consider whether it ought to be discussed
between ourselves alone, or in public.

You do well, Socrates, he answered, to take these
precautions in my behalf. When a stranger visits
powerful cities, and in each of them calls upon the
flower of the youth to abandon the society of their
countrymen, both related and not related, both old and
young, and attach themselves solely to him, in the hope

Protagoras 241

of becoming better by such intercourse; when he does
this, I say, he cannot take too many precautions; for
his course is attended by no slight jealousy, by ill-will
moreover, and actual plots. Now the trade of sophist
is, I maintain, of ancient date ; but its professors in
ancient times were so afraid of this odium ever attach-
ing to it, that they uniformly covered it with an
assumed disguise. Some among them veiled it under
poetry, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides; others,
again, under mystic rites and prophetic inspiration, like
Orpheus, Musseus, and their followers. I have heard
of others putting forward even the gymnastic art, as a
screen ; Iccus of Tarentum, for instance, and that
sophist of the present day, who is inferior to none of
his contemporaries, Herodicus of Selymbria, and for-
merly of Megara. Music, again, was the cover assumed
by your own countryman, Agathocles, a very eminent
sophist, by Pythoclides of Ceos, and a number of others.
Now it was, I repeat, for fear of becoming generally
odious, that all these distinguished sophists shrouded
their one trade beneath the veil of the several arts I
have mentioned. But I, for my part, differ from them 317
all, so far as this concealment is concerned. For I
conceive that they were very far from attaining the
object they desired, inasmuch as their secret was dis-
covered by men of authority in their respective states,
that is to say, by the very men to deceive whom these
disguises were assumed; since the vulgar herd may be
said to perceive nothing at all of themselves, but merely
to echo the opinions which the former promulgate.
Now, whenever a man attempts to escape, and instead
of succeeding, is caught in the act, he is not only
thought a great fool for his pains, but necessarily ren-
ders himself still more obnoxious than before : for men
consider that such a person adds knavery to his other
delinquencies. On such grounds, then, the course I
have pursued has been exactly the opposite to this. I
have ever avowed myself a sophist and a teacher of
youth; and I esteem this precaution of mine to be more
effectual than theirs, avowal, that is to say, I esteem
safer than denial. Added to this, I have devised other
n *i 457

242 Plato

precautions, so that, thanks be to Heaven, no harm has
ever come to me from avowing my profession. Yet,
I have now been engaged in it many years, as may well
be the case, considering the number I have lived alto-
gether so many, that there is not one among you
whose father I am not old enough to be. I shall, there-
fore, consider it far more agreeable, if you do not object,
to discuss your errand in the presence of all the inmates
of the house. On hearing this, I at once suspected
that he had a mind to parade us before Prodicus and
Hippias, and make it appear that we had come as his
ardent admirers. Accordingly I said, Why don't we
then summon Prodicus and Hippias to come with their
followers, and listen to our conversation?

Let us do so by all means, he replied.

What say you, suggested Callias, to our making a
regular divan, so that you may talk sitting? His pro-
posal being accepted, we all set to work with delight at
the idea of listening to such clever men, and with our
own hands seized on the stools and sofas, and ranged
them in order by the side of Hippias, as the stools
were already in his neighbourhood. Before we had
finished, Callias and Alcibiades, who had gone to
fetch Prodicus, returned with him and his coterie,
having succeeded in getting the professor out of
bed.

As soon as we had all taken our seats, Protagoras
began. Now then, Socrates, said he, that these gentle-
men have joined our party, you had better repeat what
you mentioned to me a few minutes ago, with regard
to this young man.

I open my account of our errand, said I, in the same
318 way as I did before. I present to you my friend Hip-
pocrates, who is possessed with a desire of becoming
your disciple, and would be glad, he says, to hear
what advantages he may expect to derive from your
tuition. So much for our part of the business. In
answer to this, Protagoras said to Hippocrates, My
young friend, if you are to be my disciple, you wili find
that on the very day of your becoming such, you will
go home a better man than you came; on the second

Protagoras 243

day the result will be similar, and each succeeding day
will be marked with the same gradual improvement.

But, Protagoras, I replied, there is nothing won-
derful in this promise of yours ; it is only what may
naturally be expected. Since I am sure that even you
yourself, advanced in years and wisdom as you are,
could not fail of being improved by receiving informa-
tion on a subject with which you might possibly chance
to be unacquainted. No, this is not the sort of answer
we want; but something of the following kind. Sup-
pose our friend here were ere long to take a new fancy
into his head, and conceive the desire of attaching him-
self to the young painter, Zeuxippus of Heraclea, who
has lately come to Athens, and were to make the same
application to him, that he is now making to you, and
were to hear from him in reply, exactly as he has heard
from you, that each day of his attendance would be
marked by fresh improvement and progress. If our
youth, however, not content with this answer, were
further to inquire, In what do you mean that I shall
improve, and wherein shall I make progress? Zeux-
ippus would say, In painting. And so, if on applying
to Orthagoras of Thebes, and hearing from him the
same answer that he hears from you, he were to pro-
ceed to ask, what would be the particular point in which
he would daily improve by his daily attendance? the
flute-player would reply, In playing the flute. This,
then, is the kind of answer I wish you to give to Hip-
pocrates, and to me who am questioning you on his
behalf.

If my friend here becomes a pupil of yours, Protago-
ras, he will go home on the first day of his attendance
a better man than he came, and on each succeeding
day he will make similar progress to what, Pro-
tagoras? In what will he improve?

Socrates, he answered, your question is a fair one,
and I delight in answering fair questions. If Hippocra-
tes comes to me, he will not be served as he would
be served if he were to attach himself to any other
sophist Sophists in general misuse their pupils sadly.
Just escaped as the lads are from their school-studies,

244 Plato

these teachers drive them back again, sorely against
their will, into the old routine, and give them lessons
(while saying this, he glanced at Hippias,) in arithmetic,
astronomy, geometry, and music; whereas, if a youth
comes to me, he will receive instruction on no other
subject than that which he is come to learn. And
what he will learn is this; such prudence in domestic
concerns as will best enable him to regulate his own
household; such wisdom in public affairs as will best
319 qualify him for becoming a statesman and orator.

I wonder, said I, whether I follow your meaning:
I understand you to speak of the political art, and that
you undertake to make men good citizens.

This is exactly the profession I do make, Socrates,
he replied.

Glorious truly then, said I, is the art you possess, if
so be that you do possess it; for to a man like you I
will say nothing else than what I really think. Since
for my part, Protagoras, I always imagined that this
art was not capable of being taught, but when you say
it is, I know not how to disbelieve you. My reasons,
however, for believing that it cannot be taught, or com-
municated from man to man, I am bound to declare.
I hold, as all Greece holds, that the Athenians are a
wise people. Now, I observe in all our meetings in
the assembly, that whenever there is occasion to
transact any public business connected with house-
building, they invariably send for house-builders, to
advise them on the matter; whenever connected with
ship-building, for ship-builders; and the same practice
is observed with regard to all the arts which they con-
sider capable of being learnt and taught. But should
any individual, whom they believe to be no member of
the trade in question, obtrude his advice on the matter,
be he ever so beautiful, or wealthy, or high-born, they
do not a whit the more allow him a hearing on this
account, but shower on him jeers and hisses, till our
would-be speaker either gives way of himself to this
storm of clamour, or is pulled down from the bema by
the bowmen, and turned out of the house by command
of the prytanes. Such then is the course they pursue

Protagoras 245

with all business which they consider belongs to a craft.
But whenever a matter connected with the public ad-
ministration requires discussion, up starts any member
who pleases, and proffers them his advice, no matter
whether he be carpenter, smith, or shoemaker, mer-
chant or skipper, rich or poor, high or low. And in
this case, no one thinks, as in the former, of objecting
to the speaker, that without having* received instruction
from any quarter, without having any teacher to show,
he yet presumes to offer advice; clearly, because they
all believe that this knowledge is not capable of being
taught. Nay, not only is public business conducted
on this principle, but in private life we see our best and
wisest citizens unable to impart to others the excellence
which themselves possess. Take, for example, Pericles,
the father of these two young men. In all that a
master could teach, he has educated them, liberally, 320
and well ; but in his own wisdom he neither instructs
them himself, nor sends them anywhere else to be in-
structed ; but, like oxen consecrated to the gods, they
are left to roam and pasture at will, if haply somewhere
or other they may light by good fortune on virtue. Do
you wish another case? There is Clinias, the younger
brother of our friend here, Alcibiades. His guardian,
this same Pericles, for fear, as he said, of his being
corrupted by Alcibiades, tore him from the society of
the latter, and placed him in Ariphron's house to be
educated. But he had not been there six months before
Ariphron restored him to his guardian, as not being able
to make anything of him. And so I could cite instance
upon instance of men, who, good themselves, have
been unable to render better either their own sons or
other people's; and it is, Protagoras, from the observa-
tion of such instances as these that I have been led to
the belief, that virtue is not a thing that can be taught.
Now, however, that I hear you maintain the contrary,
that belief is shaken, and I am inclined to think that
there must be something in what you say ; since I
esteem you a man of vast experience, of extensive
acquirements, and no inconsiderable invention. If,
therefore, you are able to make it clear, by demon-

246 Plato

stration, that the nature of virtue admits of its
being taught, do not grudge us, I beseech you, your
proof.

No, Socrates, I will not, he replied. But say, should
you prefer me, as beseems an elder when addressing
his juniors, to convey my proof in the form of a
mythical story, or to go through it step by step in a
serious discussion? Many of the party calling out in
reply, that he might do whichever he pleased, Well,
said he, since you leave me the choice, I think it
pleasanter to tell you a story.

There was once a time when, though gods were,
mortal races were not. But when there came, by law
of fate, a time for these too to be created, the gods
fashioned them in the bowels of the earth, out of a
mixture of earth and fire, and substances which com-
bine the two. And when they were ready to bring
them forth to the light, they charged Prometheus and
Epimetheus with the office of equipping them, and
dispensing to each of them suitable endowments. Epi-
metheus, however, entreated his brother to leave the
distribution to him; and when I have completed my
work, do you, says he, review it.

Having obtained his request, he began to distribute.
To some he assigned strength without speed; others,
that were weaker, he equipped with speed. Some he
furnished with weapons; while for those whom he left
weaponless, he devised some other endowment to save
them. Animals, which he clad with puny frames, were
to find safety in the flight of their wings, or subterra-
321 nean retreats; those which he invested with size, were
by this very size to be preserved. And so throughout
the whole of the distribution he maintained the same
equalising principle ; his object in all these contrivances
being to prevent any species from becoming extinct.
Having thus supplied them with means of escaping
mutual destruction, he proceeded to arm them against
the seasons, by clothing them with thick furs and
strong hides, proof against winter-frost and summer-
heat, and fitted also to serve each of them, when seek-
ing rest, as his own proper and native bed : and under

Protagoras 247

the feet he furnished some with hoofs, others with hair
and thick and bloodless skins. His next care was to
provide them with different kinds of food : to one class
he gave herbs of the field; to another, fruits of trees;
to a third, roots; while a fourth he destined to live by
making other animals their prey. Such, however, he
allowed to multiply but slowly, while their victims he
compensated with fecundity, thus ensuring preservation
to the species. Forasmuch, though, as Epimetheus
was not altogether wise, he unawares exhausted all the
endowments at his command on the brute creation ; so
he still had left on his hands without provision the
human family, and he knew not what to do.

While thus embarrassed, Prometheus came up to
review his distribution, and found that, while other
animals were in all points well suited, man was left
naked and barefoot, unbedded and unarmed. Yet now
the fated day was close at hand on which man, too,
was to go forth, from earth to light. Prometheus
therefore, being sorely puzzled what means of safety to
devise, steals in his extremity the inventive skill of
Hephaestus and Athene, together with fire ; for without
fire it could neither be acquired, nor used by any; and
presented them to the human race.

Thus man obtained the arts of life, but the art of
polity he had not ; for it was kept in the house of Zeus,
and into the citadel, the dwelling of Zeus, Prometheus
was no longer allowed to enter; moreover, the watch-
men of Zeus were terrible. But into the joint abode
of Athene and Hephaestus, where they worked together
at the craft they loved, he stole unnoticed, and purloin-
ing the fiery art of Hephaestus, and the other proper to
Athene, bestowed them on man; and hence man derives 322
abundance for life. But Prometheus, for his brother's
fault, was visited not long after, as the story goes, by
the penalty of his theft.

Man being thus made partaker of a divine condition,
was, in the first place, by reason of his relationship to
God, the only animal that acknowledged gods, and at-
tempted to erect to gods altars and statues. Secondly,
by his art he soon articulated sounds and words, and

248

Plato

devised for himself houses, and raiment, and shoes, and
beds, and food out of the ground.

Thus furnished, men lived at first scattered here and
there, but cities there were none. So they fell a prey
piecemeal to the beasts of the field, because wherever
they met them they were weaker than they, and their
mechanical art, though sufficient for their support, was
found unequal to the war with beasts. For as yet they
had not the art of polity, which comprises the art of
war. So they sought to assemble together, and save
their lives by founding cities. But often as they
assembled they injured one another, for lack of the
political art; so that again they dispersed, and again
were perishing. Zeus, therefore, fearing for our race
that it would be quite destroyed, sent Hermes to take
to men justice and shame, that they might be orderers
of cities, and links to bring together friendship. Where-
upon Hermes inquired of Zeus in what manner he was
to present shame and justice to men. Am I to dispense
them, he asked, in the same way that the arts have
been dispensed? which have been dispensed on this
wise : One man received the art of medicine for the use
of many not physicians, and so with the other crafts.
Is it thus that I am to distribute shame and justice
among men, or bestow them on all alike? On all alike,
said Zeus ; let all partake, for cities cannot be formed
if only a few are to partake of them, as of other arts.
Nay, more, enact a law from me, that whosoever is
incapable of partaking in shame and in justice, be put
to death as a pest to a city.

Thus you see the reason, Socrates, why the Athe-
nians and others, when there is a question on excellence
in carpentering, or any other manual art, conceive that
few only are qualified to advise them ; and why, if any
one not of the number of the few, presumes to offer his
counsel, they refuse him a hearing, as you assert; and
refuse it justly, as I maintain. But whenever they
323 come to a debate on political virtue, which ought alto-
gether to depend on justice and prudence, they listen
with good reason to every speaker whatsoever, esteem-
ing it every man's duty to partake of this virtue, if he

Protagoras 249

partakes of no other, as otherwise no city can exist.
This, Socrates, is the true reason of the fact. That
you may not, however, fancy yourself imposed upon,
but may understand that it s really the universal
opinion, that all men have a share of justice and
political virtue in general, receive this additional proof.
In all other kinds of excellence, for instance, if a man
professes himself skilled in playing- the flute, or in any
other art whatsoever, while in reality he is not so, he
is pursued, as you observe, with either ridicule or indig-
nation, and his relations come up and reprimand him as
a madman. But in the case of justice and political
virtue, albeit a man is known to be deficient in such
virtue, yet if he tells the truth of himself before many
hearers, this confession of the truth, which in the
former case was considered good sense, is here looked
upon as madness ; and it is said that all men ought to
profess to be just, whether they are so or not, and that
he who does not profess it is out of his senses ; it being
necessary that every single person should in some
degree partake of justice, if he is to live among men.

So much, then, to prove that on this particular virtue
they with good reason allow every man to offer his
advice, because they believe that every man has a share
in it ; and further, that they consider it to be, not of
natural or spontaneous growth, but that, wherever it
exists, it is the result of teaching and study, I will next
endeavour to demonstrate. If you take notice of all
the evils which men believe their neighbours possess
by the fault of nature or of fortune, you will observe
that no one is angry with those who are thus afflicted ;
no one takes them to task ; no one attempts to instruct
or correct them with a view to their alteration for the
better ; pity is the only feeling entertained. Who, for
instance, is so unreasonable as to visit another with any
of these modes of treatment for being low in stature,
feeble, or deformed? No one, clearly, because no one,
I imagine, is ignorant that evils of this kind, as well
as their opposite advantages, accrue to men either by
nature or fortune. Look, on the other hand, at those
merits which it is believed may be acquired by applica-

250 Plato

tion, exercise, and instruction; if a man, instead of
possessing these merits, possesses the opposite vices,
here, if I mistake not, is indignation excited, punish-
ment inflicted, and reproof administered. Now of this
kind injustice and impiety are individual instances,
324 while the entire opposite to political virtue composes
the class. And for this every man is angry with his
neighbour, every man takes his neighbour to task,
clearly because every man believes that it is acquired
by education and habit. Nay, Socrates, if you will but
observe the purport of punishment, it will itself teach
you that in the opinion of the world, at any rate, virtue
is a thing capable of being acquired. No one when
punishing a criminal directs his thought to the fact, or
punishes him for the fact of his having committed the
crime, unless he be pursuing his victim with the blind
vengeance of a reasonless brute. No, he that would
punish with reason, punishes not on account of the past
offence for what has been done he surely cannot undo
but for the sake of the future, in order that the
offender himself, and all who have witnessed his pun-
ishment, may be prevented from offending hereafter.
And if he conceives such a notion as this, he also con-
ceives the notion that virtue may be taught; at any
rate he punishes with a view of deterring from vice.
This, therefore, is the opinion entertained by all who
inflict punishment, either in a private or public capacity.
Now, punishment and correction are inflicted by all the
world on those whom they believe to be guilty, and by
none more than by your own citizens, the Athenians;
so that, by this reasoning, the Athenians also are in the
number of those who consider that virtue may be ac-
quired and taught. That your countrymen, then, have
good reason for listening to the advice of a smith or a
shoemaker, on political affairs, and that in their opinion
virtue is a thing susceptible of being taught and ac-
quired, has been proved to you, Socrates, with argu-
ments which, for my part, I consider convincing.

There still remains, however, a difficulty which puzzles
you. You ask how it is that good fathers instruct their
children in all knowledge that depends upon teachers,

Protagoras 251

and make them wise therein, but in the virtue wherein
they are good themselves they make them no better
than others. In answering this question, Socrates, I
shall address you no more in fable, but in serious argu-
ment. And let us view the matter thus. Is there not
some one thing of which all members of a state must
partake, if a state it is to be? for here, if anywhere,
shall we find the solution of your difficulty. For if
such a thing there be, and if this single thing be neither
the art of the carpenter, nor of the brazier, nor of the
potter, but justice and discretion and holiness, and, in
a word, that which I call compendiously a man's virtue; 325
if this be a thing of which all must partake, and with
which every lesson must be learnt, and every deed done,
without which no lesson leaint and no deed done; if all
who do not partake of it must be instructed and cor-
rected, be they men or women, or children, until by
such treatment they are improved ; while those who
refuse to hearken to the voice of correction and instruc-
tion are to be expelled from their country, or put to
death as incurable : if all this be true, and in spite of
this being true, virtuous men have their children in-
structed in all other knowledge, but fail to have them
instructed in this, just think what extraordinary people
you make of your virtuous men. For we have proved
that as individuals and statesmen they believe virtue
to be the fruit of education and culture; and, with this
belief on their part, is it possible to suppose that they
instruct their sons in knowledge where death is not the
punishment of ignorance, but that in the knowledge
of that, wherein if they fail to instruct their children,
they entail upon them the penalty of death, and of exile,
and beside death the confiscation of their goods; and, in
a word, the utter ruin of their house; is it possible, I
say, to suppose that in the knowledge of this, that is, in
the knowledge of virtue, they do not instruct their
children and bestow thereon all their care? Surely we
must believe they do. Yes, Socrates, from infancy
upwards they instruct and admonish them as long as
they live. The moment that a child understands what
is said to him, the one point contended for by nurse,

252 Plato

and mother, and governor, and the father himself, is the
progress of their charge in virtue; from every thing
that is said and done they take occasion to tell and
explain to him, that such a thing is just, and such
another unjust, that this conduct is honourable, and
that disgraceful, that one deed is holy, and another
impious; this you must do, they say, and that you must
not do. If the child yield a willing obedience, all is
well ; if not, they treat him like a young tree that is
twisted and bent, and try to straighten him with threats
and blows. After this, they send him to school, with
a strict charge to the master to pay far greater heed
to the good behaviour of the children than to their pro-
gress in reading and music. And the master does make
this his principal care, and as soon as his boys have
learned their letters, and are in a condition to under-
stand what is written, as before what was spoken, he
sets before them on their benches the works of good
poets to read, and compels them to learn them by heart,
choosing such poems as contain moral admonitions,
326 and many a narrative interwoven with praise and pane-
gyric on the worthies of old, in order that the boy may
admire, and emulate, and strive to become such him-
self. And exactly on a similar principle the study of
the music-master is to produce sobriety of character,
and deter the young from the commission of evil ; and
further, when he has taught them to play, he again
instructs them in the works of other good poets, select-
ing lyric poems for their use, which he sets to his
music, and compels the minds of his pupils to be
familiarized with measure and harmony, to the end that
their natures may be softened, and that, by becoming
more sensible to time and tune, they may be better
qualified to speak and to act. For the life of man in
all its stages requires modulation and harmonizing.
Nay more, they send them to gymnastic schools, in
order that by an increase of bodily strength they may
be better able to serve their virtuous minds, and not be
compelled by physical infirmity to shrink from their
post in war and other emergencies. Such is the course
of education adopted by those fathers who are best able

Protagoras 253

to follow it, that is to say, by the wealthiest citizens;
and their sons are the first to go to school, and the last
to leave it. And as soon as they are released from
school, the state on its part constrains them to learn
its laws, and live by them as by a model, that they may
not follow the random bent of their own inclinations.
And exactly as writing-masters underrule lines with
their pen for such pupils as are still awkward at
writing, before they give them their writing lesson,
and oblige them to follow in their writing the direction
of the lines ; so, too, does the state mark out a line of
laws, the discoveries of good and ancient lawgivers,
which it forces its members to be guided by, as well in
exercising as in obeying authority, while it visits with
punishment all who transgress the line ; and the name
given to this punishment, both here and in other places,
is correction, under the notion that justice directs. So
great then being the attention paid to virtue both by
states and individuals, do you wonder, Socrates, and
doubt if virtue is capable of being taught? You ought
not to wonder at that, but much rather, if it were not
capable.

How does it happen, then, that virtuous fathers have
frequently unworthy sons? Hear the reason; for
neither in this is there anything to wonder at, if it be
true, as I previously remarked, that virtue is a pursuit
wherein no member of a state, if it is to be a state, must 327
be altogether uninitiated. For if what I say be true,
as most incontestably it is, consider the case by select-
ing in the way of example some other pursuit and
subject of instruction. Suppose for instance, that it
were impossible for a state to exist without all its
members being flute-players in a greater or less degree,
according to their several capacities; suppose that all
both publicly and privately were taught to play, and
reproached if they played ill, and that no one envied
another this attainment, just as under existing circum-
stances no one either envies a man his justice and his
obedience to law, or affects to conceal his own, as he
does his other accomplishments for each of us, I
imagine, finds his own interest in his neighbour's justice

254 Plato

and virtue, and therefore all are eager to tell and teach
to all the dictates of justice and law. Suppose, I
repeat, that in the art of playing the flute we were all
ready to instruct one another with the same zeal and
freedom from jealousy; do you imagine, Socrates, that
the sons of superior flute-players would be at all more
likely to turn out superior performers than the sons of
inferior players? I think they would not; but any
man's son who chanced to be born with a genius for
flute-playing would rise to distinction, and if the genius
were wanting, so would be the distinction; and often
would it happen that a skilful player would be followed
by an unskilful son, and an unskilful father by a skilful
son. But still I feel sure that all would be competent
players by the side of those who did not make flute-
playing their business or their study. This then is the
light in which I wish you to view our present condition.
Select the individual whom you consider the most
deficient in justice of all who have been trained in law
and society, and you will find him not only just, but a
perfect master in justice when compared with men who
have neither training, nor tribunal, nor laws, nor any
necessity ever compelling them to cultivate virtue, but
who are in fact savages, like the wild men represented
on the stage last year by the poet Pherecrates, at the
Lensean festival. I am confident that if you were
thrown among such men as those, like the misan-
thropical chorus in the play, you would be only too
happy to fall in with a Eurybates or a Phrynondas, and
would mourn with tears of regret for the villainy of your
worst citizens here. But now you are fastidious, Socra-
tes, and because all men are teachers of virtue to
the best of their several abilities, you believe that it is
taught by none. Again, if you were to search in
Athens for a teacher of Greek, you would not find a
328 single one, and equally unsuccessful, I imagine, would
you be if you were to look for a master competent to
instruct the sons of our mechanics in the very trade
which they have learnt from their father, as well as
their father and his fellow-craftsmen were able to teach
it. No, Socrates, if you wanted a teacher for such

Protagoras 255

proficients as these, it would be no easy matter to dis-
cover one ; but if for boys quite ignorant of the trade,
you would find one with no trouble at all. And similar
is the difficulty with respect to virtue and all those other
qualities. But if there be any among us ever so little
more capable than others of advancing men on the road
to virtue, you may be well content. Now of this
number I conceive that I am one; and I flatter myself
that far above all other men do I understand the art of
making a virtuous gentleman, and that my lessons are
well worth the price I demand, aye and a still larger
one, so much so that even the pupil himself allows it.
And therefore the plan I have adopted in asking my
terms is this. As soon as a pupil has finished his
course, he pays me, if willing, the full amount of my
demand ; if not, he goes to an altar, and there he makes
on oath his own estimate of the value of my instruc-
tions, and pays me accordingly.

Such are my proofs, Socrates, both in fable and
serious argument, in favour of the propositions, that
virtue is capable of being taught, and that it is such in
the opinion of the Athenians, and that there is nothing
surprising in good fathers having bad sons, or in bad
fathers having good sons ; since to take from the various
professions one case out of many, the sons of Polyclitus,
the companions of our friends here, Paralus and Xan-
thippus, are nothing in comparison with their father,
But of Paralus and Xanthippus, it is not as yet fair
to predicate this ; for their youth allows us to hope.

After this lengthened and varied display, Protagoras
ceased to speak. And for a long while I sat enchanted,
with my eyes still fixed on him, in the expectation of
his saying something more, and in my eagerness to hear
it. At last, when I perceived that he had really finished,
I with some difficulty recovered myself, and turning to
Hippocrates, said, How thankful I am to you, son of
Apollodorus, for having induced me to come hither so
high a privilege do I account it to have heard what I
have heard from Protagoras. For, heretofore, I was
of opinion that there was no method of human culture
by which the virtuous acquired their virtue; but now

256

Plato

I am persuaded there is. Only one slight difficulty
remains in my mind, which I am sure that Protagoras
will easily elucidate, since he has elucidated so much.
329 For if you were to apply to any of our public men for
an explanation of these very matters, to Pericles, for
instance, or some other able speaker, you might pos-
sibly hear from them as fine a speech as has just been
delivered ; but if you were to proceed with your interro-
gations, you would find them like books, unable either
to give you an answer, or to ask any question them-
selves; but if you start ever so slight an inquiry with
respect to any remark they have made, exactly in the
way that a vessel of brass, when struck, rings loud, and
continues to ring, unless you stop it by laying on your
finger, so do these orators respond to the shortest ques-
tion, with an harangue of inordinate length. But not
so our Protagoras. He is not only equal, as the fact
proves, to the delivery of long and beautiful speeches,
but he is also able to return a short answer to a short
question, and when questioner in his turn, he can wait
till he has received his answer gifts these of rare
attainment. Now, therefore, Protagoras, as I only
want one slight explanation to be entirely satisfied, I
trust to you for answering me this : You assert that
virtue is susceptible of being taught, and if there be a
man in the world on whose word I would believe it, I
believe it on yours. But there was one thing that
puzzled me, as you were speaking, and on this pray
satisfy my mind. You said that Zeus sent justice and
shame as a present to men ; and again, in several places
in your discourse, you spoke of justice, and discretion,
and holiness, and similar qualities, as making all
together one thing, which you called virtue. This,
then, is the point that I wish to be accurately explained.
Is virtue one thing, and are justice, discretion, holiness,
parts of it, or are all these but so many names of one
and the same thing? This is what I still want to know.

Well, Socrates, he said, if this be all, I shall have no
difficulty in answering you. These qualities of which
you ask are all parts of one thing, of virtue.

But are they parts, I asked, like the parts of a face,

Protagoras 257

like the mouth, nose, ears, and eyes ; or, like the parts
of gold, do they exactly resemble one another and the
whole, except in being greater or smaller?

Like the former, I consider, Socrates. They bear the
same relation to virtue that the parts of a face bear to
the entire face.

How then, said I, are these parts of virtue distri-
buted among men ? Do some men have one, and some
another; or, if a man has received one, must he of
necessity have all?

Certainly not, Socrates. Many men are courageous
without being just, many are just without being wise.

Then these, too, are parts of virtue, said I, wisdom 330
and courage?

Most assuredly they are, said he. Why, wisdom is
chief of all the parts.

And every one of these parts is different from every
other. Is it not so? I asked.

It is, he replied.

And every one of them has a distinct function, like
the parts of a face? An eye, you know, is not like an
ear, nor is its function the same ; and so of the other
parts, there is not one like any other, either in function
or in anything else. Is it the same then with the parts
of virtue? do they all differ from one another, at once
in themselves and their functions? Is it not clear
though, that such must be the case, at least, if we are
to keep to our comparison?

Well, Socrates, it is the case.

If so, I continued, there are none of the other parts
of virtue like wisdom, or like justice, or like courage,
or like discretion, or like holiness.

None, he said.

Come then, said I, let us examine together into the
character of each of these parts. And, first, of justice.
Is justice a thing, or not a thing? For my part, I
believe it to be a thing. But what do you?

I believe so, too.

To proceed. If a man were to say to you and me,
Protagoras and Socrates, be good enough to tell me
whether this thing, as you have just called it, this

258

Plato

justice, is, in itself, just or unjust? I should answer,
Just; but what would be your decision? The same as
mine, or different?

