THE
BANQUET
XENOPHON.
.
Done from the GREEK,
WITH AN
Introductory Ellay
Τ Ο
Lady JEAN DOUGLASS,
Concerning
The DOCTRINE, and DEATH
of SOCRATES.
By JAMES WELWOOD, M. D.
Fellow of the Royal College of Phy-
ſicians, London.
LONDON; Printed for Jolm Barnes, at the
Crown in Pell-mell; and Andrew Bell, at the
Croſs-Keys and Bible in Cornbill, 1710.
>
*
A
Xo
W46
.
#
**
ho
*,
#
3
11-50-49 (1)
AN
Introductory Elay
Τ
TO
The Lady JEAN DOUGLASS,
Eldeſt Daughter of His
Grace the Duke of
queensbery and Dover ;
CONCERNING
The DOCTRINE and DEATH
of SOCRATES
MADAM;
OUNG as you are, I preſens
you this Tranſlation of One of
the moſt celebrated Pieces of
Antiquity. The Names of Socrates
B
and
Y
*
2
An Eſſay concerning
and Zenophon are in themſelves fuffi-
cient to recommend it to all that
have any Love for Learning or Ver-
tue: And tho' all the works of the
later have been juſtly eſteem'd in all
Ages, Maſter-pieces in their ſeveral
Kinds, yet none of them come up to
this, for the Fineneſs of Thought, or
Beauty and Eaſineſs of Expreſſion.
Here you will find the Immortal
Socrates at a Banquet with his Friends,
and Friends worthy of him. It's
here he laughs and is merry, enters
into a great many facetious and di-
verting Subjects, and complies with
the Cuſtoms that were uſually ob-
ſerv’d at ſuch Entertainments, till in
the End he leads them inſenſibly to
the nobleft Notions of Vertue and Mo-
rality : And all this in a manner ſo
very agreeable and inſtructive, that
you can hardly diſtinguiſh between
the Jovial Companion and the Conſume
mate Philoſopher.
I remember a Story in one of the
Roman Authors concerning Auguſtus,
the happieſt of all the Emperours. A
mong the other Felicities of his Reign,
he enjoy'd the Converſation of a Set
of
the Death of Socrates.
3
of Men, who for Politeneſs and Lear-
ning, render'd that Age the Envy and
Admiration of all that have ſucceed.
ed. One Day, the Parthian Ambaf-
ſadors coming to wait on Auguſtus,
found him walking in his Gallery be-
tween Virgil and Horace, leaning on
their Shoulders, in a moſt familiar
manner. The Parthians, who had no
Taſte of Letters themſelves, were
ſurpriz'd to ſee two private Men
thus careſs'd by the great Maſter of
the Roman Empire. Which Auguſtus
obſerving, told them plainly, he re-
ceiv'd more real Content in the Com-
pany of theſe, than in all the Pomp of
Homage that was paid him by more
than the half of the then Known
World; adding, in Raillery, Perhaps
you thought I was but ill ſituated, ſeeing
me walk between Sighs and Tears; allu-
ding to Virgil's Aſthma, and Horace's
blear Eyes.
I confeſs, in this I admire Auguſtus
his true Taſte of Happineſs, and am
entirely of his Mind. But notwith-
ſtanding the juſt Eſteem I have for
the Memory of Virgil and Horace, and
that I admire their works as the
moſt
B 2
4
An Elay concerning
inoſt excellent of all the Roman Wrio
ters, I ſhould yet have prefer'd the
Company and Converſation of Socra-
tes alone to both theirs.
It's reafonable, Madam, in order
to create in you a juſt Value for this
Piece, to give you a fhort Account of
the Doctrine, Vertues, and Death of
this excellent Man. Know then, that
Socrates was but of mean Extraction,
and born in a little Village within the
Territories of Athens. He ſerv'd his
Apprenticeſhip to his Father as a Sta-
tuary; and the Statues of the Graces in
their Habits, which were preſerv'd in
the Citadel of Athens with the greateſt
Veneration for many Ages after-
wards, were ſaid to have been of his
Workmanſhip.
Leaving that Trade, he betook
himſelf to the Study of Rhetorick,
in which he ſo much excell'd, that
his Enemy Ariſtophanes cenſures him,
as one that was able to make the
beſt Cauſe out of the worſt, by the
meer Force of his Eloquence.
But afterwards diſliking the Quirks
of the Bar, as inconſiſtent with that
ſtrict and unbyaſs’d Juſtice which he
thought
the Death of Socrates. 5
5
thought a good Man ſhould aim at,
He apply'd himſelf to the Study of
Natural Philoſophy, and was a Hearer
of Anaxagoras, the firſt Philoſopher
who taught that the World was
form'd of Atoms. But obſerving in
proceſs of time, how little that kind
of Knowledge conduc'd to the Con-
duct and real Happineſs of humano
Life, he gave himſelf up entirely to
the Study and Practice of Moral
Philoſophy, and was the firſt that
taught it publickly in Greece.
He had a great many Scholars, who
all of them rever'd him as a Father,
and admir'd his Doctrine, and him, as
the perfect Model of Vertue; of whom
Zenophon was one.
It were too long for this ſhort In-
troduction, to give you the Detail of
all his Maxims and Precepts of Mora-
lity, which are at Length recorded
by Zenophon in ſeveral of his other
Books,and by Plato another of his Scho-
lars, in his Dialogues. But you may
judge of his Principles and Opinions of
Morality, by thoſe of his Religion,
which were chiefly theſe,
B 3
That
6
An Eſſay concerning
That God was One, perfect in himſelf,
giving the Being and the Well-being to
every Creature ; Yet what he is (ſaid he)
I know not; but what he is not, I know.
That God, and not Chance made the
World, and that It, and all Things
in it, are preſerv’d and conducted by his
all-powerful and unerring Providence.
That the Soul of Man was Immortal,
and that the Body being a compounded
Subſtance, was diſſolv'd by Death; but
the Soul being ſimple, paſſes into another
State, incapable of Corruption or Anni-
hilation. That the Souls of good Men
after Death are united to God in a bleſ-
jed, inacceſſible Place. And that to ſome
other Place of Horrour, where there is
no Emanations of Divine Favour, the
Souls of wicked Men are carry'd away to
ſuffer Puniſhment : But to define what
And where theſe two Places are, was far
above the Sphere of Humane Knowledge.
That God has imprinted into the Soul of
Man a Principle of Reaſon, which he
call’d, 4 Ray of the Divine Nature.
That that Principle did of it ſelf direct
e Man to the Exerciſe of Vertue : But
that he became wicked, when-ever be aban-
don'd
the Death of Socrates.
7
don'd the Dictates of that Reaſon, to
follow the Impreſſions of Senſe. That
Temperance, Fuſtice, Fortitude, Patie
ence, and all other Vertues, entituled
a Man to the Favour of God, as their
Contraries, to his Wrath. That ſuch was
the Divine Goodneſs in it ſelf, and
God's Benificence to Man, that he had
implanted in his Soul á Power to be ver-
tuous and good ; and if he prov'd other-
wiſe, he could not juſtly blame God for
puniſhing him, either here or in ano-
ther World.
This was the Subſtance, Madam,
of Socrates's Principles in Religion ;
And his other Opinions and Maxims
in Philoſophy, Morality, and Politicks,
were all of them founded upon them.
Thus was this great Man poſſeſs’d of
Ideas about the Immortality of the
Soul, and the Certainty of a Future
State, not only much clearer than
thoſe the Jews had under the Moſaick
Oeconomy, but ſuch as come not
much ſhort of what has been reveald
to us under the Evangelical Diſpen-
ſation.
B4
It
8 An Efay concerning
It has been the Opinion of ſeveral
Divines, That God Almighty has been
pleas'd ſometimes to inſpire even Hea-
thens with a true Notion of Religion
and Vertue : And if ever any of them
was ſo inſpir'd, it was Socrates, if He
may deſerve the Name of a Heathen,
who maintain'dand dy'da Martyr for
the Unity of a God: At leaſt, he is ą
remarkable Inſtance, to what Heights
of Religion and Vertue a Man may
arrive, thro' the meer Force of
Reaſon, without the Help of Revela-
tion.
But, Madam, tho' Socrates apply'd
moſt of his Time to the Study and
Practice of Vertue in a private Capa-
city, he omitted no publick Occaſion
to ſerve his Country, when-eyer it
came to be in Danger from either
Domeſtick or Foreign Enemies. Be-
ing a mortal Foe to Tyrants and Ty-
yanny, whether the Power was lodg'd
in the populace, or in a few, he oppo-
fed them upon all Occaſions with an
undaunted Courage, and often ex-
pos’d his Life to imminent Dangers
on that Account.
When
the Death of Socrates. 9
When Lyſander the Lacedemonian
had taken the City of Athens, he
chang'd its ancient Government, and
ſet over it Thirty Tyrants. Theſe
Men put thirteen Hundred of the beſt
Citizens to Death without any Trial,
and committed ſo many barbarous
Cruelties, that their Names are held
in Execration to this Day. When,
upon this Occaſion, the City was be-
come a Shambles, and every Man en-
deavour'd to make his Eſcape from
ſuch a Scene of Horrour and Death,
Socrates ftir'd not out of the Gates,
but, with his uſual Sedateneſs and
Conſtancy, ſpoke his Mind freely in
all Places, what Monſters of Men they
were that ruld Athens; and fail'd
not to aſſiſt the Dying, and the
Friends of the Dead, with all the
Offices of Friendſhip that were in his
Power to do them in their Miſery.
Notwithſtanding this his out-braving
the Tyrants to their faces, and at a
time when a Look or a ſingle Word,
was enough with them to lop off the
beſt Head in Athens, ſuch was the
Veneration paid to Socrates, even by
the worſt of Men, that he eſcap'd
their
IO An Eſay concerning
their Fury, tho’every Day threaten'd
with the ſame Fate.
As he appear'd upon theſe Occafi-
ons for his Country at home, fo-he
was not wanting to it in their Wars
abroad, eſpecially when Athens and
Sparta contended for the Empire of
Greece. In' three famous Battles that
were fought between theſe two Ri-
val States, he was perſonally engag'd,
and fignaliz’d his Courage. In one
of them, he brought off his noble
Friend Alcibiades"; and in another,
Zenophon, when they were left for
Dead in the Field. And when after-
wards the Athenians were, according
to Cuſtom, to confer a Mark of Ho-
nour on him that had fought beſt, the
Choice fell on Socrates, which he not
only refus’d, but prevail'd with them
to transfer it upon Alcibiades.
Plato, that attended him in this
War, gives the following Account of
his Behaviour in it. Socrates, and Al-
cibiades (ſays he) ſerv’d both a Foot.
But Socrates out-went the whole Army
in Hardineſs. If at
If at any time Proviſi-
ons grew ſcarce, as it frequently did in
the Courſe of that War, not one could
bear
the Death of Socrates. Í I
bear the Want of Meat or Drink like
him. Yet at other times when he was in-
vited to Feaſting, he would drink as hear.
tily, and be as merry as any, tho’ for the
most part he drank nothing at other times
but Water, and was never in his Life
drunk. The Exceſs of Cold (continues
Plato) which is very extraordinary in that
Country, he as eaſily endur'd; and when
the Soldier's never ſtir'd out of their Tents
without Furs and Skins prapt about them,
he went along with them without any other
Clothes than thoſe he uſually wore. He
walk'd barefoot upon the Ice with leſs
Tenderneſs than others in Shoes, to the
Wonder of the Soldiers, who thought
themſelves reproach'd by his Hardineſs.
Plato ſums up his Behaviour on this
Occaſion with a remarkable Story.
His deep Contemplation, ſays he not-
withſtanding this Violence of the Cold,
was no leſs worthy of Admiration. One
Morning he fell into one of theſe Raptures
of Contemplation, and continu'd ſtand-
ing in the fame Poſture till about Noon,
that he was obſerv'd by ſome of the Sola
diers, who told it to their Companions.
In the Evening Some Ionian Soldiers
went out, and wrapping themſelves warm,
lay
1 2 An Eſay concerning
tes;
lay down by him in the open Field, to ob-
ſerve if he would continue in that Po-
Sure all night; which he did until the
Morning, and as ſoon as the Sun roſe,
he ſaluted it, and retir'd.
In the whole Courſe of his Life he
was not only an utter Enemy to Cove-
touſneſs, but a reſolute Contemner of
Riche's ſo that he never took Money
from his Scholars, as other Philoſo-
phers did. He refus'd the Preſents
that were ſent him from Foreign Prin.
and when Darius the King of
Perſia ſent him one, worthy of ſo
great a Monarch, he deſir'd the Mer-
ſenger to tell his Maſter, He was wil-
ling to be in Friendſhip with Darius,
but not with his Daricks, the Perſian
Coin. Going through the publick
Markets of Athens, he us’d to ſay,
How many things are there in the World,
that I have no need of ? One of his
Maxims was this, That he that eats
with an Appetite needs no Variety of
Food, he that drinks only for Thirſt de-
fires, leaft Change of Liquor, and he that
wants leaſt, comes neareſt to the Gods.