The same, he replied.

The nature, then, of justice is to be just, I should
say, if he were to ask me the question. Should you ?

I should.

And if he were to proceed to enquire whether we
believed in the existence of holiness as well, we should
doubtless assent.

True, he answered.

And if he were to ask whether we called this a thing
also, we should assent again.

So we should.

But if he were further to enquire whether we con-
sidered the nature of this thing to be holy, or unholy,
I, for my part, should be indignant at the question, and
should reply, Speak reverently, my good sir; it were
hard for anything else to be holy, if holiness itself were
not holy. And you, should you not answer thus?

Most certainly I should.

If, however, to these questions he were to add the
following, But what was it, my good friends, that you
said a little time ago? Did I not hear you aright? I
fancied you said that the parts of virtue were so dis-
posed among themselves, as to bear no resemblance one
to another. To this I should reply, For the rest you
heard aright; but when you thought that I too made
331 this remark, your hearing deceived you. No, this was
Protagoras 's answer to a question of mine. On hear-
ing this, if he were to turn to you, and say, Protagoras,
does Socrates speak the truth? do you maintain that the
different parts of virtue are all unlike each other? was
this assertion yours? what would be your reply?

I should be forced to allow that it was, said he.

After this admission, Protagoras, what would be our
answer if he were to proceed thus? It appears, then,
that it is not the nature of holiness to be a just thing,
nor of justice to be a holy thing ; but, rather, of holiness
to be a thing that is not just, and of justice to be a
thing 1 that is not holy; that is to say, holiness is an

Protagoras 259

unjust thing, and justice an unholy thing. Well, what
is to be our answer? On my own account I should
reply, that, as for myself, I believed justice to be holy,
and holiness just; and on yours, too, I should be glad,
if you would allow me, to make the same answer; at
any rate, to say that justice and holiness, if not exactly
the same, resembled each other as nearly as possible ;
and that nothing was so like holiness as justice, or like
justice as holiness. Determine, then, whether you
would forbid me to make this reply, or whether your
opinion coincides with mine.

I certainly do not think, Socrates, that it is so un-
conditionally true, as to demand my unqualified assent,
that justice is holy, and holiness just. There appears
to me to be a difference between them. But what
matters that? If you wish it, I am quite ready to allow
that holiness is just, and justice holy.

Pardon me, said I. It is not at all my object to
examine into an "If you wish it," or an "If you think
so ; " but into what you think, and what I think : that
is to say, I consider that our argument will be most
successfully investigated by putting " if s " altogether
out of the question.

Well, Socrates, said he, there is no doubt that justice
and holiness are somewhat alike ; for there are no two
things in the world that do not, in some point of view,
resemble one another. There are points of resemblance
between black and white, hard and soft, and other
qualities which are believed to be most diametrically
opposed to each other. In fact, those very parts which
we said just now had different functions and different
natures the parts, that is, of the face do, in certain
respects, resemble one another. So that, in this way,
you might go on to prove, if you chose, that all things
are alike. But it is not fair to call things like, because
they have some point of resemblance ; nor unlike,
because they have some point of dissimilarity, if, in
either case, the point be a very small one.

To this I replied with wonder, Do you mean to say
then, that, in your opinion, the relation between justice
and holiness is that of the faintest resemblance?

260 Plato

I don't quite say this, he replied ; but neither, on the
,532 other hand, am I inclined to take your view of the
matter.

Well, said I, since this question seems to put you
out of humour, let us allow it to pass ; and from the
other things you said select the following for considera-
tion.

Is there a thing you call folly?

There is.

And is not the direct contrary of this thing wisdom?

I think so.

When men act correctly and beneficially, are they dis-
creet, think you, in so acting ; or would they be, if they
were to act in the opposite manner?

Discreet in so acting.

Are they not discreet by virtue of discretion?

Of course they are.

And do not those who do not act correctly, act fool-
ishly, and show themselves not discreet in so acting?

He assented.

It appears then that acting foolishly is the contrary
to acting discreetly.

It does, he said.

Is it not true, I asked, that what is done foolishly is
done through folly, and what is done discreetly, through
discretion ?

To this he agreed.

And that if a thing be done through strength, it is
done strongly; if through weakness, weakly?

Yes, he answered.

And if with quickness, quickly ; and if with slowness,
slowly ?

True.

And, in short, that if anything is done in such and
such wise, it is done by virtue of the corresponding
quality; and if contrariwise, by the contrary quality?

Granted.

To proceed, said I, Is there such a thing as beauty?

There is.

And has it any contrary except deformity?

None.

Protagoras 261

Again, is there such a thing as good?

Yes.

Has it any contrary except evil?

No.

Once more, is there such a thing as high in sound?

There is, he said.

And is there any contrary to it except low ?

Not any.

Has every single thing then only one contrary, and
not many?

Only one, I admit.

Come then, said I, let us reckon up our admissions.
We have admitted that each thing has one contrary,
and no more, have we not?

We have.

And that whatever is done contrariwise, is done by
virtue of contraries?

Yes.

And that whatever is done foolishly, is done con-
trariwise to that which is done discreetly?

Granted.

And that what is done discreetly, is done through
discretion; what foolishly, through folly?

Agreed.

Well, if they be done contrariwise, they must be
done through contraries, must they not?

They must.

And the one is done through discretion, the other
through folly, is it not?

Just so.

Contrariwise?

Of course.

Through contraries then?

Yes.

It follows then that folly is contrary to discretion?

Clearly.

Do you remember though our agreeing before that
folly was contrary to wisdom?

I do.

And that one thing had only one contrary ?

Yes.

262 Plato

Well then, said I, which of our two assertions are
333 we to retract, Protagoras? the one which maintains
that one thing has only one contrary, or that, in which
it was stated that wisdom and discretion were distinct,
both being parts of virtue, and not only distinct but
unlike, both in nature and function, just as the parts of
the face are unlike? Which of the two, I repeat, are
we to retract? for when set side by side these two state-
ments do not present a very musical appearance, as they
neither accord nor harmonize with one another. For
how can they possibly accord, if on the one hand it is
necessary that one thing have only one contrary and no
more, and on the other it appears that folly, which is
one thing, has wisdom for a contrary and likewise
discretion? I state the case correctly, do I not,
Protagoras ?

He confessed that I did, though sorely against his
will.

Might it not be then, said I, that wisdom and dis-
cretion are one and the same thing? Just as before
we found that justice and holiness were pretty nearly
the same. But come now, Protagoras, I added, let us
not be fainthearted, but examine the rest. If a man
commits injustice, does he appear to you to be discreet
in committing it?

I, for my part, Socrates, should be ashamed to avow
this ; there are many though who do.

Shall I maintain then my argument with them or
with you? I asked.

If you like, said he, address yourself to this state-
ment first, the statement of the many.

Well, it makes no difference to me, I said, if you will
only answer whether this be your own opinion or not.
For it is the statement itself that I am bent on sifting,
though it may possibly happen that we are at the
same time sifted ourselves I in asking, and you in
answering.

With this proposal Protagoras at first coquetted.
The subject is so awkward, he pleaded. At last, how-
ever, he agreed to answer.

Come then, said I, answer me from the beginning.

Protagoras 263

Do people appear to you to be discreet when commit-
ting injustice?

Be it so, he replied.

By their being discreet, do you mean that they are
well advised?

I do.

And by their being well advised, that they take good
counsel in committing injustice?

Granted.

Is this the case if they fare well in committing it, or
if they fare ill?

If they fare well.

Do you say then that there are certain good things?

I do.

Are those things good which are advantageous to
mankind?

Yes, and there are things, I can tell you, that I call
good, though they be not advantageous to mankind.
And by this time Protagoras seemed to be fairly
exasperated and sorely fretted, and to be stedfastly set
against answering any more. So, seeing him in this
state, I was cautious, and asked him softly, Will you 334
tell me, Protagoras, whether you speak of things which
are advantageous to no man, or of things which in no
respect whatever are advantageous? Is it the latter
sort that you call good?

By no means, he answered. I know of many things
which are disadvantageous to men, meats, and drinks,
and drugs, and a thousand other things, and of things
too which are advantageous. There are things also
which to men are neither the one nor the other, though
they are to horses, or to oxen, or to dogs ; while there
are other things again which are neither good nor bad
for any animal, but only for trees. And here again
there is a distinction; some things are good for the
roots, but bad for the branches. Dung, for instance,
is a capital thing for the roots of all plants when laid at
the roots, but if you choose to lay it on the branches
and young shoots, you destroy the tree. Then again
there is oil, which is very bad for all plants, and most
destructive to the hair of every animal but man, while

264

Plato

to man it is of service not only for his hair, but also for
the rest of his body. Nay, so varied and multifarious
a thing is good, that even this very thing of which we
are speaking is good for external application, but the
worst thing in the world to be taken internally. And
for this reason medical men make a point of forbidding
their patients the use of oil, save only of the smallest
possible quantity in what they are going to eat, of just
enough, in fact, to drown the disagreeableness in their
viands and seasonings which impresses itself on their
organs of smell.

This harangue was received by the party present with
clamorous approval. For myself, I said, Protagoras,
it is my misfortune to be a forgetful sort of person, and
if a man makes me a long speech, I forget what it is
all about. Just then as, if I had chanced to be short
of hearing, you would have considered it necessary, if
intending to converse with me, to speak louder than you
do to other people ; so now, since I happen to be short
of memory, you must curtail me your answers, and
make them briefer, if you mean me to keep up with
you.

In what sense do you bid me make them briefer? he
asked. Are they to be briefer than is proper?

Oh dear no, I replied.

Are they to be the proper length ?

Precisely, I said.

Pray then must I answer you at the length which I
consider proper, or which you consider proper?

Protagoras, I answered, I have certainly heard that
you both possess yourself the gift, and can teach it to
others, of speaking, if you choose, on any given subject
at such a length, that your speech never comes to an
end, and then again on the same subject so concisely
that no one expresses himself in fewer words. If there-
335 fore you intend to converse with me, I must request
you to adopt your latter style, your brevity.

Socrates, he answered, I in my time have entered the
lists of argument with many men, and had I been in
the habit of doing as you recommend, of talking, that
is, as my antagonist bade me talk, I should be still a

Protagoras 265

mere nobody, and the name of Protagoras would never
have been heard in Greece.

Then I, knowing that he had not pleased himself with
his former answers, and that he would not consent if he
could help it to go on answering, and feeling in conse-
quence that it was no longer my business to be present
at the meeting, addressed him thus : I can assure you,
Protagoras, that I for my part am not desirous of carry-
ing on our conversation in a way that you dislike, but
as soon as you like to talk in such a manner that I can
keep pace with you, I shall then be happy to converse.
For you, as fame says, and you say yourself, are
capable of conducting a discourse in a style both of
brevity and prolixity for you are a clever man ; but I
have not the gift for these long speeches, albeit I should
have liked well to possess it. It was your place there-
fore, as master of both styles, to have given me the
choice, that so we might have managed a conversation.
But now since you refuse to do so, and I have an
engagement, and could not wait while you launched
out into long orations being required elsewhere I
will take myself off ; otherwise I might possibly have
heard even long speeches from you not unpleasantly.

With these words I rose to depart. And as I was
rising, Callias seized my hand with his right, and with
his left laid hold of my cloak thus, and said, We won't
let you go, Socrates ; for if you leave us, we shall find
our conversation no longer the same thing. I beg,
therefore, that you will remain with us ; for I know
nothing that I would more gladly hear than a discus-
sion between you and Protagoras. So pray oblige us
all. To this I replied, having already risen to leave
the house, Son of Hipponicus, charmed as I always am
with your philosophic spirit, I now love and admire it
more than ever. So that it would give me great plea-
sure to comply with your request, if it were but feasible.
But now it's just as if you were to ask me to keep up
with a runner in his prime, like Crison of Himera; or
to compete in speed with one of our long-distance
runners or couriers. Were you to ask me to do this, I
should reply, You cannot be so anxious for me, as I am i
II K 457

266 Plato

for myself, to keep up with such runners as these; but
as I cannot, I do not try. No, if you want to see me
and Crison running together, you must ask him to
come down to my level ; for he can manage a slow pace,
though I cannot a fast. And so in the present matter,
if you are desirous of hearing Protagoras and me, you
must request him to answer, as he did at first, briefly,
and to the question. Otherwise, what is to be the plan
of our conversation ? for my part, I always thought there
was a distinction between conversing and haranguing.

But you see, Socrates, said he, Protagoras 's proposal
is only just; he demands for himself permission to con-
verse as he pleases, and leaves the same liberty to you.

That's not fair, Callias, broke in Alcibiades. My
friend Socrates here confesses that he has no notion of
making long speeches, and yields the palm therein to
Protagoras ; but, in the power of conversing, and know-
ing how to give and answer a question, I should be
surprised if he finds his master anywhere. If, there-
fore, Protagoras, on his side, admits that he is a worse
hand than Socrates at conversing, Socrates is content ;
but if he professes to be his match, let him maintain
the conversation with question and answer, and not
launch out into a long harangue, whenever a question
is proposed, for the purpose of eluding his opponent's
arguments; and, instead of rendering a simple answer,
protracting his speech to such a length, that most of
the hearers forget what the question was about; though,
as for Socrates himself, I'll be bound that he will not
forget, for all his joking and pretending to have a bad
memory. I, therefore, (as every one of us ought to
declare his opinion,) maintain that Socrates 's proposal
is the fairer of the two.

After Alcibiades, it was Critias, if I remember right,
who spoke. Prodicus and Hippias, he said, Callias
appears to me to be very much on the side of Pro-
tagoras ; and Alcibiades, as usual, is a vehement stickler
for whatever he has set his heart upon. It is our
business, however, to take no part in the quarrel, either
with Socrates or Protagoras ; but impartially request of
them both not to break up our meeting in the middle.

Protagoras 267

Critias having thus spoken, Prodicus began. Very 337
well said, Critias, in my opinion. It is the duty of all
who are present in a conversation of this kind, to regard
both sides with impartiality, but not with equality. For
I conceive there is a difference. To both we should
give an impartial hearing; but not reward both with
an equal meed : but the cleverer of the two with a
greater, and the less clever with a less. I therefore, in
my turn, Protagoras and Socrates, request of you both
to make concessions ; and in considering the question,
to debate, if you will, but not to wrangle; for friends
debate with friends, just out of friendship, but those
only wrangle who are at variance and feud with one
another. And thus your conversation will be best for
us all. For, on the one hand, you, the speakers, will
by this means be most likely to obtain from us, the
hearers, approbation, and not praise, for approba-
tion is felt in the mind of the listener, and there is no
deception in it ; but praises are often bestowed by those
who falsify with their lips the belief of their hearts;
and we, on the other hand, the hearers, shall thus be
most likely to feel delight, not pleasure; for a man
feels delight in learning, and in partaking of wisdom
in his mind : but pleasure in eating and experiencing
any other agreeable sensation merely in the body.

Thus spake Prodicus, and was very generally ap-
plauded; and after Prodicus, Hippias the learned took
up the word. My friends who are here present, he
began, I regard you all as of one kin and family and
country by nature, though not by law : for like is akin
to like by nature, but law, which lords it over men,
does frequently violence to nature. It were a shame
then in us to know the nature of things, to be the wisest
men of Greece, and in this very character to have now
met together in that city of Greece which is the home
and altar of Grecian wisdom, and in that city's greatest
and wealthiest house, and yet to exhibit no result
worthy of this our rank, but, like the lowest of man-
kind, to quarrel with one another. It is at once there-
fore my entreaty and my advice to you, Protagoras
and Socrates, that you will allow us as arbiters to

268 Plato

338 mediate between you; and do not you, Socrates, insist
upon this your strict method of talking, which admits
only of the extremest brevity, if such a method is dis-
agreeable to Protagoras, but allow yourself more liberty,
and give the rein to your words, in order that they may
appear before us with greater majesty and grace ; and
for you, Protagoras, do not stretch every rope, spread
every sail, and, losing sight of land, run before the wind
into your ocean of words, but see both of you whether
you cannot cut out some middle course between you.
Such then is the plan you should adopt, and, if you
take my advice, you will elect an umpire, and a chair-
man, and a president, who will take care that neither of
you transgress on either side the bounds of moderation.
This proposal pleased the party, and, all approving
it, Callias repeated that he would not let me go, and I
was requested to name a president To which I replied,
that it would be unworthy of us to select an umpire for
our conversation. If, I urged, the object of our choice
is found to be our inferior, it cannot be well for such a
person to preside over his betters, nor can it be well if
he turn out to be an equal, for being himself no better
than we are, his acts will be no better either ; so that
our election will prove to have been superfluous. But
you will appoint, you say, a superior to the post. To
tell you the truth, I do not believe that it is in your
power to elect a wiser man than Protagoras ; but if you
appoint one who is not superior, though you maintain
he is, Protagoras is still exposed to the indignity of
having a president set over him like a common man.
For myself, I say nothing it makes no difference to
me. But I will tell you what I will do to gratify your
desire for the continuance of our meeting and conversa-
tion. If Protagoras does not like answering, let him
take the questioning part, and I will answer, and in
doing so will endeavour to show the sort of answers
that, in my opinion, ought to be given. And as soon
as I have answered all the questions he may choose
to propose, let him in turn answer mine in a similar
manner. And should he still evince an unwillingness to
keep to the question in his answers, I will then join

Protagoras 269

with you all in entreating him, as you are now entreat-
ing me, not to destroy our party. And so there will be
no need for a single president to be appointed ; you will
all discharge the office jointly. This plan of mine being
universally sanctioned, Protagoras was compelled,
though with a very bad grace, to agree to begin by
asking questions, and when he had asked enough, to
give brief answers in his turn to any question of mine.
He commenced then pretty nearly thus :

In my opinion, Socrates, one of the most important
elements in a gentleman's education is a critical know-
ledge of poetry, and by this I understand the capacity
of distinguishing between such passages in the poets 339
as are correctly and incorrectly composed, and the
power of discussing them scientifically, and giving
reasons when questioned about them. Accordingly,
the question which I now have to propose, though it
will relate to the subject which you and I are at present
discussing, that is to say, to virtue, shall be transferred
to the region of poetry. This shall be the only differ-
ence. If I remember right, Simonides says to Scopas,
son of Creon the Thessalian, No doubt to become a
good man truly is hard, a man in hand and foot and
heart complete, wrought to a faultless work. Do you
know the ode, or shall I give it you entire?

Not the slightest occasion, thank you, I replied. I
not only know the piece, but have studied it with con-
siderable attention.

I am glad to hear it, he returned. Pray then do you
consider it a beautiful and correct composition?

Certainly I do, very beautiful and correct.

And do you think it beautiful if the poet contradicts
himself?

Certainly not, said I.

Look at it closer then, said he.

You are very good, I answered ; but I have looked
at it close enough.

Are you aware, then, he continued, that in the course
of the poem he proceeds, if I mistake not, to say, 111
do I accord with that word of Pittacus, though it fell
from the lips of a sage, " 'Tis hard to be good. " You

270 Plato

observe, that it is the same person who makes both
this remark and the former one?

I do, I answered.

And do you think them consistent with each other?

I must confess I do, I replied. At the same time,
though, I was sorely frightened, lest there should be
something in what he said. However I continued,
But perhaps you don't.

Why how, said he, can I possibly think a writer con-
sistent with himself who makes both these assertions?
who in the first place premises in his own person, that
it is hard truly to become a good man, and yet, before
he has advanced any distance in his poem is so oblivious
as to find fault with Pittacus for saying, as he had said
himself, that it is hard to be good, and declares that he
cannot admit such an assertion, though it is exactly
the same as his own. Surely it is evident that in find-
ing fault with a man, who says only what he has said
himself, he finds fault with himself as well ; so that in
the first passage or the second he is clearly wrong.

These remarks drew from many of the hearers clap-
ping and applause. For myself, at first, just as if a
blow had been dealt me by a skilful boxer, I was blinded
and stunned at once by the speech of my antagonist,
and the plaudits of his supporters. At last, with a
view (to confess to you the truth) of gaining time to
consider the sense of the poet, I turned to Prodicus,
340 and calling out to him, said, Prodicus, sure Simonides
is a countryman of yours. You are bound to come to
his aid. And in thus inviting your assistance, I can
fancy myself using the words of Scamander to Simois,
when beset by Achilles ; for according to Homer he
summons him thus :

Come, brother, hasten ; let us both unite
To quell a mortal's too presumptuous might.

And so I now call upon you to join me in saving our
friend Simonides from being demolished by Protagoras.
And I can assure you, the defence requires all that
exquisite art of yours, whereby you prove that to wish
and to desire are not the same, and which supplied you

Protagoras 271

with those numerous and delicate distinctions which you
just now established. And now consider whether your
opinion agrees with mine. Mine is, that Simonides
does not contradict himself in this matter ; but before
I support it, I wish you to publish yours.

Do you conceive that becoming and being are
identical or different?

Different, to be sure, said Prodicus.

And did not Simonides in the first passage declare
his own opinion, that to become a good man truly is
hard?

He did, was the reply.

And afterwards he condemns Pittacus, not, as Pro-
tagoras supposes, for making the same assertion that
he had made himself, but for a different one. For
Pittacus does not make, like Simonides, the difficulty
to consist in becoming good, but in being good. And
let me tell you, Protagoras, on the authority of Prodi-
cus, that being good and becoming are not the same.
And if being is not the same with becoming, Simonides
does not contradict himself. And I should not wonder
if Prodicus and many others of the party were to bring
forward Hesiod, to prove that no doubt to become good
is hard ; for in front of virtue, he says, the gods have
placed sweat ; but when you are come to the top, for
all its being so hard, it is easy to possess.

As soon as I had finished, Prodicus complimented
me, but Protagoras rejoined :

Your amendment, Socrates, involves a greater error
than what you would amend.

If so, I replied, my work has been unfeatly done,
and I am a sorry sort of physician ; in attempting to
cure I augment the disease.

Well, it is so, Socrates, he said.

How do you mean? I asked.

Why, said he, it would argue great folly in the
poet, if he really maintained that virtue was so common
a thing to possess, when in the universal opinion of
mankind it is the hardest thing of all.

How very luckily it happens, said I, that Prodicus
is present at our conversation. For you must know,

272 Plato

Protagoras, I apprehend, that the art of Prodicus was
341 in old time of a godlike sort, and commenced either
with Simonides, or at some still more ancient date.
But you, though acquainted with a great many things,
are apparently not acquainted with this, whereas I on
the contrary am, thanks to the teaching of Prodicus.
And so in the present instance you appear to me not to
be aware that this very word hard was possibly not
understood by Simonides in the sense in which you
understand it, but that he was like our friend here, who
is constantly taking me to task on the meaning of the
word five's (terrible, also sharp, clever). For when-
ever, in lauding you or any other distinguished person,
I say of the object of my panegyric, that he is a terrible
clever man, Prodicus asks me whether I am not ashamed
of myself, for calling good things terrible? Whatever
is terrible, says he, is evil; at any rate, no one ever
thinks of talking of terrible wealth, or terrible peace,
or terrible good health; but men do talk of terrible
sickness, and terrible war, and terrible poverty; thereby
implying, that whatever is terrible is evil. And so
perhaps too the Ceans, with Simonides at their head,
conceive what is hard to be evil, or give it some other
signification with which you are not acquainted. But
what says Prodicus to the question ? for he is the person
to apply to about Simonides 's language. What did
Simonides mean, Prodicus, by the word hard?

Evil, said he.

This then, I suppose, is the reason why he finds fault
with Pittacus for saying, " Tis hard to be good," just
as if he had heard him say, that it was evil to be
good.

Why what else, Socrates, do you suppose that
Simonides does mean? This of course; and he makes
it a reproach to Pittacus that he did not know how to
distinguish rightly the meaning of words, as being a
Lesbian, and reared in a barbarous dialect.

You hear, Protagoras, what Prodicus says. Have
you any answer to make?

You are altogether wrong, Prodicus, he answered.
I am confident that Simonides meant by hard, just as

Protagoras 273

we all do, not what is evil, but that which, instead of
being easy, is done with a great deal of trouble.

Well, to tell you the truth, Protagoras, I said, I
agree with you. I believe Simonides did mean this,
and what is more, Prodicus knows he did ; only he is
bantering you, and thinks to try whether you are able
to back your own assertions. Since a very strong
proof, that, at any rate, Simonides did not understand
hard to be evil, is afforded by his very next remark.
For he says, that God alone can possess this boon;
and I am sure that if he had meant to say that it was
evil to be good, he could not at once have added, that
none but God can possess good, and have assigned
this as a special attribute to the deity. Were this the
case, Prodicus would call his countryman an impious
profligate, and no true son of Ceos. But what appears
to me to be in this poem the intention of Simonides
throughout, I am willing to tell you, if you would like,
Protagoras, to have a sample of rny capacity for the 342
criticism of poetry that you talk about. To this pro-
posal Protagoras answered, Exactly as you please,
Socrates; but Prodicus, Hippias, and the rest, pressed
me strongly to begin.

Well then, said 1, I will endeavour thoroughly to
explain to you, the view which I, for my part, take of
the poem.

In no countries of Greece is philosophy of higher
antiquity, or more generally prevalent, than in Crete
and Lacedaemon, and nowhere in the world are sophists
more numerous than there. But the inhabitants of
these countries deny the fact, and, like those sophists of
whom Protagoras told us, affect an unlearned exterior,
in order that their superiority in Greece may not be
discovered to consist in wisdom, but be thought to
depend upon their valour in war, as they imagine that
if the secret of their ascendancy were known, it would
at once be universally practised. As it is, however,
they have so skilfully concealed it, that they have taken
in all the would-be Spartans in other states; and, ac-
cordingly, you may see these gentlemen getting their
ears battered in their ardent emulation, encircling- their
ii *K <57

274 Plato

arms with the straps of the cestus, toiling in the
palaestra, and wearing brief cloaks, under the impres-
sion, doubtless, that these are the practices to which the
Spartans owe their supremacy in Greece. But the
Lacedaemonians, wishing to enjoy the society of their
native sophists without restraint, and getting weaned
of having to meet them in secret, made a clearance by
alien-acts of these foreign imitators, and all other
strangers in their country, and thenceforward lived in
intercourse with their sophists, without foreigners being
aware of the fact. And, further, they allow none of
their own youth to visit other cities, for fear of their
there unlearning the lessons they have learnt at home
a practice which is observed by the Cretans as well.
Nay, not only are there men in these countries who
pique themselves on their erudition, but women also
share their zeal. Now, that my statement is correct,
and that the Lacedaemonians are admirably trained in
philosophy and the art of words, may be discovered
from the following fact. If you converse with the most
ordinary Spartan, you find him for a long while in the
conversation appearing an ordinary sort of person, but
just wait for an opportunity to present itself, and he
will shoot at you, like a skilful archer, a notable saying
of terse and pointed brevity, so that you, his antagonist,
will show no better than a child by his side. And it
was observing this very fact which led certain men, in
times both past and present, to believe that the Spartan
idiosyncrasy consisted rather in a devotion to wisdom
than gymnastics, as they were aware that the capacity
for uttering pithy sentences of this sort implied in its
possessor a finished education. Of this number were
343 Thales of Miletus, Pittacus of Mitylene, Bias the Pri-
enian, Solon among ourselves, Cleobulus of Lindus,
Myson of Chene, and the Lacedaemonian Chilon, who
was reckoned to make up the seven. All these sages
were admirers and lovers and 1 disciples of the Spartan
system, and easily may you discover their wisdom to
have been after the Spartan model, by the brief and
memorable sayings that were uttered by each. Nay,
more, when they met together to dedicate the choice

Protagoras 275

offering of their wisdom to Apollo, in his temple at
Delphi, they inscribed thereon, in their joint capacity,
those famous sayings, which are, you know, on every-
body's lips, Know thyself, and, Nothing in extremes.

What is my object, you will ask, in saying this?
It is to show, that among the ancients, philosophy was
couched in a style of Laconic pith and brevity. A par-
ticular instance of which is afforded by this very saying
of Pittacus, " Tis hard to be good ; " which, being
received with applause by the learned, was passed in
private circles from mouth to mouth. Simonides, then,
being a man ambitious of philosophic distinction, felt
sure that if he were to succeed in overturning this
famous dictum, he would, like a novice who had defeated
a champion wrestler, establish himself a reputation
among the men of his day. It was in opposition, then,
to this current saying, and with this ambitious view in
thus seeking to suppress it, that he composed the entire
ode, according to my view of the matter.

Let us now then all unite in examining the piece, to
see whether my view be a correct one. To begin, the
very commencement would appear to be insane, if the
author wished simply to state the fact that it was hard
to be good; for he inserts the words "no doubt," which
seem to be inserted with no object in the world, unless
we conceive him engaged in a sort of quarrel with the
saying of Pittacus, and that, when Pittacus asserts that
it is hard to be good, Simonides contradicts him and
says, " It is not so, but to become a good man is hard,
Pittacus, in very truth." Mind, he does not say, " truly
good ; " it is not to good that he applies the word
"truly," as though he thought that some things were
truly good, and others good indeed, but not good truly.
No, this would be silly, and not like Simonides. But
we must make a transposition of the word "truly," and
presuppose that the two remarks were made in some-
thing like the following manner. Pittacus enunciates
thus, Mortals, it is hard to be good ; and Simonides 344
replies, You are wrong, Pittacus; "be " is not the word,
but no doubt to become a good man, in hand and word
and thought complete, wrought to a faultless work, is

276

Plato

hard in very truth. Thus you see we find a reason for
inserting "no doubt," and the word "truly" seems to
be correctly placed at the end of the sentence. And that
this is here the sense of the poet, is attested by all the
remainder of the poem. For were I to review each
passage in it separately, I could abundantly prove it to
be a perfect composition ; for it is all very charming
and elaborate. As, however, it would be too long a
matter to analyse it thus, I will content myself with
making it clear by a general sketch that the scope of
the entire poem is nothing more or less, from beginning
to end, than a refutation of Pittacus's dictum.