This his Contempt of the Goods of
Fortune, Ariſtophanes himſelf takes no-
tice
the Death of Socrates. 13
tice of in a ſevere Satyr againſt him;
which tho' deſign'd to expoſe him,
yet out of the Mouth of an Enemy
proves an Encomium. And thus he
addreſſes him:
Serious and muſing, tho' we know thee well,
For Toil attends the Search of Knowledge
ſtill:
Yet thou, eternal Drudge, or ſit or walk,
Art never tir'd with Pondering, or Talk,
Cold ne'er moleſts thee, nor the fond
Deſire
Of Riches, or of Dainties, Fools admire.
wards ;
That Socrates had a Demon or Ge-
nius that directed him in the whole
Courſe of his Life, is not only poſi-
tively affirm’d by all his Cotempora-
ries, and agreed to by the learnedſt of
the Greek and Roman Writers after.
but its likewiſe acknowledg-
ed by ſeveral of the Primitive Faa
thers of the Chriſtian Church, who ſcru-
ple not to give it the Name of his
Guardian Angel : But after what man-
ner it exprelt it ſelf to him, whether
by an audible Voice, or ſome other in-
telligible Sign, they have not ventur'd
to determine.
In
.
14
An Eſay concerning
In whatever manner it was that
this inviſible Attendant made its Coun-
cils known to him, we have inany
Iuftances in Zenophon and Plato, of the
good Effects they had when obey'd,
and of the bad ones when diſobey’d,
not only in the Conduct of his own
Life, but with relation to others who
happen'd to be in his Company.
Of the latter we have a remarkable
Story in Plato, which is this. One
Timarchus, a Noble Athenian, being at
dinner in Company with Socrates, he
roſe up to go away, which Socrates
obſerving, bad him ſit down again;
for (ſaid he) the Damon has juſt now
given me the accuſtomed Sign. Some
little time after, Timarchus offer'd a-
gain to be gone, and Socrates once
more ſtopt him, ſaying, he had the
ſame Sign repeated to him. At length
when Socrates was earneſt in Diſcourſe,
and did not mind him, Timarchus ſtole
away, and in a few Minutes after,
commiteed a Murder, for which be-
ing carry'd to Execution, his laſt
Words were, That he had come to that
untimely End for not obeying the Demont
of Socrates.
Many
the Death of Socrates. 15
Many of the Chriſtian Fathers were
ſo far perſwaded of the truth of this
Spiritual Monitor, that when they
come to prove, that God allows every
good Man a Guardian Angel, which
was the received Opinion among the
Primitive Chriſtians, they bring in this
Demon of Socrates as an Inſtance of it.
And others of the Fathers, who were
more rigid in their Opinions about
Heathen Vertue, yet when they come
to mention this Damon, they allow
Socrates to have been a good Man,
and this his Damon to have been ſuch
an Angel, as that which appear'd to
Balaam to deter him from his Wic-
kedneſs.
Such ſublime and uncommon Ver
tue could hardly fail to create Envy,
eſpecially conſidering the degenerate
Age he liv'd in, and the univerſal Cor-
ruption of Manners that then prevailid
in Athens. Baniſhment or Impriſonment
had been of lare the Fate of the great-
est and best Men among them, and
even Miltiades, Ariſtides, and The
miſtocles, all venerable Names, Men
who had not only retriev'd their un-
grateful Country from the Brink of
Ruin,
16
An Eſay concerning
Ruin, but rais'd it to its higheſt pitch
of Glory, as the Reward of all their
Services came to be baniſh'd their na-
tive Soil, and ſome of them forc'd to
implore for ſhelter thoſe very Princes
and States they had once gloriouſly
conquer’d. But Socrates was the firſt
that I remember was put to death up-
on a formal Trial, thro' the meer En-
vy and Ingratitude of his Fellow Cia
tizens.
The firſt Step to his Fall was his
diſobliging the Sophiſts. Theſe were
a Set of Men that pretended to a more
than ordinary Share of Learning, when
at the ſame time all their boaſted
Knowledge amounted to no more than
high founding Words, and an affected
Eloquence. They had inſinuated them-
felves into moſt of the Noble Fami:
lies of Athens, under the pretence of
inſtructing their Children in the Rules
of Rhetorick, that thereby they might
raiſe themſelves to the firſt Poſts in
the State. The Populace ſeeing theſe
Men careſsd by their Betters, came
to think highly of them, and to be-
lieve they were indeed what they
pretended to be. So that by this time
they
the Death of Socrates. 17
they arriv'd to a mighty Figure in the
Commonwealth, and prov'd formidable
Enemies to Men of real Learning or
Vertue. Such Mountebanks in Learn
ing were not peculiar to Athens alone:
For all Ages and Countries have a-
bounded in them. We have heard
of a Man extoll'd to the Skies for a
great Poet and a Patron of the Muſes,
for a Poem that was ſaid was none
of his, or not all of it: And we have
known a Mechanick ſet up for a Li-
beral Profeſſion, on the Credit of
two Words * of Art he never un-
derſtood.
Socrates found to his fad Experi-
ence, how far the Power of theſe sous
phiſts reach'd. For having upon all
Occaſions expos'd the Ignorance and
Pride of theſe vain Pretenders, What
they wanted in Learning, they made
up in Malice and Revenge againſt
the Man that endeavour'd to unde-
ceive the World about them. His
Reputation was fo perfectly well e-
ſtabliſh'd with all Men of Senſe or
* Alcali and Acid.
1
С
Ver-
18
An Elay concerning
Vertue, that the Sophiſts were obli-
ged to go to Work gradually, to ru-
in him ; And indeed had they blunt-
ly at firſt brought a formal Accuſation
againſt him, they had been hiſs'd out
of the Forum.
They began with inſenſibly under-
mining him in the Opinion of the
People, as a Contemner of the Gods :
And indeed he gave them handle e-
nough for this Article, it being cer-
tain, that he was in his Judgment a-
gainſt a Plurality of Gods, and us'd
frequently to turn to Ridicule the
many fabulous Legends of the nume-
rous Deities which the Athenians a-
dor'd.
But thio his whole Syſtem of Relia
gion was a Contradiction to the groſs
Idolatry
, of his Country, It does not
appear but that he expreſs'd his Opi-
nion in theſe Matters with the greateſt
Caution, and chiefly to his Scholars
and particular Friends.
We read in Holy Writ of an Altar
that was taken notice of by St. Paul
at Athens, and inſcrib’d, To the Vs-
known God. I know there are different
Opinions about this Altar, and upon
whas
1
the Death of Socrates. ig
what Occaſion it came to be erected :
But it's very probable, and we have
ſeveral of the Ancient Hiſtorians and
Divine's for Vouchers, that it was
done by Socrates. It ſeems, inſtead
of raiſing an Altar, as was the Cu-
ſtom, to any of the fictitious Gods of
Greece, He took this way as the ſa-
feſt, to expreſs his Devotion to the
True and One God, of whom the A-
thenians had no Notion, and whoſe
incomprehenſible Being he inſinuates,
by that Inſcription, was far beyond
the Reach of theirs or his own Un-
derſtanding. And it is very reaſona-
ble to think, It was owing to the
Veneration they had for the Memo-
ry of its Founder, that it came to be
preſerv'd for ſo many Ages after, tho'
they underſtood not the Senſe of the
Inſcription.
Their next Battery againſt him,
was; ſecretly to inſtill into the Peo-
ple, that lie was a Corrupter of Youth,
and endeavour'd to perſwade Chil-
dreri to throw off their Obedience to
Parents. This was a black and
groundleſs Calumny. For never
Men preach'd up the Duty of Chil-
drea
C D
20 An Eſſay concerning
tes.
dren to Parents more, or carry'd the
Ties of Nature further than Socra-
But it was to this perverted
Senſe, they turn'd that mighty Vene-
ration that was pay'd him by his
Scholars, and that Gratitude he re-
commended in his Leſſons, as due to
thoſe, who were ſo happy as to re-
claim Youth from the Practice of Vice,
and eſtabliſh them in the Path of Vera
tue.
They likewiſe in this part of their
Accuſation wilfully miſ-interpreted
that wonderful Friendſhip which was
between Him and his Scholars, and a-
mong his Scholars one towards ano-
ther. Their narờow. Souls being in-
capable of that Noble Vertue them-
ſelves, thought it very impoſſible for
one to entertain ſo perfect a Friend-
Ship with another, unleſs he ſlackend
the Bonds of Natural Affection. In-
deed no Man ever reaſon'd better on
Friendſhip, or carry'd the Obligation
of it further than He: And the Care
his Scholars took of his Wife and Chil.
dren after his Death, and the mutual
good Offices they did one another on
all Occaſions, were convincing Proofs
of
the Death of Socrates. 21
.
of their profiting under ſuch a Ma-
ſter. But one of the moſt remarka-
ble Inſtances of Friendſhip that we
read of, happen'd between three of
them long after he was gone, which
was this,
Eudamidas, the Corinthian, dying
poor, and Charitenus the Sycionian,
and Aretheus (another Corinthian)
being moderately rich, he made his
Will after this manner.' I. bequeath to
Aretheus the Maintenance of my Mo-
ther, to ſupport and maintain her in her
Old Age ; and to Charixenus, the Care
of Marrying my Daughter, and to give
her as good a Portion as he is able. And
in caſe any of thefe die, I hereby ſubſti-
tute the Survivor in his place. This
Will was måtter of Laughter to all at
firſt, till the Executor's being acquain-
ted with it, did heartily accepç-
the
Legacies. And Charixenus "happeir-
ing to die five Days after, the
whole Charge devolý'd upon Arethe-
ws. He'maintaind the Old Woman
with great Care and Tenderneſs to
her Death, and of five Talents he had
of Eſtate, he gave two and a half in
Marriage with an only Daughter he
had
C3
" 행
​An Elay concerning
а.
had of his own, and two and a half
in Marriage with the Daughter of
Eudamidas, and in one and the ſame
Day, folemnized both their Nupti-
als.
The Sophiſts having thus far plaid
their Engines againſt this Excellent
Man, Their next Step was to found
how the Athenians would reliſh a
publick Accuſation, or entertain
Charge againſt his Life. In order to
this, they ſet a-work Ariſtophanes, ą
mercenary, witty Poet, to expoſe
him on the Stage, which he did with
an equal Share of Wit and Malice, in
ſeveral of his Plays, but more parti-
cularly that yet extant, entituled,
The Clouds. This was the boldeſt
Step that hitherto had been made on
the Theater of Athens, to turn in ridi-
cule any one by Name, that had de-
ſerv'd well of his Country. But it
was yet more ſurprizing to ſee Socra.
tes thus treated ; a Man of the moſt
perfect Character, and univerſally e.
Iteem’d.
The Athenians, who were at firſt
ſtruck with Aſtoniſhment
at
ſo bold
an Attempt, came in time to reliſh
the
#
the Death of Socrates. 23
the Wit of the Play, and to be plea-
ſed with the Aition of the Player that
perſonated Socrates ; ſo that the Per-
formance came to be highly applaud-
ed, and the Poet as highly rewarded.
Socrates, who went but feldom to
the Theater, and that only when fume
Piece of his Friend Euripides was
acted, would needs go to ſee him-
ſelf expos'd in Ariſtophanes's Comedy,
and choſe the Day of the Feast of
Bacchus, when there would be the
greateſt Concourſe from all parts of
Greece, upon the account of that Fe.
ſtival : He took the moſt conſpicuous
Place, and when the Strangers began
to inquire of thoſe that fat next to
them, who this Socrates was they
ſaw thus ridiculd, He roſe up that
they might fee him, and continued
in that Poſture ſmiling, during the
whole Play. One of his Friends that
came with him asking him if he was
not vex'd to ſee himſelf ſa treated;
Not at all, (ſays he) for methinks I
am at a Feast where every one has a
Mare of me,
The Athenians being after this man,
per artfully prepoſſeis'd againſt So,
cratesa
C4
24
An Eſay concerning
crates, firſt by the private Whiſpers
of his Enemies the Sophifts, and then
by the publick Inſinuations of their
Tool Ariſtophanes, ventur’d at laſt to
bring a formal Accuſation againſt him
before the Senate, in theſe Words :
Melitus the Son of Melitus accuſes So;
çrates the Son of Sophroniſcus. So,
crates violates the Law in not believing
the Deities which this City believes, but
introduces other new Gods. He vio-
lates likewiſe the Lam in corrupting
Youth. The Puniſhment Death,
Thus, Madam, to the eternal Re-
proach of Athens, tho' the Mother of
Arts and Sciences, was one of the
mnoſt irreproachable Men' that ever
lived, for Strictneſs of Morals and
Purity of Life, proſecuted at the Bar
as a Corrupter of Youth, and the moſt
pious Man that the Heathen World
could boaſt of, Arraign'd for Impiety.
The Interval between hiş Arraign-
ment and Trial, He employ'd in his
uſual Philoſophical Exerciſes; And be-
ing queſtion'd by his Friends why he
did not provide for his Defence ? All
the Anſwer he made them was, That
be provided a ſufficieni Apology in pura
ſuing
$
the Death of Socratęs. 25
ſuing the conſtant Courſe of his Life.
But
they inſiſting, That the Judges
might be mov'd with the Force of
Rhetorick, The Truth is, (reply'd he)
I was twice going about to make my Apo-
logy, but was twice with held by my Dæ-
mon. They ſeeming to wonder at
it, Is it ſtrange (continued he) that
God ſpould think it fit that I die
at this
time? Hitherto no Man has liv'd more
uprightly, and that is now my ſolid Com-
fort. If I live longer, I know I muſt
undergo all the inconveniencies of Old
Age, and among others, Defects of
Hearing and Seeing, Lofs of Memory,
and Dulneſs of Apprehenſion. How
then can I be pleas’d to live longer, to
become worſe? It's likely (added he)
that God in his Love to me has ordain'.
that I ſhould die now at the most conve-
nient Age, and in the gentleft manner.