For after a brief interval the poet proceeds to assert,
just as he would do if maintaining an argument, that
though no doubt to become a good man is truly hard,
yet for a certain time at least it is possible ; but when
become so, to remain in this condition, and be, as you
say, Pittacus, a good man, is altogether impossible, and
more than human. God alone may possess this boon,
"but for man, he cannot possibly be other than evil,
whom helpless misfortune prostrates." Who is it then
that helpless misfortune prostrates in the command of
a ship? Clearly not the landsman; for the landsman is
always prostrate. Just then as you cannot throw down
a man who is on the ground, but he must be on his
legs before you can so throw him as to lay him on the
ground; exactly in the same way a man must be pos-
sessed of help and resource before he can be prostrated
by helpless misfortune, while the man who is ever with-
out help can never possibly be prostrated. A violent
storm may overtake the pilot, and make him helpless ;
a severe season may surprise the farmer, and make him
helpless, and so may the physician be made helpless
by an analogous professional calamity. For the good
man is capable of becoming evil, as is attested by
another poet, who says,

The good are sometimes evil, sometimes good ;

but the evil man cannot possibly become, but must of
necessity ever be, evil. Thus it appears, then, that
whenever a helpful, a wise, and a virtuous man is

Protagoras 277

prostrated by helpless misfortune, he cannot possibly
be other than evil. But, you say, Pittacus, it is hard
to be good ; no, the truth is, that to become good no
doubt is hard, yet possible ; but to be good is impossible
quite. For, as the poet continues, " Every man is good
by faring well, and evil by faring ill." What then is
faring well with regard to letters? and what makes a
man good in letters? Clearly the learning of letters. 345
And what kind of faring well makes a good physician?
Clearly the learning of the treatment of the sick.
"And evil," he says, "by faring ill." Who then is
capable of becoming an evil physician? Clearly the
man who starts with being in the first instance a
physician, and in the second a good physician. For he
can also become a bad physician. But we who are un-
professional cannot possibly become, by faring ill, either
physicians, or carpenters, or anything of the kind ; and
whosoever cannot become a physician by faring ill,
obviously cannot become an evil physician either. Thus
you see it is only the good man that can ever become
evil, whether he become so by decay, or pain, or disease,
or any other casualty for this alone is evil faring, to
lose one's knowledge but the evil man can never be-
come evil, for he is alway evil ; if he would fain become
evil, he must first become good. So that this part of
the poem also tends to prove that it is not possible to
be a good man in the sense of continuing good, but to
become good is possible, just as it is to become evil.
And they, adds the poet, are best for the longest time
whom the gods love.

And if it be plain that these passages are directed
against Pittacus, the aim of the poet in the following
is still more clearly marked. For thus he proceeds :
"Wherefore never will I, in quest of that which cannot
be, throw away a part of life on empty bootless hope;
in quest, I say, of an all-blameless man among us, who
feeds on the fruits of the wide-bosomed earth. When
I find one, I will let you know." So vehemently and
uniformly throughout the poem does he persist in at-
tacking that expression of Pittacus. " But all I praise
and love willingly who do nought vile with necessity

278

Plato

not even gods contend." And this again is directed to
the same point. For Simonides was not so ill-informed
as to express his admiration of those who committed
no evil willingly, as though he imagined there were any
in the world who did commit evil willingly. I had
almost said, that no wise man ever entertained the
opinion, that any mortal errs willingly, or commits base
and wicked actions willingly. On the contrary, wise
men well know that all who do base and evil deeds, do
them involuntarily. And so Simonides, as a wise man,
does not profess himself an admirer of those who do not
commit evil willingly ; but he predicates the willingness
of himself. For he conceived it to be frequently the
duty of a good and noble man to force himself to
346 become the friend and admirer of others, for instance,
when a man is unfortunate enough to have an unworthy
father or mother or country, or any similar tie. Now
wicked men, when subject to any evil of this kind,
observe it with a kind of satisfaction ; and draw atten-
tion to it by their vituperations, and enlarge on the
enormity, whether in their parents or their country,
in order that, while they neglect their own duty to-
wards them, men may not make such neglect a ground
of accusation, or reproach. And thus their censure
far exceeds what is merited ; and, to unavoidable causes
of dislike, they add causes of their own making.
Whereas good men, on the contrary, dissemble in such
cases, and compel themselves to speak even the lan-
guage of praise ; and, if ever at all enraged with their
parents, or country, for wrong inflicted, they sober and
tranquillize their feelings, and seek a reconciliation by
forcing themselves into a condition to love and admire
those who are thus connected with them. And so, I
imagine, did Simonides frequently find it his duty to
speak of a tyrant, or some similar character, in terms
of admiration and panegyric, not willingly, remember,
but by compulsion. This, then, explains what he says
to Pittacus. If I blame you, Pittacus, it is not because
I am fond of blaming; since I, for my part, am content
with a man who is not evil or helpless quite; who does
but know the justice that saves a city, and is of sound

Protagoras 279

mind. Such a man I will not censure ; for censure I
do not love : besides, infinite is the family of fools
(thereby implying, that if a man were fond of blaming,
he might take his fill by blaming these). Sure, all is
fair wherewith foul is not mixt. And by this he does
not mean the same as if he had said, Sure, all is white
wherewith black is not mixt; for this would be absurd,
in more ways than one : but what he does mean to say
is, that he admits of a mean which he does not con-
demn. And I search not, he says, for an all-blameless
man among us, who feeds on the fruits of the wide-
bosomed earth ; when I find one, I will let you know.
So that if on this depended praise, I should praise
none ; but I am content with one who holds the mean,
and does no evil ; since all I love and praise (here, as
addressing Pittacus, he used the dialect of Mitylene) ;
since all I love and praise willingly (here, at the word
willingly, we must make the pause in reading) who do
nought vile ; there are some, though, whom I praise
and love against my will. Thee, therefore, Pittacus,
hadst thou spoken but moderate sooth and reason, I 347
would never have blamed ; but now, as thy lie is uttered,
and on the greatest things, while thou fanciest thyself
speaking truth, I cannot choose but give thee blame.

Such, Prodicus and Protagoras, I conclude to have
been the object which Simonides had in view in the
composition of this poem.

And a very fair exposition you have made of it, too,
Socrates, in my opinion, said Hippias. I however,
gentlemen, he continued, possess a critique of my own
on this piece, a very good one, which I am willing
to propound to you, if you would like to hear it.

Thank you, Hippias, cried Alcibiades; another day,
if you please. To-day it's only fair that Protagoras
and Socrates should fulfil their mutual agreement;
which binds Socrates to reply, if Protagoras has any
further question to propose : but to ask questions
himself, if Protagoras prefers to answer.

Yes, I said, I leave it to Protagoras to choose which-
ever is more agreeable to him. But, Protagoras, I
added, if you have no objection, I should like to drop

28o Plato

these criticisms on songs and poems, and should much
prefer coming to a conclusion on the former subject of
our inquiry, by investigating it in company with you.
For, I must confess, I think that talking about poetry
bears a close resemblance to the festive amusements
of the vulgar and uneducated. For these people, being
too ignorant to converse together over their cups,
through the medium of their own voices and words,
keep up the prices of flute-players, by hiring, for large
sums, the foreign aid of their flutes, and entertaining
each other through their voices. But in the banquets
of gentlemen and scholars, you will see neither dancing-
girls nor women that play on the flute or the lyre ; but
you will find the guests themselves equal to the task of
conversing, without these puerile toys, by their own
voices ; both speaking and listening in turn, with
decency and order, even though they have drunk a
great quantity of wine. And so, too, parties like the
present, if indeed composed of such men as most of us
profess to be, have no need to borrow the foreign voices
even of poets, whom it is impossible to interrogate as
to their meaning ; but who are cited as authorities by
combatants in their talk, while both sides assign a
different sense to the citation, and persist in disputing
a point, which they can never satisfactorily settle. No ;
wise men care nothing for such entertainment as this :
348 but entertain each other with their own stores, by
giving and receiving mutually, in their own conversa-
tion, proofs of their capacity. And such is the example
which, it appears to me, you and I ought rather
to imitate ; let us throw the poets on one side, and,
conducting the discourse by our own unaided efforts,
bring at once truth and our own selves to the test.
Should you, therefore, wish still to interrogate, I am
ready to lend myself to you in reply : but if you prefer
answering, do you lend me your aid in bringing to a
conclusion that enquiry, of which we abandoned the
discussion in the middle.

Notwithstanding these and similar remarks on my
part, Protagoras continued to keep us in the dark as
to the course he should prefer, upon which Alcibiades

Protagoras 281

looked at Callias, and said, Callias, do you still think
that Protagoras acts fairly in refusing to let us know
whether he will answer or not? For my part, I cer-
tainly do not think that he does. No, let him either
continue the conversation, or tell us at once that he is
unwilling to do so, in order that his unwillingness being
once clearly understood, we may either get Socrates to
converse with some one else, or find another pair
willing to engage in a discussion. Whereupon, Pro-
tagoras being piqued, as it appeared to me, by this
remark of Alcibiades, and being pressed by Callias and
nearly all the remainder of the party, was at length
induced, though with great difficulty, to renew the
conversation, which he did by requesting me to start
my inquiries, as he was now ready to reply.

So I began. Pray do not imagine, Protagoras, that
1 have ever any other design in conversing with you,
than a wish to examine thoroughly into difficulties
which I cannot of myself unravel. I think that Homer
was very right in saying, When two go together, one
observes before the other. For so do all of us mortals
acquire a greater facility for every deed, and word,
and thought. But if haply a man has thought alone,
he straightway goes up and down, and searches till he
find some one else to whom he may communicate his
thought, and in concert with whom he may verify it.
And this is the reason why I have great pleasure in
conversing with you than with any other man in the
world, as I am persuaded that none are so well capable
of investigating all subjects which are worth the good
man's study, and in particular the subject of virtue.
For to whom but you should I apply? when not only
do you profess yourself a virtuous gentleman, just as
is professed by many good people, who cannot impart
their goodness to others, but when, besides being
virtuous yourself, you are able to make others virtuous
also; when, further, your confidence in yourself is so
implicit, that, whereas it is the custom with other
masters of your art to dissemble it with care, you, on 349
the other hand, have yourself publicly cried under the
name of a sophist before all the Greeks, and advertise

282 Plato

yourself a teacher of accomplishment and virtue ; being
moreover the first to conceive yourself entitled to receive
a price for your instructions. Is it not then every
man's duty to appeal to you for the investigation of
these matters, to enquire into your opinions, and com-
municate his own? Most assuredly it is. And so on
the present occasion I am anxious to renew, from the
beginning-, those questions which I in the first instance
proposed to you on these subjects, hoping- that you will
remind me of points which we decided, and join me in
considering others. My enquiry, if I remember right,
was this : Wisdom, discretion, courage, holiness, and
justice, are these all but five names for one and the
same thing ; or is there attached to each of these names
a distinct idea, and a distinct thing possessing a
separate function of its own, whereby it is distinguished
from all the rest? To this you replied, that they were
not names of one thing, but that each of these names
was applied to a distinct thing, and that all these
things were parts of virtue, not like the parts of gold,
which resemble both one another, and the whole
whereof they are parts, but like the parts of the face,
which are dissimilar from the whole and from one
another, each being possessed of a distinct function.
If then you still adhere to your former opinion, tell me ;
but if you have altered it at all, mark the alteration
clearly, as I hold you in no wise accountable for any
difference of opinion you may choose to express. Nay,
I should not be surprised if your previous answer was
merely intended to try me.

i Well, Socrates, he said, I tell you that all these
qualities are parts of virtue, and that four of them bear
a reasonably close resemblance to one another, but that
courage is very different indeed from them all. And
the following fact will prove my assertion. You will
find many men distinguished for injustice, impiety,
intemperance, and stupidity, who are yet eminently
conspicuous for their courage.

Hold there a moment, I cried, your observation is
worth examining. By the courageous, do you mean
the daring?

Protagoras 283

Yes, he said, and those who are ready to plunge into
dangers which most men are afraid to encounter.

Again, do you pronounce virtue to be a beautiful
thing, and as being a beautiful thing do you come
forward to teach it?

Nay, Socrates, as I'm a sane man, I pronounce it to
be of all things most beautiful.

Is, however, one part of it beautiful and another
ugly, or is it all beautiful?

All beautiful, I consider, and in the highest degree.

Do you know who they are that dive into wells
daringly ?

Of course I do, said he. Divers. 350

Is it because they know how to dive, or for some
other reason?

Because they know how to dive.

And who are daring fighters on horseback, good
riders or bad?

Good riders.

And- who are daring as targeteers, those who under-
stand the service or those who do not?

Those who do. And so in everything else, he added,
if this is what you are driving at, the scientific are more
daring than the unscientific, and the same person when
he has acquired the science is more daring than he was
before he acquired it.

Have you ever in your life, said I, met with persons
who were unscientific in all these matters, and yet
engaged in them all with daring?

Certainly I have, and with excessive daring.

Are these daring people also courageous?

If they were, he answered, courage would be far
from being a beautiful thing ; for these are mere mad-
men.

Pray how do you define the courageous? I asked.
Did you not say they were the daring?

I did, and I say so now.

It would appear then, said I, that those who are
daring in this way are not courageous, but mad ; and
from the former instances I adduced, that the wisest
men are also most daring, and as being most daring

284

Plato

are most courageous. So that by this reasoning,
wisdom would be courage, would it not?

You do not rightly remember, Socrates, he answered,
what I said in reply to your question. When asked by
you whether the courageous were daring, I agreed they
were, but whether the daring also were courageous, you
did not ask me then. Had you done so, I should have
replied, Not all. But that the courageous are not
daring, and that I was wrong in admitting they were,
you have nowhere proved. Instead of doing so, you
take the trouble of showing, that those who possess
science are more daring than they were themselves
before they possessed it, and more daring than others
who do not possess it, and thereby you conclude that
courage and wisdom are identical. But, by pursuing
this method of enquiry, you might equally well arrive at
the conclusion, that bodily strength is wisdom. For
if, in following out this course, you were in the first
place, to ask me whether the strong were powerful, I
should say, Yes ; if you were to proceed to enquire
whether scientific wrestlers were more powerful than
unscientific wrestlers, and more powerful than they
were themselves before they had learnt the science of
wrestling, I should again reply, Yes; and after I had
made these admissions, you would be in a condition,
by availing yourself of the same logic as before, to
state that by my admission wisdom was bodily strength.
But here, again observe, I nowhere admit that the
powerful are strong, though I do that the strong arc
powerful. For I do not consider strength and power
351 to be the same; but the one, power, to arise from
science, yes, and from madness, too, and passion ; but
strength from sound nature and good bodily nourish-
ment. In like manner, I maintain that courage and
daring are not the same. Courageous men are daring,
but it is not all daring men that are courageous; for
daring, like power, arises from scientific skill and
from passion, too, and madness, but courage, from
nature and good mental nurture.

Do you allow, Protagoras, said I, that some men
live well, and others ill?

Protagoras 285

I do, he replied.

Do you think thai a man lives well if he lives in
vexation and pain?

No.

But if he lives in pleasure to the day of his death,
you would consider him then, would you not, to have
lived well?

I should.

To live pleasantly, then, it appears, is a good thing;
to live unpleasantly, an evil thing.

Yes, if the pleasures a man lives in be but honest.

How, Protagoras, I exclaimed, do you maintain with
the many, that some pleasant things are evil, and some
painful things good? For myself, I say, as far as
things are pleasant, are they not so far good, if they
are to have no other results? And, on the other hand,
are not painful things in the same way evil, in so far
as they are painful ?

I am not sure, Socrates, he replied, whether I ought
to answer as unreservedly as you ask, that pleasant
things are all good, and painful things all evil. No,
I conceive that it would be safer for me, not only in
reference to my present answer, but also to all the rest
of my life, if I were to reply that there are some pleas-
ant things which are not good, some painful things
which are not evil, others again which are such, while
there is a third class which are neither the one nor the
other, neither evil nor good.

By pleasant things, I asked, do you not mean those
with which pleasure is connected or which cause
pleasure ?

To be sure I do, he replied.

I ask, then, whether they be not good, in so far as
they are pleasant, meaning by this question to ask,
whether pleasure itself be not a good thing.

Well, Socrates, he answered, I say to you, as you
are always saying yourself, let us examine the matter,
and if the question seem germane to our subject, and
it appears that pleasure and good are the same, we
will agree on the point; if not, we will then join
issue.

286 Plato

Would you like, I asked, to take the lead in the
examination yourself, or shall I?

You are the proper person to lead, he answered ; for
it was you who started the subject.

Perhaps, then, said I, by some way like the follow-
352 ing, we shall arrive at a clear view of the question.
Just as a person who was forming an estimate of a
man's health or physical capacity in any particular,
from a survey of his bodily form, would be sure to say
to him, if he saw no more than his face and hands,
Come, my good friend, strip, if you please, and show
me your chest and your back, that I may inspect you
more closely ; so do I now crave some disclosure of the
kind for our present investigation. Having observed,
from what you have told me, the state of your mind
with regard to pleasure and good, I still require to say,
Come, friend Protagoras, uncover your mind further,
and show me its state with regard to knowledge. On
this point, also, do you think as the many do, or differ-
ently? Their opinion of knowledge is, that it is not a
strong, nor a commanding, nor a governing thing ; nor
do they form their notions with reference to it, as
though it were such, but conceive that though know-
ledge is often to be found in a man, it is not his know-
ledge that governs him, but some other thing, at one
time passion, at another pleasure, at another pain,
sometimes love, and often fear; so that they plainly
think of knowledge as of a poor slave, liable to be
dragged about at will by all those other things. Is
this, then, your opinion also? or do you conceive know-
ledge to be a noble thing, well fitted to govern man-
kind ; and that if a man does but know what is good
and evil, he can never be so swayed by any other thing,
as to do aught else than what his knowledge pre-
scribes, and, in fine, that wisdom is well able to defend
mankind ?

I quite think as you say, Socrates, he answered.
And, besides, if for any man in the world, it were a
shame for me, to deny that wisdom and knowledge are
of all human things the mightiest.

Well and truly said, I rejoined. Are you aware,
though, that most men do not believe you and me in

Protagoras 287

this matter, but say that many people who know what
is best, do not choose to practise it, though it is in
their power to practise it, but practise other things?
And never have I asked the reason of this conduct, but
I have been told that such people act thus from being
overpowered by pleasure or pain, or mastered by some
one of those things which I just now mentioned.

I don't doubt it, Socrates, he replied. There are
many other points on which men speak incorrectly.

Come then, said I, and join me in endeavouring to
persuade these men, and teach them what that state
is, which they call being overpowered by pleasure, and 353
which prevents people from doing, although they know,
what is best. For I should not wonder if on our say-
ing to them, You speak incorrectly, my friends, you
are deceived, they were to turn upon us with the ques-
tion ; Protagoras and Socrates, if being overpowered
by pleasure is not this, pray what is it? what do you
declare it to be? tell us both of you.

What business is it of ours, Socrates, to examine
into the opinion of the vulgar herd, who just say what
comes first into their head?

I think, I replied, that we shall find this enquiry help
us somewhat in discovering the relation which courage
bears to the other parts of virtue. If it is your inten-
tion then to abide by our late agreement which assigned
the lead to me, let me beg you to follow me on the
road which I expect will best conduct us to the light.
But if you are unwilling to do so, I will drop this
question, if such be your pleasure.

No, Socrates, said he; you are right, finish as you
have begun.

Again then, said I, if they were to ask us, What do
you declare this to be, which we called being subject to
pleasures? I for my part should answer, Hearken, my
friends, we will endeavour to tell you, Protagoras and
I. Do you not allow that you experience this subjec-
tion in the following circumstances? that often you are
so swayed by eating and drinking and love, all pleasant
things, that though you know them to be evil, you still
indulge in them?

We do, they would say, was the reply of Protagoras.

288 Plato

You and I then, Protagoras, will ask them again, In
what point of view do you say that they are evil? Is
it because they afford this pleasure at the moment, and
because each of them is pleasant for the moment, or
because they lay up for your future life diseases and
poverty, and many other similar evils? Or, if they
produced none of these effects, but merely created
pleasure, should you still pronounce them evil for
making a man pleased under any circumstances and
in any way whatsoever? Can we conceive, Protag-
oras, that they would return us any other answer,
than that these things were evil, not for the mere fact
of creating the momentary pleasure, but on account of
the diseases and other results which follow in their
train ?

Such, I imagine, said Protagoras, would be the
answer of the many.

And when they create diseases, do they create pain ;
and when they create poverty, do they create pain?
They would assent to this, I think.
And so do I, said Protagoras.

Are you of opinion then, my friends, as I and Pro-
tagoras hold, that these things are evil for no other
reason than because they terminate in pain, and deprive
us of other pleasures? They would assent?
354 We both agreed that they would.

But suppose we were to reverse our question, and
ask, When you speak, on the other hand, good people,
of painful things being good, do you not mean such
things as gymnastic exercises, and military service,
and the treatment of diseases by cautery and the knife,
by dosing and starving? Is it not such things you
call good, but painful? Yes, they would say.
Granted, said Protagoras.

Do you call these things good then for the reason
that they afford us at the moment the utmost pain and
annoyance, or because their after results are the health
and good condition of bodies, the safety, empire, and
wealth of states? For the latter reason, would be their
answer, I think.

Certainly it would, said he.

Protagoras 289

Are these things good on any other account than
because they terminate in pleasures, and in deliverance
from, and prevention of, pains? Or can you tell me
of some other end which you have in view when you
call them good, than that of pleasure and pain? No,
they would answer, in my opinion.

And in mine too, said he.

Do you pursue then pleasure as being a good thing,
and shun pain as being an evil thing?

They do, replied Protagoras.

This then, pain, you esteem to be an evil, and plea-
sure to be a good ; since you say that even the enjoy-
ment of pleasure itself is evil, when it deprives you of
greater pleasures than itself contains, or produces pains
which exceed its own pleasures. For, if you call plea-
sure itself an evil for any other reason, or with any
other end in view than this, you may tell us, if you
can ; but you cannot.

No, I do not think they can, said Protagoras.

And is it not exactly the same, on the other hand,
with suffering pain? Do you not call pain itself a
good, when it rids you of greater pains than its own,
or produces pleasures which exceed its pains? Since,
if you have any other end i.i view when you call pain
itself a good, you may tell us, if you can ; but you
cannot.

Quite true, Socrates, they cannot.

But if, my friends, you were on your side to inter-
rogate me and ask, Why ever do you say so much on
this question, and turn it in so many ways? Bear with
me, I should reply, for, in the first place, it is no easy
matter to prove what that is which you call being sub-
ject to pleasures; and secondly, on this very question
hinges all my proof. But even now, late as it is, you
are at liberty to retract, if you can say that good is
anything else than pleasure; evil, anything else than 355
pain ; if you can tell me that you are not content to
live out your life pleasantly in freedom from pain. But
if you are so content, and cannot tell me of anything
being good or evil, which does not terminate in these,
hearken to what follows. I maintain, that if this be the

290 Plato

case, your words become ridiculous, when you say, that
often a man who knows evil to be evil, practises ^it
nevertheless, when he is not obliged to practise it,
from being led and carried out of himself by pleasures ;
and when, on the other hand, you say, that the man
who knows what is good, does not choose to practise
it, on account of the immediate pleasures by which he
is overmastered.

Now the absurdity of these statements will be clearly
seen, if we abstain from using the many names of
pleasant and painful, and good and evil; but agree,
since the things have been found to be only two, to
call them only by two names ; first, by those of good
and evil, and then by those of pleasant and painful.
This being established, let us say, that a man, know-
ing evil to be evil, nevertheless does it. If any one
ask us, Why? We shall answer, Because he is over-
powered. By what? will be the next question. But
we are no longer at liberty to say, By pleasure ; for it
has received another name, and instead of pleasure, is
now called good. Let us answer him then and say,
Because he is overpowered. By what? he will repeat.
By good, we shall reply. Now should our friend be
disposed to raillery, he will laugh at us, and say,
Ridiculous conduct this you speak of, when a man
does evil knowing it to be evil, with no obligation to
do it, because he is overpowered by good. Is it by
a good, he will ask, which is worthy or not worthy
in your opinion to overcome the evil? To this, of
course, we shall reply, Not worthy ; for otherwise the
man whom we say is subject to pleasure would not be
in fault. And in what respect, he will probably con-
tinue, are good things unworthy to overcome evil, or
evil to overcome good ? is it any other than in that
of magnitude or quantity? We shall not be able to
mention any other than this. It is evident then, he
will conclude, that by this case of being overpowered,
you mean, chosing greater evil for the sake of less
good. So far then on this track. Now let us change
our names, and again applying the terms pleasant and
painful to these same things, let us say that a man

Protagoras 291

does thing's, which we before called evil and now call
painful, knowing them to be painful, being over-
powered by pleasant things, which are of course un-
worthy to obtain the mastery. And what other rate 356
is there of pleasure in comparison with pain, than that
of excess and defect? that is to say, of one being
greater or smaller than the other, more or less,
stronger or weaker? For if it be said, But, Socrates,
there is a great difference between that which is plea-
sant at the moment, and that which is ultimately
pleasant or painful; Does it lie, I should ask, in any-
thing else than in pleasure and in pain? In nothing
else, I am sure. No, like a man expert at weighing,
put together all the pleasures, and put together all the
pains, after you have weighed both their nearness and
remoteness in the scales, and tell me which are the
more numerous. If you weigh pleasures with plea-
sures, the greater and the greater number are always
to be chosen ; if pains with pains, the smaller and the
smaller number; if pleasures with pains, then, if the
pains be f exceeded by the pleasures, whether near by
remote, or remote by near, the line of conduct is to be
pursued in which this excess is contained; but if the
pleasures be exceeded by the pains, then it is not to
be pursued. Good people, I should ask, can these
matters be settled in any other way? I am sure that
they could tell me of no other.

Protagoras did not think they could either.

Seeing, then, that this is the case, answer me the
following question. Do the same objects appear to your
sight to be greater in size when near, and smaller in
size when remote? or do they not?

They do, would be their answer.

And is it not the same with the thickness and
number of objects? And do not equal sounds appear
louder when near, fainter at a distance?

Yes, they would say.

If, then, our well-being depended upon our making
and choosing great lengths, and our avoiding and not
making small ones, what would, to all appearance, be
the safeguard of our life? Would it be the art of

292 Plato

mensuration, or the force of appearances? Or would
this latter lead us astray, and cause us to be ever
choosing and ever rejecting the same things ; and ever
repenting, in our practice and choice of lengths, both
great and small? while the art of mensuration would
bring to nought this phantom-show, and, pointing out
to us the truth, would anchor our soul thereon, and
bid it rest, and assure us our life's safety. Would
they allow, think you, that, in this case, the art of
mensuration would save us, or some other art?

None other, said he.

Again, if the security of our life depended on the
choice of odd and even numbers, on choosing, at the
proper time, the larger, and at the proper time the
smaller, by comparison both between themselves and
one another, whether they might be far or whether
they might be near; what would, in this case, be our
357 life's safeguard? Would it not be a science? and would
it not, further, be one of measurement, since it relates
to excess and defect? and since it has numbers for its
object, could it be any other than arithmetic?^ To this
would our friends assent, or would they not?

Protagoras agreed with me that they would.

Come then, my friends, I proceeded, since the security
of our life has been found to depend on our choice of
pleasure and pain, being correct, with reference at once
to quantity and degree and distance, does not our
security appear to you, in the first instance, to consist
in measurement, since it has to consider excess and
defect and respective equality?

Yes, it must.

And if in measurement, it must, of necessity, be an
art and a science.

Assuredly, they will say.

What art, what science this is, we will inquire some
other time. That it is a science, is quite sufficient for
the explanation which Protagoras and I have to give
you of the question that you asked us. You proposed
it, if you remember, at the time when Protagoras and
I had agreed that nothing was so powerful as scientific
knowledge; and that knowledge was ever dominant,

Protagoras 293

wherever it existed, over both pleasure and everything
else. But you, on the other hand, said that pleasure
was often dominant, even over the man that was pos-
sessed of knowledge ; and when we refused to agree
with you, you proceeded to ask : Socrates and Pro-
tagoras, you said, if being vanquished by pleasure is not
this, pray what is it? what do you declare it to be?
Tell us. If, then, at that moment we had answered
you, that it was ignorance, you would have laughed
at us ; but now, if you laugh at us, you will laugh at
yourselves as well. For you have yourselves agreed,
that whoever commits error in the choice of pleasure
and pain, that is, of good and evil, commits it
through defect of knowledge ; and not only of know-
ledge, but, as you further agreed, a knowledge of
measurement. Now all action that errs for want of
knowledge, is committed, you must yourselves know,
through ignorance. Being vanquished, therefore, by
pleasure is ignorance, of all ignorance the greatest.
Now of this, Protagoras here professes himself a
physician ; and so do Prodicus and Hippias. But you,
because you believe it to be something else than ignor-
ance, neither go yourselves, nor send your children, to
these sophists to be instructed in this matter, as though
you imagined it could not be taught; but, by being
chary of your gold, and by refusing to bestow it upon
these men, succeed badly in your transactions, both
public and private. Such would be the answer we 358
would render to the crowd. But you, Hippias and
Prodicus, I ask you, in concert with Protagoras, wish-
ing you to join in our conversation, do you judge that
what I say is true or false?

They all agreed that nothing was more true.

You admit, then, said I, that the pleasant is good,
and the painful evil. But I would enter a protest
against our friend Prodicus 's verbal distinctions. Yes,
my very excellent Prodicus, whether you call it pleas-
ant, or agreeable, or enjoyable ; whatever be the name,
from whatever quarter derived, which you may be
pleased to give it, restrict yourself to that answer which
I wish to hear.

294 Plato

Prodicus laughed, and said he quite agreed with me,
and so did all the rest.

But what do you say to the following? I continued.
All actions which tend to this, to living, that is, pleas-
antly and without pain, are they not honourable, and,
being honourable, are they not both good and useful?

They assented.

If then, I added, the pleasant is good, no man who
either knows or believes that other things are better
than that which he is doing, if they are such things as
he can do, proceeds to do the less good, when he might
do the better. Neither is subjection to self aught else
than ignorance; mastery over self aught else than
wisdom.

They all assented.

But tell me. What is ignorance, according to you?
is it not having a false opinion and being deceived on
matters of great moment?

Here again there was no dissenting voice.

Is it not true then, said I, that no one enters will-
ingly into evil, or into that which he considers evil;
that it is not, in fact, in the nature of man to engage
with deliberate purpose in what he believes to be evil
instead of in good ; that no man, when compelled to
choose one of two evils, will choose the greater, when
he might choose the less?

All these questions met with universal assent.

To the point then, I said. Do you say that there is
such a thing as terror or fear? Do you understand by
it the same as I do? To you, Prodicus, I address
myself. I understand by it a certain expectation of evil,
whether you call it terror or fear.

Protagoras and Hippias were of opinion that this was
the meaning both of terror and fear; Prodicus thought
it was of terror, but not of fear.

No matter for that, Prodicus, said I. But this does
matter. If our former conclusions are true, will any
man in the world deliberately enter into what he fears,
when he might enter into that which he does not fear?
or is it impossible by our previous admissions? for we
have admitted that, what he fears he believes to be

Protagoras 295

evil, and what he believes to be evil, he never engages
in or chooses willingly.

All agreed to this also. 359

Prodicus and Hippias, said I, now that we have
established these points, let us call on Protagoras to
defend the answer which he gave us at first no, not
quite at first. At first he said, that of the parts of
virtue, which were five in number, there was not one
like any other, and that each had a distinct function
of its own. This is not the statement I mean, but a
later one ; for afterwards he said, that four of these
parts bore a reasonably close resemblance to one
another, but that the fifth was widely different from
the rest, this fifth being courage. And he told me that
I should be convinced of this by the following fact.
Socrates, said he, you will find men of the greatest
impiety, and injustice, and intemperance, and ignor-
ance most distinguished for courage. This will show
you that courage differs greatly from the other parts
of virtue. And astonished as I was at this answer at
the moment, it has astonished me still more since my
late investigations with you. However, at the time
I asked him whether by the courageous he meant the
daring. Yes, said he, and men eager for encounter.
Do you remember giving this answer, Protagoras?

I do, he replied.

Come then, said I, tell us what it is which, according
to you, the courageous are eager to encounter? Is it
the same as cowards?

No.

Is it different then?

Yes.

Do cowards engage in what is safe, brave men in
what is formidable?

So it is generally said, Socrates.

You are right, said I ; but this is not my question.
According to you, what is it which brave men are eager
to encounter? that which is formidable, believing it to
be formidable, or that which is not formidable ?

Why the former, Socrates, your late arguments have
shown to be impossible.

296

Plato

Again you are right, said I. If our reasoning was
correct, no man engages in what he believes to be
formidable, since we found that want of self-command
was want of knowledge.
Granted, said he.

But on the other hand, all men engage in that which
inspires them with confidence, whether they be cowardly
or courageous, and in this point of view, at any rate,
both the one and the other encounter the same things.
But I can assure you, Socrates, he said, that no things
can be more opposed to each other than the things
which cowards and brave men encounter. To take the
first instance that comes, the latter are willing to
encounter war, the former are not.

When it is honourable, I asked, to engage in it, or
disgraceful ?

When it is honourable, he answered.
And if it is honourable, it is also good by our former
admission; for we admitted that all honourable actions
were good.

We did, said he; and I am always of this opinion.
And very properly too, I rejoined. But which class
360 do you say are not willing to encounter war, when it
is honourable and good?
Cowards, he replied.

And if it be honourable and good, it is also pleasant ?
Certainly, according to our premises.
Do cowards refuse to engage in what they know to
be honourable, and pleasant, and good ?

No; for if we allow this, we overturn all our former
admissions.

And the courageous man? does not he engage in
what is honourable, and pleasant, and good?
I must allow he does.

In a word then, courageous men fear no disgraceful
fears, when they do fear, nor are they inspired with
disgraceful confidences. Is not this true?
It is, he answered.

And if not disgraceful, are they not honourable?
Granted.
And if honourable, good?

Protagoras 297

Yes.

And are not the cowardly, the daring, and the
frenzied, possessed on the contrary with disgraceful
fears, and inspired with disgraceful confidences?

They are.

And when they dare what is disgraceful and evil,
do they dare it in consequence of anything else than
ignorance and want of understanding?

No, he replied.

Again, said I. That which makes cowards cowardly,
do you call it cowardice or courage?

Cowardice, of course.

And have they not been found to be cowardly in
consequence of their ignorance of that which is
formidable?

Certainly they have.

It is this ignorance then, it appears, which makes
them cowardly?

Granted.

And that which makes them cowardly you have
allowed to be cowardice?

I have, he said.

Ignorance then of that which is formidable and not
formidable proves to be cowardice?

He nodded! his head.

Again, said I, is courage opposite to cowardice?

Yes.

Is knowledge of that which is formidable and not
formidable opposite to ignorance of the same?

Here again he nodded his head.

And ignorance of this is cowardice?

Though with a very bad grace, he here nodded again.

Knowledge then of that which is formidable and not
formidable is courage, since it is opposite to ignorance
of the same.

At this he would neither make a sign nor utter a
word.

So I said : How is it, Protagoras, that you will not
say either yes or no to my question?

Finish by yourself, said he.

Only one more question will I ask you. Do you

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298

Plato

still think, as you did formerly, that there are some men
very ignorant, and at the same time very courageous?

You seem to stickle, Socrates, for the answer coming
from me. Well, I'll indulge you so far. I allow that
by our previous admissions this appears to me to be
impossible.

I can assure you, said I, that I have no other motive
in proposing all these questions than a wish to observe
the relations of virtuous things, and the nature of virtue
itself. For certain am I, that, if this point be once
361 discovered, we shall clearly discern that other, on which
both you and I launched out into a long harangue, I
in maintaining that virtue could not be taught, and you
in maintaining that it could. And I can fancy the issue
of our conversation attacking and deriding us like a
human being, and that, if it could speak, it would say,
You are strange persons, both of you, Socrates and
Protagoras. You, Socrates, who formerly maintained
that virtue could not be taught, are now bent on con-
tradicting yourself, by endeavouring to prove that all
virtue is knowledge, both justice, and discretion, and
courage ; a course of argument which leads most clearly
to the result that virtue is a thing which can be taught.
For if virtue were something different from knowledge,
as Protagoras has been attempting to maintain, it evi-
dently would not be susceptible of being taught; but
now if it be found to be knowledge, as you, Socrates,
are insisting, it will be strange indeed if it cannot be
taught. Protagoras, on the other hand, who started
with asserting that he could teach it, seems now bent
on proving, in contradiction to that assertion, that it
is almost anything rather than knowledge, and conse-
quently the last thing in the world to be taught. I
therefore, Protagoras, on observing how terrible is the
confusion in which all these matters are thrown to-
gether, am all-desirous of bringing them to the light,
and should be glad to follow up our late investigation
by inquiring into the nature of virtue, and then re-
considering whether or no it is capable of being taught,
lest haply the Epimetheus of your story deceive us
treacherously in our examination, just as in the dis-

Protagoras 299

tribution of functions he neglected us carelessly, accord-
ing to your account. The forethought of your
Prometheus pleased me far more than his brother's
afterthought; and it is because I take Prometheus for
my counsellor, and look forward with his forethought
to all my future life, that I busy myself with all these
studies, and should be most delighted, as I said before,
to join you, if you have no objection, in fathoming them
to the bottom.

To this Protagoras replied, I for my part, Socrates,
applaud your zeal, and your skill in the evolution of
arguments. For I consider that in no point of view
am I a bad man, and that I am the last person in the
world to be jealous. Thus often ere now have I said
of you, that among all whom I am in the habit of meet-
ing, I admire you the most, and among those of your
own age by far the most ; and I add, that I should not
be surprised if you win yourself a place among our
distinguished sages. And with regard to the present
discussion, we will continue it on some future occasion,
when agreeable to you, but to-day it is high time for
me to betake myself to other business.

So be it, said I, since such is your pleasure. For I
too ought long ago to have departed on the errand
I mentioned; only I stayed to oblige the beautiful
Callias.

Our conversation thus concluded, we left the house.

EUTHYPHRO

Characters in the Dialogue
EUTHYPHRO SOCRATES

St. I. What can have happened, Socrates, to make you
I. desert your place in the Lyceum and be waiting here at
p. this hour in the King Archon's porch? You cannot,
2 of course, have a suit for him to hear, as I have.

Soc. Well, no, Euthyphro, they do not call it a suit,
but a charge.

Euth. What do you mean? I suppose, that some one
has brought a charge against you? For I am not to
hear, I know, that you have charged any one else.

Soc. Certainly not.

Euth. Then somebody else has accused you?

Soc. Exactly.

Euth. Who is it?

Soc. Well, Euthyphro, I really cannot say I know the
man myself; he is young, I think, and unknown. His
name, I understand, is Meletus, and the deme to which
he belongs is Pitthos, if you happen to remember a
certain Meletus of Pitthos, a lank-haired, hook-nosed
fellow, with not much of a beard.

Euth. I have no recollection of him, Socrates. But
what on earth is the charge he has brought against
you?

Soc. The charge? Oh, it shows great spirit, I think.
It is no small thing for a young man to understand such
matters. He knows, so he says, how the young are
ruined, and who ruin them. He must be a shrewd
fellow; he has realised how unprincipled I am, and how
I ruin the men of his own age, and he runs to tell his
mother, the State, about me. I consider him the only
man who has taken up politics by the right end. It is
quite right to care for the young first and foremost, and
for their good, just as it is natural for a wise farmer to

300

Euthyphro 301

think of his young plants before the rest. So, no doubt,
Meletus intends to weed us out first, those who ruin the 3
growth of the young, according to him : and then of
course he will proceed to the care of our grown men and
confer the greatest of all benefits upon the State, as we
may well expect after a beginning of this kind.

II. Euth. I only wish it might be so, Socrates, but I
am terribly afraid of the reverse. I think he has simply
begun to destroy the State from its foundations when he
sets about harming you. Tell me now, how in the
world does he suppose that you are ruining the young?

Soc. Well, my friend, in ways that certainly do sound
extraordinary. He asserts that I create gods, and for
creating the new gods and not believing in the old, he
attacks me, it is just for that, he says.

Euth. I see, Socrates. I suppose it is because you
speak of the supernatural sign that comes to you. So he
has brought this charge against you of coining a new
religion, and comes into the law-courts prepared to rouse
prejudice against you, because he knows that the
majority are easy to prejudice in these matters. Why,
when I begin to speak on religion in the Assembly and
prophesy what is going to happen, they laugh at me
and shout me down as though I were insane. And yet
I have never foretold them one thing that was not
true, but they are so jealous of men like us. Still we
must grapple with our work, and not think of them.

III. Soc. Oh, dear Euthyphro, to be laughed down
may be of no consequence at all. Athenians, it seems
to me, do not much object to a man's being clever,
provided he does not teach what he knows, but if they
think he makes others like himself, they get angry,
perhaps through envy, as you say, or for some other
reason.

Euth. Well, as far as that goes, I do not particularly
care to test their feeling about me.

Soc. No ; and very likely they think you are sparing
of your company and do not care to impart your know-
ledge; but, in my case, I fear that my fondness for
people makes them believe I pour forth all I know to
any and every man, not only without pay, but ready

302 Plato

to pay myself, and that with the utmost pleasure, if I
could get any one to hear me.

Well, as I said just now, if they are only going to
laugh at me, as you say they laugh at you, there would
be nothing unpleasant in that, just a little amusement
and laughter in court, but if they are in earnest, well,
what the end of it will be, none but you prophets can
say.

Euth. Oh, Socrates, most likely it will be of no con-
sequence at all ; you will conduct your case to your own
satisfaction, and so, I think, shall I.

IV. Soc. And this case of yours, Euthyphro, what is
it about? Are you defending or prosecuting?

Euth. Prosecuting.

Soc. Who is it you are after?

4 Euth. Ah, somebody that people think me mad to go
after.

Soc. Why, has he got wings? Can he fly?

Euth. Far from that, he happens to be very old.

Soc. And who is he?

Euth. My father.

Soc. Your own father, my friend?

Euth. Precisely.

Soc. And what do you charge him with?

Euth. With murder, Socrates.

Soc. With murder! Well, Euthyphro, it is plain
that the majority do not understand the rights of this.
To do such a thing, and be right in doing it, cannot be
possible, I am sure, for every man ; but only for him
who has reached the heights of wisdom.

Euth. Yes, Socrates, the very heights.

Soc. So it is one of your relatives, is it not? that has
been killed by your father? Oh, but of course it must
be. You would never have accused him, I know, of
murder for a stranger's sake.

Euth. You make me smile, Socrates, by supposing it
could make any difference whether the murdered man
was a stranger or no, and not that the only question we
have to ask is, whether the man who killed him killed
him lawfully or not ; if lawfully, we have to let him go,
if not, we have to prosecute ; that is, if the murderer
lives under the same roof and eats at the same board.

Euthyphro 303

For the contamination is just as great if you associate
with such a creature, and do not purify yourself, and
him too, by bringing him to justice. As a matter of fact
the murdered man was a dependant of mine, one of the
labourers we hired on a farm of ours in Naxos. He got
drunk one day and had a quarrel with a servant of the
house, and cut his throat. My father had him bound
hand and foot and flung into a pit, while he sent a man
over here to ask the Interpreter l what ought to be done.
Meanwhile he left his prisoner alone and neglected,
thinking him a murderer, and that it was no matter if
he did die ; which is exactly what occurred. He perished
through hunger and cold and the pain of the bonds
before the messenger returned. Now my father is quite
angry with me and so are the other servants, because,
as they say, I accuse him of murder on the murderer's
account, although he did not kill him, according to
them, and even if he did twenty times over, yet since
the dead man was a murderer no one ought to trouble
about him : it is an unholy thing for a son to prosecute
his father for murder; but they entirely misunderstand
do they not? the divine law of holiness.

Soc. And you, my friend, do you believe that you
understand the divine laws so well and everything they
mean, that, after this has happened as you describe,
you have no fear in bringing this action against your
father that you may be doing an unholy deed in your
turn?

Euth. No, Socrates, none; there would be no use in
me, Euthyphro would be no different from other men, 5
if I did not understand all these matters .perfectly.

V. Soc. How splendid, Euthyphro ! Will it not be
the best thing in all the world for me to become your
scholar? And then, before facing Meletus in court, I
may challenge 2 him and tell him that I also have

1 A board of three members called Interpreters or Advisers was
appointed at Athens, to perform certain religious duties, and
especially to give advice for purification from blood-guiltiness.

8 " Before the trial began either party could challenge the other
in the presence of witnesses to take some particular step. In case
the challenge was declined, evidence was given at the trial that the
challenge had been refused, with a view to prejudice the refuser's
case." (Abridged from Dr. Adam's edition of the Euthyphro.)

304 Plato

earnestly desired before this to learn the laws of God,
and now that he says I am guilty of inventing theories of
my own, and coining new religions, why, I have made
myself your pupil, and I could say, " See here, Meletus,
if you admit that Euthyphro is wise in these matters,
and that the views he holds are right, then admit it of
me as well, and give up the prosecution. And if not,
call my teacher into court and not me, and accuse him
of ruining the old me, for instance, and his father, by
teaching the one and punishing the other." And if
Meletus will not listen to me nor give up the case nor
accuse you instead of me, then I will state in court the
challenge that I made to him.

Euth. Indeed, Socrates, if he really did try to accuse
me I would soon find out, I think, where his weak point
lay. There would be far more talk about him in court,
I know, than about me.

Soc. And I, my dear friend, just because I recognise
that, desire to became your pupil. For I realise that
this man Meletus, among others, does not appear so
much as to see you ; but he has seen through me so
quickly and so completely, that he has accused me of
impiety. So you must really tell me what you assured
me just now you understood so well : what you consider
holiness and unholiness to be, in questions of murder
and in general. Is not holiness always one and the
same thing in every case, and unholiness, of course, the
opposite of holiness, always like itself, always of one
and the same type in relation to holiness, whatever it be
that is unholy?

Euth. Most assuredly so, Socrates.

VI. Soc. Tell me then, what do you say is holiness
and what unholiness?

Euth. Well, I say holiness is to do just what I am
doing now, to prosecute the wrong-doer in a case of
murder or sacrilege, or any similar offender, be it father
or mother or whoever it be, and not to prosecute is
unholy. For observe, Socrates, what a strong proof I
can give you that the law is as I say, a proof I have
already used with others, that shows it must be right
never to spare the impious, whoever they happen to be.

Euthyphro 305

Men's own judgment tells them that Zeus is the best
and most righteous of the gods, and they admit that he 6
put his father in chains for the crime of swallowing his
sons ; that Cronus, in his turn, mutilated his father for a
similar cause; and now they are indignant with me
because I prosecute my father when he has done wrong,
and so they contradict themselves about the gods and
me.

Soc. Now I wonder, Euthyphro, if this can be the
reason why I am attacked, because I find it hard to
accept such stories as these about the gods? That is
really why some people will say, I believe, that I am
guilty. Yet now if you accept them too, you who under-
stand these things, it would seem I must agree. For
what can I have to say who confess myself wholly
ignorant in the matter? But tell me, in the name of
our friendship, do you really believe that these things
occurred ?

Euth. Yes, Socrates, I do; and other things, too,
even more astounding, which ordinary people do not
know.

Soc. Then do you really think there is warfare among
the gods, and terrible strife, and enmities and quarrels,
as the poets say, and as we see in the decorations our
great artists put in our temples and on our sacred
things? At Athena's holy festival, you know, the
garment that is carried up the Acropolis for her is
covered with such devices. Are we to say that they are
true, Euthyphro?

Euth. And not only they, Socrates. As I said just
now, I can tell you ever so many other tales about the
gods, if you like, at which you would be thunder-struck,
I am sure.

VII. Soc. I should not be surprised if I were. Some
other time you will tell me all about them, when we are
at leisure. But now could you try to explain more
clearly what I asked you a moment ago? You see, my
friend, you did not teach me all I wanted at first when
I asked you what holiness really was ; you only said
that what you were doing now, prosecuting your
father for murder, happened to be holy.

II *L 457

306

Plato

Euth. Yes, and I was quite right in saying so.

Soc. Perhaps you were. But, you see, you say a
great many other things are holy too.

Euth. And so they are.

Soc. Now, do you not remember that I begged you to
show me, not one or two holy things out of many, but
just that essential character which makes all holiness
holy? You said, did you not? that holy things were
holy and unholy things unholy, through one type and
one alone. Do you not remember?

Euth. Yes, I do.

Soc. Then show me that one Type ; teach me what it
it, so that I can turn to it and use it for a pattern, and
declare that what is like it in all that you or others do,
is holy, and what is unlike, unholy.

Euth. Well, Socrates, I will answer in that way, if
you wish.

Soc. I do, very much.

Euth. I say, then, that what the gods love is holy,
and what they do not love is unholy.
7 Soc. Admirable, Euthyphro, quite admirable ! That
is exactly the kind of answer 1 was trying to get
from you. Whether it is true or not, I cannot say as
yet, but doubtless you will go on to show me you are
right.

Euth. Most certainly I will.

Soc. Now, let us see exactly what we mean. What
the gods love and the man they love is holy, what they
hate and the man they hate, unholy. And holiness is not
the same as, but the exact contrary of, unholiness. Is
not that what we said?

Euth. Yes, that was it.

Soc. And it seems a very good thing to say.

Euth. Well, yes, I think it does.
Soc. And, moreover, that the gods are at variance,
Euthyphro, and differ with one another, and feel enmity
towards each other, did we not say that too?
Euth. Yes, we did.

Soc. Now, my friend, what kind of dispute is it that
produces enmity and anger? Let us look at it like this.
If you and I were to differ about the numbers of two

Euthyphro 307

sets, and not agree as to which was the greater, could
that make us enemies and fill us with animosity ? Should
we not proceed to count the numbers, and soon put an
end to our dispute?

Euth. Certainly we should.

Soc. And suppose we differed on a question of size,
should we not proceed to measure the object, and so
compose our difference?

Euth. Yes.

Soc. And by using a balance, I presume, we could
settle disputes on weights.

Euth. Of course we could.

Soc. But now what would be the question for which
we could find no test and which would make us enemies?
It may not be obvious to you at once, but see if you
think I am right in saying that such questions are the
questions of right and wrong, beauty and ugliness,
good and evil? Are not these the matters on which we
disagree, and for which we can find no sure criterion,
and which make us enemies, you and me and all men,
if enemies we are?

Euth. True, Socrates, there is such a difference of
opinion, and it is on such matters.

Soc. Well, now, Euthyphro, surely if the gods have
differences at all it must be here that they differ?

Euth. Yes, most certainly.

Soc. Then the gods, like us, my friend, according to
what you say, vary in what they hold to be right and
beautiful and good. For most assuredly they would not
quarrel with each other if they did not differ about these
things. Is that not true?

Euth. Quite true.

Soc. Now what each of them believes to be beautiful
and good and right, that he will love, and he will loathe
the opposite?

Euth. Yes, certainly.

Soc. Yes, but according to you, one and the same
thing is considered right by some and wrong by others ; 8
and over this they fight, and quarrel with each other
and go to war, do they not?

Euth. They do.

308

Plato

Soc. Then the same thing, it would appear, is at once
hated and loved by the gods, and would be, I suppose,
both dear to them and loathed by them ?

Euth. It appears so.

Soc. But then the same thing- would be at once holy
and unholy, Euthyphro, according to this line of argu-
ment.

Euth. Perhaps it would.

IX. Soc. Then, my dear fellow, you cannot have
answered what I asked. I did not want to know what
happened to be at once holy and unholy, but what is
dear to the gods is, it would appear, also loathed by
them ; and so, my friend, as regards your present action
in punishing your father, there would be nothing sur-
prising if, while it is most pleasing to Zeus it is most
hateful to Cronus and Uranus, and while it is dear to
Hephaestus it is loathed by Hera, and so with the rest
of the gods, if they happen to differ about it.

Euth. Well but, Socrates, I believe none of them will
dispute that he who has killed a man unjustly ought to
be brought to justice.

Soc. Ah, but, Euthyphro, even among men, have
you ever heard it denied that he who kills a man unjustly,
or, indeed, does anything unjust, ought to be brought to
justice?

Euth. Why, they constantly deny it, especially in
court. After all sorts of wickedness they will say and
do everything to escape punishment.

Soc. Really, Euthyphro? Even admit they have
done wrong and yet assert that they ought not to be
punished ?

Euth. Oh, no, not that ; they always stop short of
that.

Soc. Then it is not everything, after all, that they will
say. They do not dare to maintain, I imagine, that if
they have really done wrong they ought not to be
punished. They say, I fancy, that they have not done
wrong, do they not?

Euth. They do.

Soc. So it is not that they question whether the
wrong-doer should be punished ; their question is rather,

Euthyphro 309

who is the wrong-doer, and what makes an action
wrong ?

Euth. Very true.

Soc. Well then, the gods are in just the same position
if they quarrel over right and wrong, as you tell me they
do, some saying that one side is in the wrong and others
that it is not; for most assuredly, my friend, neither
god nor man would dare to say that the wrong-doer
should not be brought to justice.

Euth. Yes, Socrates, you are right in that, and it is
the main point.

Soc. But I suppose, Euthyphro, that every detail in
what occurred is argued over by the parties to the
dispute, among gods as well as men, if the gods do have
disputes. When they differ about an action some say that
it was right and others that it was wrong. Is that not so ?

Euth. Just so.

X. Soc. Well, and now, dear Euthyphro, instruct meg
too, and tell me for my greater wisdom what proof you
have that all the gods will consider it an unjust slaughter
if the man who was killed was a hired labourer and had
murdened some one else, and been put in chains by the
murdered man's master, and died because of that, before
the master could learn from the Interpreters what he
ought to do : and that this is the sort of man on whose
behalf a son does well to attack his father and prosecute
him for murder. Come and make it clear to me that all
the gods beyond all doubt will consider this action
right, and if you really prove it I will never cease to
extol you and your wisdom.

Euth. But it is no slight undertaking, Socrates :
though, of course, I could prove it for you conclusively.

Soc. I see : you think me slower to learn than your
jury, for of course you will make it clear to them that
the deed was unjust, and that all the gods hate actions
of the kind.

Euth. Yes, Socrates, I will make it perfectly clear, if
only they will listen to my speech.

XI. Soc. Oh, they will listen if they think you a good
speaker. But I have just noticed something in what
you said, and I keep asking myself : Suppose Euthyphro

3io Plato

were to show me to the full that all the gods consider a
death of this character unjust, should I have learnt any
the more from him what holiness really is, and unholi-
ness? The action in question may be, and very likely
is, hateful to the gods. But that is not enough. And
even this definition, as we saw just now, was not made
distinct, since what was hateful to the gods was shown
to be dear to them as well. However, I will let you off
this point, Euthyphro : and we will admit if you like that
all the gods consider it unjust and all of them hate it.
Shall we make this conection first, and say that what
all the gods hate is unholy, and what all of them love is
holy, while what some love and some hate is neither holy
nor unholy, or else both at once? Are you prepared to
accept this for our definition?

Euth. Well, Socrates, is there any reason why I
should not?

Soc. None, so far as I am concerned, Euthyphro ; but
you must look to your own position yourself, and see if
this will give you the best foundation for teaching me
what you promised.

Euth. Well, I am quite ready to say that holiness is
what all the gods love, and that its opposite, what all
the gods hate, is unholiness.

Soc. Well, shall we examine this now we have got it,
and see if it is satisfactory, or are we to let it pass, and
go on accepting from ourselves and from others, sub-
missively, any assertion that any one chooses to make?
Should we not always test what is stated?

Euth. Yes, we should. But I do think this statement
is sound.

XII. Soc. Well, my friend, we shall be able to say
better soon. Now consider this question : Is holiness
jo loved by the gods because it is holy, or is it holy because
it is loved?

Euth. I do not understand you, Socrates.

Soc. Well, I will try to put it more clearly. Can
we not speak of what is carried and of what carries, of
what is driven and what drives, of what is seen and
what sees? You understand, do you not, that all these
differ from one another, and how they differ?

Euthyphro 311

Euth. Well, I fancy I understand.

Soc. Now is there not also something that is loved,
and again, distinct from it, the lover?

Euth. Yes, surely.

Soc. Tell me now, is the thing that is carried just
what it is, namely, a carried thing, because it is
carried or for some other reason?

Euth. No, just because of that.

Soc. And the driven thing is such because it is driven,
and the seen thing is such because it is seen?

Euth. Yes, certainly.

Soc. It is not, of course, seen because it is a seen
thing, but on the contrary, it is a seen thing because it
is seen. So again it is not carried because it is a carried
thing, it is a carried thing because it is carried ; and it is
not driven because it is a driven thing, it is a driven
thing because it is driven. Now, Euthyphro, is my
meaning getting clear? What I mean is, that whenever
an object becomes anything, or is touched in any way,
it does not become something because it is a thing that
is in process of becoming, but it is a thing in process of
becoming because it becomes something. Nor is it
touched because it is a touched thing : it is a touched
thing because it is touched. Do you not agree?

Euth. Yes, I do.

Soc. Well now, the beloved thing is either something
that is in process of becoming, or something that is
touched by something else?

Euth. Most certainly.

Soc. And it is the same in this case, is it not? as
in the others. The thing is not loved because it is
a beloved thing; it is a beloved thing because it is
loved.

Euth. Yes, that must be so.

Soc. Now, Euthyphro, what shall we say about holi-
ness? Just that it is loved by all the gods, as you tell
me?

Euth. Yes. >

Soc. And loved simply because it is holy, or for some
other reason?

Euth. No, simply because of that.

3T2 Plato

Soc. Then it is loved because it is holy, and it is not
holy because it is loved?

Euth. So it seems.

Soc. But, now, it is because it is loved by the
gods that it is a thing beloved by them and dear to
them.

Euth. No doubt.

Soc. Then, Euthyphro, what is dear to the gods is not
the same as holiness, as you assert : the two are quite
distinct.

Euth. How do you make that out, Socrates?

Soc. Because we agreed that holiness is loved just
because it is holy, and not that it is holy because it is
loved. Did we not?

Euth. Yes.

XIII. Soc. And, moreover, that what is dear to the
gods is dear to them just through being loved, just
because they love it, and not that it is loved because it is
dear to them.

Euth. You are quite right.

Soc. Now you see, my friend, if holiness and what is
dear to the gods meant exactly the same, then, since
ii holiness was loved because it was holy, what is dear to
the gods would have been loved because it was dear, and
holiness would have been holy because it was loved. 1
But now, you perceive, the contrary is the case, and the
two things are entirely distinct. One is lovable because
it is loved, the other is loved because it is lovable. I
fear, Euthyphro, that when I asked you what holiness
was, you did not choose to show me its real nature. You
would only tell me something that happens to it ; and
that was, that it is loved by all the gods : what it is in
itself you have not told me yet. Now, if you will be so
kind, do not hide it from me, but begin once more from
the beginning and tell me what holiness can be ; it may
be loved by the gods or not ; we will not quarrel over
what happens to it. Tell me, and tell me willingly, what
is holiness and what is unholiness?

1 Because "what is dear to the god** could be substituted for
"holiness" and "holy" in the first Statement, and "holiness" and
" holy " for " what is dear to the gods " and " dear " in the second.

Euthyphro 313

Euth. But, Socrates, I really do not know how to tell
you what I think. Whatever we set up seems somehow
to move away : it refuses to stay where we put it.