For if I die by a publick Sentence, I am
allowed what kind of Death I pleaſe ;
and then I ſhall do nothing unworthy of
my ſelf, or of my Friends. It's with
good reaſon then (concluded Socrates)
that God forbids me to make the De-
fence you would have me; ſince, if it
prove ſucceſsful, I ſhall only stay longer
in
96 An Eſay concerning
in this State, to be taken away aftera
wards by the Torture of ſome Diſeaſes,
or the Imperfections of Decrepid Age,
peither of which are to be deſir’d.
The Day of his Trial being come,
This Illuſtrious Criminal was brought
to the Bar, where his Accuſers exhau.
fted all the Topicks of their Rhetorick,
to exaſperate his Judges againſt him,
and make the molt Innocent of Men
appear Guilty. During their Ha-
rangues, the Behaviour of Socrates
was ſuch as became the Figure he had
made, and the Philoſophy he had
profeſt. He heard all their Inve.
&tives with the fame Evenneſs of
Temper, Sedateneſs of Mind, and
noble Contempt of Injuries, that he
had always practis’d himſelf, and
preach'd up to others in the whole
Courſe of his Life. When his Accu-
ſers had ended, and the Judges had
ask'd him what he had to ſay for
himſelf? He ſtood up, and with a
Mein and Gesture more like one that
was to fit upon the Life and Death
of his Judges, than to plead before
them for his own Life, He ſpoke to
this Purpoſe
the Death of Socrates: 200
I am afraid, my Maſters, (ſaid he)
that if I intreat you to put me to Death,
I Shall confirin, what my Enemie: havé
inſinuated against me, as if I pretended
to be wiſer than other Men, and ſeem'd
to know more of the Secrets of things
that are above or below this Orb we
move in. I know very well I have ne-
ver been acquainted with Death, ſo as
to know perfectly what it is g. nor hive I
met with any one that can inforn me.
Such as fear Death preſuppoſe they know
what it is ; for
, my ſelf, I have no di-
ftinet Ņotion of it, or of what is dine in
the other World. Death, for. ought I
know, may be a thing in it ſelf indiffe-
rent, perhaps it may be the thing if all,
most to be deſired? Yet this I may ſay,
without offending you, If it be a Tranſ-
migration out of one State into amther,
then it is a bettering of ones Condition to
goto
live with Men of unſpotted Vertue,
who in that other place receive the Rea
ward of that Vertue, and ſo be fre from
having any thing to do with unjuſt and
corrupt Judges. But an the other hand,
my Maſters, If Death be an Annihilas
tion of our Being, then ſure it's a bet-
dering of one's Condition to enter into a
long
28 An Eſay concerning
long and peaceable Night, ſince we find
there is nothing ſweeter in Life, than a
quiet uninterrupted Repoſe, or a pro-
Found Sleep without Dreams. Thoſe
things that I know to be evil in them-
ſelves; I have ever avoided ; Such as
to offend one's Neighbour, or difobey our
Supenours, whether God or Men: But
ſuch things that I know not, whether
they be good or evil, them I do not fear.
If I lie, and leave you behind me, the
Supriam Being alone knows whether it
will prove better for you or me.
Where-
fore us to what concerns me, do as you.
pleaſe; but according to the Method I
have ever obſervéd hitherto, I affirm
that you would do your Conſciences more
Righito ſet me at liberty, unleſs you ſee
furthir into my Cauſe than I do. Iwould
have you judge of me by my paſt Life,
both in a private and publick Station,
and according to the Fruits both young
and old have reaped by my Inſtruction :
And nithall call to mind the many Ser-
vices I have done my Country. If you
peigh Matters in a juſt Ballance, in-
ftead of condemning me for imaginary
Crimes you would do better, conſidering
my Poverty, to order me to be main-
tain'd
the Death of Socrates. 29
tain'd out of the Publick Treaſury, a
thing you have done for others that have
hot deferu'd better of the Common-
wealth. Impute it not to Obſtinacy or
Neglect, that I do not, according to Cu-
ſom, ſupplicate your Favour, or im.
plore
your Mercy. I want neither Friends
nor Kindred to preſent themſelves before
you in Mourning to move your Pity,
and have three young Children that are
ſuitable Objects for your Compaſſion.
But I ſhould do a Shame to Athens, at
this Age, and to the Reputation I have
bad for Wiſdom, if I ſhould appear be-
fore you in any ſuch abjeet Poſture. I
have always admoniſb'd thoſe that fre-
quented my Lectures, never to redeem
their Lives at the Price of their Ho-
nour : And in all the Wars I have been
ingag‘d in for my Country, I have gi-
ven ſufficient Proof that I ſcorn to ſave
my Life by my Shame. By any ſuch mean
Submiſſions i ſhould injure your Honour,
As tho you were to be mov'd by Prayers,
and not Juſtice. You have taken an
Oath by the Immortal Gods, to be up-
right in your Sentence; and it were to
wrong you, to ſuſpect you would do other.
wife. It's to theſe Eternal Arbiters of
Life
30 (An Eſay concerning
me
Life and Death I commit my Cauſe
, and
hold my ſelf aſſured that they will do in
this what will be moſt fit both
for you and
For good •Men, whether living or
dead, have no Reaſon to queſtion the
Mercy of the Gods,
This is the Scope, and almoſt the
very Words of that Extempory Speech
of Socrates to his Judges, which for its
native Simplicity,and withal an inimita-
ble Loftineſs, does, in my Opinion, infi-
nitely ſurpaſs all the ſtudied Orations of
Demoſtthenes or Cicero. He had Rea-
ſon to refuſe to make uſe of the Elo-
quent Speech which his Scholar Lyſis
had prepar'd for him.
It might
have been worthy of its Author, but
it was unworthy of Him. For had a
ſuppliant Voice been heard out of the
Mouth of Socrates, that lofty Vertue
of his had ſtruck Sail in the Height of
its Glory. It was not reaſonable, that
his rich and powerful Nature ſhould
commit its Defence to Art, or that
ſo bright a Vertue ſhould, in its ſe-
vereſt and laſt Proof; renounce Truth
and Simplicity, the conſtanĆ Orna-
ments of his Speaking, to adorn it
felf with the Embellifhments of Rhes
törick;
the Death of Socrates. 31
tořick, or the Labour of a premeditated
Speech. He acted wiſely, and like
himſelf, not to fully an unſpotted Life,
and ſuch a ſhining Image of Heroick
Vertue, by endeavouring to ſpin out a
few more. Years of decrepid Age, and
thereby betray the immortal Memory
of his Glorious End.
He was condemn’d to die by a
great Majority of Voices, and ſent to
Priſon loaded with Chains, where
he continu'd till his Execution. All
which time he refus'd the often re-
peated Offers of his Friends to carry
him off by Force, asking them, if
they knew any Place out of the Territo-
ries of Athens where Death could not
come? When almoſt tir'd out with
their Importunities, his Anſwer was,
That their Concern for him was much to
be prais’d, if it were agreeable to Juſtice.
That he was condemn'd by them that had
a Right to judge him, that if he ſhould
diſappoint their Judgment, by violating
the Law, it were to requite Wrong with
Wrong. That to break Priſon was not
only a Violation of the Laws of his Cour-
try, whicho as a Senator, he himſelf had
Sworn to maintain, but it would endan-
ger
32
An Eſay concerning
ger his Friends, and all this for a ſhort
Span of Life. Adding, that if he
Should make his Eſcape, it woald be Trea-
chery, and then the Remainder of his
Life would never be the more happy, nor
himſelf better entertain'd in the next
World.
The Time between his Sentencë
and Execution he ſpent in his uſual
Lectures of Morality and Vertue, but
more now than ever, in reaſoning a-
bout the Immortality of the Soul, and
the Certainty of a future State, Of all
which we have many Fragments ex-
tant, but none more full and genuine
than in the other Works of Zenophon.
The fatal Day being come, his
Scholars came early in the Morning
to the Priſon, and found him fo fait
a-ſleep, that they could hardly wake
him. They burſting out in Tears
at his Fate, and their own Loſs, and
kindly blaming him for the Chearful-
neſs he expreſs'd to leave them, he
made them this Anſwer. Truly, if I
did not firmly believe, that I am going
to just Gods, and to the Souls of Men
better than any now living, I were inex-
cuſable for contemning Life. But I am
pera
the Death of Socrates: 33
perfectly aſſured that I am going to a
Sapream Being, the beſt of Maſters,
and to good Men; having now no doubt
of what I have often told you, that ſome-
thing of Man ſubſiſts after Death, and
that it is better with the Good than the
Bad in another World:
While the Executioner was prepa-
ring the Draught, they advis'd him to
ſpeak but little, left the over-heat-
ing him ſhould prevent the Poiſon's
having a ſpeedy Effect, telling him,
they knew ſome that had been 0-
blig'd to take it more than once. It's
no matter (ſaid he) let him provide as
much as may ſerve twice or thrice, if
need be. Then he began a Diſcourſe
of the Uſe of Philoſophy, which; he
ſaid, was chiefly to fortify a Man ka
gainst the Fear of Death: That as
Death is the Separation of the Soul from
the Body, ſo it is the Office and Duty of
a Philoſopher to diſ-engage his Soul from
Corporeal Affections. That conſidering,
we underſtand better, the more the Soul
is dif-eng ag'd from Senſe, ſo our Know-
ledze ſhall be perfect when the Soal is
wholly freed from the Body by Death;
which Perfection of Knowledge is
D
the
34
An Eſay concerning
the ultimate End of Philoſophy.
This led him into Reaſoning about
the Immortality of the Soul: To in-
force which He brought ſeveral Ar-
guments from Nature and the Infinite
Power of a Supream Being. His Con-
cluſion was to this Effect, That there
are two diſtinct Paths that lead out
of
this World. They who have defild their
Minds with Vice, in giving themſelves
up to ſenſual Pleaſures, or have commit-
ted inexpiable Crimes againſt their Coun-
try, and the Good of humane Society,
theſe take a By-way that's fecluded from
the Counſel and Preſence of God: Where-
as thoſe who have preferv’d themſelves
from the Contagion of their Bodies, and
in humane Flejb, have imitated the Life
of Gods, they find a ready direct Path
open’d for them by Death, which leads
them back to that Divine Eſſence from
whence they originally came.
And as
Swans are ſaid to fing before Death, as
Suppoſing they have ſome Inſtinct of the
Good that is in Deathg foſhould every
good Man rejoice at the Approach of a-
nother State. Let every one then (added
he) prepare for this Journey, when the
Will of God calls. Tou, my Friends,
(na-
the Death of Socrates. 35
(naming every one that was about
him) muſt go at the appointed Hour.
Me Fate fummons now. Alluding to a
Verſe of Euripides.
When he had made an End of
ſpeaking, Crito ask'd him what Di-
rections he would leave about his
Children? I deſire no more (anſwer'd
Socrates) than what I have often told
you, If you take Care of your felves,
and perſevere in Vertue, whatever you
do will be acceptable to me and mine, tho*
you promiſe nothing. But if you neglect
your ſelves and Vertue, you can do no-
thing acceptable to us,
tho' you ſhould
promiſe ne'er ſo much. Then Crito ask-
ing him, how he would be bury'd ?
As you think good, (reply'd Socrates)
if you can catch me before I give you the
hip. Whereupon, turning to the reſt,
ſaid he, ſmiling, I cannot perſwade
Crito that I am any thing more than
the Carcaſe you ſhall behold anon, elſe he
would not be at ſuch Pains about my Buu
rial. I am afraid what I told him juſt
now, that when I have drunk up that
Poiſon I ſhall go to the Joys of the Bleſs’d,
has been but to little Purpoſe. Honeſt
Crito, (continues he, ſtill ſmiling)
D 2
WAS
36
An Ejay concerning
was ſo kind to become Bail for my Apa
pearance before the Judges, pray be you
my Bail to Crito, that I am departed
hence, But let it not be faid, that So-
crates is carry'd to the Grave, or laid.
under Ground: For know, dear Crito,
ſuch an Expreſſion were an Injury done
to my Immortal Part. Say then, that
my Body alone was buried, and in what
manner thou pleaſeft.
Then taking the Cup from the
Hands of the Executioner, and hold-
ing it up towards Heaven, he pour'd
out ſome of it, as an Oblation to the
Supream Deity, with this his laſt Pray-
er, I implore the Immortal God, that my
Tranpation hence may be happy. Then
turning to Crito, faid, o Crito, I owe
a Cock to Eſculapius, payit ; and with
that drunk up the Poiſon: Then
Itretch'd himſelf out
Couch, and in a few Minutes ex-
pir’d.
After this manner, Madan, dy'd
the Great Socrates ; and this was the
Exit of one of the pureſt Souls that e-
ver animated humane Clay, Thus it
was, that the Man, who by the meer
Homage that was paid to his Vertue,
had
upon the
the Death of Socrates. 37
had ſtood the Shock of Thirty Tyrants,
and out-brav'd Death in various
Shapes, came at laſt to fall a Victim
to the Revenge of a few angry Pen
dants.
I know ſome, both Ancient and
Modern Authors have been of Opini-
on, that Socrates, tho' he acknow-
ledg'd but one only Supream Deity,
was yet ſo far tainted with the Reli-
gion of his Country, as to believe
there might be Inferior or Leſſer Gods,
who, in Subordination to the Supream
One, govern’d the Affairs of the
World. And they give this for an
Inſtance of it, that he order'd, at his
Death, a Cock to be offer'd up to Eſcula-
pius. I beg leave to differ from them
in this Matter : For in the whole
Courſe of his Life, and in all his Noti-
ons in Religion, he appears to have had
no ſuch Thought. On the contrary,
he not only in his ordinary Conver-
fation with his intimate Friends, but
at ſome times upon extraordinary
Occaſions, could not refrain to expoſe
in publick the Folly of the Athenians,
in believing the receiv'd Legends of
theſe Inferior or Leffer Gods, which
was
P3
38 An Eſay concerning
the Poiſon,
was indeed the reaſon of his con-
demnation and Death. Inſtead of
taking this Inſtance as a Proof of their
Opinion, I take it to be an Argument
againſt it, and that that Expreſſion of
Socrates, in the chearful and fedate
Temper he dy'd, was intended by
him as a Reprehenſion of their Fol-
ly, who worſhip'd Eſculapius as a
God: As if he had faid, o Crito, pray
go try the God of Phyſick by the uſual
Sacrifice, if he can reſtore me to Health
now, when I have drunk
up
and am at my laſt Gaſp.