Soc. Why, Euthyphro, that sounds as though your
theories were the work of my ancestor Daedalus. Now
had it been I who brought them forward and set them
up, you might well have laughed at me for the family
likeness you saw, telling me that my works of art in
the world of thought insisted on moving like his and
refused to stay where they were put. 1 But the theories,
you see, are yours, so we must find some other jest.
They certainly do refuse to stand where you wish, as
you yourself can see.

Euth. What I do see, Socrates, is that the jest seems
quite in place. Their shifting and changing is none of
my doing ; it is yours ; you are our Daedalus. They
would have stayed quite quiet had it only depended on
me.

Soc. Then, my friend, I must think myself so much
the better artist than that great man, inasmuch as he
only made his own works move, but I, it appears, can
give this power to the works of others too. And the
most wonderful part of it all is that I am a genius
against my will. I would rather have fixed our argu-
ments on a base that could never be shaken than gain
all the skill of Daedalus and all the wealth of Tantalus
to boot. But enough of this. Since I see you think
yourself above the work, I will make bold to suggest a
way myself for you to teach me about holiness without
tiring yourself out before we have done. Think now,
and tell me if it does not seem clear to you that all
holiness must be righteous?

Euth. Yes, it does.

Soc. Well now, is all righteousness holy, or is it that
all holiness is righteous, but not all righteousness holy, 12
part of it being holy and part something else?

Euth. I do not follow you, Socrates.

Soc. What, and you as much younger than me as you

1 The statues of the semi -mythic sculptor Daedalus were said to
move. Socrates, as the son of a sculptor, claims him in jest as his
heroic "eponvmous" ancestor.

314 Plato

are wiser ! Why, it is just as I say, your wealth of
wisdom makes you far too proud to work. But gird up
your loins, my friend : there is really nothing difficult to
understand in my words. What I say is the exact
reverse of what the poet said when he wrote :

" Zeus, the maker and father of all,
You would not utter his name :
Where there is fear and trembling,
Follow reverence and shame."

Now here I differ from the poet. Shall I tell you how?

Euth. Please do.

Soc. I do not think that wherever there is fear there
is shame. I think a great many people who are afraid
of sickness and poverty and similar evils are certainly
afraid, but feel no shame before the things they fear.
Do not you think so too?

Euth. Indeed I do.

Soc. But wherever there is shame there is certainly
fear. Is there any man who could be ashamed of an
action and shrink from doing it, and yet not fear the
charge of wickedness and be afraid of that?

Euth. No, of course he would be afraid.

Soc. Then it is not right to say "where there is fear
follows shame." Wherever there is shame it is true
there is fear, but where there is fear there is not always
shame. Fear, I hold, is a wider term than shame ;
shame is a species of fear, as odd number is a species
of number ; and so, where there is number there is not
always odd number, but wherever there is odd number
there is always number. Now, I think, you follow me?

Euth. Yes, perfectly.

Soc. Well, it was just this sort of thing I meant when
I asked you a moment ago whether there was holiness
wherever there was righteousness ; or whether, though
there was righteousness wherever there was holiness,
there was not always holiness wherever there was righte-
ousness. For holiness is a species of righteousness.
Now shall we admit this, or do you think otherwise?

Euth. No, this is what I think. It seems to me you
are quite right.

XIV. Soc. Then see what follows. If holiness is a
species of righteousness, we ought, it would seem, to

Euthyphro 315

discover what kind of species it is. Suppose you had
asked me about the subject we mentioned just now, for
instance, what species of number even number was, and
what kind of number was even, I should have replied :
every number that was not unequal but could be divided
by two. 1 Do you not agree?

Euth. Yes, I do.

Soc. Now it is your turn to try and teach me in this
way what part of righteousness is holy ; and then I can
go and tell Meletus he must give up the prosecution and
not trouble me any more since I have learnt from you at
last all about piety and holiness.

Euth. Well, Socrates, this is my answer : the kind of
righteousness that I call pious and holy is the kind that
has to do with the care of the gods. The rest has to
do with the care of Man.

XV. Soc. And an excellent answer, JEuthyphro, you
seem to have given me. But there is one small thing 13
more I want. I do not yet understand what kind of care
you mean. You cannot, of course, mean just the same
care as we give to other things ; for instance, we say it is
not every one who understands the care of horses, only
the horseman ; do we not?

Euth. Yes, certainly we do.

Soc. For the horseman *s work is, I take it, the care
of horses.

Euth. Yes.

Soc. Nor does every one understand the care of dogs,
but only he who can train them.

Euth. Just so.

Soc. The work of such a trainer being the care of
dogs?

Euth. Yes.

Soc. And the work of the herdsman the care of cattle?

Euth. Precisely.

Soc. And piety and holiness, Euthyphro, are they
nothing more nor less than the care of the gods? Is this
what you say?

Euth. Yes, it is.

1 The Greek means literally " whatever was not unequal-sided
but with two sides equal." The comparison is to a triangle, Greek
arithmetic being closely associated with geometry.

316

Plato

Soc. Now, does not all care achieve the same result?
I mean it always brings some advantage and some good
to the object of the care ; we see, for instance, that
horses get benefit from the care spent on them and
bcome better. Do you not think they do?

Euth. Yes, I quite think so.

Soc. And dogs get good from their trainer's care and
cattle from their herdsman's, and so with all the rest;
you cannot suppose that the care is ever for the dis-
advantage of its object?

Euth. No, certainly not.

Soc. It is for its benefit?

Euth. Yes, of course.

Soc. Well, now, if holiness is the care of the gods,
does that mean that it is a benefit to them and makes
them better? Would you be prepared to grant that
whenever you do what is holy you make one of the gods
better?

Euth. Good heavens ! Of course not.

Soc. And of course, Euthyphro, I did not think you
meant that; far from it. But the reason I asked you
was to find out what kind of care you did mean, for I
was sure it could not be this.

Euth. Quite right, Socrates, that was not what I
meant.

Soc. So far so good then ; but now tell me, what kind
of care is it?

Euth. Why, the kind that slaves give to their masters.

Soc. I understand : a sort of service to them.

Euth. Exactly.

XVI. Soc. Now could you tell me what is the aim of
the service that a doctor's servant gives? It is health,
would you not say?

Euth. Yes, I would.

Soc. Well, and a shipbuilder's servant, at what pro-
duction does his service aim?

Euth. At the production of a ship, of course.

Soc. And service to a builder aims, I take it, at a
building ?

Euth. Yes.

Soc. And now, my friend, tell me, finally, about the

Euthyphro 317

service of the gods, what is the work at which it aims?
You must know, I am sure, for you told me that you
understood religion better than any man.

Euth. And what I said was quite true, Socrates.

Soc. Then tell me at last what that glorious work can
be which the gods bring into being, and for which they
use our service.

Euth. Their works are many, Socrates, and all are
good.

Soc. True, my friend, and so are those of a general. 14
But none the less you could easily sum these up in one,
and call it victory, could you not?

Euth. Yes, of course.

.Soc. And a farmer's works are many and good, but
still the sum and end of all his labour is the produce of
the ground.

Euth. Undoubtedly.

Soc. And now what shall we say of all the good things
that the gods produce? What is the sum of their work?

Euth. I told you a moment ago, Socrates, that it is
harder than one might think to team the absolute truth
about these things. But this much I can tell you in so
many words : if a man can say and do what is grateful
to the gods in prayer and sacrifice, there we have holi-
ness, and it is this that preserves the Family and the
State, and what is not grateful to them is impious, and
impiety overthrows and destroys everything.

XVII. Soc. Well, Euthyphro, you could have told
me the sum of what I asked in very much fewer words,
if you had liked. But it is quite plain that you have no
wish to teach me. For this very moment when you had
reached the point, you turned aside : had you answered
my question then, 1 should have learned from you by
now all I wanted to know. But now, since the ques-
tioner needs must follow the answerer wherever the
latter leads, I must needs ask you again, what do you
say is holy and what is holiness? You say it is the
knowledge of how to sacrifice and pray?

Euth. Yes, I do.

Soc. Now to sacrifice is to offer something to the gods
and to pray is to ask them for something.

3i8

Plato

Euth Most certainly.

Soc. Then according to this definition, holiness
would be the science of requests and offerings to the
gods.

Euth. You have understood my meaning perfectly.

Soc. Because I thirst for your wisdom, my friend, and
I wait and watch, so that no word of yours falls to the
ground. But tell me once more, what is this service to
the gods? A service of requests and offerings?

Euth. Yes, that is what I say.

XVIII. Soc. Well, and to ask aright would be, would
it not, to ask them for what we need?

Euth. What else?

Soc. And on the other hand to give aright would be
to give them what they need in their turn. For certainly
it would not show much intelligence to bring gifts that
were not wanted at all.

Euth. Very true.

Soc. In short, Euthyphro, we may call holiness the art
of bargaining between gods and men.

Euth. Yes, a kind of bargaining, if it gives you
pleasure to call it so.

Soc. No pleasure to me, unless it happens to be true.
But now will you show me what benefit accrues to the
gods from the gifts we give them? What they give us
is plain to every one; there is no good thing we have
15 that is not their gift. But what they get from us, how
do they benefit from that? Are we so much the more
grasping that we get all good from them, and they get
nothing from us?

Euth. But do you really think, Socrates, that the gods
are benefited by what they take from us?

Soc. Well, Euthyphro, if not, what can these gifts of
ours be?

Euth. What but reverence, and honour, and, in a
word, gratefulness, as I said just now? What else do
you expect ?

Soc. So then, Euthyphro, holiness is grateful to the
gods, but not useful or pleasing to them.

Euth. Why no, I think most certainly it is pleasing
to them.

Euthyphro 319

Soc. Then we come back again, it seems, to saying
that holiness is what is pleasing to the gods.
Euth. Most decidedly.

XIX. Soc. Can you wonder after this if you see that
your theories will not stand? Can you accuse me of
being the Daedalus who sets them walking, when all the
while you are much cleverer than he and make them
move round yourself? Do you not see that the argu-
ment has come right round to the very same place as
before? You remember, surely, that we have already
seen that what is holy and what is dear to the gods are
different and not the same. Or can you have forgotten ?

Euth. No. I remember.

Soc. And do you not realise now that you say what is
pleasing to the gods is holy? But what is pleasing to
them must be dear to them, surely?

Euth. Yes, by all means.

Soc. Then either our former conclusion was wrong, or
if we were right then, we must have made some mistake
now.

Euth. It does seem so.

XX. Soc. Then we must begin again from the begin-
ning- to find out what holiness is ; for I will never give in
until I learn it. Only do not make light of me now, but
let me have your whole attention and tell me the truth.
You know it, if any man knows, and you must be held,
like Proteus, until you speak. For unless you had
known, and known perfectly, \Vhat holiness is and un-
holiness, you would never have dreamt of prosecuting
your old father for murder on a slave's account; you
would have feared to rouse the anger of the gods by
something wrong in the deed, and you would have
shrunk from the indignation of men. But as it is, I am
sure you believe you understand perfectly the difference
between holiness and wickedness : so you must tell me,
dear Euthyphro, and not hide your opinion any more.

Euth. Some other time then, Socrates ; I am in a great
hurry now, and it is time for me to be off.

Soc. Oh, my friend, my friend ! You dash all my
hopes to the ground and leave me desolate ! And I had
hoped to learn from you what holiness really was ; and

320 Plato

then I should have freed myself from the charge Meletus
has brought against me; for I could have shown him
that I had learnt all about it at last from Euthyphro,
1 6 and need make no more theories of my own in ignorance,
nor coin a new religion, and, above all, that for the rest
of my days I should live a better life.

THE APOLOGY
PART I

BEFORE THE VERDICT

I. I DO not know, men of Athens, what you have felt 17
in listening to my accusers, but they almost made even
me forget myself, they spoke so plausibly. And yet, I
may say, they have not spoken one word of truth. And
of all the lies they told, I wondered most at their saying
that you ought to be on your guard against being misled
by me, as I was a great speaker. To feel no shame when
they knew that they would be refuted immediately by
my own action, when I show you that I am not a great
speaker at all, that did seem to me the height of their
audacity ; unless perhaps they mean by a great speaker
a man who speaks the truth. If that is their meaning,
I should agree that I am an orator, though not like
them. For they, as I have told you, have said little or
nothing that is true ; from me you will hear the whole
truth. Not, I assure you, that you will get fine argu-
ments like theirs, men of Athens, decked out in splendid
phrases, no, but plain speech set forth in any words that
come to hand. I believe what I have to say is true, and
I ask that none of you should look for anything else.
Indeed, gentlemen, it would hardly suit my age to come
before you like a boy, with a made-up speech. And yet,
I do ask one thing of you, and I ask it very earnestly :
if you find I speak in my defence just as I have been
accustomed to speak over the bankers' tables in the
market-place, as many of you have heard me, there
and elsewhere; do not be surprised at it, and do not
interrupt. For this is how the matter stands. This is
the first time I have ever been in a lawsuit, and I am
seventy years old, so I am really an entire stranger
to the language of this place. Now, just as you would
have forgiven me, I am sure, had I been actually a

321

322 Plato

foreigner, if I had spoken in the tongue and manner to
18 which I had been born, so I think I have a right to ask
you now to let my way of speaking pass be it good or
bad and to give your minds to this question and this
only, whether what I say is right or not. That is the
virtue of the judge, as truth is the virtue of the orator.

II. Now in making my defence, men of Athens, it will
be well for me to deal first with the first false accusa-
tions and my first accusers, and afterwards with those
that followed. For I have had many accusers who have
come before you now for many years, and have not said
one word of truth, and I fear them more than Anytus
and his supporters, though they are formidable too.
But the others, gentlemen, are still more to be feared,
I mean the men who took most of you in hand when you
were boys, and have gone on persuading you ever since,
and accusing me quite falsely telling you that there
is a man called Socrates, a philosopher, who speculates
about the things in the sky, and has searched into the
secrets of the earth, and makes the worse appear the
better reason. These men, Athenians, the men who
have spread this tale abroad, they are the accusers that
I fear : for the listeners think that those who study such
matters must be atheists as well. Besides, these
accusers of mine are many, and they have been at this
work for many years, and that, too, when you were
at an age at which you would be most ready to believe
them, for you were young, some of you mere striplings,
and judgment has really gone by default, since there was
no one to make the defence. And what is most trouble-
some of all, it is impossible even to find out their names,
unless there be a comedian among them. As for those
who have tried to persuade you through envy and preju-
dice, some, it is true, convincing others because they
were convinced themselves, these are the hardest to
deal with of all. It is not possible to call up any of
them here and cross-examine them : one is compelled, as
it were, to fight with shadows in making one's defence,
and hold an inquiry where there is nobody to reply. So I
would have you understand with me that my accusers
have been, as I say, of two kinds : those who have just

The Apology 323

brought this charge against me, and others of longer
standing, of whom I am speaking now; and I ask you
to realise that I must defend myself against the latter
first of all, for they were the first whom you heard attack
me, and at much greater length than these who followed
them. And now, I presume, I must make my defence, 19
men of Athens, and try in the short time I have before
me to remove from your minds this calumny which has
had so long to grow. I could wish for that result, and
for some success in my defence, if it would be good for
you and me. But I think it a difficult task, and I am not
unaware of its nature. However, let the result be what
God wills ; I must obey the law, and make my defence.

III. Let us begin from the beginning and see what the
accusation is that gave birth to the prejudice on which
Meletus relied when he brought this charge. Now, what
did they say to raise this prejudice? I must treat them
as though they were prosecutors and read their affidavit :
u Socrates, we say, is a trouble to the State. He is
guilty of inquiring into the things beneath the earth, and
the things of the firmament, he makes the worse appear
the better reason, and he teaches others so." That is
the sort of thing they say : you saw it yourselves in
the comedy of Aristophanes, a character called
Socrates carried about in a basket, saying that he walked
on air, and talking a great deal more nonsense about
matters of which I do not understand one word, great or
small. And 1 do not say this in contempt of such know-
ledge, if any one is clever at those things. May Meletus
never bring so grave a charge against me ! But in truth,
gentlemen, I have nothing to do with these subjects. I
call you yourselves, most of you, to witness : I ask
you to instruct and tell each other, those of you who
have ever heard me speak, and many of you have, tell
each other, I say, if any of you have ever heard one
word from me, small or great, upon such themes; and
you will realise from this that the other tales people tell
about me are of the same character.

IV. There is, in fact, no truth in them at all, nor yet
in what you may have heard from others, that I try to
make money by my teaching. Now here again, I think

324 Plato

it would be a great thing if one could teach men as
Gorgias of Leontini can, and Prodicus of Keos, and
Hippias of Elis. They can all go to every one of our
cities, and take hold of the young men, who are able,
as it is, to associate free of charge with any of their
fellow-citizens they may choose, and they can persuade
20 them to leave this society for theirs and pay them
money and be very grateful to them too. Why, there is
another philosopher here from Paros ; he is in town, I
know : for I happened to meet a friend of mine who has
spent more money on sophists than all the rest put
together, Callias the son of Hipponicus. Now I put
a question to him, he has two sons of his own,
"Callias," I said, "if your two sons were only colts or
bullocks we could have hired a trainer for them to make
them beautiful and good, and all that they should be;
and our trainer would have been, I take it, a horseman
or a farmer. But now that they are human beings, have
you any trainer in your mind for them? Is there any
one who understands what a man and a citizen ought to
be? I am sure you have thought of it, because you
have sons of your own. Is there any one," I said, "or
not ? " " Oh yes," said he, " certainly there is. " " Who
is he?" I asked, "and where does he come from and
how much does he charge? " " Euenus," he answered,
"from Paros; five minas a head." And I thought
Euenus the happiest of men if he really has that power
and can teach for such a moderate fee. Now I should
have been set up and given myself great airs if I had
possessed that knowledge ; but I do not possess it,
Athenians.

V. Some of you will say perhaps : " But, Socrates,
what can your calling be? What has given rise to these
calumnies? Surely, if you had done nothing more than
any other man, there would not have been all this talk,
had you never acted differently from other people. You
must tell us what it is, that we may not be left to make
our own theories about you."

That seems to me a fair question, and I will try to
show you myself what it can be that has given me my
name and produced the calumny. Listen to me then.

The Apology 325

Some of you may think I am in jest, but I assure you
I will only tell the truth. The truth is, men of Athens,
that I have won my name because of a kind of wisdom,
nothing more nor less. What can this wisdom be?
The wisdom, perhaps, that is proper to man. It may
really be that I am wise in that wisdom : the men I have
just named may have a wisdom greater than man's, or
else I know not what to call it. Certainly I do not
possess it myself ; whoever says I do lies, and speaks to
calumniate me. And pray, gentlemen, do not interrupt
me : not even if you think I boast. The words that I
say will not be my own; I will refer you to a speaker
whom you must respect. The witness I will bring you
of my wisdom, if such it really is, and of its nature,
is the god whose dwelling is at Delphi. Now you knew
Chairephon, I think. He was my friend from boyhood, 21
and the friend of your democracy ; he went with you into
exile, and came back with you. 1 And you know, I
think, the kind of man Chairephon was how eager in
everything he undertook. Well, he made a pilgrimage
to Delphi, and had the audacity to ask this question from
the oracle : and now I beg you, gentlemen, do not inter-
rupt me in what I am about to say. He actually asked
if there was any man wiser than I. And the priestess
answered, No. I have his brother here to give evidence
of this, for Chairephon himself is dead.

VI. Now see why I tell you this. I am going to
show you how the calumny arose. When I heard the
answer, I asked myself: What can the god mean?
What can he be hinting? For certainly I have never
thought myself wise in anything, great or small. What
can he mean then, when he asserts that I am the wisest
of men? He cannot lie of course : that would be impos-
sible for him. And for a long while I was at a loss to
think what he could mean. At last, after much thought,

1 In 404 B.C. after the submission to Sparta, the democratic
government of Athens was overthrown. A body of thirty oligarchs,
appointed at first provisionally, got practically the whole power
into their hands and acted with great injustice and cruelty. The
leading democrats of those who escaped judicial murder went into
exile, but in a year's time effected a re-entry, partly by force of
arms, and established the democracy again.

Plato

I started on some such course of search as this. I betook
myself to one of the men who seemed wise, thinking that
there, if anywhere, I should refute the utterance, and
could say to the oracle : "This man is wiser than I, and
you said I was the wisest." Now when I looked into
the man there is no need to give his name it was one
of our citizens, men of Athens, with whom I had an
experience of this kind when we talked together I
thought, "This man seems wise to many men, and above
all to himself, but he is not so ; " and then I tried to show
him that he thought he was wise, but he was not. Then
he got angry with me, and so did many who heard us,
but I went away and thought to myself, "Well, at any
rate I am wiser than this man : probably neither of us
knows anything of beauty or of good, but he thinks he
knows something when he knows nothing, and I, if I
know nothing, at least never suppose that I do. So it
looks as though I really were a little wiser than he, just
in so far as I do not imagine myself to know things
about which I know nothing at all." After that I went
to another man who seemed to be wiser still, and I had
exactly the same experience : and then he got angry with
me too, and so did many more.

VII. Thus I went round them all, one after the other,
aware of what was happening and sorry for it, and afraid
that they were getting to hate me : but still I felt I must
put the word of the god first and foremost, and that I
must go through all who seemed to have any knowledge
in order to find out what the oracle meant. And by the
22 Dog, men of Athens, for I must tell you the truth,
this was what I experienced. As I went on with the
quest the god had imposed on me, it seemed to me that
those who had the highest reputation were very nearly
the most deficient of all, and that others who were
thought inferior came nearer being men of understand-
ing. I must show you, you see, that my wanderings
were a kind of labour of Hercules to prove to myself that
the oracle was right. After I had tried the statesmen I
went to the poets, tragedians, writers of lyrics, and
all, thinking that there I should take myself in the act
and find I really was more ignorant than they. So I took

The Apology 327

up the poems of theirs on which they seemed to have
spent most pains, and asked them what they meant,
hoping to learn something from them too. Now I am
really ashamed to tell you the truth ; but tell it I must.
On the whole, almost all the bystanders could have
spoken better about the poems than the men who made
them. So here again I soon perceived that what the
poets make is not made by wisdom, but by a kind of gift
and inspiration, as with the prophets and the seers :
they, too, utter many glorious sayings, but they under-
stand nothing of what they say. The poets seemed to
me in much the same state; and besides, I noticed that
on account of their poetry they thought themselves the
wisest of men in other matters too, which they were not
So I left them also, thinking that I had just the same
advantage over them as over the politicians.

VIII. Finally I turned to the men who work with
their hands. I was conscious I knew nothing that could
be called anything; and I was quite sure I should find
that they knew a great many wonderful things. And
in this I was not disappointed ; they did know things
that I did not, and in this they were wiser than I. But
then, gentlemen, the skilled artisans in their turn seemed
to me to have just the same failing as the poets. Because
of his skill in his own craft every one of them thought
that he was the wisest of men in the highest matters too,
and this error of theirs obscured the wisdom they
possessed. So that I asked myself, on behalf of the
oracle, whether I would rather be as I am, without their
wisdom and without their ignorance, or like them in
both. And I answered for myself and for the oracle that
it was better for me to be as I am.

IX. It was this inquiry, men of Athens, that gave rise

to so much enmity against me, and that of the worst and 23
bitterest kind : a succession of calumnies followed, and
I received the surname of the Wise. For those who
meet me think me wise wherever I refute others; but,
sirs, the truth may be that God alone has wisdom, and
by that oracle he may have meant just this, that human
wisdom is of little or no account. It seems as though
he had not been speaking of Socrates the individual;

328

Plato

but had merely used my name for an illustration, as if
to say : " He, O men, is the wisest of you all, who has
learnt, like Socrates, that his wisdom is worth nothing."
Such has been my search and my inquiry ever since up
to this day, in obedience to the god, whenever I found
any one fellow-citizen or foreigner who might be con-
sidered wise : and if he did not seem so to me I have
borne God witness, and pointed out to him that he was
not wise at all. And through this incessant work I have
had no leisure for any public action worth mentioning,
nor yet for my private affairs, but I live in extreme
poverty because of this service of mine to God.

X. And besides this, the young men who follow me,
those who have most leisure, sons of our wealthiest
citizens, they take a keen delight themselves in hear-
ing people questioned, and they often copy me and try
their hand at examining others on their own account;
and, I imagine, they find no lack of men who think they
know something but know little or nothing at all. Now
those whom they examine get angry not with them-
selves, but with me and say that there is a man called
Socrates, an utter scoundrel, who is ruining the young.
And when any one asks them what he does or what he
teaches, they have really nothing whatever to say, but
so as not to seem at a loss they take up the accusations
that lie ready to hand against all philosophers, and say
that he speaks of the things in the heavens and beneath
the earth and teaches men not to believe in the gods and
to make the worse appear the better reason. The truth,
I imagine, they would not care to say, namely, that they
have been convicted of claiming knowledge when they
have none to claim. And being, as I think they are,
ambitious, energetic, and numerous, well-organised and
using great powers of persuasion, they have gone on
calumniating me with singular persistence and vigour till
your ears are full of it all. After them Meletus attacked
me and Anytus and Lycon, Meletus on behalf of the
24 poets, Anytus for the artisans and the statesmen, Lycon
for the orators, so that, as I said at first, I should be
greatly surprised if in the short time before me I could
remove the prejudice that has grown to be so great.

The Apology 329

There, men of Athens, that is the truth ; I have not
hidden one thing from you, great or small ; I have not
kept back one word. Yet I am fairly sure that I have
roused hostility by so doing, which is in itself a proof
that what 1 say is true, and that the calumnies against
me are of this nature, and the reasons those I have
given. And if you look into the matter, now or after-
wards, you will find it to be so.

XI. Well, that is a sufficient defence in answer to my
first accusers. Now I must try to defend myself against
Meletus, the good man and the patriot, as he calls
himself, and the rest who followed. These are my
second accusers, and let us take up their affidavit in its
turn. It runs somewhat as follows : Meletus asserts
that Socrates is guilty of corrupting the young and not
believing in the gods in whom the city believes, but in
some strange divinities. That is the sort of charge, and
let us take it point by point. He does really say that I
am guilty of corrupting the young. But I answer, men
of Athens, that Meletus is guilty of an unseemly jest,
bringing men to trial on a frivolous charge, pretending
that he cares intensely about matters on which he has
never spent a thought. That this is so I will try to
prove.

XII. Come here, Meletus, and tell me : you really
think it of importance that our young men should be as
good as possible? "I do indeed." Well, will you tell
the court who it is that makes them better? It is plain
that you must know since you have given the matter
thought. You have found, so you say, the man who
corrupts them in me ; you have accused me and brought
me to trial before these judges : go on and point out to
them who it is that makes them better. See, Meletus,
you are silent and have not a word to say : and now, are
you not ashamed? Is not this proof enough of what I
say, that you have never thought of it at all? Yet once
more, my friend, I ask you, who is it makes them better?
"The laws." No, my good fellow, that is not what I
ask : I ask what man makes them better, and he, of
course, must know the laws already. "Well, then,
Socrates, I say these judges are the men." Really,

IIM 457

330 Plato

Meletus, can these men really teach our youth and make
them better? " Most certainly they can." All of them,
do you mean, or only some? " All of them." Splendid !
Splendid ! What a wealth of benefactors ! And what
25 of the audience? Can they do so or not? "Yes, they
can do so too." And what about the Councillors?
"Yes, the Councillors too." Well, Meletus, what of the
Assembly and those who sit there? They do not corrupt
our young men, I suppose? All of them too, you would
say, make them better? "Yes, all of them too." Then
it really seems that all the Athenians except me can
make men good, and that I alone corrupt them. Is that
what you mean? "That is exactly what I mean."
What a dreadful fate to be cursed with ! But answer
me : have you the same opinion in the case of horses ?
Do you think that those who make them better consist
of all mankind, with the exception of one single indi-
vidual who ruins them? Or, on the contrary, that there,
is only one man who can do them good, or very, very
few, the men, namely, who understand them? And that
most people, if they use horses and have to do with
them, ruin them? Is it not so, Meletus, with horses and
all other animals too? Of course it is, whether you and
Anytus admit it or not. It would be well, and more
than well, with our youth if there was only one man to
corrupt them and all the others did them good. How-
ever, Meletus, you show us clearly enough that you have
never considered our young men : you have made it quite
plain that you care nothing about them, that you have
never given a thought to the cause for which you have
brought me here.

XIII. But tell us now, Meletus, I entreat you, is it
better to live in an evil city or a good? Answer us, my
friend : it is not a hard question after all. Do not bad
men do evil to their nearest neighbours and good men
good? "Yes, of course." Weil, is there any man who
would rather be injured than aided by his fellows?
Answer me, my good man. Indeed the law says you
must. Is there any one who wishes to be harmed?
"Certainly not." Well, you accuse me, we know, of
corrupting the youth and making them worse : do you

The Apology 331

suppose that I do it intentionally or unintentionally?
"Intentionally, I have no doubt." Really and truly,
Meletus? Is a man of your years so much wiser than
a man of mine that you can understand that bad men
always do some evil, and good men some good to those
who come nearest to them, while I have sunk to such a
depth of folly that I am ignorant of it and do not know
that if I make one of my fellows wicked I run the risk of
getting harm from him, and I bring about this terrible
state of things intentionally, so you say? I do not
believe you, Meletus, nor can any one else, I think.
Either I do not corrupt them at all, or if I do, it is done
unintentionally, so that in either case you are wrong.
And if I do it unintentionally, it is not legal to bring me
here for such involuntary errors; you ought to have
taken me apart and taught me and reproved me in
private ; for it is evident that when I learn the truth I 26
shall cease to do what I have done in ignorance. But you
shrank from meeting me and teaching me, you did
not choose to do that : you brought me here where those
should be brought who need punishment, not those who
need instruction.

XIV. Well, men of Athens, it has been plain for
some time that Meletus, as I say, has never spent a
thought on these matters, not one, great or small.
Nevertheless, you must tell us, Meletus, how you think
I corrupt the youth. No doubt, as you say in the indict-
ment, by teaching them not to believe in the gods in
whom our city believes but in some new divinities. Is
not that how you say I ruin them? "Certainly, I do
say so, as strongly as I can." Then, in the name of those
gods of whom we speak, explain yourself more clearly
to me and to the court. I have not been able to discover
whether you say I teach belief in divinities of some kind,
in which case I do after all believe in gods, and am not
an utter atheist, and so far I am not guilty; only they
are not the gods in which the city believes, they are
quite different, and that is your charge against me. Or
perhaps you mean to say that I do not believe in gods
of any kind, and that I teach others so. "Yes, that is
what I say; you do not believe in them at all." Meletus,

332 Plato

Meletus, you astound me. What makes you say so?
Then I do not even believe that the sun and the moon are
gods as other men believe? " Most certainly, gentlemen
of the court, most certainly ; for he says the sun is stone
and the moon earth." My dear Meletus, do you imagine
you are attacking Anaxagoras? Or do you think so
little of the jury, do you fancy them so illiterate as not,
to know that the books of Anaxagoras, the philosopher
of Clazomenae, are full of all these theories ? The young
men, we are to suppose, learn them all from me, when
they can buy them in the theatre for tenpence at the most
and laugh at Socrates if he should pretend that they were
his, especially when they are so extraordinary. Now tell
me in heaven's name, is this really what you think?
that I believe in no god at all? " In none at all." I
cannot believe you, Meletus, I cannot think you can
believe yourself. Men of Athens, I think this man an
audacious scoundrel, I consider he has framed this
indictment in a spirit of sheer insolence, aggression,
27 and arrogance. One would think he was speaking in
riddles, to try "whether the wise Socrates will discover
that I am jesting and contradicting myself, or whether
I shall deceive him and all who hear me." For he surely
contradicts himself in his own indictment, almost as if
he said : " Socrates is guilty of not believing in gods but
believing in them." Such words can only be in jest.

XV. Look at the matter with me, gentlemen of the
court, and see how it appears to me. And you must
answer us, Meletus, and you sirs, I ask you, as I asked
you at first, not to interrupt me if I put the questions in
my usual way. Now is there any man, Meletus, who
believes that human things exist, but not human beings?
Let him answer, sirs, but do not allow him only to inter-
rupt. Is there any one who does not believe in horses
but does believe in their trappings? Or who does not
believe in flute-players but does believe in flutes ? There
cannot be, my worthy man ; for if you will not answer,
I must tell you myself and tell the court as well. But
answer this at least : is there any one who believes in
things divine and disbelieves in divinities? "No, there
is not." How kind of you to answer at last, under

The Apology 333

pressure from the court ! Well, you admit that I believe
in things divine, and that I teach others so. They may
be new or they may be old, but at the least, according
to your own admission, I do believe in things that are
divine, and you have sworn to this in your deposition.
And if I believe in things divine I must believe in
divinities as well. Is that not so? Indeed it is; for
since you will not answer I must assume that you assent.
And do we not believe that divinities are gods, or the
sons of gods? You admit this? "Yes, certainly."
Well, now if I believe in divinities, as you grant I do,
and if divinities are gods of some kind, then this is what
I meant when I said you were speaking in riddles and
jesting with us, saying that I do not believe in gods and
yet again that I do, since I believe in divinities. Again
if these divinities are the bastards of the gods, with
nymphs and other women for their mothers, as people
say they are, what man is there who could believe in
sons of gods and not in gods? It would be as absurd
as to believe in the offspring of horses and of asses, and
not believe in horses and asses too. No, Meletus, it can
only be that you were testing me when you drew up that
charge, or else it was because you could find nothing to
accuse me of with any truth. There is no possible way
by which you could persuade any man of the least intelli-
gence to doubt that he who believes in things divine and
godlike must believe in divinities and gods, while he who
disbelieves the one must disbelieve the other. 28

XVI. However, men of Athens, I do not think much
defence is needed to show that I am innocent of the
charge Meletus has made; I think I have now said
enough; but what I told you before, namely, that there
is deep and widespread enmity against me, that, you
must remember, is perfectly true. And this is what will
overthrow me, if I am overthrown, not Meletus nor
yet Anytus, but the prejudices and envy of the majority,
forces that have overthrown many a good man ere now,
and will, I imagine, overthrow many more; there is little
fear that it will end with me. But maybe some of you
will say to me : " And are you not ashamed of a practice
that has brought you to the verge of death? " But I

334

have a good answer to give him. " You are not right,
my friend," so I would say, "if you think that a man of
any worth at all, however slight, ought to reckon up the
chances of life and death, and not consider one thing
and one alone, and that is whether what he does is right
or wrong, a good man's deed or a craven's." Accord-
ing to you, the sons of the gods who died at Troy would
have been foolish creatures, and the son of Thetis above
all, who thought so lightly of danger compared with the
least disgrace, that, when he was resolved to kill Hector
and when his mother, goddess as she was, spoke to him,
to this effect, if I remember right : " My son, if you
avenge the slaughter of your friend Patroclus, and kill
Hector, you will die yourself :

'After the fall of Hector, death is waiting for you ; ' "

those were her words. But he, when he heard, thought
scorn of death and danger : he was far more afraid to
live a coward's life and leave his friend unavenged.
"Come death then!" he answered, "when I have
punished the murderer, that I may not live on here in
shame,

' Here by my longships lying, a burden for earth to bear ! ' n

Do you think that that man cared for death or danger?
Hear the truth, men of Athens ! The post that a man
has taken up because he thought it right himself or
because his captain put him there, that post, I believe,
he ought to hold in face of every danger, caring no whit
for death or any other peril in comparison with disgrace.
XVII. So it would be a strange part for me to have
played, men of Athens, if I had done as I did under the
leaders you chose for me, at Potidaea and Amphipolis
and Delium, standing my ground like any one else where
they had posted me and facing death, and yet, when
God, as I thought and believed, had set me to live the
life of philosophy, making inquiry into myself and into
others, I were to fear death now, or anything else what-
29 ever, and desert my post. It would be very strange ;
and then, in truth, one would have reason to bring me
before the court, because I did not believe in the gods,
since I disobeyed the oracle and was afraid of death,

The Apology 335

and thought I was wise where I was not. For to fear
death, sirs, is simply to think we are wise when we are
not so : it is to think we know what we know not. No
one knows whether death is not the greatest of all goods
that can come to man; and yet men fear it as though
they knew it was the greatest of all ills. And is not this
the folly that should be blamed, the folly of thinking we
know what we do not know? Here, again, sirs, it may
be that I am different from other men, and if I could call
myself wiser than any one in any point, it would be for
this, that as I have no real knowledge about the world
of Death, so I never fancy that I have. But I do know
that it is evil and base to do wrong and disobey the
higher will, be it God's or man's. And so for the sake
of evils, which I know right well are evils, I will never
fear and never fly from things which are, it may be,
good. Therefore, though you should acquit me now and
refuse to listen to Anytus when he says that either I
ought never to have been brought here at all, or else,
now that I have been, it is impossible not to sentence me
to death, assuring you that if I am set at liberty, your
sons will at once put into practice all that I have taught
them, and all become entirely corrupt if, in face of this,
you should say to me, " Socrates, for this once we will
not listen to Anytus ; we will set you free, but on this
condition, that you spend your time no longer in this
search, and follow wisdom no more. If you are found
doing it again you will be put to death." If, I repeat,
you were to set me free on that condition, I would answer
you : Men of Athens, I thank you and I am grateful to
you, but I must obey God rather than you, and, while I
have life and strength, I will never cease to follow
wisdom, and urge you forward, explaining to every man
of you I meet, speaking as I have always spoken, saying,
"See here, my friend, you are an Athenian, a citizen of
the greatest city in the world, the most famous for
wisdom and for power ; and are you not ashamed to care
for money and money-making and fame and reputation,
and not care at all, not make one effort, for truth and
understanding and the welfare of your soul?" And
should he protest, and assert he cares, I will not let

336

Plato

him go at once and send him away free : no ! I will
question him and examine him, and put him to the proof,
and if it seems to me that he has not attained to virtue,
30 and yet asserts he has, I will reproach him for holding
cheapest what is worth most, and dearer what is worth
less. This I will do for old and young, for every man
I meet, foreigner and citizen, but most for my
citizens, since you are nearer to me by blood. It is
God's bidding, you must understand that; and I myself
believe no greater blessing has ever come to you or to
your city than this service of mine to God. 1 have gone
about doing one thing and one thing only, exhorting
all of you, young and old, not to care for your bodies or
for money above or beyond your souls and their welfare,
telling you that virtue does not come from wealth, but
wealth from virtue, even as all other goods, public or
private, that man can need. If it is by these words that
I corrupt our youth, then these words do harm ; but if
any one asserts that I say anything else, there is nothing
in what he says. In face of this I would say, " Men of
Athens, listen to Anytus or not, acquit me or acquit me
not, but remember that I will do nothing else, not if I
were to die a hundred deaths."

XVIII. No ! do not interrupt me, Athenians ; keep the
promise I asked you to give, not to interrupt what I
had to say, but to hear it to the end. I believe it will
do you good. I am about to say something else for
which you might shout me down, only I beg you not to
do so. You must understand that if you put me to death
when I am the kind of man I say I am, you will not
injure me so much as your own selves. Meletus or
Anytus could not injure me ; they have not the power.
I do not believe it is permitted that a good man should
be injured by a bad. He could be put to death, perhaps,
or exiled, or disfranchised, and it may be Meletus thinks,
and others think, that these are terrible evils, but I do
not believe they are. I think it far worse to do what
he is doing now, trying to put a man to death without
a cause. So it comes about, men of Athens, that I am
far from making my defence for my own sake, as might
be thought : I make it for yours, that you may not lose

The Apology 337

God's gift by condemning me. For if you put me to
death you will not easily find another of my like ; one, I
might say, even if it sounds a little absurd, who clings
to the city at God's command, as a gadfly clings to a
horse ; and the horse is tall and thorough-bred, but lazy
from his growth, and he needs to be stirred up. And
God, I think, has set me here as something of the kind,
to stir you up and urge you, and prick each one of you 31
and never cease, sitting close to you all day long. You
will not easily find another man like that; and, sirs, if
you listen to me you will not take my life. But probably
you have been annoyed, as drowsy sleepers are when
suddenly awakened, and you will turn on me and listen
to Anytus, and be glad to put me to death ; and then you
will spend the rest of your life in sleep, unless God, in
his goodness, sends you another man like me. That I
am what I say I am, given by God to the city, you may
realise from this : it is not the way of a mere man to
leave all his own affairs uncared for and all his property
neglected during so many years, and go about your busi-
ness all his life, coming to each individual man, as I
have come, as though I were his father or his elder
brother, and bidding him think of righteousness. If I
had got any profit by this, if I had taken payment for
these words, there would have been some explanation
for what I did ; but you can see for yourselves that
my accusers audacious in everything else have yet
not had the audacity to bring witnesses to assert that I
have ever taken payment from any man, or ever asked
for it. The witness I could bring myself in my own
poverty, would be enough, I think, to prove I speak the
truth.

XIX. It may perhaps seem strange that while I have
gone about in private to give this counsel, and have been
so busy over it, yet I have not found it in my heart to
come forward publicly before your democracy and advise
the State. The reason is one you have heard me give
before, at many times and in many places ; and it is this :
I have a divine and supernatural sign that comes to me.
Meletus referred to it scoffingly in his indictment, but,
in truth, it has been with me from boyhood, a kind of

II *M 457

338

Plato

voice that comes to me ; and, when it comes, rt always
holds me back from what I may intend to do; it never
urges me forward. It is this which has stopped me from
taking part in public affairs ; and it did well, I think, to
stop me. For you may be sure, men of Athens, if I had
attempted to enter public life, I should have perished
long ago, without any good to you or to myself. Do
not be angry with me if I tell you the truth. No man
will ever be safe who stands up boldly against you, or
against any other democracy, and forbids the many sins
32 and crimes that are committed in the State ; the man who
is to fight for justice if he is to keep his life at all
must work in private, not in public.

XX. I will give you a remarkable proof of this, a
proof not in words, but in what you value deeds.
Listen, and I will tell you something that happened to
me, and you may realise from it that I will never consent
to injustice at any man's command for fear of death, but
would die on the spot rather than give way. What I
have to tell you may seem an arrogant tale and a com-
monplace of the courts, but it is true.

You know, men of Athens, that I have never held
any other office in the State, but I did serve on the
Council. And it happened that my tribe, Antiochis,
had the Presidency at the time you decided to try the
ten generals who had not taken up the dead after the
fight at sea. 1 You decided to try them in one body,
contrary to law, as you all felt afterwards. On that
occasion I was the only one of the Presidents who
opposed you, and told you not to break the law ; and
I gave my vote against it; and when the orators were
ready to impeach and arrest me, and you encouraged
them and hooted me, I thought then that I ought to
take all risks on the side of law and justice, rather than

1 This was after the sea-fight of Arginusae, 406 B.C., one of the
last Athenian successes in the Peloponnesian war. In spite of the
success, twenty-five ships were lost. Their crews were not saved,
and it was felt that the generals eight in number must have
been careless in the matter. The popular indignation was extreme ;
the case was tried in the Assembly, and the generals were sen-
tenced to death in a body. This was contrary to recognised law,
as each should have been tried separately.

The Apology 339

side with you, when your decisions were unjust,
through fear of imprisonment or death. That while
the city was still under the democracy. When the
oligarchy came into power, the Thirty, in their turn,
summoned me with four others to the Rotunda, and
commanded us to fetch Leon of Salamis from that
island, in order to put him to death : the sort of com-
mands they often gave to many others, anxious as they
were to incriminate all they could. And on that occa-
sion I showed, not by words only, that for death, to
put it bluntly, I did not care one straw, but I did
care, and to the full, about doing what was wicked and
unjust. I was not terrified then into doing wrong by
that government in all its power : when we left the
Rotunda, the other four went off to Salamis and
brought Leon back, but I went home. And probably
I should have been put to death for it if the government
had not been overthrown soon afterwards. Many people
will confirm me in what I say.

XXI. Do you believe now that I should have lived so
iong as this, if I had taken part in public affairs and
done what I could for justice like an upright man,
putting it, as I was bound to put it, first and foremost?
Far from it, men of Athens. Not I, nor any other man 33
on earth. And all through my life you will find that
this has been my character, in public, if ever I had
any public work to do, and the same in private, never
yielding to any man against right and justice, though
he were one of those whom my calumniators call my
scholars. But I have never been any one's teacher.
Only, if any man, young or old, has ever heard me at
my work and wished to listen, I have never grudged
him my permission; I have not talked with him if he
would pay me, and refused him if he would not ; I am
ready for questions from rich and poor alike, and equally
ready to question them should they care to answer me
and hear what I have to say. And for that, if any one
is the better or any one the worse, I ought not to be
held responsible; I never promised instruction, I never
taught, and if any man says he has ever learnt or
heard one word from me in private other than all the

340 Plato

world could hear, I tell you he does not speak the
truth.

XXII. What then can it be that makes some men
delight in my company? You have heard my answer,
sirs. I told you the whole truth when I said their
delight lay in hearing men examined who thought that
they were wise but were not so ; and certainly it is not
unpleasant. And I, as I believe, have been commanded
to do this by God, speaking in oracles and in dreams,
in every way by which divine grace has ever spoken to
man at all and told him what to do. That, men of
Athens, is the truth, and easy to verify. For if it were
really the case that I corrupt our young men and have
corrupted them, then surely, now that they are older,
if they have come to understand that I ever meant to
do them harm when they were young, some of them
ought to come forward here and now, to accuse and
punish me, or if they did not care to come themselves,
some who are near to them their fathers, or their
brothers, or others of their kin, ought to remember
and punish it now, if it be true that those who are dear
to them have suffered any harm from me. In fact,
there are many of them here at this very moment ; I can
see them for myself ; there is Crito, my contemporary,
who belongs to the same deme as I, the father of Crito-
bulus there ; and here is Lusanias of Sphettos, the father
of ^schines, who is beside him ; and Antiphon of
Kephisia, the father of Epigenes ; and others too whose
brothers have spent their time with me, Nicostratus,
the son of Theozotides, brother of Theodotus. Theo-
dotus is dead; so it cannot be his entreaty that has
stopped his brother. And Paralus is here, the son of
Demodocus, whose brother Theages was; and Adei-
mantus, the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato I see,
and Aiantodorus with his brother Apollodorus too.
And I could tell you of many more ; one of whom at
least Meletus should have called as a witness in his
attack ; or, if he forgot then, let him call one now, and
I will stand aside, and he can speak if he has anything
to say. But, gentlemen, you will find precisely the
reverse; you will find them all prepared to stand by

The Apology 341

me, the man who has done the harm, the man who has
injured their nearest and dearest, as Meletus and
Anytus say. Those, perhaps, who are ruined them-
selves might have some reason for supporting me, but
those who are uncorrupted, men of advancing years,
their relatives, what other reason could they have for
their support except the right and worthy reason that
they know Meletus is lying and I am speaking the
truth?

XXIII. There, gentlemen, that is on the whole what
I had to say in my defence, with something more, per-
haps, to the same effect. Now there may be a man
among you who will feel annoyed if he remembers his
own conduct when undergoing a trial far less serious
than this of mine ; how he prayed and supplicated the
judges with floods of tears, and brought his little chil-
dren into court to rouse as much pity as possible, and
others of his family and many of his friends; but I, it
would appear, will not do anything of the kind, and that
in the face, as it might seem, of the utmost danger.
Such a man, it may be, observing this, will harden
himself against me ; this one fact will enrage him and
he will give his vote in anger. If this is so with any
of you, I do not say it is, but if it is, I think it would
be reasonable for me to say, " I too, my good man,
have kindred of my own, I too was not born, as Homer
says, * from stock or stone/ but from men, so that I
have kinsfolk and sons also, three sons, the eldest of
them is already a stripling, the other two are children.
And yet I do not intend to bring one of them here, or
entreat you to acquit me." And why is it that I will
not do anything of the kind? Not from pride, men of
Athens, nor from disrespect for you : nor is it because
I am at peace about death; it is for the sake of my
honour and yours and the honour of the city. I do not
think it fitting that I should do such things, a man of
my years, and with the name I bear; it may be true
or false, but at any rate it is believed that Socrates is
in some way different from most other men. And if 35
those among you who bear a name for wisdom or
courage or any other virtue were to act like this, it

342 Plato

would be disgraceful. I have seen it often in others,
when they came under trial, men of some repute, but
who behaved in a most extraordinary way, thinking,
apparently, that it would be a fearful thing for them to
die ; as though they would be immortal if you did not
put them to death. Such men, I think, bring disgrace
upon the city, and any stranger might suppose that the
Athenians who bore the highest name for virtue, who
had been chosen out expressly for office and reward,
were no whit better than women. We must not behave
so, men of Athens, those of us who are thought to be
of any worth at all, and you must not allow it, should
we try : you must make it plain, and quite plain, that
you will be more ready to condemn the man who acts
these pitiful scenes before you and makes the city
absurd, than him who holds his peace.

XXIV. Even putting honour aside, gentlemen, it
does not seem to me right to supplicate a judge and
gain acquittal so : we ought rather to instruct him and
convince him. The judge does not sit here to grant
justice as a favour, but to try the case; he has sworn,
not that he will favour those he chooses, but that he
will judge according to the law. So we should not
teach you to break your oath, and you should not let
yourselves be taught. Neither of us would reverence
the gods if we did that. Therefore you must not expect
me, men of Athens, to act towards you in a way which
I do not think seemly or right or reverent more espe-
cially when I am under trial for impiety, and have
Meletus here to face. For plainly, were I to win you
over by my entreaties, and have you do violence to
your oath, plainly I should be teaching you not to
believe in the gods, and my own speech would accuse
me unmistakably of unbelief. But it is far from being
so ; for I believe, men of Athens, as not one of my
accusers believes, and I leave it to you and to God
to decide, my case as may be best for me and you.

The Apology 343

PART II

AFTER THE VERDICT AND BEFORE THE SENTENCE

XXV. There are many reasons, men of Athens, why

I feel no distress at what has now occurred, I mean 36
your condemnation of me. It is not unexpected; on
the contrary, I am surprised at the number of votes on
either side. I did not think it would be so close. I
thought the majority would be great ; but in fact, so
it appears, if only thirty votes had gone otherwise, I
should have been acquitted. Against Meletus, as it is,
I appear to have won, and not only so, but it is clear
to every one that if Anytus and Lycon had not come
forward to accuse me, he would have been fined a
thousand drachmas, for he would not have obtained a
fifth part of the votes.

XXVI. The penalty he fixes for me is, I understand,
death. Very good. And what am I going to fix in
my turn, men of Athens? It must be, must it not, what
I deserve? Well, then, what do I deserve to receive
or pay because I chose not to sit quiet all my life,
and turned aside from what most men care for,
money-making and household affairs, leadership in war
and public speaking, and all the offices and associations
and factions of the State, thinking myself, as a matter
of fact, too upright to be safe if I went into that life?
So I held aloof from it all ; I should have been of no use
there to you or to myself, but I set about going in
private to each individual man and doing him the great-
est of all services as I assert trying to persuade
every one of you not to think of what he had but rather
of what he was, and how he might grow wise and good,
nor consider what the city had, but what the city was,
and so with everything else in the world. What, then,
do I deserve for this? A reward, men of Athens, if I
am really to consider my deserts, and a reward, more-
over, that would suit me. And what reward would suit
a poor man who has been a public benefactor, and who
is bound to refrain from work because of his services
in exhorting you? There could be nothing so suitable,

344

men of Athens, as a place at the table in the Presidents'
Hall ; far more suitable than if any of you had won a
horse-race at Olympia or a chariot race. The Olympian
victor brings you fancied happiness, but I bring you
real : he does not need maintenance, but I do. If I am
to fix what I deserve in all fairness, then this is what
37 I fix : a place at the table in the Presidents 1 Hall.

XXVII. Perhaps when I say this you will feel that I
am speaking much as I spoke about entreaties for pity,
that is to say, in a spirit of pride; but it is not so,
Athenians. This is how it is : I am convinced that I
have never done wrong to any man intentionally, but I
cannot convince you; we have only had a little time to
talk together. Had it been the custom with you, as with
other nations, to spend not one day but many on a trial
for life and death, I believe you would have been con-
vinced ; but, as matters are, it is not easy to remove a
great prejudice in a little time.

Well, with this conviction of mine that I have never
wronged any man, I am far from meaning to wrong
myself by saying that I deserve any harm, or assigning
myself anything whatever of the kind. What should
I be afraid of? Of suffering what Meletus has assigned,
when I say that I do not know, after all, whether it is
not good? And to escape it I am to choose what I
know quite well is bad? And what punishment should
I fix? Imprisonment? Why should I live in prison,
slave to the Eleven l of the day ? Or should I say a
fine, with imprisonment until I pay it? But then there
is just the difficulty I mentioned a moment ago : I have
no money to pay a fine. Or am I to say exile? You
might, I know, choose that for my punishment. My
love of life would indeed be great if I were so blind as
not to see that you, my own fellow-citizens, have not
been able to endure my ways and words, you have found
them too trying and too heavy to bear, so that you want
to get rid of them now. And if that is so, will strangers
put up with them? Far from it, men of Athens. And

1 The Eleven formed a board consisting of a secretary and ten
members appointed by lot every year. They had charge of the
prisons and superintended executions.

The Apology 345

it would be a grand life for a man of my years to go into
exile and wander about from one city to another. For
well I know that wherever I went the young men would
listen to my talk as they listen here ; and if I drove them
away, they would drive me out themselves and persuade
their elders to side with them, and if I let them come,
their fathers and kindred would banish me on their
account.

XXVIII. Perhaps some one will say: "But,
Socrates, cannot you leave us and live in peace and
quietness?" Now that is just what it is hardest to
make you, some of you, believe. If I were to say that
this would be to disobey God, and therefore I cannot
hold my peace, you would not believe me; you would
say I was using my irony. And if I say again that it is 38
in fact the greatest of all goods for a man to talk about
virtue every day, and the other matters on which you
have heard me speaking and making inquiry into
myself and others : if I say that the life without inquiry
is no life for man you would believe that even less.
Yet it is so, even as I tell you only it is not easy to
get it believed. Moreover, I am not accustomed to
think myself deserving of punishment. However, if 1 had
had any money I should have fixed a price that I could
pay, for that would not have harmed me at all; but as
it is, since I have no money unless perhaps you would
consent to fix only so much as I could afford to pay?
Perhaps I might be able to pay one mina silver; and
I will fix the fine at that. But Plato here, gentlemen,
and Crito, and Critobulus, and Apollodorus, beg me to
say thirty minas, and they tell me they will guarantee
it. So I will fix it at this sum, and these men, on whom
you can rely, will be sureties for the amount.

PART III

AFTER THE SENTENCE OF DEATH

XXIX. You have hastened matters a little, men of
Athens, but for that little gain you will be called the

Plato

murderers of Socrates the Wise by all who want to
find fault with the city. For those who wish to
reproach you will insist that I am wise, though I may
not be so. Had you but waited a little longer, you
would have found this happen of itself : for you can see
how old I am, far on in life, with death at hand. In this
I am not speaking to all of you, but only to those who
have sentenced me to death. And to them I will say
one thing more. It may be, gentlemen, that you
imagine I have been convicted for lack of arguments
by which I could have convinced you, had I thought it
right to say and do anything in order to escape punish-
ment. Far from it. No; convicted I have been, for
lack of not arguments, but audacity and impudence,
and readiness to say what would have been a delight for
you to hear, lamenting and bewailing my position, say-
ing and doing all kinds of things unworthy of myself,
as I consider, but such as you have grown accustomed
to hear from others, I did not think it right then to
behave through fear unlike a free-born man, and I do
not repent now of my defence ; I would far rather die
after that defence than live upon your terms. As in
war, so in a court of justice, not I nor any man should
39 scheme to escape death by any and every means. Many
a time in battle it is plain the soldier could avoid death
if he flung away his arms and turned to supplicate his
pursuers, and there are many such devices in every
hour of danger for escaping death, if we are prepared
to say and do anything whatever. But, sirs, it may be
that the difficulty is not to flee from death, but from
guilt. Guilt is swifter than death. And so it is that I,
who am slow and old, have been caught by the slower-
paced, and my accusers, who are clever and quick, by
the quick-footed, by wickedness. And now I am to go
away, under sentence of death from you : but on them
truth has passed sentence of unrighteousness and in-
justice. I abide by the decision, and so must they.
Perhaps indeed, it had to be just so : and I think it is
very well.

XXX. And now that that is over I desire to pro-
phesy to you, you who have condemned me. For now

The Apology 347

I have come to the time when men can prophesy when
they are to die. I say to you, you who have killed me,
punishment will fall on you immediately after my death,
far heavier for you to bear I call God to witness !
than your punishment of me. For you have done this
thinking to escape the need of giving any account ol
your lives : but exactly the contrary will come to pass,
and so I tell you. Those who will call you to account
will be more numerous, I have kept them back till
now, and you have not noticed them, and they will be
the harder to bear inasmuch as they are younger, and
you will be troubled all the more. For if you think that
by putting men to death you can stop every one from
blaming you for living as you should not live, I tell
you you are mistaken; that way of escape is neither
feasible nor noble ; the noblest way, and the easiest, is
not to maim others, but to fit ourselves for righteous-
ness. That is the prophecy I give to you who have
condemned me, and so I leave you.

XXXI. But with those who have acquitted me I
should be glad to talk about this matter, until the
Archons are at leisure and I go to the place where I am
to die. So I will ask you, gentlemen, to stay with me
for the time. There is no reason why we should not
talk together while we can, and tell each other our
dreams. I would like to show you, as my friends, what 4
can be the meaning of this that has befallen me. A
wonderful thing, my judges, for I may call you
judges, and not call you amiss, a wonderful thing has
happened to me. The warning that comes to me, my
spiritual sign, has always in all my former life been
most incessant, and has opposed me in most trifling
matters, whenever I was about to act amiss ; and now
there has befallen me, as you see yourselves, what
might really be thought, as it is thought, the greatest
of all evils. And yet, when I left my home in the morn-
ing, the signal from God was not against me, nor when
I came up here into the court, nor in my speech, what-
ever I was about to say; and yet at other times it has
often stopped me in the very middle of what I was say-
ing; but never once in this matter has it opposed me in

348

Plato

any word or deed. What do I suppose to be the
reason? I will tell you. This that has befallen me is
surely good, and it cannot possibly be that we are right
in our opinion, those of us who hold that death is an
evil. A great proof of this has come to me : it cannot
but be that the well-known signal would have stopped
me, unless what I was going to meet was good.

XXXII. Let us look at it in this way too, and we

shall find much hope that it is so. Death must be one of

two things : either it is to have no consciousness at all

of anything whatever, or else, as some say, it is a kind

of change and migration of the soul from this world to

another. Now if there is no consciousness at all, and

it is like sleep when the sleeper does not dream, I say

there would be a wonderful gain in death. For I am

sure if any man were to take that night in which he

slept so deeply that he saw no dreams, and put beside

it all the other nights and days of his whole life, and

compare them, and say how many of them all were

better spent or happier than that one night, I am sure

that not the ordinary man alone, but the King of Persia

himself, would find them few to count. If death is of

this nature I would consider it a gain ; for the whole of

time would seem no longer than one single night. But

if it is a journey to another land, if what some say is

true and all the dead are really there, if this is so, my

judges, what greater good could there be? If a man

were to go to the House of Death, and leave all these

41 self-styled judges to find the true judges there, who, so

it is said, give justice in that world, Minos and Rhada-

manthus, ^Eacus and Triptolemus, and all the sons of

the gods who have done justly in this life, would that

journey be ill to take? Or to meet Orpheus and

Musaeus, Hesiod and Homer, what would you give for

that, any of you? I would give a hundred deaths if it

is true. And for me especially it would be a wonderful

life there, if I met Palamedes, and Ajax, the son of

Telamon, or any of the men of old who died by an

unjust decree : to compare my experience with theirs

would be full of pleasure, surely. And best of all, to

go on still with the men of that world as with the men

The Apology 349

of this, inquiring and questioning and learning who is
wise among them, and who may think he is, but is not.
How much would one give, my judges, to question the
hero who led the host at Troy, or Odysseus, or Sisy-
phus, or any of the countless men and women I could
name? To talk with them there, and live with them,
and question them, would be happiness unspeakable.
Certainly there they will not put one to death for that;
they are far happier in all things than we of this world,
and they are immortal for evermore, if what some say
is true.