It's true, Plato and Zenophon, who
have tranſmitted his Diſcourſes to
Pofterity, bring him in frequently
ſpeaking of the Gods in the Plural
Number: But it's obvious even from
their Writings, that for the moſt
part he made uſe of the Singular
Number ; and always, when he has
occaſion to talk of the Divine Provi.
dence, Preſcience, or Power, he expreſ-
ſes them in a manner that can only
be aſcrib'd to One God. The reaſon
why they introduced him ſpeaking
at any time of the Deity in the Plus
ral Number, may probably be, either
to
the Death of Socrates. 39
to comply with Cuſtom, or the Fear
of undergoing the ſame Fate with
their Malter.
It were tedious, to 'inſert here a
great many Diſcourſes of his, menti:
on'd by theſe two' Authors, which are
clear Proofs of his Opinion about the
Vnity of a God. I ſhall only give
you one that they have both omitted,
which, for its lofty Figures, falls
but little ſhort of any of our Chriſti-
an Poets, and ſeemis a juft Paraphraſe
of that Expreſſion of an inſpired Pen,
Clouds and Darknefs are 'round about
him. It's an Invocation quoted by
feveral Authors out of a Tragedy of
Euripides, now loſt, which is afcrib'd
to Socrates ; and may be tranflą.
ted thus :
Thou Self-ſprung Being that do'ſt All en-
fold,
And in thine Arms Heav'ns whirling
Fabrick höld !
Who art encircled with reſplendent Light,
And yet liés mant'led o’re in ſhady Night!
About whoſe Throne, the Circling Stars
are found
Nimbly to dance their Everlaſting Round.
As
D4
An Eſay concerning
As the Character of Socrates has
been univerſally eſteem'd in all the
Ages prèceeding Chriſtianity, it has
been no leſs admir'd ever ſince, as
one of the moſt perfe&t Models of
Vertue; neveř any Chriſtian Writer,
whether Ancient or Modern, menti-
oning his Name but with the great-
aft Veneration. Nor do I remember
any one Author of Note, of any Re-
ligion, either before or ſince, that has
ventur'd to leſſen his Merit, except
one,and that is Porphyrius. This learn-
ed Man has indeed in ſome of his
Works made bold with his Chara:
éter, but at the ſame time has attack'd
the Chriſtian Religion with much more
Rancour than he has done Socrates.
It's likewiſe obſervable, that moſt
of the Primitive Fathers were Follow
ers of Plato, and in all their Apologies
for the Chriſtian Religion, have en-
deavour'd to explain the Myſteries of
it, by an Analogy between them and
the Doctrine of that Philofopher. Now
it's certain, the Foundation of Pla-
to's Philoſophy was what he learn'd
of his Maſter Socrates, tho’ it's con-
fefs'd
the Death of Socrates. 41
fefs'd he built upon it Superſtructures
' of his own.
There is another Particular worth
notice, that concerns the Memory of
this greatMan. His Fame ſeems to have
been the peculiar Care of Heaven, that
while the Enemies of Chriſtianity have
had the Impudence to compare
the
unuſual Vertues of ſome of the Hea.
thens with thoſe of our Bleſs’d Savi-
our, the Name of Socrates was never
brought into any ſuch blaſphemous
Competition. Whereas Pithagoras,
a Man of extraordinary Vertue like
him, and, like him, held in the high-
eſt Veneration, has ſuffer'd in his
Character, by the Arrogance of ſome
of his Followers, who, to raiſe his
Reputation at the Expence of our
Saviour's, have made a Compariſon
between them. On the other hand,
Apolonius Tyaneus, a Man of counterfit
Vertue, and a mighty Pretender to
Knowledge, even that Impoſtor has
been ſet up by the fame Set of Men
in Competition with Jeſus Chriſt, for
but the Shadow of the Vertues of
Pithagoras and Socrates. And it was
but reaſonable, the Divine Provi-
dence
42
An Eſay concerning
dence ſhould thus ſecure the Repu-
tation of Socrates, ſince his Scheme of
Religion and Morals comes, of all that
ever was before or after, neareſt to
that which our Saviour preach'd.
It muſt not be omitted, to the Ho-
nour of Socrates, that when the Athe-
nians ſent to the Oracle of Appollo at
Delphos, to inquire who was the wi-
ſeſt Man alive, they receiv'd this An-
fwer, Of all Men Socrates is the wiſeſt.
He deferv'd that Character indeed,
if it were only for his uſual Saying,
That he knew only one thing, which was,
that he knew nothing. Which Saying
of his, and the Anſwer of the Oracle,
tho? he never was exalted with it
himſelf, procur'd him Envy, and ani-
mated the Sophiſts the more againſt
him, who pretended to know every
thing.
But that you may lay no more
ſtreſs upon this Anſwer of Apollo's in
favour of Socrates, than what it de-
ſerves, Be pleas'd to know, Madam,
that there have been great Diſputes
of late among the Learned, not only
concerning this at Delphos, but all
acles in general, which the Heathens
held
the Death of Socrates. 43
held in ſo much Veneration. It
was hitherto the generally receiv'd
Opinion of both Ancient and Mo-
dern, as well Chriſtians as Heathens,
that the Temples where theſe Oracles
were pronounc'd, were inhabited by
ſome Darion or ſuperior Being to
Man, who return'd Anſwers to their
Votaries, either out of the Mouth
of their Inſpir’d Prieſts, or by ſome
audible Voice, ſupernaturally form’d
behind the image of the God they in-
vok'd. This Opinion has been of late
call'd in queſtion, and all the pre-
tended Anjwers of theſe Oracles ałcri-
bed only to the Cheats of deſigning
Prieſts, who, fay they, impos'd their
Tricks of Leger demain upon the credu-
lous People, for the Advices and An-
ſwers of their Gods.
For
my part, tho' I be of this laſt
Opinion, ſo far as to be perſwaded,
that moſt of theſe Oracles were no
more but the well contriv'd Artifices
of Prieſts, who impos'd upon the Peo-
ple ſuch Anſwers as ſuited beſt with
cheir Deſigns or Intereſt. Yet I can-
not be brought to believe, but in ſome
of them, and upon ſome Occaſions,
there
44
An Eſay concerning
there might be Anſwers given by ſome
ſuperior Being or Supernatural A-
gent we have no Acquaintance with,
and of whom we can form no clear
Idea.
But let the Oracle of Delphos be
what it will, this Anſwer tends great-
ly to the Honour of Socrates; For if
it was the Voice of a Demon, it
carry'd with it an unqueſtionable
Authority : And if it was but the Ar-
tifice of Prieits, it was a Prout of the
univerſal Opinion that was had of
Socrates his Wiſdom, Since the Bufi-
neſs of theſe Religious Cheats being
to ſupport the Reputation of their
Oracle, they could not have done that
more effectually, than in their An-
ſwer, to fall in with the Opinion that
all Greece had of Socrates betore.
Such was the Eſteem of Socrates
when living, And after his Death
ſuch was the Veneration paid to his
Memory, That the Athenians, as a
Mark of their fincere Repentance,
and to revenge his Death, caus’d to
be executed his chief Accuſers, with-
out any formal Trial, as Enemies to
their Country, and banilh'd the refi
that
?
the Death of Socrates. 45
that had any-wiſe contributed to his
Sentence : . And to perpetuate his
Name, they erected a Statue of Braſs
for him in the moſt publick Street of
their City. Not only ſo, but ſuch
was the Horror that even Strangers
had of that execrable Fact, that thoſe
Athenians who were baniſh'd their
Country upon that Account, were
abhor'd as unworthy of the common
Offices of Humanity, inſomuch that
they would not ſuffer them to
kindle Fire at their Houſes, nor an-
ſwer them any Queſtion. Their Ab-
horrence came at length to that
height, that they would not touch
any thing that belong'd to them, nor
make ule of the Water of any Well
where they had drank ; ſo that being
at laſt tir'd of a hated Life, they be-
came their own Executioners. But
theſe were not all the dire Conſe-
quences of his Fall, for one of their
own Hiſtorians owns, that the Death
of Socrates brought a general Calami-
ty on Athens, inſomuch that from
that time, ſays he, the Athenians
never did any thing conſiderabie ei-
ther at home or abroad, but by
De-
46 An Eſay concerning
Degrees decay'd, and with them all
Greece.
The Inſcription on his Statue, as
mention’d by an Ancient Author, was
in two Lines, to this purpoſe :
Drink Socrates with Jove, next whom
Inthron'd,
By Gods, and Wiſdom's ſelf, as Wifest
own'd.
There are but two, Madam, among
all the Heathen Philoſophers, that I
can call to mind, whoſe manner of
Death comes in any Competition
with that of Socrates; And theſe are
Cato the Younger, and Seneca. How
far the Parallel may be carry'd thro'
this Triumvirat of Excellent Men,
will be but, I hope, a pardonable
Digreſſion in this place,
Cato was of the Stoick Seet, and a
Man of that rigid and ſteady Vertue,
that neither Adverſity nor Succeſs
could pofſibly make the leaſt Impref-
ſion
upon him: He ſtruggled for the
Expiring Liberties of his Country to
the laſt; and when theſe were gone,
was reſolv'd not to ſurvive them. Ha-
ving
the Death of Socrates. 47
ving provided for the Safety of his
Friends, and advis'd them to ſubmit
to Céſar's Fortune, now that he was
Maſter of Rome and them, he provi-
ded for his own, by Death. When I
conſider him with Montaigne, giving
himſelf the Blow, and for fear the
Sword had not fufficiently done its
part, tearing out his own Bowels af-
terwards, I confeſs I am not ſatisfied
only to think his Soul was then per-
fectly exempt from all Diſturbance,
and this Steadineſs of his but the Ef-
fects of that Scheme of Philoſophy
he profeft: I muſt go further to fome-
thing more ſprightly in the Vertue of
this Man, and perſwade my ſelf that
he felt a much higher Reliſh of De-
light in this Action alone, than in all
the others of his Life: And if it had
not been for the noble and ſincere
Concern he had for his Country, I
believe he thought himſelf oblig'd to
Fortune for putting his Vertue upon
fo brave a Trial.
To attribute this to a Principle of
V’ain Glory, as ſome have imagin’d,
ſeems a Conſideration too low and
poor for ſuch a Haughty and Reſolute
Heart.
** Artist Art.
43
An Eſay concerning
Heart. Nor would this Action have
been decent in any other but Him,
for it belong’d only to Cato’s Life to
end ſo. Nor was it owing to any
Doubt of Cæſar's Pardon, as ſome
have thought, For the Soul of that
mighty Conqueror was of another
Make, and certainly he would have
eſteem'd it one of the greatest Felici-
ties of his Life, to have had it in his
Power to pardon Cato, having often
complaind of him to his Friends for
his envying him that Glory.
To enoble his Death the more, it
ſeems to me, as if his Good Deſtiny
had put his ill One into that Hand
with which he gave himſelf the Blow,
ſeeing he had thereby the Leiſure and
Opportunity to confront and ſtruggle
with Death; and inſtead of letting
his Courage ſink, to reinforce it high-
er.
So that were I to repreſent him
to Advantage in his dying Condition,
I ſhould do it much rather tearing out
his Bowels, chan with his Sword in his
Hand, as I have ſeen his Ancient Sta-
tues ; for this S-cond Death was much
more terrible than the First.
Buf
the Death of Socrates. 49
en me te mire met wie history with ;
mismo time there are operater te pare no more the video orange this contente una 'ad bine in ordine
But after all it muſt be confeſs’d,
there is ſomething in the Death of
Socrates, that's more ſerene, .even, and
elevated, than that of Cato. The One is
more Tragical, and oftener taken no-
tice of in Hiſtory · But the other
finer, and admits of a certain Delica-
cy and Politeneſs, even anidſt the
Horrors of it. It appears too, thaç
Cao ſtood in need of the repeated
Aliſtance of Philoſophy, to fortify
his Mind againſt the Blow; other-
wife he would not have had Recourſe
to Plato's Account, of the Death of
Socrates, as he did, the Night he
dy'd. It derogates likewiſe from the
Glory of his Death, that when he
was about it, he ſhould fall into a
Paſſion with his Slave, upon a trivial
Account, and to carry it ſo far, as
to beat out one of his Teeth, and
hurt ſo much his own Hand, as to
diſable it from giving himſelf a de-
ciſive Stroke. How far muſt he have
been, when he did this, from the ſe-
date Temper, the noble Patience, and
foaring Thoughts; that accompany'd
Socrates to the laſt Breath:
É
It
50
An Eſay concerning
It cannot be deny’d, but in Cato's
Character there appear fome Strokes
more ſullen and fierce than can well a-
gree
with the refin'd Notions of his
own Philoſophy. And in the whole
Conduct of his Life, and at his
Death, there are not to be found ſuch
Inſtances of good Nature, and Sweet-
neſs of Temper, as in Socrates. So that
Horace, his Cotemporary, even in
praiſing him, hints at this ; when
ſpeaking of Cæſar's Conqueſt, he
ſays, He conquer'd every thing, but the
fierce Mind of Cato.
I cannot omit another Particular,
wherein I think Socrates had much the
better of Cato, which relates to the
different kind of Enemies they had to
deal with. The Thirty. Tyrants were
a Set of Execrable Villains, that had
diverted themſelves of all the Ties of
Nature, to perpetrate their Cruel-
ties. Cæſar, on the contrary, was a
Man of the higheſt Generoſity, and
unbounded Clemency towards thoſe
he had conquer'd. Now Cato choſe
rather to put an End himſelf to his
own Life, than to owe it to Ceſar :
Whereas Socrates, tho' he ſcorn'd
to
the Death of Socrates. 51
1
rin, me way
to make any low Submiſſions to the
Thirty Tyrants, and out-brav’d them
every Day to their Faces; yet he ſtill
went on in his uſual Road of Vertue,
with the ſame Indifference as if there
had been no ſuch thing as Tyranny in
Athens. He was always ready for the
Blow whenever it ſhould come to
him ; but thought it became not his
ſteady Vertue, to go out of his ordi-
nary Path to meet it : And when at
one time Word was brought him,
that that Morning the Tyrants had
condemn'd him to die, he anſwer'd
coldly, And Death has condemn'd
them.
But not to detract more than e-
nough from the Illuſtrious Ghoſt of
Cato, It's needleſs to inſiſt here, how
far his manner of Dying was inconſi-
ſtent with the Principles of Chriſtia-
nity, ſeeing even theſe, who ſet
up
of late for Free Thinkers, will hard-
ly deny it : But I beg leave to refer
theſe Gentlemen to the Opinion of
Socrates in this Matter, unleſs it
weighs the leſs with them, that he
reaſons rather like a Chriſtian than a
Heathen.
When
E 2
52
An Eſay concerning
When he was going to drink up
the Poiſon, he took occaſion to men-
tion his Friend Evenus, who was
abſent, and how much he would be
griev'd for his Death, and that he
hop'd he would bear it like a Philo-
ſopher. Cebes told him, that proba-
bly Evenus, according to the Rules
of his Philoſophy, would find a way
to follow him, meaning, by a volun.
tary Death. That muſt not be, an
ſwer'd Socrates ; for it were unworthy
of a Philoſopher to do an unjufi Action.
Why, (ſaid Cebes) Has not a Philoſo-
pher his Life in his own Power, to diſ-
poſe of it as he pleaſes, eſpecially when in
parting with it, he follows his dying
Friend ? Not at all, reply'd Socrates,
for Men are the Posſeſſion of the Gods.
Would not you, Cebes, be angry, if
Slave ſhould kill himſelf, to prevent
a juſt Correction ? We muſt expect a
Summons from the Gods, to call us
hence, ſuch an inevitable Neceflity as
now calls me. God has a Dominion over
us as his own Poffeffion; and a wiſe Man
ought not ſo much as to wiſh to be out of
his Protection, nor can be better his
Condition, by freeing himſelf from ſo
excellent a Governmento
But
your
the Death of Socrates. 53
But ſetting aſide the memorable
End of Cato, it's evident, that the
Death of Seneca came much nearer
to a Parallel with that of Socrates,
They were both Men of Exalted Ver.
tue, and Elevated Notions in Philofo.
phy: Both have left behind them the
beit and moſt uſeful Precepts towards
the Conduct and Happineſs of humane
Life, and both fell a Sacrifice to the
Rage and Malice of unjuſt Men.
In order to a ſhort Account of the
Death of Seneca, I am oblig'd to mix
in it, the Behaviour of his Wife Pau,
lina, one of the moſt ſhining Chara-
cters in Hiſtory. This Lady was
of one of the moſt Noble Families in
Rome, and married very young to
Seneca, in his extream Old Age.
They liv'd together in a moſt perfect
Friendſhip ; and how much ſhe im-
prov'd by his Precepts, the Part ſhe
acted at hiş Death will be a laſting
Teſtimony.
The Monſter, Nero, who had been
his Pupil, ſent his Guards, to de-
nounce to him the Sentence of Death;
which he receiv'd not only with his
uſual Tranquility of Mind, but witla
greas
E 3
54
An Eſay concerning
great Satisfaction. The manner of
dying being left to his own Choice,
as was uſual with Men of his Quali-
ty, he choſe to be let blood to Death
by his own Surgeon. Making all
poſſible Diſpatch, he call'd for Pa-
per, to write his Will; which being
deny'd him, he turn'd about to his
Friends, ſaying, Since I am forbid to
leave you any Mark of my Friendſbip, I
bequeath the beſt thing I have, which
Nero cannot deprive you of, even the
Image of my Life and Manners, which
I intreat you to preſerve, in Memory of
me, that thereby you may acquire the
Glory of being ſincere and true Friends.
With that ſeeing them all burſt forth
in Tears, he began to comfort them
with the gentleſt Words; and then
raiſing his Voice, What ! ſaid he, is
become of all our Philoſophical Diſcourſes
and Precepts, and where are now the
Proviſions we have been laying up theſe
many Tears againſt the Accidents of
Fortune? Is Nero's Cruelty unknown to
:es? What could we expect otherwiſe from
him, that had murder'd his Mother and
Brother, but that he ſhould put to Death
His Governour, that bred him ?
Then
the Death of Socrates. 55
Then embracing his Wife faſt in
his Arms, and ſeeing her finking
under the Agony of her Grief, he in-
treated her to bear this Accident
pa-
tiently, for his ſake, telling her, That
now the Hour was come, wherein he was
to ſhow, not by Diſcourſe or Precept, but
by Effects, the Fruits of his Studies ;
and that he was going to meet Death, not
önly without Grief, but with the greateſt
Joy. Wherefore, my Deareſt, făid he,
Do not diſhonour me by theſe Tears, that
it may not look as if thou lov't thy ſelf
better than my Reputation. Moderate
thy Concern, and comfort thy ſelf with
the Knowledge thou haſt had of me, and
of my Actions, leading the Řemainder
of thy Life in the ſame Tract of Vertue
thou haſt hitherto done.
Paulina recovering her Spirits, and
warming her Fortitude with the
Heat of a generous Conjugal Affe-
ation, made him this Anſwer ; No,
Sèneca, ſaid ſhe, I am not a Woman
of that Make, to let you go alone to take
this Leap. I would not have you think,
that the vertuous Example of your Life
has not inſtructed me ſufficiently how to
die. And when can I ever do it better,
Е4.
OT
56
An Eſay concerning
or with more Decency, or Delight, than
with jou? And therefore, aſſure your
ſelf, I will not stay behind. Seneca
could not but take this noble Reſo-
lution of hers as it deſerv'd ; and be-
ing alſo willing to ſecure her againſt
the Cruelties of his Enemies after his
Death, he took her again in his
Arms, ſaying, O Paulina, I have in.
deed inſtructed thee how to live well,
but I ſee thou lovedſt more the Honour
of Dying. In truth, I will not grudge
it thee : The Reſolution and Conftancy
in our common End, are the ſame, but
the Beauty and Glory of thy Part in it
is much the greater.
Which ſaid, the Surgeon open'd
the Veins of both their Arms ; but
the Blood in Seneca, becauſe of his
great Age and Abſtinence, flowing
very flow, he order'd the Veins of
his Thighs to be likewiſe open'd.
Leſt the Torment he was in might
fhake his Wife's Conſtancy; and to
free himſelf from the Sight of her in
the ſame Agony, he took his Leave of
her, in the moſt tender manner, and
prevaild with her, to let her Servants
carry her to her own Chamber. But
all
the Death of Socrates. 57
all theſe Inciſions being yet not ſuffi-
cient to give him Death, he com:
manded his Phyſician to adminiſter
a Draught of Poiſon; which had
but little better Effect, conſidering
the Coldneſs of his Limbs, and the
Shrinking of his Sinews, retarded
its Paſſage to his Heart. After all,
they were forc'd to put him into a
hot Bath, wherein, to his laſt Gaſp,
he continu'd diſcourſing upon
ſuch
noble Subjects, as refer'd to his pre,
ſent Condition, which, tho' taken in
Writing by his Secretaries, that
ſtood by, are now loſt, to the irre-
parable Regret of the Learn’d World.
At laſt, feeling the immediate Stroke
of Death, he with his Hands threw
ſome of the bloody Water of the
Bath over his Head, as a Libation to
the Gods, ſaying, This I offer up to
Jupiter, the Deliverer ; and ſtreight
expir’d. In the mean time Nero
hearing what Part Paulina had acted
in this Tragedy, fent Orders, in all
haſte, to bind up her Wounds; which
was done, without her Knowledge,
being almoſt dead, and without all
manner. of Senſe. Thus, thaſhe
liv'd
58
An Eſay concerning
liv'd againſt her Will, it was with
Honour, and to the Height of that
Vertue ſhe had learn'd of Seneca.
The Paleneſs of her Complection to
her Dying-day, expreſs’d ſufficiently
how much of Life ſhe had loſt with
her Blood; and the Conduct of the
reſt of her Life, was a glorious
Proof, how worthy ſhe was of ſuch
a Husband.
Certainly there was ſomething ve-
ry Noble in the Death of Seneca, and
altogether ſuitable to that excellent
Syſtem of Philoſophy and Morals, that
are yet preſerv'd to us in his immor-
tal Writings; and yet methinks ir
falls ſhort of that of Socrates. It's
true, it's a thouſand Pities the laſt
Diſcourſes of Seneca in the Bath are
loft, but it's as true, there is ſome-
thing to be obferv'd' in all his Beha-
viour, that looks like the Effects on-
ly of a ſtudy'd Vertue, and the Re-
fult of a long Train of Precepts.
Whereas the Behaviour of Socrates
has ſomething in it fo natural and
free from all Conſtraint, as if his
Vertue were a part of his Conſtituti-
on, and interwoven with his firſt
Threads
1
the Death of Socrates. 59
Threads of Life, not the Conſequent
of long Study or Precept.
I am not willing to believe all that
has been writ to the Prejudice of
Seneca, much leſs Dion the Hiſtorian,
who deſcribes him, effeminate, volup-
tuous, and a falſe Pretender to Philo-
Sophy. I had much rather take his
Character from Tacitus, and other
Roman Writers, who muſt needs have
been better acquainted with it. But
ſtill I am apt to think, with ſome of
theſe his own Countrymen, that he
did not live up to that exact Pattern
he ſet to others, eſpecially with re-
ſpect to Riches, and other Goods of
Fortune. When we read his mighty
Flights, and ſevere Maxims in theſe
Matters, we can hardly believe how
the Man who writ ſo, could act the
quite contrary; or that he that treats
Riches and Honours with ſuch Con-
tempt, ſhould heap together ſo great
a Maſs of Wealth, or accept from a
Tyrant ſuch high Poſts in the State.
I confeſs, there is no Man's Works
I have read with greater Pleaſure
than Seneca's, tho it were to be
wiſh'd, the Stile and Connection
were
60 An Elay concerning
were equal to the Matter they con.
tain : But ſtill he treats of his Sub-
jects after a far different manner from
Socrates. Read but the latter, in
Plato, or Zenophon, diſcourſing of
Liberty, you would be preſently con-
vinc'd, that he that talks ſo, does it
from his Heart, and that he would
purchaſe that Liberty at the Price of
a thouſand Lives, if he had them.
Read Seneca afterwards upon the
ſame Subject; It has the Air of one
that paints Liberty in all its Beauties,
but without diying into the Spirit of
it, or daring to ſtrike a Blow for it.
When Seneca treats of the Contempt
of Death, he does it with ſo much
Art, and in ſo languiſhing a manner,
as one may eaſily perceive he would
perſwade another to a thing, which
he is not firmly reſolv'd upon him,
ſelf. But when Socrates but touches
on the fame Subject, he ſtrikes
home, and not only fortifies, but
andmates and inflames one with a Dee
fire to meet his Deſtiny,
Before I take leave of Seneca, I
cannot but abſerve, that tha' he was
of the ſame rigid Sect of Stojcks with
Çato,
the Death of Socrates. 61
Cato, there appears on ſome Occaſi-
ons more of good Nature and Com-
plaiſance in the one than the other,
of which the following Paſſage is a
remarkable Inſtance. As Paulina
came afterwards to offer
up
her Life
voluntarily for the Love of Seneca, ſo
ſometime before, he forbore dying for
Love of her, which, according to his
Principles, was the fame in point of
Friendſhip, with dying for her. In
one of his Letters, he tells Lucilius,
that he had been lately worn out with
an Ague, and many Infirmities of old
Age, and had reſolv'd to ſet himſelf free,
that is, in the Stoick Senſe, To kill
himſelf. But Paulina (ſays he) has
given me a Charge to live. Now I, who
know that her Life is bound up in mine,
begin to make much of my ſelf, and take
the Remedies that are preſcrib'd me, on-
ly that I may preſerve her. For ſome-
thing muſt be allowd to honeſt Affectia
ons, and ſometimes to pleaſe thoſe that
love us, and we love, we are oblig'd to
call back Life, tho' with Grief. Thus
(concludes he) has my Paulina loaded
me not only with her Fears, but my own :
It had not been ſufficient to conſider,
how
62 An Eſay concerning
how reſolutely I can die, but how irreſo.
lutely ſhe would bear my Death ; ſo that
for her fake I am forc'd to live, and to
live is ſometimes the higheſt Fortitude.
I cannot take leave of the Compa-
riſon between theſe three Philofo-
phers, without obſerving one Parti-
cular, wherein I am apt to think So-
crates, and even Cato, had much the
better of Seneca. The two firſt ex-
preſs more Tenderneſs and Good Na-
ture at their Deaths towards their
Friends, than Seneca did to Paulina.