XXXIII. And you too, my judges, must think of
death with hope, and remember this at least is true,
that no evil can come to a good man in life or death,
and that he is not forgotten of God; what has come to
me now has not come by chance, but it is clear to me
that it was better for me to die and be quit of trouble.
That is why the signal never came to turn me back, and
I cannot say that I am altogether angry with my
accusers and those who have condemned me. Yet it
was not with that intention that they condemned and
accused me; they meant to do me harm, and they are to
be blamed for that. This much, however, I will ask
of them. When my sons come of age, sirs, will you
reprove them and trouble them as I troubled you, if
you think they care for money or anything else more
than righteousness ? And if they seem to be something
when they are really nothing, reproach them as I
reproached you for not seeking what they need, and for
thinking they are somewhat when they are worth
nothing. And if you do this, we shall have received 43
justice at your hands, my sons and I.

But now it is time for us to go, I to death, and you
to life; and which of us goes to the better state is
known to none but God.

CRITO

Characters in the Dialogue
SOCRATES CRITO

43 I. Soc. How is it you have come at this hour, Crito?
Is it not quite early still ?

Cr. Very early indeed.

Soc. About what time is it?

Cr. Not daybreak yet.

Soc. I wonder the jailer was ready to let you in.

Cr. Oh, he is quite a friend of mine now, Socrates,
since I have come here so often, and besides 1 have been
able to do him a kindness.

Soc. Have you just come or have you been here some
while?

Cr. Some little while.

Soc. Then why did you not wake me up at once,
instead of sitting beside me so quietly?

Cr. Oh, Socrates, if I were you I should not care
to be awake in such a time of trial. And I have been
wondering at you all this while when I saw how peace-
fully you slept; I did not wake you on purpose so that
you might be at peace as long as possible. Often and
often in your past life I have thought how happy your
nature was, but more than ever now this has come upon
you, when I see how easily and patiently you bear it.

Soc. Well, Crito, it would be much too foolish for
a man of my years to complain if his time has come to
die.

Cr. But others, Socrates, men as old as you, have
had to face what you have, and their age has not stopped
them from complaining of their fate.

Soc. No doubt. But please tell me now why you have
come so early.

Cr. To bring you news, Socrates, bad news, not bad
for you, I believe, but for me and all your friends,

350

Crito 351

bad and hard to bear; for me, I think, the hardest of
all.

Soc. And what is it ? Is it the return oi" the ship from
Delos, the signal for my death?

Cr. It has not actually returned, but I think it will
be here to-day, from the news some travellers bring, who
came on from Sunium and left it there. From what they
say it is clear that it will be in to-day, and to-morrow,
Socrates, you must lay down your life.

II. Soc. Yes, Crito, and we may hope it will be for
the best. If it is God's will, be it so. Still I fancy the
ship will not come in to-day.

Cr. What makes you believe that?

Soc. I will tell you. The day after it comes, you 44
know, I have to die.

Cr. Yes. So the authorities say.

Soc. Well, I do not think it will come this very day,
but to-morrow. And I believe so because of a dream
which came to me a littk while ago, in the night that
has just passed, and perhaps you did well not to wake
me.

Cr. And what can this dream have been?

Soc. I thought a woman came to me, tall and fair and
clothed in white, and she called me and said,
"Socrates, Socrates,

1 In three days' time you will come to the fertile land of Phthia.' **

Cr. What a strange dream, Socrates !
Soc. But quite plain, I think, Crito.

III. Cr. Only too plain for me. But listen to me, my
dear friend, even now, and let yourself be rescued after
all. Think of me : if you die, it will mean more sorrows
than one for me ; the loss of a comrade whose like I shall
never find again ; and a great many people, who do not
know either of us very well, will believe that I could have
saved you had I chosen to spend my money, but that I
did not care. And what could be worse than to have it
tfoought that I put my money above my friend? Most
people will never believe that we did all we could, and
that you yourself refused to come away.

Soc. But, iny dear good Crito, why should we care so

352 Plato

much for what most people think? The best people, the
people we ought to think of first, they will know that
things have happened as they have,

Cr. But you must surely see, Socrates, that it is abso-
lutely necessary to take some account of the opinion of
the majority. What has happened now is a proof in
itself that they have it in their power to do, I may say,
the greatest possible harm, if they take a prejudice
against a man.

Soc. I only wish, Crito, they had the power of doing
the greatest harm, and then they might have the power
of doing the greatest good ; that would be very well ; but,
as it is, they have neither the one power nor the other;
they cannot make a man wise or witless, they have no
power but what chance has given them.

IV. Cr. Well, it may be as you say ; but answer me
this, my friend. Are you not really thinking about me
and your other friends, for fear that, if you get away,
the informers will attack us and say that we carried you
off, and we shall lose all our property, or at any rate
considerable sums, and possibly undergo further punish-
45 ment? Now if you fear anything of the kind, do not
think about it any more : we have a right to risk this
much, and more than this, if need be, for the sake of
delivering you. So do listen to me, and do not say No.
Soc. Ah, but I do think about it, Crito, and about
many other things as well.

Cr. Oh, but do not be afraid of it any more ! Why,
it would not even take much money to make certain
people get you safe out of the country. And can you
not see how cheap these informers are, and how little
money would be needed for them ? You can have all my
property, and it would, I am sure, be enough ; or if your
concern for me will not allow you to spend my money,
there are your friends from other cities staying here who
are ready to pay : Simmias of Thebes has actually
brought enough money with him for the very purpose,
and Kebcs is ready, too, and a great many others as
well. So, as I have been saying, you must not give up
the attempt to save yourself for fear of this. And do not
let the feeling you spoke of in court trouble you that if

Crito 353

you left Athens you would not know what to do with
yourself. There are plenty of other places for you to
go where they would love you. If you chose Thessaly,
I have friends there who would value you and keep you
safe. No one in Thessaly could touch you.

V. And further, Socrates, I really think you are
doing wrong in sacrificing yourself deliberately, when
you could be saved. You seek for yourself what your
enemies would have sought what they did seek when
they tried to destroy you. And besides, it seems to me
that you are deserting your own sons ; you could bring
them up and teach them and train them, but you
iisist on going away and leaving them alone, and so
far as you are concerned you are leaving their fate to
chance, and that fate will be in all probability the fate
of most orphans who are left desolate. Either we
ought not to bring children into the world at all, or we
should bring them up and teach them and go through
their troubles with them ; but you seem to me just to
have chosen the easiest course. And yet yours should
be the choice of a good man and a brave, especially
after professing to care for virtue all your life. It
comes to this, that I am actually ashamed for you and
all of us, your friends ; it will seem that everything that
has happened has been due to what is really cowardice
on our part, from the first opening of the case in the
law-courts, when it need never have been opened at
all, and then the whole course of the trial, and now
this, the climax and end of everything, seems like a
mockery of it all, slipping through our hands because
of our own weakness and cowardice, we who did not
save you, and you, who would not save yourself, when 46
it was perfectly possible, if we had been of any use.
I would have you think, Socrates, if this will not bring
disgrace as well as disaster upon yourself and us. Take
counsel, or rather be counselled; the time for taking
counsel has passed, and there is only one counsel to
give : this very night everything ought to be done and
over. If we delay any more, it will no longer be
possible. Listen to me, Socrates, I entreat you, and do
not say No.

354 Plato

VI. Soc. My dear Crito, I must thank you for your
eagerness, if your cause is righteous; but if not, the
greater your zeal, the greater the harm that it may
cause. So we must look carefully and think whether
we ought to do this or not. All my life, not now only,
I have been a man who can obey no friend but reason,
the reason that seems best to me after I have thought
the matter out. And the reasons I used before I cannot
give up now, because this has befallen me; they seem
much the same to me still ; I honour and revere what
I honoured and reverenced before; and if we have
nothing better to bring forward now, you may be sure
I shall never give you my consent, no, not if the power
of the majority were to scare us, like children, with
worse bogies than they have shown us already, chains
and death, and loss of property. Now what would be the
best way of examining the question? Perhaps if we
take up first the argument you brought forward about
what people think, and ask whether it was right or not
to say, as I always did, that we ought to attend to some
opinions, and not to others ; or that it was well enough
to say so before I had to die, but now it has become
perfectly plain that it was only said for the sake of talk,
and that speaking seriously it was nothing but childish
nonsense. I want very much to examine this argument
with you, dear Crito, and see whether it looks at all
different to me now that I am in this position, or just
the same, and whether we are to give it up or obey it.
It was repeatedly said, I think, by those who thought
they had something to say, just as I said a little while
ago, that of all the opinions men hold, some ought to
be valued highly and some ought not. Now tell me,
Crito, do you not think that that was right? You, you
see, are, humanly speaking, in no danger of dying to-
47 morrow, and there is no impending fate to lead you
astray. Ask yourself then and answer : do you not
take it to be established that we ought not to value all
the opinions of men but only some ? What do you say ?
Is that not right?

Cr. Yes, quite right.

Soc. We ought to value the good and not the bad?

Crito 355

Cr. Yes.

Soc. The opinions of sensible men are good, and the
opinions of foolish men are bad?
Cr. Of course.

VII. Soc. Well now, what used we to say about
cases of this kind? If a man is learning gymnastics,
does he pay attention to every one's approval and dis-
approval and every one's opinion, or to one man and
one man alone, his doctor or his trainer?

Cr. To one man, and one man alone.

Soc. Then he ought to dread the blame and rejoice in
the praise of that one man, and not care about the
majority?

Cr. Certainly he ought.

Soc. So he ought to act and perform his exercises,
and eat and drink just as is thought right by the one
man who can teach him and who knows, rather than as
all the others think?

Cr. Yes, that is so.

Soc. Very good. And if he disobeys the one and
disregards his opinion and his approval, while he values
the advice of the majority, who know nothing at all
about it, if he does this, will he be free from harm?

Cr. How could he be?

Soc. And what will this harm be? Where will it
end? How will it injure the man who disobeys?

Cr. It will injure his body of course : it means the
ruin of that.

Soc. Quite right. And is it not the same with every-
thing else too, Crito, not to go into details, above all
with justice and injustice, ugliness and beauty, good
and evil, with which we are now concerned? Ought
we to follow the voice of the many, and fear it, or the
voice of the one, if there is one who knows, one whom
we ought to reverence and fear more than all the rest?
For if we will not follow him, we shall ruin and mairn
that part which is strengthened in the just man and
perishes in the unjust. Or is there nothing of the kind?

Cr. Ah, but I believe there is, Socrates.

VIII. Soc. Well, if we destroy what is strengthened
by wholesome treatment and ruined by unwholesome,

356

Plato

when we will not listen to the words of those who under-
stand, can we live any longer when this thing is
destroyed? What I am speaking of is the body, is it
not?

Cr. Yes.

Soc. Is it possible, I ask, for us to live when the body
is ruined and destroyed?

Cr. No, quite impossible.

Soc. And could we live with that in us destroyed

which is maimed by wickedness and strengthened by

righteousness? Or are we to think more meanly of it

48 than of the body, that thing in us, whatever it is, which

has to do with right and wrong ?

Cr. Surely not.

Soc. Shall we think more highly of it?

Cr. Far more highly.

Soc. Then, dear friend, if that is so, we have not,
after all, to think so much of what the many will say
about us ; but rather of what he will say who knows
what is right and what is wrong, he, and the truth
itself. So that you are wrong in the first place, in
suggesting that we ought to consider the opinion of the
majority about justice and beauty and goodness. But
then, you see, it might be said the majority can put us
to death.

Cr. Yes, certainly, Socrates, it might very well be
said.

Soc. It might indeed. But, my dear friend, this
argument that we have gone over looks to me just as
it did before. And now turn to this other one and see
if it still holds true for us or not : I mean the doctrine
that it is not mere life, but the good life, that we ought
to value most.

Cr. Yes, it still holds true.

Soc. And that the good life is the same as the life of
beauty and the life of righteousness, does that hold true
or does it not?

Cr. It does.

IX. Soc. Well, it follows from our admissions that
what we have to consider is whether it is right or not for
me to try to get away when Athens has not set me free ;

Crito

357

and if it seems right, let us make the attempt, and if
not, let us leave it alone. As for those considerations
you spoke of, about expense and reputation and the
education of my sons, perhaps, Crito, they should really
be left to those who would put others to death without
hesitation and bring them to life again,- if they could,
without a thought ; and these are our majority. But
for us, I think, since the argument will have it so, the
only question is the one we spoke of just now, whether
it would be right in us to pay money and grant favours
to these men who are to take me away, right in you
to take me, and right in me to let myself be taken, or
whether we should do wrong if we did anything of the
kind : and if it seems wrong, then we ought not,
ought we? to take into account whether we must die
if we stay quietly here, or suffer anything else whatever
rather than do wrong.

Cr. I must say that sounds right, Socrates. But
think what we are to do.

Soc. Let us think about it together, my friend, and
if you have anything to say in answer to me, say it ; and
I will listen to you. But if not, then, dear good Crito,
you must once for all give up telling me the same thing
over and over again, how I ought to come away from
here against the will of Athens. I would give a great
deal to have you on my side, and not to go against your
wish. So will you examine the first step in the inquiry,
to see if you consider it established, and then try 1049
answer what I ask you, as you may think best.

Cr. Well, I will try.

X. Soc. Do we hold that we ought never in any way
to do wrong willingly, or that we may do wrong in one
way though not in another? Or that under no circum-
stances can wrong-doing be good and beautiful, as we
concluded over and over again in former times? Can
it be that all those conclusions have been given up and
tossed aside in these few days? And that you and I,
Crito, old men as we are, have been talking earnestly
together all this while and never noticed that we were
no better than children? Or is it most assuredly the
case, even as we used to say in the old days, that

358

Plato

whether the many agree or not, and whether our fate
is to be heavier than it is or lighter, whatever happens,
none the less, in any and every way wrong-doing is
evil and shameful to the doer? Do we agree or not?

Cr. We do.

See. Then we ought never to do wrong?

Cr. No, we ought not.

Soc. Not even in return for being wronged ourselves,
as most people believe for we ought not to do wrong
at all.

Cr. It appears not.

Soc. And now, tell me, Crito, ought we to do harm
or not?

Cr. Certainly not, my friend.

Soc. Even to return harm for harm, can that be just,
as most people say it is, or not?

Cr. No, it is not just at all.

Soc. Yes, I feel that to do harm to people cannot be
different from doing wrong.

Cr. That is true.

Soc. Well then, we ought never to return evil for
evil and never do harm to any man at all, whatever we
may suffer at his hands. And, Crito, you must be
careful in agreeing to this, not to say that you agree
unless you really do. For I know that there are only
a few men who hold this belief, or ever will hold it.
And there can be no common ground between those who
do and those who do not : each side must despise the
other when they see what they believe. Therefore look,
and look carefully, to see if you stand on the same
ground as I, and hold the same opinion, and then we
may begin our inquiry with this belief that it can never
be a good thing to do wrong, not even in revenge, nor
to return evil for evil in self-defence. Or will you stand
aloof and refuse to start from this? For my part, I
have held this belief for many years, and I hold it still,
but if you have come to think otherwise, tell me and
teach me. Only, if you hold to our old views, you must
listen to what follows.

Cr. But I do hold to them, and I agree with you.
Say on.

Crito 359

Soc. I say then or rather I ask are we to do what
we have admitted to be right, or are we to play false?

Cr. We are to do what is right.

XL Soc. Bear that in mind now, and see what you
think of this. If we go without the State's consent, 50
shall we or shall we not do harm, and that to the last
people who should be harmed? And shall we hold to
what we have admitted to be right, or shall we not?

Cr. I cannot answer your question, Socrates, for I
do not understand it.

Soc. Then let me put it like this. Suppose we meant
to run away or whatever one ought to call it and
suppose the laws and the State were to come and stand
over us and ask me, "Tell us, Socrates, what is it you
mean to do? Nothing more nor less than to overthrow
us, by this attempt of yours, to overthrow the laws
and the whole commonwealth so far as in you lies. Do
you imagine that a city can stand and not be over-
thrown, when the decisions of the judges have no
power, when they are made of no effect and destroyed
by private persons? " What are we to answer, Crito,
to such words as these? Much could be said, espe-
cially by an orator, in defence of this dying law, the law
that the judges' decision must be final. Are we to
answer, " Oh, but the State has wronged us, and the
decision it gave was unjust " ? Shall we say this, or
what shall we say?

Cr. Why, of course we shall say this.

XII. Soc. And what if the laws reply: "Was not
this the agreement between us and you, that you swore
to abide by the decisions the city gave " ? And if we
show surprise at what they say, they might go on :
"Do not be surprised at this, Socrates, but answer us.
You are fond, we know, of question and answer. Tell
us, what have you against us or against the city that
you try to destroy us? Have we not given you life?
Is it not through us that your father took your mother
to wife and begat you? Tell us, tell those of us who
are the marriage-laws, have you any fault to find with
us?" "No," I would say, "none." "Then perhaps
you find fault with the laws for the bringing-up of chil-

Plato

dren and their education, the education that was given
to you? Did we not do right, then, we who have been
set over this, when we bade your father bring you up
to exercise your body and cultivate your mind?"
"Yes," I would answer, "quite right." "Good," they
would reply, "and now that you have been born and
brought up and educated, can you say that you are not
ours, our child and our servant, you and your
descendants? And if this is so, do you think your
rights can equal ours ? That you have a right to do to
us whatever we mean to do to you? Against your
father you would grant you had no equality of rights,
and none against your master, if you happened to
have a master, to let you do to him whatever he did
51 to you, return blame for blame, and blows for blows,
and harm for harm ; and are you to be allowed such
rights against your fatherland and its laws? If we
mean to kill you because we think it just, must you do
your best to kill us in your turn? Can you claim that
you have a right to this, you, the lover of virtue? Is
this your wisdom, not to know that above father and
mother and forefathers stands our country, dearer and
holier than they, more sacred, and held in more honour
by God and men of understanding? That you ought
to reverence her, and submit to her and work for her
when she is in need, for your country more than for
your father, and either win her consent or obey her
will, suffer what she bids you suffer, and hold your
peace; be it imprisonment or blows, or wounds in war
or death, it must be borne, and it is right it should
be borne ; there must be no yielding, no running away,
no deserting of one's post : in war and in the law-courts
and everywhere we must do what our city bids us do
and our country, or else convince her where justice lies.
For it is not lawful to use force against father or
mother, and still less against our fatherland." What
shall we say to this, Crito? That the laws speak the
truth or not?

Cr. I believe they do.

XIII. Soc. "Then see, Socrates," they might go on,
"if what we say is true, you have no right to do to us

Crito 361

what you are thinking of doing. We begat you, we
brought you up, we taught you, we gave you and all
your fellow-citizens of our fairest and our best, and still
we offer full liberty to any Athenian who likes, after
he has seen and tested us and all that is done in our
city, to take his goods and leave us, if we do not please
him, and go wherever he would. None of us stand in
his way, none of us forbid him, should he wish to part
from us and go elsewhere to live, if we and our city do
not satisfy him ; he may go where he likes, taking his
goods with him. Only if he stays with us after seeing
how we judge our cases and how we rule our city, then
we hold that he has pledged himself by his action to do
our bidding. And if he will not, we say that he is
thrice guilty, because we are his parents and he dis-
obeys us, and because we are his guardians, and
because after promising obedience he neither obeys us
nor persuades us to obey him, supposing us to have
done anything amiss. Yet we are no tyrants, we only 52
suggest that he should do as we bid him, but when we
^ffer him the choice of persuading us or obeying us, he
does neither the one thing nor the other.

XIV. " It is of this charge, Socrates, this and of no
other, that we say you will be guilty, if you do what
you have in mind, and guilty in the last degree, you, of
all Athenians." And if I were to answer: "But why,
pray?" they might well retort on me that I of all
Athenians had given the pledge of which we spoke.
" Socrates," they would say, "we find abundance of
proof that you have been satisfied with us and with our
city. You would never have spent, as you have spent,
more time in it than any other Athenian if it had not
pleased you more ; you never left it to go on pilgrimage,
or for any other journey whatsoever, unless it were to
serve in war; you never once stayed in any other
country as other men have done ; you never had a wish
to see another city or other laws ; we and our city were
enough for you. So decided was your choice of us, and
your pledge to accept our government; yes, and you
begat children here, to show that the city pleased you
well. Moreover, during your own trial you could have

TT %T ACT

II N 457

362

Plato

fixed your punishment at exile, if you had wished, and
have done with the city's consent what you are prepared
to do now against her will. Yes, you took high ground
then, professing that you would not complain if you
had to die, that you preferred, so you said, death to
exile. And now you have no respect for your own
words, you have no consideration for us, your country's
laws, ready as you are to overthrow us ; you act as the
worst of slaves might act, preparing to run away,
breaking the contract the pledge you gave to accept
our government. This is the first question you must
answer : are we, or are we not, right in what we say
when we assert that you agreed to accept our govern-
ment in deed and in truth ? " What are we to say to
this, dear Crito, what but that we agree?

Cr. Yes, Socrates, we must.

Soc. "What is it you are doing," they might go on,
"but breaking your covenant with us and your pledge?
You gave it under no compulsion, you were not misled,
nor forced to decide in haste ; you had seventy years
during which you might have gone away if you had not
been pleased with us, or had not thought the agreement
fair. Yet you did not choose Lacedaemon in preference,
nor Crete though you always say that both of them
are governed by good laws nor any other city, bar-
53 barian or Greek; you left ours more seldom than the
lame can leave it, or the blind and maimed : so far
beyond your fellow-citizens did you love Athens, and us
with her, her laws, you must have loved. For who
could love a city without laws? And now, surely, you
will not break your pledge? No, not if you listen to
us, Socrates, nor will you make yourself a laughing-
stock by banishing yourself.

XV. " For see, if you transgress like this, what good
will you get from it for yourself or for your friends?
That your friends as well as you will run the risk of
exile and banishment and loss of property, is fairly
plain. And for yourself, say you go to one of the cities
near, to Thebes or Megara, both governed by good
laws, your coming, Socrates, will be a danger to their
government, and those who love them will suspect you

Crito 363

of undermining all their laws, and so you will confirm
the opinion of your judges, and they will be sure that
their decision was just. For he who overthrows the
laws will most assuredly be thought to ruin the young
and foolish. Must you then avoid all well-governed
cities and all civilised men? And if you do, will it be
worth your while to live? Or will you go to them and
have the audacity to talk with them and say what will
you say, Socrates? what you used to say here? That
goodness and righteousness are worth all things to men,
and lawfulness and law? Do you not think the conduct
of Socrates would have an ugly look? You are bound
to think so. But suppose you go right away and up to
Thessaly and stay with Crito's friends. There is
plenty of lawlessness and licence there, and very likely
they would enjoy hearing you tell how neatly you got
away from prison, in disguise, wrapped up in some
queer dress, a peasant's leather coat, or something
else of the kind that fugitives always have to wear.
But that you, an old man, with but a short while in all
probability to live, had sunk to such a craving for life
as to transgress the highest laws will there be no one
to tell you that? Perhaps not, if you are careful never
to give offence, but if you do, you will have to listen
to much that will be your shame. So you are to live by
cringing and truckling to every man for what? For
the good cheer of Thessaly? As though you had gone
there for the dinners ? And all those talks about justice
and righteousness, where are we to find them ? Ah, but 54
you must live, you say, for your children's sake, to
bring them up and educate them ! What ? You will
take them away to Thessaly and have them brought up
and educated there, to make them foreigners and give
them the benefit of that? Or no, they are to have
their education here, but they will be brought up better
and taught better if you live, although you will not be
with them, because your friends will take care of them.
So your friends will care for them if you go to Thessaly,
but not if you go to Death? Yet you would expect
them to care if they are of any use, those who call
themselves your friends.

364

Plato

XVI. "No, Socrates, listen to us, to us who brought
you up, and do not set your children or your life or
anything else above righteousness, and so when you go
to Death have to defend yourself for this before those
who govern there. In this life you do not believe that
to act thus can be good for you or yours, or just or
righteous ; and it will not be good when you reach the
other world. As it is, if you go, you will go wronged,
wronged by men though not by us, but if you went
in that disgraceful way, rendering evil for evil and
wrong for wrong, breaking your own pledge and
covenant with us, doing harm to the last that you
should harm, to yourself and your dear ones and your
country and us, your country's laws, then we shall bear
you anger while you live, and in that other land our
brothers, the laws of Death, will not receive you gra-
ciously, for they will know you went about to destroy
us so far as in you lay. Therefore you must not let
Crito overpersuade you against us."

XVII. Crito, my dear friend Crito, that, believe me,
that is what I seem to hear, as the Corybants hear flutes
in the air, and the sound of those words rings and
echoes in my ears and I can listen to nothing else.
Believe me, so far as I see at present, if you speak
against them you will speak in vain. Still, if you think
you can do any good, say on.

Cr. No, Socrates, I have nothing I can say.

Soc. Then let us leave it so, Crito ; and let things go
as I have said, for this is the way that God has pointed
out.

END OF VOL. II.

MAOI AT Txt _

TfiMPLfi P6SS a/ L6TCHWORTM
'^ "M GRCAT BRITA

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"You only, Books," said Richard de Bury, "are liberal and
independent; you give to all who ask." The variety of authors
old and new, the wisdom and the wit at the disposal of Everyman
in his own Library may well, at times, seem to him a little
embarrassing. In the Essays, for instance, he may turn to
Dick Steele in the The Spectator and learn how Cleomira dances,
when the elegance of her motion is unimaginable and "her eyes

3

are chastized with the simplicity and innocence of her thoughts."
Or he may take A Century of Essays, as a key to the whole
roomful of the English Essayists, from Bacon to Addison,
Elia to Augustine Birrell. These are the golden gossips of
literature, the writers who have learnt the delightful art of
talking on paper. Or again, the reader who has the right
spirit and looks on all literature as a great adventure may
dive back into the classics, and in Plato's Phcedrus read how
every soul is divided into three parts (like Caesar's Gaul). The
poets next, and we may turn to the finest critic of Victorian
times, Matthew Arnold, as their showman, and find in his
essay on Maurice de Guerin a clue to the "magical power of
poetry," as in Shakespeare, with his

daffodils

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

William Hazlitt's "Table Talk" may help again to
show the relationship of one author to another, which is
another form of the Friendship of Books. His incomparable
essay, "On Going a Journey," forms a capital prelude to
Coleridge's "Biographia Literaria; " and so throughout the long
labyrinth of the Library shelves, one can follow the magic clue
in prose or verse that leads to the hidden treasury. In that
way every reader becomes his own critic and Doctor of Letters.
In the same way one may turn to the Byron review in Macaulay's
Essays as a prelude to the three volumes of Byron's own poems,
remembering that the poet whom Europe loved more than Eng-
land did was as Macaulay said: "the beginning, the middle and
the end of all his own poetry." This brings us to the provoking
reflection that it is the obvious authors and the books most easy
to reprint which have been the signal successes out of the many
hundreds in the series, for Everyman is distinctly proverbial in

4

his tastes. He likes best of all an old author who has worn well
or a comparatively new author who has gained something like
newspaper notoriety. In attempting to lead him on from the
good books that are known to those that are less known, the
publishers may have at times been even too adventurous. But
the elect reader is or ought to be a party to this conspiracy of
books and bookmen. He can make it possible, by his help and
his co-operative zest, to add still some famous old authors like
Burton of the Anatomy of Melancholy, or longer novels like
Richardson's Clarissa Harlowe, a cut-and-come-again book for
a winter fireside, or more modern foreign writers like Heine
whom Havelock Ellis has promised to sponsor. "Infinite
riches in a little room/' as the saying is, will be the reward of
every citizen who helps year by year to build the City of Books.
It was with that belief in its possibilities that the old Chief
(J. M. Dent) threw himself into the enterprise. With the zeal of
a true book-lover, he thought that books might be alive and
productive as dragons* teeth, which, being "sown up and down
the land, might chance to spring up armed men." That is a great
idea, and it means a fighting campaign in which every recruit,
every new reader who buys a volume, counts.

EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY

A LIST OF THE 934 VOLUMES
ARRANGED UNDER AUTHORS

Anonymous works are given under titles.
A nthologies, Dictionaries, etc. are arranged at the end of the list.