Socrates reaſons warmly againſt Ce-
bes, for but ſuppoſing that Evenus
would rather die than ſurvive him
;
And Cato would not put an End to
his own Life, till he had provided
for the Lives of his friends. He not
only adjur'd them to live and ſub-
mit to the Conqueror, but was reſt-
leſs till they were out of Danger :
And having ſent again and again to
know if they were got all ſafe out of
the Harbour of Vtica,he delay'd to give
himſelf the mortal Stroke, till he was
ſure they were gone. But Seneca's Con-
duct in Incouraging his Wife to die
with him, when there was no Ne-
ceſſity
the Death of Socrates. 63
ceſſity for it, has ſomething in it both
Cruel and Unnatural; and the rather,
that She was but in the Bloom of her
Age, and he an old decrepid Man,
that had but very few Years to num .
ber by the Courſe of Nature. In a
word, his Behaviour in that Matter
feems to me a Romantick Strain of
Philoſophy, and that either he en-
vy'd her Living after him, or was
loath to part with Life, without ſome
Body to bear him Company.
I had forgot one thing, Madam, in
relation to Socrates, before I have done
with him, which indeed Iought to have
mention'd before. He did not always
ſerve his Country in a private Capacity
only, but by his Merits alone arriv'd
to the Firſt Dignities of the State, not-
withſtanding the Meanneſs of his Birth.
The Soveraignty of Athens was lodg’d
in the Senate, choſe once a Year by
Balloting out of the Ten Tribes, into
which the City was divided. Our of the
Senate were choſe Ten Preſidents, one
of every Tribe, who preſided each of
them five Weeks in their turn. Out
of theſe Ten Preſidents was Elected
one they call’d the Epiſtate or Supream
Iran
64 An Eſay concerning
Intendant. This Magiſtrate kept the
Keys of the Citadel, and of the pub-
lick Treaſury, and was Maſter of the
Fate of Athens for the few Hours he
continued in that Poſt; For by the
Conſtitution he could not enjoy it
longer than a Day, and but once in
his Life: So jealous were the Atheni-
ans of their Liberties, and ſo cautious
of lodging too great a Power in any one
Set of Men; or any one Family, and
much more in any one ſingle Hand, or.
for any long time. Socrates paſt thro
all theſe Degrees of Magiſtrature, be-
ing firſt a Senator, then a Preſident,
and at laſt Epiſtate, and the Firſt Man
in Athens. In all which Capacities
He gave the uſual Proofs of his unr-
daunted Courage, 'untainted Juſtice
and diſintereſted Concern for the
Good of his Country, of which we
have a great many Inſtances recorded
in Hiſtory, too long to inſert here.
It was in the Senate, when he was
Preſident, that he had this Golden
Expreſſion, That it's the Office of a good
Citizen, in Peace to Inrich the Common-
wealth, in War to Conquer its Enemies ;
in Ambaſſies to make Friends of Fresa
and
the Death of Socrates. 65
and in Seditions to appeaſe the People by
Eloquence, and that Authority which are
tends an unſpotted Life.
As the Republick of Athens had mo.
dell'd it ſelf upon the Principle of Li-
berty, ſo it is very remarkable, That
even in its moſt Corrupted Times,
None ever roſe to any Office in the
State, Civilor Military, without ſome
previous Merit, and doing ſomething
that deſerv'd well of their Country.
Tho' it's as true, that the ſame Me,
rit, when thought too great, prov'd
many times in the End fatal to them-
ſelves, through the Envy of the Peo-
ple, and ſometimes to the Conſtitu-
tion through Ambition, and the o-
vervaluing their Services. Even the
Power and Intereſt of Great Men a-
lone,never rais done to Preferment,far
leſs did Money. For if ever any one
arriv'd' to the firſt Dignities of the
State by his Vertue, it was Pericles,
yet this very Man, at a time when
he was almoit Abfolute, both in the
State and Army, a near Relation of
his coming to ask him for an Employ-
ment, which he confeſt he had not yet,
deſerv'd, but hop'd he ſhould, His
..
Ario
F
66 An Eſay concerning
Anſwer was, If you want to ſhare with
me in my little Fortune, it's at your Ser-
vice ; but for my Country, it is not mine
to give. And the Gods forbid, the A-
thenians ſhould ever be ſo mad, as to
think it Merit enough to be Related to
Pericles.
Having done with Socrates, it's but
reaſonable, Madam, I give you ſome
ſhort Account of Zenophon, the Au-
thor of this Book. He was of one of
the Noblest Families in Athens, and
ſaid to be the moſt Beautiful Man of
his time. He was the Friend and
Scholar of Socrates, and the firſt who
committed the Doctrine and Sayings
of his Maſter to Writing, and that
with the exacteſt Fidelity, without
mixing any thing of his own, as his
Fellow-Scholar Plato is thought to
have done,
He was the firſt of all the Philofo-
phers that adorn’d Philoſophy, both
by his Words and A&tions. His Stile
was polite, eaſy, and ſweet, and in his
Voice and Expreſſion there was ſome-
thing ſo Muſical and Charming, that
it was faid, In him the Muſes ſeem'd
to {peak : Upon all which Accounts he
had
the Death of Socrates. 67
had the Name given him, of the At-
tick Muſe. No Man ever deſcrib’d
with his Pen, or recommended by
his Practice, Heroick Vertue, better
than he. Nor was there ever grea-
ter Proofs of Courage and Conduct
than thoſe of his in ſeveral Battles,
but more particularly in his Perſian
Expedition, which has been the juſt
Admiration of all Ages ſince. The
Occaſion of it was this:
Cyrus the younger Brother of Ar-
taxerxes Mnemon being reſolu'd to
conteſt the Empire of Perſia with
him, gather'd together a Mighty Ar-
my, in which were ten Thouſand
Auxiliary Greeks, and march'd from
the Leſſer Aſia as far as Euphrates, to
give him Battle. Zenophon went a-
long a Voluntier, being invited by
Cyrus, ' upon the account chiefly of
his Learning, of which that Prince
had acquir'd ſome Tincture, by con-
verſing with the Greeks, when he li-
ved in lonia, as Governour under his
Father.
The two Brothers came to a Bat-
tle, which being obſtinately fought
on both ſides, the Greeks giving
F 2
Proots
1
68
An Eſay concerning
Proofs of their uſual Valour, and par.
ticularly Xenophon, Cyrus in the end
puſhing too far, loſt the Field, and
his Life together. The Battle being
loft, the Greeks retir'd in a Body to
their Camp, without any great Loſs,
whither the next Day Artaxerxes
ſent them in appearance a friendly
Meſſage, with Offers of a ſafe Con-
duct, back to their own Country,
upon condition they would lay down
their Arms. The Greeks conſidering
they were but a handful of Men, and
in the Heart of the Perſian Dominions,
with a victorious Army in the Front
of them, were willing to hearken to
any reaſonable Compoſition; and in
order to it, they agreed to a Truce
for a few Days. During which time,
the Perſians having invited the Chief
Leaders into their Camp, under the
Pretence of an Entertainment, mur-
der'd them baſely in cold Blood.
This News being brought to the
Grecian Camp, put them into the
greateſt Confternation, and all the
Commanders that were left, thought
it moſt adviſable to ſurrender at Dil-
çretion. Things being brought tº
this
the Death of Socrates. 69
this deſperate paſs, Up roſe Xenophon,
and taking the Advantage of a riſing
Peice of Ground, made them a pathe-
tick Eloquent Speech, incouraging
them to ſet fire to their Camp, and
either to force their way back to
Greece, or die nobly with their Swords
in their hands, offering himſelf to be
their Leader. The Gracefulneſs of his
Perſon, the Charms of his Speaking,
with the Character of being the Schoo
lar of Socrates, had their effect; For
it was thereupon unanimouſly reſol-
ved to die or live with Xenophon. It's
ſaid, He was a great Lover of fine
Horſes and Arms, and upon this oc-
caſion, putting on his richeſt Appa.
rel, he mounted his beſt Horſe, ſay,
ing, If he conquer'd, he deſerv’d them,
but if he dy'd in Battle, they would dea
cently expreſs his Quality, and were the
moſt fitting Funeral Ornaments of a vaa
liant Man
Xenophon fully anſwer'd their Ex-
pectation; For he fought his way
back to Greece, thro' innumerable
Difficulties, and ſuch as would have
been inſuperable to any Genius but
his own, or any Army but that which
F 3
ha
70
An Eſay concerning
After all this Glory, ſo great, and
he led. In fine, he forc'd his Paſſage
through three and twenty Kingdoms
and Provinces, and croſs'd above two
hundred River's, purſu'd by Armies
for the moſt part ten times ſuperior
to his. In this glorious March are
reckoned two hundred and fifteen En-
campments, and near four thouſand
three hundred Engliſh Miles ; all
within the Compais of one Year and
three Months. This, in one word,
is that Expedition of Zenophon ſo
much admir'd, and ſo much cele.
brated by both Ancient and Modern
Hiſtorians.
ſo juſtly acquir'd, this great Scholar
and Soldier fell under the Fate of his
Maſter Socrates : For, being bani-
ſhed his ungrateful Country, he dy'd
an Exile at Corinth, having perpetu-
ated his Name to Poſterity, by his
inmortal Writings, as well as his
renowned: Actions. And thus it was
in Athens, as in other countries, where
good and ill Services to the Publick are
equally in time forgotten.
The Lacedemonians allow'd him a
Pension out of their publick Treaſu-
ry,
the Death of Socrates. 71
ry, which they had feldom done to
any one before, and never to an A.
thenian. Indeed he ſtood in need of
it; for he had apply'd nothing to his
own Uſe of all the Spoils he had
brought from Perſia, in this Expedi-
tion with Cyrus, and another he made
afterwards with Ageſilaus, the Spar-
tan King. For it was reſerv’d tola-
ter times, for Men to enrich themſelves
at the Expence of their Country, or by
the Spoils of War.
The following Lines are faid, by
an ancient Author, to have been
inſcrib'd on his Statue at Corinth.
Great Zenophon at once made two A-
ſcents,
To Aſia in Perfon, and to Heaven by
Fame;
His Stile and Actions (lafting Monu.
ments)
Lay to Socratick Wiſdom equal Claim.
After having given you, Madam,
fome Account of theſe two famous
Philoſophers, Socrates and Zenophon,
It's reaſonable, towards the under-
Itanding this Piece I have tranſlated,
that
F
72 An Eſay concerning
that I acquaint you with the Me-
thod of it. Be pleas'd to know then,
that moſt of the Ancient Philoſophers
and Moraliſts did propagate their
Doctrine in the Stile of Dialogue.
This way they choſe, as the moſt fa-
miliar and eaſy towards the leading
their Hearers inſenſibly into the Sub-
jects they chiefly aim'd át. And tho'
itis believ'd Socrates writ nothing
himſelf, yet it's certain, his uſual
manner of Inſtruction was Dialogue-
way, without ſet Speeches, or formal
Lectures. As this was the Method
of Inſtruction with theſe Ancient
Philoſophers, ſo they choſe to put it in
practice, for the moſt part, at Meal-
Times; and from thence it is, that
their Doctrine and Opinions are ſo
frequently recorded under the Name
and Repreſentation of a Banquet.
'This Manner of Writing was ſo
much in Uſe among the Ancients,
and ſo much eſteem'd by Men of
Letters fince, that the Reſtorers of
• Learning in the two laſt Ages, have
been fond of imitating it. To in-
ſtance but one, among a great ma-
ny, Of all the Works of the Learn'd
Eral
the Death of Socrates. 73
Eraſmus, none have been ſo much ad-
mir'd, as his Banquets.
In the next place, Madan, you
will meet frequently in this little
Treatiſe with Diſcourſes of Beauty and
Love, which require fome Explana-
tion. Be pleas'd to conſider then,
that Socrates, and his Followers, tho
they chiefly admir'd and paid Ho-
mage to the Beauty of the Mind, yet
were wonderfully fond of the Beauty
of the Face and Perſon. The Reaſon
was this; They had a Notion, That
the Soul of Man being a Ray of the Di.
vine Nature, and ſubſiſting at firſt a-
lone without a Body, came afterwards,
under the Influence and Direction of an
· Almighty Power, to concur towards the
Formation of that Body, which it was
to animate. , And therefore it always
aim'd at as great a Reſemblance be-
tween it and its Body as poſſibly
could be between two things ſo far
in their Natures different. So it
was their Opinion, That a Soul origi-
nally vicious became naturally the Inha-
bitant of a deform’d Body; and, on the
contrary, a vertuous Soul, that of a beau-
tiful Body : And conſequently, ac-
cording
74
An Eſſay concerning
I
cording to the Degrees of Vertue or
Vice implanted at firſt in the Soul of
Man, he came to be in his Perſon
more or leſs handſom or ugly. This
being their Opinion, it's no wonder
they put ſuch a Value on Perſonal
Beauty, in which-ever of the Sexes it
was found, ſeeing from it they con-
cluded the Beauty of the Mind,
But it's a pity that Socrates himſelf
ſhould have been ſo remarkable ani
Exception againſt his own Rule, being
one of the homelieft, if not uglieſt
Men we read of : For which he ral.
lies himſelf very pleaſantly in this
Banquet, deſcribing his Perſon as it
really was. If his Notion about the
Formation of the Body had been true;
he ought to have been one of the
handſomeft Men in the World, and
infinitely beyond even his Friend Al-
cibiadesį who was the moſt beautiful
Perſon in Athens, and became, after
the Death of Socrates, the greateſt
Mixture of Vertue and Vice that ever
was.
But there is a Paſſage in Zenophon
tliat ſeems to favour this Opinion of
Socrates about Beauty, unleſs it be, that
Soa
the Death of Socrates. 75
Socrates is there introduc'd ſpeaking
in Jeſt only, as fome have imagin'd.
There was one Zopirus, who preten-
ded to Skill in Phiſiognomy, and to read
Mens Temper and Inclinations in
the Lines of the Face. This Man
coming to Athens, fell into the Com-
pany of Alcibiades, and ſome other
Friends of Socrates, who, to try his
boaſted Skill, brought Socrates into
the Room, being altogether a Stran-
ger to him. Zopirus examining nice-
ly his Features, told them, that by
the Rules of his Art, he was greatly
addicted to Wine and Women. They
all fell a laughing at his Ignorance,
telling him, it was Socrates, whom
but to name was enough to put the
Man out of Countenance. But So-
crates interrupting them, ſaid, Zopi-
T185 was in the right, for he was na-
turally inclin'd to the Vices he had
nam’d, but had overcome them by.
the Strength of his Reaſon.
This being the Opinion of Socrates
concerning Beauty, it's no wonder,
to find in his Diſcourſes ſo much of
Love, or that he and his Followers
Were Votaries to that Paſſion: But
this
76 An Eſay concerning
this was a regular vertuous Love, and
ſuch as became the Philoſophy they
profeſs'd. When it happen'd be.
tween two or more of the fame Sex,
as it frequently did, it was, properly
ſpeaking, the pure and untainted Love
of Friendſhip, and the Reſult of that
Vertue, and of thoſe noble Qualities
they found in one another. In a word,
It was ſuch a Love as the Poets have
painted, between Piladas and Oreſtes;
Achilles and Patroclus, and that which
in Reality was between the great
Scipio and Lelius. Nor want we in
Holy Writ a much brighter Example
than any of theſe, even the Love that
cemented together the Souls of David
and Jonathan.
Now the Deſign of this Treatiſe be-
ing to divert and inſtruct, not to en-
tertain you with melancholy Scenes;
Here are no Dungeon nor Chains, no
Executioner to mix the deadly Bowl,
nor any other Pomp of Death ; but
Socrates at an Entertainment with his
Friends. To uſe the Expreſſion of
one of the Learnedſt Criticks * of the
* Tanaquilu: Faber.
laſt
the Death of Socrates. 77
laſt Age; In this little Piece every
thing is an Original, every thing agree-
able, and every thing inſtructive. It's
Nature, the Graces, and Venus Ura-
nia, that ſpeak; and to ſay all in one
Word, It's Socrates that talks, and
Zenophon that writes.
It ſeems to me ſtrange, that in a
Country where Tranſlations are be-
come ſo much in Faſhion, this Piece
of Zenophon's has never hitherto
ap-
pear'd in Engliſh. I own, I liave
neither a Genius nor Inclination for
Tranſlating; and as this is my firſt
of that kind, ſo it may probably be
my
laft. I have juſt Reaſon to fear,
Į have not done my Author any
great Honour, yet I hope I have not
done him any great Injuſtice ; for I
have follow'd him as near the Greek,
as either my Skill in that Language,
or the vaſt Difference between the
Idioms of it and Ours could permit.
I have made bold, it's true, to
give a more Modern Turn to ſome
few Pallages, which, if literally tran-
flated, would have founded harſh,
and perhaps might admit of an ill
Conſtruction in the Age we live
tho
78
An Elay concerning
tho', at the ſame time, there is ng-
thing in theſe Paſſages, which, ta-
ken in the Senſe that Zenophon
meant, can reaſonably offend the
chaſteſt Ear. This I choſe rather to
do, than by following my Author
too cloſely, be oblig'd to make an
Apology for him. Every Age and
Country have their own Cuſtoms, and
Taſte of Things: We have ours,
and the Greeks had theirs. And they
who underſtand the Original, will
not only obſerve where Ñ have thus
varied from my Author, but will, I
hope, approve me in ſo doing.
Whatever my Performance in this
Tranſlation and El ay may be, it's a
Proof of my being perſwaded, that
all Notions of Vertue are not yet ex-
tinct among us, otherwiſe I ſhould
not have ventur'd on a Subject ſo
much out of Faſhion, as this may
ſeem to be. And it were to be
wiſh'd, that we who value our felves
upon a Religion that's Reveal'd from
Heaven, would but imitate this
great Pattern of Natural Religion,
in univerſal Charity, good Nature, a
diſ-intereſted Love to our Country, and
thoſe
the Death of Socrates, 79
thoſe other Qualities that tend to
the Peace and Happineſs of Mankind.
I am very ſenſible, it's a bold At-
tempt, to pretend to imitate in a Mo-
dern Language the moſt polite Pen of
the moſt polite Age that ever Athens
knew. But I have endeavour'd it as
well as I can, and let it take its Fate.
If it but pleaſe you, Madam, I
ſhall not think a few Hours I have
ſtole from the Buſineſs of my Pro-
feſſion have been ill employ’d. In
making you a
Preſent of this
kind, ſo very young, judge what
an Opinion I have of you now, and
how firmly I am perſwaded, and
expect to ſee you become one Day a
Joining Ornament to your Sex and
Family: And give me leave to tell
you, the World will never be con-
tent with leſs than the higheſt Per-
fections in a Daughter of the late
Dutcheſs of Queensbery. When you
come to reliſh what I have writ of
the Vertues of Socrates, Remeinber,
you had a Mother who poſſeſs'd thiem
all, as far as was confiitent with the
Delicacy of her Sex and Temper : For
if I believ'd the Tranſmigration of
Souls,
80 An Eſay concerning
Souls, I ſhould have thought that
Hers had been once the Soul of Socra-
tes, new caſt in a ſofter Mold. She
had one Felicity that was deny'd
Him: The Athenians had not that
Value for him that he deſerv'd, till
it was too late ; whereas She was
equally lov’d and admir’d, while li-
ving, and univerſally lamented, when
dead. Nor has there been, in any
Age, an Inſtance of a happier Pair
in a marry'd State, or of more In.
cenſe that has been paid to the Me-
mory of a Beloved Wife, than by
her Illuſtrious Husband to Hers after
.
her Death.
MADAM,
Be You ſuch as your Noble Mother,
was, and You have attain'd the ut-
inoſt I can wiſh for you, being with
the greateſt Eſteem,
Madam,
Your Ladiſhips moſt Humble,
and moſt Obedient Servant,
JAMES WELWOOD.
( 81 )
THE
BANQUET
OF
XENOPHON.
I
Am of Opinion, that as well the
Sayings as the Actions of Great
Men deſerve to be Recorded,
Whether they treat of ſerious Sub-
jects with the Greateſt Application of
Mind, or giving themſelves ſome Rea
fpite, Unbend their Thoughts to Di-
verſions worthy of 'em. You will
know by the Relation I am going to
make, what it was inſpir'd me with
this Thought, being my ſelf pré-
ſent.
During the Feſtival of Minervt,
there was a Solemn Turnament, whi-
G
ther
82 The Banquet of Xenophon.
Rich.
thens.
* Callias was ther * Callias, who tenderly lov’d
Families in A- Autolicus, carry'd him, which was
thens,and was ſoon after the Victory which that Youth
furnam'd the had obtain'd at the Olimpick Games.
When the Show was over, Callias ta-
king Autolicus and his father withi
him, went down from the City to his
| The Sea-port Houſe at the of Piræum, with Nicera-
Town of A-
tes the Son of Nicias:
But upon the way meeting Socra-
tes, Hermogenes, Critobulus, Antiſthe-
nes and.Charmides diſcourſing toge-
ther, 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 coud
mot, ſays' he, have met with you more
Opportunely; I treat to Day Autolicus
and his Father, and if I am not Decei-
ved, Perſons who like you have their
Śocrates tias Souls || Purify'd by refin’d Contemplatio
call'd the puri-
fying Philofo- onswou'd do much more Honour to our
pher, becauſe Aſſembly, than Tour Colonels of Horſes
De purify'a the Captains of Foot, and other Gentlemen
be conterfed of Buſineſs, who are full of Nothing but
with from V'ice their Offices and Employments. You are
fWication, always upon the Banter, ſaid Socra-
tes; For lince you gave fo much Mo-
ney
The Banquet of Xenophon.
83
mous Pedant's
ney to * Protagoras, Gorgias and Pro.* Three fa-
dicas, to be inſtructed in Wiſdom, that pretended
You make but little Account of us, to teach Wif
who have no other Alfiſtance but dom; alias Sô-
phifts.
from our felves to acquire knowledge,
'Tis trųe, ſaid Callias, hitherto I have
conceald from you a Thouſand 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 don't doubt, you will ſay, I am a
Man of Conſequence:
Socrates and the Reſt thank'd him
with the Civility that was due to a
Perſon of ſo high a Rank, that had
invited 'em in ſo Obliging a manner :
· And Callias ſhowing an Unwilling-
neſs to be refuſed, they at laſt accep-
ted the Invitation, and went along
with him. After they had done Ba-
thing and Anointing, as was the Cui.
ſtom before Meals, they all went into
the Eating-Room, - wheſe Autolicus
was ſeated by his Father's ſide, And
each of the Reſt took his place ac-
cording to his Age or Quality,
The whole Company became im- Beauty and its
mediately ſenſible of the Power of Efecs.
Beads
TD
84
The Banquet of Xenophon.
Beauty, and every one at the ſame
time filently confeſs’d; that by Na-
tural Right the Soveraignty belong'd
to it, eſpecially when attended with
Modeſty and a vertuous Baſhfulneſs.
Now Autolicus was one of that kind
of Beauties; And the Effect which
the Sight of fo lovely a Perſon produ-
ced, 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 ſurrendred to his
Power, and paid Homage to the ſweet
and noble Mein and Features of his
Countenance, and the Manly Grace-
fulneſs of his Shape.
The Effects of It is very certain that in thoſe who
Regular 16
are divinely inſpir’d by ſome good
Dæmon, there appears ſomething,
which makes 'em beheld with the
ſtrictelt Attention, and a pleaſing A-
ftoniſhment :: Whereas thoſe who are
poſſeſs’d by ſome evil Genius or Pom-
er,
beſides the Terror that appears in
their Looks, they talk in a Tone that
ſtrikes Horror, and have a ſort of
unbounded Veliemence in all they
fay, and do, that comes but little
ſhort of Madneſs. Thence it
Thence it is, as
it
Tulous Laie.
3
The Banquet of Xenophon.
85
it was in this Caſe, that thoſe who
are touch'd with a juſt and well re-
gulated Love diſcover in their Eyes
a charming Sweetneſs, in the Tone of
the Voice a Muſical Softneſs, and in
their whole Deportment ſomething
that expreſſes in dumb Show the in.
nate l'ertue of their Soul.
At length 'they ſat down to Supper,
and a Profound Silence was obſerv'd,
as tho' it had been enjoin'd, When
a certain Buffoon named Philip knock-
ed at the Door, and bade the Servant
that opend it, tell the Gentlemen, he
was there, and that lie came to fup
with 'em; adding, there was no Oc-
caſion to deliberate whether he ſhould
let him in, for that he was perfectly
well furniſh'd with every thing that
could be neceſſary towards Supping
well on Free-coſt, his Boy being wea-
ту with carrying nothing in his Belly,
and himſelf extreamly fatiegu’d with
running about to ſee where he could
fill his own." Callias underſtanding
the Arrival of this new Gueſt, order'd
him to be let in, ſaying, We muſt
not refuſe him his Diſh, and at the
fame time turn'd his Eyes towards
Alle
G 3
86 The Banquet of Xenophon.
?
Autolicus, to diſcover, probably, the
Judgment he made of what had
paſs'd in the Company with relation
to him; But Philip coming into the
Room, 6 Gentlemen, ſays he, You
“ all know I am a Buffoon by Profeſ-
“ Gon, and therefore am come of my
co
own Accord. I choſe rather to
come uninvited, thạn put you to
" the Trouble of a formal Invitation,
" having an Averſion to Ceremony.
“Very well, ſaid Callias, take a Place
แ
then, Philip, the Gentlemen here
“ are full of ſerious Thoughts, and I
fancy they will have Occaſion for
«? ſome body to make 'em laugh.
While Şupper lafted, Philip fail'd
not to ſerve 'em up now and then a
Diſh of his Profeſſion i He ſaid a
Thouſand ridiculous things; But not
having proyokd one Smile, he diſco-
ver'd ſufficient Diſſatisfaction. Some
time after he fell to't again, and the
Company heard him again without
being mov’d. Thereupon up he got,
* The Greeks and throwing his Cloak * over his
grace iben Head, laid himſelf down at his full
ibeir Mantle Length on his Couch, without Eat-
over their ing one ßit more.
Bit more. What's the Mat-
ter,
ch
Header
risi
The Banquet of Xenophon. 87
ter, ſays Callias, has any ſudden Ill-
neſs taken you ? Alas, cry'd he, fetch-
ing a deep Sigh from his Heart, The
quickeſt and moſt ſenſible Pain that
ever I felt in my whole Life, for
ſince there's no more Laughing in the
World, 'tis plain my Buſineſs is at
an end, and I have nothing now to
do but to make a decent Exit. Here,
tofore I have been call'd to every jol-
ly Entertainment, to divert the Com-
pany with my Buffoonries ; but to
what Purpoſe ſhou'd they now in-
vite me? I can as ſoon become a God
as ſay one ſerious Word, And to ima-
gine Any One will give me a Meal in
hopes of a Return in kind, is a meer
Jeſt, for my Spit was never yet laid
down for Supper ; ſuch a Cuſtom ne-
ver enter'd my Doors.