Abbott's Hollo at Work, etc., 275
Addison's Spectator, 164-7
.ffischylus's Lyrical Dramas, 62
? Other Fables, 657

<

Almard's The Indian Scout, 428
Ainsworth's Tower of London, 400
Old St. Paul's, 522
Windsor Castle, 709
Rookwood, 870
The Admirable Olchton, 894
A Kempis's Imitation of Christ, 484
Alcott's Little Women, and Good

Wives, 248
Little Men, 512
Alpine Club: Peaks, Passes, and

Glaciers, 778
Andersen's Fairy Tales, 4

More Fairy Tales, 822
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 624
Anson's Voyages, 510
Aristophanes' Acharuians, etc., 344

Frogs, etc., 516

Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, 547

Politics, 605
Poetics, and Demetrius

on Style, etc., 901
Armour's Fall of the Nibelunge, 312

Giidrun, 880
Arnold's (Matthew) Essays, 115

Poems, 334
Study of Celtic Literature,

etc., 458

Aucassin and Nicolette, 497
Augustine's (Saint) Confessions, 200
Aurelius' (Marcus) Meditations, 9
Austen's (Jane) Sense and Sensi-

bility, 21

Pride and Prejudice, 22
Mansfield Park, 23
Emma, 24

Northanger Abbey, and
Persuasion, 25

Bacon's Essays, 10

Advancement of Learning,

719

Bagehot's Literary Studies, 520, 521
Baker's (Sir S. W.) Cast up by the

Sea, 539

Ballantyne's Coral Island, 245
Martin Rattler, 246

Ungava, 276

Balzac's Wild Ass's Skin, 26
Eugenie Grandet, 169
Old Gorlot, 170
Atheist's Mass, etc., 229
Christ in Flanders, etc., 284
The Chouans, 285
Quest of the Absolute, 286
Cat and Racket, etc., 349
Catherine de Medici, 419
Cousin Pons, 463
The Country Doctor, 530
Rise and Fall of Cesar

Birotteau, 596
Lost Illusions, 656
The Country Parson, 686
Ursule Mirouet, 733
Barbusse's Under Fire, 798
Barca's (Mme C. de la) Life in

Mexico, 664
Bat es's Naturalist on the Amazon,

446
Baxter's (Richard) Autobiography,

868
Beaumont and Fletcher's Selected

Plays, 506

Beaumont's (Mary) Joan Seaton, 597
Bede's Ecclesiastical History, 479
Belt's Naturalist in Nicaragua, 561
Bennett's The Old Wives' Tale, 919
Berkeley's (Bishop) Principles of
Human Knowledge, New Theory
of Vision, etc., 483
Berlioz (Heotor), Life of, 602

Blnns's Life of Abraham Lincoln,
BJ6rnson's Plays, 625, 696 [783

Blackmore's Lorna Doone, 304
,, Springhaven, 350

Blackwell's Pioneer Work for

Women, 667

Blake's Poems and Prophecies, 792
Boccaccio's Decameron, 845, 846
Boehmc'a The Signature of All

Things, etc., 569
Bonaventura's The Little Flowers,

The Life of St. Francis, etc., 485
Borrow's Wild Wales, 49
Lavengro, 119
Romany Rye, 120
Bible in Spain, 151
Gypsies in Spain, 697
Boewell's Life of Johnson, 1, 2

,, Tour to the Hebrides, 387
Boult's Asgard and Norse Heroes,

689

Boyle's The Sceptical Chymist, 559
Bright's (John) Speeches, 252
Bronte's (A.) The Tenant of Wildfell

Hall, and Agnes Grey, 685
Bronte's (C.) Jane Eyre, 287
Shirley, 288

Villette, 351

The Professor, 417

Bronte's (B.) Wuthering Heights, 243
Brown's (Dr. John) Rab and His

Friends, etc., 116

Browne's (Frances) Grannie's Won-
derful Chair, 112
Browne's (Sir Thos.) Religio Medici,

etc., 92

Browning's Poems, 1833-44, 41
1844-64, 42
The Ring and the Book,

502
Buchanan's Life and Adventures of

Audubon, 601

BuMnch's The Age of Fable, 472
Legends of Charlemagne,

556

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 204
Grace Abounding, and

Mr. Badman, 815
Burke's American Speeches and

Letters, 340
Reflections on the French

Revolution, etc., 4CO
Burnet's History of His Own Times,

85

T urney's Evelina, 352
Burars Poems and Songs, 94
Burton's East Africa, 500
Burton's (Robert) Anatomy of

Melancholy, 886-8
Butler's Analogy of Religion, 90
Butler's (Samuel) Erewhon and

Erewhon Revisited, 881
Butler's The Way of All Flesh, 895
Burton's Memoirs, 773
Byron's Complete Poetical and

Dramatic Works, 486-8
Letters, 931

Caesar's Gallic War, etc., 702

Calderon's Plays, 819

Canton's Child's Book of Saints, 61

,, Invisible Playmate, etc., 566

Carlyle's French Revolution, 31, 32

Letters, etc., of Cromwell,

266-8

Sartor Resartus, 278
Past and Present, 608

Essays. 703, 704
Reminiscences, 875
Carroll's (Lewis) Alice in Wonder-
land, etc., 836

Castiglione's The Courtier, 807
Cellini's Autobiography, 51
Cervantes' Don Quixote, 385, 386
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 307
Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, 823
Chesterton's Stories, Essays, and

Poems, 913
Chretien de Troyes's Arthurian

Romances, 698

Gibber's Apology for his Life, 668
Cicero's Select Letters and Orations,

345

Clarke's Tales from Chaucer, 537
Shakespeare's Heroines,

109-11

Cobbett's Rural Rides, 638, 639
Coleridge's Biographia, 11

Golden Book of Poetry, 43

Lectures on Shakespeare,

162

Collins's Woman in White, 464
Collodi's Pinocchio, 538
Conrad's Lord Jim, 925
Converse's Long Will, 328

House of Prayer, 923
Cook's (Captain) Voyages, 99
Cooper's The Deerslayer, 77
The Pathfinder, 78
Last of the Mohicans, 79
The Pioneer, 171
The Prairie, 172
Cowper's Letters, 774
Poems, 872

Cox's Tales of Ancient Greece. 721
Craik's Manual of English Litera-
ture, 346

Craik (Mrs.). See Mulock
Crcasy's Fifteen Decisive Battles,

300

Crevecoeur'a Letters from an Amer-
ican Farmer, 640
Curt la' s Prue and I, and Lotus, 418

Dana's Two Years Before the Mast,

588

Dante's Divine Comedy, 308
Darwin's Origin of Species, 811

Voyage of the Beagle, 104
Dasent's Story of Burnt Njal, 558
Daudet's Tartarin of Tarascon, 423
Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, 59
Captain Singleton, 74
Memoirs of a Cavalier. 283
Journal of Plague, 289
Tour through England and

Wales, 820, 821
Moll Flanders, 837

De Joinville's Memoirs of the

Crusades, 333

Demosthenes' Select Orations, 548
Dennis's Cities and Cemeteries of

Etruria, 183, 184
De Qnincey's Lake Poets, 163
Opium-Eater, 223

English Mail Coach,

etc., 609
De Retz (Cardinal), Memoirs of, 735,

736
Descartes' Discourse on Method,

570
Dickens's Barnaby Rudge, 76

Tale of Two Cities, 102
Old Curiosity Shop, 173
Oliver Twist, 233
Great Expectations, 234
Pickwick Papers, 235

Bleak House, 236
Sketches hy Boz, 237

Nicholas Nickleby, 238
Christmas Books, 239
Dombey and Son, 240
Martin Chuzzlewit, 241
David Copperfleld, 242
American Notes, 290
Child's History of Eng-
land, 291

Hard Times, 292
Little Don-it, 293
Our Mutual Friend, 294
Christmas Stories, 414
Uncommercial Traveller,

536
Edwin Drood, 725

Reprinted Pieces, 744
Disraeli's Coningsby, 535
Dodge's Hans Brinker, 620
Donne's Poems, 867
Dostoevsky's Crime and Punish -

ment, 501

The House of the Dead, 533
Letters from the Underworld,

etc., 654

., The Idiot, 682
Poor Folk, and The Gambler,

The Brothers Karamazov, 802,

803

The Possessed, 861, 862
Dowden's Life of R. Browning, 701
Dry den's Dramatic Essays, 568

Poems, 910

Dufferin's Letters from High Lati-
tudes, 499

Dumas'e The Three Musketeers, 81
The Black Tulip, 174
Twenty Years After, 175
Margruerite de Valois, 326
The Count of Monte Cristo,

393. 394

The Forty-Five, 420
Chicot the Jester, 421
Vicomte de Bragelonne,

593-5
M Le Chevalier de Maison

Rouge, 614
Du Maurier'fl Trilby, 863

Duruy's Htiroes of England, 471
History of France, 737, 738

Eddington's Nature of the Physical

World, 922

Edgar's Cresay and Poictiers, ] 7
Runnymede and Lincoln

Fair, 320
Edtre worth's Castle Rackrent, etc.,

Eitrhteenth-Century Plays, 818
Eliot's Adam Bede, 27
Silas Marner, 121
Romola, 231
Mill on the Floss, 325
Felix Holt, 353
Scenes of Clerical Life, 468
Middlemarch, 854, 855
Ellis's (Havelock) Selected Essays,

930

Elyot's Gouernour, 227
Emerson's Essays, 12

Representative Men, 279
Nature, Conduct of Life,

etc., 322
Society and Solitude, etc.,

567

Poems, 715
Eptctetus* Moral Discourses, 404
Erckmann-Chatrian's The Conscript

and Waterloo, 354
Story of a Peasant,

706, 707

Euclid's Elements, 891
Euripides' Plays, 63, 271
Evans's Holy Graal, 445
Evelyn's Diary, 220, 221
Everyman and other Interludes, 381
Ewing's (Mrs.) Mrs. Overtheway's
Remembrances, etc., 730
Jackanapes, Daddy Dar -
win's Dovecot, and The
Story of a Short Life, 731

Faraday's Experimental Researches

in Electricity, 576
Ferrier's (Susan) Marriage, 816
Fielding's Tom Jones, 355, 356

Amelia, 852, 853
,, Joseph Andrews. 467

Jonathan Wild, and The
Journal of a Voyage to
Lisbon, 877
Finlay's Byzantine Empire, 33

Greece under the Romans,

185
Flaubert's Madame Bovary, 808

Solammbo, 869

Fletcher's (Beaumont and) Selected

Playa, 506

Ford's Gatherings from Sp^in, 152
Forster'a Life of Dickens, 781, 782
Fox's (George) Journal, 754
Fox's (Charles James) Selected

Speeches, 759
Francis's (Saint) The Little Flowers,

etc., 485

Franklin's Journey to the Polar
Sea, 447

Freeman's Old English History for

Children, 540

French Mediaeval Romances, 557
Froissart's Chronicles, 57
Froude'a Short Studies, 13, 705
Henry VIII, 372-4
Edward VI, 375
Mary Tudor, 477
History of Queen Eliza-
beth's Reign, 583-7
Life of Benjamin Disraeli,
Lord Beaconsfleid, 666

Galsworthy's The Country House,

917

Gait's Annals of the Parish, 427
Galton's Inquiries into Human

Faculty, 263
GaskelPs Cranford, 83

Life of Charlotte Bronte,

318

., Sylvia's Lovers, 524
Mary Barton, 598

Cousin Phillis, etc., 615
North and South, 680
Gatty'a Parables from Nature, 158
Geoffrey of Monmouth's Histories of

the Kings of Britain, 577
George's Progress and Poverty, 560
Gibbon's Roman Empire, 434 - 6,

474-6

Autobiography, 511
Gilnllan's Literary Portraits, 348
Giraldua Cambreneig, Wales, 272
Gleig's Life of Wellington, 341

The Subaltern, 708
Goethe's Faust, 335

M Conversations with Ecker-

mann, 851

Wilhelm Meister, 599, 600
Gogol's Dead Souls, 726

,, Taras Bulba, 740
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefiold, 295
Poems and Plays, 415

Citizen of the World,

etc., 902

Goncharov's Oblomov, 878
Gore's Philosophy of the Good Life,

924

Gorki's Through Russia, 741
Gotthelf's Ulric the Farm Servant,

228

Gray's Poems and Letters, 628
Green's Short History of the English
People, 727, 728. The cloth edition
is in 2 vols. All other editions are
in 1 vol.

Grettir Saga, 699
Grimm's Fairy Tales, 56
Grote's History of Greece, 186-97
Guest's (Lady) Mabinogion, 97

Hahnemann's The Organon of the
Rational Art of Healing, 663

Hakluyt's Voyages. 264, 265, 313,
314, 338, 339, 3*8, 389

Hallam's Constitutional History,
621-3

Hamilton's The Federalist, 519

Harte'a Luck of Roaring Camp, 681
Harvey's Circulation of Blood, 262
Hawthorne's Wonder Book, 5

The Scarlet Letter, 122
House of Seven Gables,

176

The Marble Faun, 424
Twice Told Tales, 531

Blithedale Romance,

592
Hazlitt's Characters of Shakespeare's

Plays, 65
Table Talk, 321
Lectures, 411
Spirit of the Age and Lec-
tures on English Poets,
459

Plain Speaker, 814
Hebbel's Plays, 694
Heimskringla: The Olaf Sagas, 717
Sagas of the Norse

Kings, 847

Heine's Prose and Poetry, 911
Helps's (Sir Arthur) Life of Colum-
bus, 332

Herbert's Temple, 309
Herodotus, 405, 406
Herrick's Hesperides, 310
Hobbes's Leviathan, 691
Holinshed's Chronicle, 800
Holmes'e Life of Mozart, 564
Holmes's (O. W.) Autocrat, 66
Professor, 67

Poet, 68
Homer's Iliad, 453

Odyssey, 454
Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 201,

202
Horace's Complete Poetical Works,

515

Houghton's Life and Letters of

Keats, 801 [857

Howard's (E.) Rattlin the Reefer,

Howard's (John) State of the

Prisons, 835
Hudson's (W. H.) A Shepherd's Life,

926
Hughes's Tom Brown's Schooldays,

Hugo's (Victor) Les Miserables, 363,

364

Notre Dame, 422

Toilers of the Sea,

509
Hume's Treatise of Human Nature,

etc., 548, 549

Hunt's (Leigh) Selected Essays, 829
Hutchinson's (Col.) Memoirs, 317
Huxley's Man's Place in Nature, 47
Select Lectures and Lay
Sermons, 498

Ibsen's The Doll's House, etc., 494
Ghosts, etc., 652

Pretender, Pillars of Society,
RoBmersholm, 659

Brand, 716
Lady Inger, etc., 729

Peer Gynt, 747

Ingelow's Mopsa the Fairy* 619

Irving^ Sketch Book, 117

t> Conquest of Granada, 478
Life of Mahomet, 513

Italian Short Stories, 876

James's (G. P. R.) Richelieu, 357
James's (Henry) The Turn of the

Screw, and The Aspern Papers, 912
James (Wm.), Selections from, 739
Jefferles's (Richard) Bevis, 850
Johnson's (Dr.) Lives of the Poets,

770-1

Jonson's (Ben) Plays. 489, 490
Josephus's Wars of the Jews, 712

Kalidasa's Shakuntala, 629

Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, 909

Keats's Poems, 101

Keble's Christian Year, 690

King's Life of Mazzini, 502

Kinglake's Eothen, 337

Kingsley's (Chas.) Westward Hoi 20

Heroes, 113

HerewardtheWake,206

I, Hypatia, 230

Water Babies, and

Glaucus, 277

Alton Locke, 462

Yeast, Gil

Madam How and Lady

Why, 777

Poems, 793

Kingsley's (Henry) Ravenshoe, 28

Geoffrey Hamlyn, 416

Kingston's Peter the Whaler, 6

., Three Midshipmen, 7

Kirby's Kalevala, 259, 260
Koran, 380

Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, 8

Essays of Elia, 14

Letters, 342, 343
Landor's Imaginary Conversations

and Poems, 890
Lane's Modern Egyptians, 315
Langland's Piers Plowman, 571
Latimer's Sermons, 40
Law's Serious Call, 91
Lawrence's The White Peacock, 914
Layamon's (Wace and) Arthurian

Chronicles, 578
Lear (Edward). See under Antho

logies

Leibniz' Philosophical Writings, 905
Le Sage's Gil Bias, 437, 438
Leslie's Memoirs of John Constable,
Lessing's Laocoon, etc., 843 [563
Lever's Harry Lorrequer, 177
Lewes's Life of Goethe, 269
Lincoln's Speeches, etc., 206
Livy's History of Rome, 603, 609,

670, 749, 755, 756
Locke's Civil Government, 751
Lockhart's Life of Napoleon, 3

Life of Scott, 55
Life of Bums, 166

Longfellow's Poems, 382
Lonnrott'a Kalevala, 259, 260

Loti's Iceland Fisherman, 920
Lover's Handy Andy, 178
Lowell's Among My Books, 607
Lucretius's Of the Nature of Things,

750

Ltitzow's History of Bohemia, 432
Lyell's Antiquity of Man, 700
Lytton's Harold, 15

Last of the Barons, 18
,, Last Days of Pompeii, 80
Pilgrims of the Rhine, 390
Rienzi, 532

Macaulay's England, 34-6

Essays, 225, 226
Speeches on Politics, etc.,

399

Miscellaneous Essays, 439
MacDonald's Sir Gibbie, 678
Phantastes, 732
Machiavelli's Prince, 280

Florence, 376

Maine's Ancient Law, 734
Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur, 45, 46
Malthus on the Principles of

Population, 692, 693
Mandeville's Travels, 812
Manning's Sir Thomas More, 19

Mary Powell, and De-
borah's Diary* 324
Marlowe's Plays and Poems, 383
Marryat's Mr. Midshipman Easy, 82
Little Savage, 159
Masterman Ready, 160
Peter Simple, 232
Children of New Forest,

247

Percival Keene, 358
Settlers in Canada, 370

Kind's Own, 580
Jacob Faithful, 618
Martmeau's Feats on the Fjords, 429
Martinengo - Cesaresco's Folk - Lore

and other Essays, 673
Marx's Capital, 848, 849
Maugham's (Somerset) Cakes and

Ale, 932

Maupassant's Short Stories, 907
Maurice's Kingdom of Christ, 146-7
Mazzini's Duties of Man, etc., 224
Melville's Moby Dick, 179
Typee, 180
Omoo, 297
Meredith's The Ordeal of Richard

Feverel, 916

Merimee's Carmen, etc., 834
Merivale's History of Rome, 433
Mickiewicz's Pan Tadeusz, 842
Mignet's French Revolution, 713
Mill's Utilitarianism, Liberty, Repre-
sentative Government, 482
Rights of Woman, 825
Miller's Old Red Sandstone, 103
Mil man's History of the Jews, 377,

378
Milton's Areopagitica and other

Prose Works, 795
Poems, 384
Mitford's Our Village, 927

Moliere's Comedies, 830, 831
Mommsen's History of Rome, 542-5
Montagu's (Lady) Letters, 69
Montaigne's Essays, 440-2
Moore's (George) Esther Waters, 933
More's Utopia, and Dialogue of

Comfort against Tribulation, 461
Morier's Hajji Baba, 679
Morris's (Wm.) Early Romances, 261
.. Life and Death of Jason,
575

Neale's Fall of Constantinople, 655

Newcastle's (Margaret, Duchess of)
Life of the First Duke of New-
castle, etc., 722

Newman's Apologia Pro Vita Sua,

636

On the Scope and Nature
of University Education, and a
Paper on Christianity and Scien-
tific Investigation, 723

Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra,
892

Oliphant's Salem Chapel, 244
Omar Khayyam, 819
Osborne (Dorothy), Letters of, 674
Owen's (Robert) A New View of
Society, etc., 799

Paine's Rights of Man, 718
Palgrave's Golden Treasury, 96
Paltock's Peter Wilkins, 676
Park's (Mungo) Travels, 205
Parkman's Conspiracy of Pontiac,

302, 303

Pascal's Pens6es, 874
Paston Letters, 752, 753
Pater's Marius the Epicurean, 903
Peacock's Headlong Hall, 327
Penn's The Peace of Europe, Some

Fruits of Solitude, etc., 724
Pepys's Diary, 53, 54
Percy's Reliques, 148, 149
Pinnow's (H.) History of Germany,

929

Pitt's Orations, 145
Plato's Republic, 64

Dialogues, 456, 457
Plutarch's Lives, 407-9
Moralia, 565

Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imaglna
tion, 336

Poems and Essays, 791
Polo's (Marco) Travels, 306
Pope's Complete Poetical Works, 760
Prescott's Conquest of Peru, 301
Conquest of Mexico, 397

398

Prevost's Manon Lescaut, etc., 834
Procter's Legends and Lyrics, 150
Pushkin's The Captain's Daughter

etc., 898

Quiller-Couch'fl Hetty Wesley, 864

Rabelais's Gargantua and Panta-

gruel, 826, 827
Radcliffe's (Mrs. Ann) The Mysteries

of Udolpho, 865, 866
Ramayana and Mahabharata, 403
leade's The Cloister and the Hearth,

29

Peg Wofflngton, 299
Reid's (Mayne) Boy Hunters of the

Mississippi, 582
The Boy Slaves, 797

lenan's Life of Jesus, 805
Reynolds's Discourses, 118
iicardo's Principles of Political

Economy and Taxation, 590
Richardson's Pamela, 683, 684

Clarissa, 882-5
Roberts's (Morley) Western Avernus,

762

Robertson's Religion and Life, 37
Christian Doctrine, 38
Bible Subjects, 39
Robinson's (Wade) Sermons, 637
Robot's Thesaurus, 630, 631
Rosaettl'B (D. G.) Poems, 627
Rousseau's Emile, 518

Social Cont ract and other

Essays, 660
Confessions. 859, 860
Ruskin's Seven Lamps of Architec-
ture, 207

Modern Painters, 208-12
Stones of Venice, 213-15
Unto this Last, etc., 216
Elements of Drawing, etc.,

217

Pre-Raphaelitism, etc., 218
Sesame and Lilies, 219
Ethics of the Dust, 282
Crown of Wild Olive, and

Cestua of Aglaia, 323
Time and Tide, etc., 450
The Two Boyhoods, 683
Russell's Life of Gladstone, 661

Sand's (George) The Devil's Pool,

and Francois the Waif, 534
Scheffel's Ekkehard, 529
Scott's (M.) Tom Cringle's Log, 710
Scott's (Sir W.) Ivanhoe, 16
Fortunes of Nigel, 71

Woodstock, 72
Waverley, 75

The Abbot, 124
,, Anne of Geierstein, 125
,, The Antiquary, 126

Highland Widow, and Be-
trothed, 127
Black Dwarf, Legend of

MontroKO, 128

Bride of Lanimermoor, 129
Castle Dangerous, Surgeon's

Daughter, 130
Robert of Paris, 131
Fair Maid of Perth, 132
Guy Mamicring, 133

Heart of Midlothian, 134
Kenil worth, 135
The Monastery, 136

Scott's (Sir W.) Old Mortality, 137
Peveril of the Peak, 138
The Pirate, 139
Quentin Durward, 140
Redgauntlet, 141
Rob Roy, 142
St. Ronan's Well, 143
The Talisman, 144
Lives of the Novelists, 331
Poems and Plays, 550, 551
Seebohm's Oxford Reformers, 665
Seeley's Ecce Homo, 305
Sewell's (Anna) Black Beauty, 748
Shakespeare's Comedies, 153

Histories, etc., 154
., Tragedies, 155

Shchedrin's The Golovlyov Family,

908

Shelley's Poetical Works, 257, 258
Shelley's (Mrs.) Frankenstein, 616

Rights of Women, 825
Sheppard's Charles Auchester, 505
Sheridan's Plays, 95
Sienkiewicz's Tales, 871
Sismondi's Italian Republics, 250
Smeaton's Life of Shakespeare, 514
Smith's Wealth of Nations, 412, 413
Smith's (George) Life of Wm. Carey,

395
Smollett's Roderick Random, 790

Peregrine Pickle, 838, 839
Sophocles' Dramas, 114
Southey's Life of Nelson, 52
Spectator, 164-7
Speke's Source of the Nile, 50
Spencer's (Herbert) Essays on

Education, 503

Spenser's Faerie Queene, 443, 444
The Shepherd's Calendar,

879

Spinoza's Ethics, etc., 481
Spyri's Heidi, 431
Stanley's Memorials of Canterbury,

89

Eastern Church, 251
Steele's The Spectator, 164-7
Sterne's Tristram Shandy, 617

Sentimental Journey, and

Journal to Eliza, 796
Stevenson's Treasure Island, and

Kidnapped, 763
Master of Ballantrae, and The

Black Arrow, 764
,, Virginibus Puerisque, and
Familiar Studies of Men and
Books, 765

An Inland Voyage, Travels
with a Donkey, and Silver-
ado Squatters, 766
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The

Merry Men, etc., 767
Poems, 768

In the South Seas, and Island
Nights' Entertainments, 769
St. Ives, 904
St. Francis, The Little Flowers of,

etc., 485

Stow's Survey of London, 589
Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, 371

Strickland's Queen Elizabeth, 100
Surtees's Jorrocks's Jaunts, 817
Swedenborg's Heaven and Hell, 379
Divine Love and

Wisdom, 635
Divine Providence,

658
The True Christian

Religion, 893
Swift's Gulliver's Travels, 60
Tale of a Tub, etc., 347
Journal to Stella, 757
Swiss Family Robinson, 430

Tacitus's Annals, 273

Agricola and Germania, 274
Taylor's Words and Places, 517
Tennyson's Poems, 44, 626
Thackeray's Esmond, 73

Vanity Fair. 298
Christmas Books, 359

Pendennis, 425, 426

Newcomes, 465, 466

The Virginians, 507, 508

,, English Humorists, and

The Four Georges, 61

RoundaboutPapers, 687

Thierry's Norman Conquest, 198, 199

Thoreau's Walden, 281

Thucydides' Peloponnesian War, 455

Tolstoy's Master and Man, and

Other Parables and Tales,

469

War and Peace, 525-7
Childhood, Boyhood, and

Youth, 591

Anna Karenlna, 612, 613
Trench's On the Study of Words and

Ensrlish Past and Present, 788
Trollope's Barchester Towers, 30
Framley Parsonage, 181
The Warden, 182
Dr. Thome, 360
Small House at Allington,

361

Last Chronicles of Barset,
391, 392 [761

Golden Lion of Granpere,
Phineas Finn, 832, 833
Trotter's The Bayard of India, 396
Hodson of Hodson's Horse,

401

Warren Hastings, 452
Turgenev's Virgin Soil, 528

Liza, 677

Fathers and Sons, 742
Tyndall'B Glaciers of the Alps, 98
Tytler's Principles of Translation,
168

Vasari's Lives of the Painters, 784-7
Verne's (Jules) Twenty Thousand
Leagues under the Sea, 319
Dropped from the Clouds, 367
Abandoned, 368
The Secret of the Island, 369
Five Weeks in a Balloon, and
Around the World in Eighty
Days. 779

8

Virgil'* vEneid, 161

.. Kclotraes and Georetcs, 222
Voltaire's Life of Charles XTI, 270
Age of Louis XIV, 780

Wace and Layamon's Arthurian

Chronicles, 578
Wakefield's Letter from Sydney,

etc., 828

Walpole's Letters, 775
Waipole's (Hugh) Mr. Perrin and

Mr. TraUl, 918

Walton's Compleat Angler, 70
Waterloo's Wanderings in South

America, 772 [899

Webster and Ford's Selected Plays,
Wells's The Time Machine, and The

Wheels of Chance, 915
Wesley's Journal, 105-8
White's Seiborne, 48
Whitman's Leaves of Grass, and

Democratic Vistas, eto., 573
Whvte-Melville's Gladiators, 523
Wilde's Plays, Prose Writings and

Poems, 858 [84

Wood's (Mrs. Henry) The Channings,
Woolman's Journal, etc,, 402
Wordsworth's Shorter Poems, 203
Longer Poems, 311

Xenophon's Cyropaedia, 67

Yellow Book, 503

Yonee's The Dove in the Eagle's

Nest, 329

The Book of Golden Deeds, 330
The Heir of Redclyffe, 362
The Little Duke, 470
The Lances of Lynwood, 579

Young's (Arthur) Travels in France
and Italy, 720

Zola's Germinal, 897

Arttholoffie** Dictionaries, etc.

A Book of English Ballads, 572

A Book of Heroic Verse, 574

A Book of Nonsense, by Edward
Lear, and Others, 806

A Century of Essays, An Anthology,
653

American Short Stories of the Nine-
teenth Century. 840

A New Book of Sense and Nonsense,
813

An Anthology of English Prose:
From Bede to Stevenson, 675

An Encyclopaedia of Gardening, by

Ancient Hebrew Literature, 4 vols.,

253-6

Anglo-Saxon Poetry. 79*
Annals of Fairyland, 365, 866, 541
Anthology of British Historical

Speeches and Orations, 714
Atlas of Classical Geography, 451
Atlases, Literary and Historical:
Europe, 496; America, 553; Asia,
633; Africa and Australasia, 662
Dictionary, Biographical, of English

Literature, 449-
Biographical, of Foreign

Literature, 900
of Dates, 554

Everyman's English, 776

of Non-Classical Myth-

ology, 632
mailer C

Smaller Classical, 495
of Quotations and Pro-

verbs, 809, 810

English Short Stories. An An-
thology, 743

Fairy Gold, 157

Fairy Tales from the Arabian Nights,
249

French Short Stories, 896

Golden Book of Modern English
Poetry, 921

Golden Treasury of Longer Poems,
746

Minor Elizabethan Drama, 491, 492

Minor Poets of the Eighteenth Cen-
tury, 844

Minor Poets of the Seventeenth Cen-
tury. 873

Mother Goose, 473

Muses' Pageant, The, 581, 606, 671

New Golden Treasury, 695

New Testament, The, 93

Poetry Book for Boys and Girls, 894

Political Liberty, a Symposium, 745

Prayer Books or King Edward VI,
First and Second, 448

Prelude to Poetry. 789

Reader's Guide to Everyman's
Library, by R. Farquharson
Sharp and E. Rhys, 889

Restoration Plays, 604

Russian Short Stories, 758

Shorter Novels: Elizabethan, 824

Jacobean and Restora-
tion, 841
Eighteenth Century, 856

Story Book for Boys and Girls, 934

Table Talk, 906

Tales of Detection, 928

Theology in the English Poets, 493

Thesaurus of English Words and
Phrases, Roget's, 630, 631

Walter P. Wright, 555

NOTE The following numbers are at present out of print:

89, 110, 111. 146, 227, 228, 244, 275, 315, 317, 346, 350, 390. 418, 432,
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