While Philip talk'd in this manner,
he held his Handkerchief to his Eyes,
and perſonated to Admiration a Man
grievouſly afflicted. Upon which
every one comforted him, and pro :
mis'& if he would eat, they would
laugh as much as he pleas'd, The
Pity which the Company ſhow'd Phi-* It is thought
Lip"having made * Critobulus almoſt by Critobulus
G4
burtt meant himſelf
88 The Banquet of Xenophon.
burſt his ſides, Philip uncover?d his
Face, and fell to his Supper again,
ſaying, Rejoice my Soul, and také
Courage, this will not be thy laſt
good Meal; I ſee thou wilt yet be
good for ſomething. They had now
taken away, and made Effuſion of
Wine in Honour of the Gods, when
a certain Syracuſian enter'd, leading
in a handſom Girl, who play'd on
the Flute, another that danc'd and
Show'd very nimble Feats of Activi-
ty, and a beautiful little Boy, who
danc'd, and play'd perfectly well on
the Guitar. After theſe had ſufficient-
ly diverted the Company, Socrates,
Addreſſing himſelf to Callias, In truth,
ſays he, You have treated us very
handſomly, and have added to the
Delicacy of Eating, other things de-
lightful to our Seeing and Hearing.
But we want * Perfumes to make
Cupom of the up the Treat, anſwer'd Callias, What
Greeks at fay you to that? Not at all, reply'd
Great Enter- Socrates, Perfumes like Habits are to
perfume their
be us'd according to Decency: Some
Gueſts, at become Men; and others, Women;
which they But I would not that.One Man ſhou’d
fametimes ex-
pended Grear perfume himſelf for the ſake of ano-
Sums.
Perfumes.
* It was the
tainments to
ther;
ii
The Banguot of Xenophon. 89
ther ; And for the Women, eſpecial-
ly ſuch as the Wife of Critobulus or
Nicerates, they have no Occaſion for
Perfumes, their natural Sweetneſs ſup-
plying the want of 'em. But ’ris o-
therwiſe if we talk of the Smell of
that Oil that's uſed in the Olimpick
Games, or other Places of * Publick * At the Olim-
Exerciſe; This indeed is ſweeter to pick and other
Games of
the Men than Perfumes to the Wo-Greece, they
men; And when they have been for sub'd their
ſome time difus’d to it, they only loin its to
think on’t with a greater Deſire. ' If make 'em more
you perfume a Slave and a Freeman, ople and e-
the Difference of their Birth produces
none in the Smell; And the Scent is
perceiv'd as ſoon in the one as the o:
ther: But the Odor of Honourable
Toil, as it is acquir’d 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 Publick Ex-
ercilës, what Perfumes ought we to
have? That of Vertue and Hanour,
faid Socrates.
Lycon. And where is this fort of
Perfume to be had ?
Soc,
ctive,
90
The Banquet of Xenophon.
Soc. Not in the Shops, I aſſure you!
Lycon. Where then?
Soc. Theognis ſufficiently diſcovers
where, when he tells us in his Poem.
When Vertuous Thoughts warm the Cam
leftial Mind
With generous Heat, each Sentimentºs
Refin’d;
Thimmortal Perfumes breathing from
the Heart,
With grateful Odors, ſweeten every Partą
But when our Vicious Paffions fire the
Soul,
The cleareft Fountains grow corrupt and
foul;
The Virgin Springs whu" ſbou'd untain-
ted flow,
Run thick, and blacken all the Stream
below,
Do you underſtand this, my Song
ſaid Lycon to Autolicus? He not only
underſtands it, but will practiſe it
too, ſaid Socrates, and I am ſatisfy'd,
when he comes to contend for that
Noble Prize, he will chooſe a Maſter
to inſtruct him, ſuch as you
ſhall ap.
prove
The Banquet of Xenophon ga
prove of
ving him Rules to attain it.
Then they began all to re-aſſume if Vertue can
what Socrates had ſaid ; One affirm- taught,
ed there was no Maſter to be found
thąt was qualify'd to inſtruct others
in Vertue ; another ſaid, It cou'd not
Þe Taught ; and a Third maintain'd,
that if Vextue cou'd not be Taught,
nothing elſe cou'd. Very well, faid
Socrates ; But ſince we cannot agree
at preſent in our Opinions about this
Matter, let us defer the Queſtion to
another Opportunity, and apply our
ſelves to what is before us ; for I ſee
the Dancing Girl entring at the other
End of the Hall; and ſhe has brough
her Cymbals along with her. Atthe
ſame time the other Girl took her
Flute, The One play'd and the other
danc'd to Admiration; the Dancing
Girl throwing up, and catching again
her Cymbals ſo as to anſwer exact.:
ly theCadency of the Muſick, and
that with a ſurprizing Dexterity. So-
crates, who obſerv'd her with Plea-
ſure, thought it deſerv'd ſome Refle.
&tion; And therefore, ſaid lie, This
young Girl has confirm’d me in the
Opia
9.
The Banquet of Xenophon.
Opinion I have had of a long time,
that the Female Sex are nothing infe-
rior to ours, excepting only in Strength
of Body, or perhaps Šteddineſs of
Judgment. Now you Gentlemen
that have Wives amongſt us, may
takė my Word for it, They are capa-
ble of Learning any thing you are
willing they ſhould know, to make
The Advantage’em more uſeful to you. If ſo, Sir,
of a trouble- faid Antiſthenes, if this be the real
fom Wifc.
Sentiment of your Heart, How comes
it, you don't inftru&t Xantippe, who
is, beyond Diſpute, the moſt infup-
portable Woman that is, 'has been,
or ever will be ? I do with her, faid
Socrates, like thoſe who would learn
Horſmanſhip, They don't chooſe eaſy
tame Horſes, or ſuch as are manage-
able at Pleafure, but the higheſt Me-
tal'd and hardeſt Mouth'd, Believing
if they can tame the Natural Heat
and Impetuoſity of theſe, there can
be none too hard for 'em to manage.
I propoſe to my ſelf very near the
ſame thing, For having deſign’d to
converſe with all ſorts of People, I
beliey'd I ſhou'd find nothing to di-
Iturb me in their Converſation or
Man-
The Banquet of Xenophon. 931
Manners, being once accuſtomed
to bear the unhappy Temper of Xan-
tippe.
The Company reliſh'd what Socras
tes ſaid, and the Thought appear'd
very reaſonable. Then a Hoop being
brought in, with Swords fix d all a-
round it, their Points upwards, and
plac'd in the Middle of the Hall, The
Dancing. Girl immediately leapt'head-
foremoſt into it; thro' the Midſt of
the Points, and then out again, with
a wonderful Agility. This Sight
gave the Company more Surprize
and Fear, than Pleaſure, every one
believing the would wound her ſelf;
but ſhe receiv'd no harm, and per-
form'd her Feats, with all the Cou-
rage and Aſſurance imaginable.
The Company may ſay what they That there is
pleaſe, ſaid Socrates, but if I am not
Habit of Cou-
miſtaken, no body will deny, but be learnt.
rage, and may
Courage may be learnt, and that
there are Maſters for this Vertue in
particular; tho’ they will not allow
it in the other Vertues we were juſt
now ſpeaking of: ſince a Girl, you
ſee, has the Courage to throw her
felf thro' the Midit of naked Swords,
which
94 The Banquet of Xenophon.
that grave
which I believe none of us darę ver-
ture upon. Truly, ſaid Antiſthenes,
to whom Socrates ſpoke, the Syracu-
fian may foon make his Fortune, iſ
he would but ſhow this Girl in a full
Theatre, and promiſe the Athenians,
that for a conſiderable Sum of Money,
he would inftrućt 'em to be as litcle
afraid of the Lacedemonian Lancesy, as
this Girl of her Swords. Ah ! cries
the Baffoon, What Pleaſure ſhould I
take, to ſee Piſander,
Counſellor of State
, taking Leſſons
from this Girl ; he that is like to
ſwoon away at the sight of a Lance,
and ſays, 'tis a barbarous cruel Cu-
ſtom to go to War, and kill Men.
Dancing, and
After this, the little Boy danc’d,
the Advanta- which gave occaſion to Socrates to
ſay, You ſee this Child who appear’d
beautiful enough before; is yet much
niore ſo now, by his Gelture and
Motion, than when he ſtood ſtill.
You talk, ſaid Carmides; as if you
were inclinable to eſteem the Trade
of a Dancing-Maſter. Without doubt,
faid Socrates, When I obſerve the
Uſefulneſs of that Exerciſe, and how
the Feet, the Legs, the Neck, and
indeed
ges of it,
The Banquet of Xenophon. 95
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 reſolv'd to take
à Leſſon of the Syracuſian, whenever
he pleaſes. But 'twas reply'd, 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 tlie Company
burſt out a Laughing; but Socrates,
with a compos'd and ſerious Counte-
nance, Methinks you are pleaſant,
ſaid he; What is it tickles you? Is it
becauſe Dancing is not a wholſome
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, * Running
have gerierally thick Legs and nar was a part of
the Olympick
row Shoulders : and, on the contra- and other
ry, our Gladiators and Wreſtlers have Publick
broad Shoulders and ſmall Legs. what is here
Games; and
Now, inſtead of producing ſuch Ef-called the Do.
fects, thie Exerciſe of Dancing occa- lick, was the
ſions in ús ſo many various Motions, they ran, a-
and agitating all the Members of the bout the
Body with to equal a Poiſe, renders Length of two
Engliſh Miles
the
96
The Banquet of Xenophon.
the whole of a juſt Proportion, both
with regard to Strength and Beauty.
What Reaſon then can you find to
låugh, 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 Publick School, and unrobe
my ſelf before all the Company, to
dance; I need not do that, a Parlour
like this we are in, will ſerve my
Turn. You may fee, by this little
Boy, that one may ſweat as well in
a little Room, as an Academy, or å
Publick-place; And in 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 ſaying, I deſign to dance.. Be-
fides, you
know I have a Belly ſome .
thing larger than I could wiſh; and
are you ſurpriz’d, if I endeavour to
bring it down by Exerciſe? Have
you not heard, that Carmides, the
other Morning, when he came to
viſit me, found me dancing ? Very
true, ſaid Carmides, and I was ex-
treamly. ſurpriz'd, and afraid you
liad loſt your Senſes : But when you
had
The Banquet of Xenophon.
97
had given me the ſame Reaſons you
have now, I went back to my Houſe,
and, tho I cannot dance, I began to
move my Hands and Legs, and pra-
etiſe over fome Leſſons, which I re-
member'd ſomething of, when I was
young
Faith, ſaid Philip to Socrates, I be.
lieve 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 Mara
ket-place, you'll not be in Danger of
being forfeited, for there is not an
Ounce, no noc a Grain Difference
berween 'em. Well then, ſaid Calli-
as, when you have an Inclination for
a Leſſon of Dancing, Socrates, pray
call upon me, that we may learn to-
gether. With all my Heart, an-
Twer'd Socrates. And I could wiſh,
ſaid Philip, that ſome one would take
the Flute, and let Socrates and me
dance before this good Company; for
methinks I have a mighty Mind that
way. With that he jumpt up, and
took two or three Frisks round the
Hall, in Imitation of the dancing Boy
H
and
·
98
The Banquet of Xenophon.
and Girl. Upon which every body
took Notice, that all thoſe. Geſtures
or Motions, that were ſo beautiful
and eaſy in the little Boy, appear'd
awkward and ridiculous in Philip:
and when the little Girl bending back-
wards, touch'd her Heels with her
Head, and flung her ſelf ſwiftly
round three or four times, like a
Whcel, Philip would needs do the
fame, but in a manner very different ;
for bending himſelf forward, and en-
deavouring to turn round, you may
imagine with what Succeſs he came
off. Afterwards, when every one
prais?d the Child, for keeping her
whole Rody in the exacteſt and moſt
regular Motion in the Dance, Philip
bad the Mafick ſtrike up a brisker
Tune, and began to move his Head,
his Arms, and his Heels, all at once,
till he could hold out no longer :
Then throwing himſelf on the Couch,
he cry'd out, I have exercis'd my
ſelf ſo thoroughly, that I have alrea-
dy one good Effect of it, I am plaguy
thirſty. Boy, bring the great Glais
that trands on the Side-board, and
fill it up to me, for I muſt drink.
Very
The Banquet of Xenophon. 99
Very well, ſaid Callias, the whole That a Man
Company Thall drink, if you pleaſe email to drink
Maſter Philip, for we are thirſty too,
with laughing at you. It's my O-
pinion too, Taid 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. 'Tis with our Bo-
dies, as with Seeds ſown in the
Earth, when they are over-water'd,
they cannot ſhoot forth, and are un-
able to penetrate the Surface of the
Ground : But when they have juſt
ſo much Moiſture as is requiſite, we
may behold 'em break thro’ the
Clod with Vigor; and puſhing bold-
ly upwards, produce their Flowers,
and then their Fruits. 'Tis much the
ſame thing with us, if we drink too
much, the whole Man is delug’d,
his Spirits are overwhelm'd, and is
ſo far from being able to talk reaſon-
ably; or indeed to talk at all, that
'tis with the utmoſt Pain he draws
his Breath. But if we drink tempe-
rately, and ſmall Draughts at a time,
H 2
the
IOO
The Banquet of Xenophon.
M...
the Wine diſtils upon our Lungs
like ſweeteſt Morning Dew (to uſe
the Words of that noble Orator Gor-
gias). It's then the Wine commits
110 Rape upon our Reaſon, but plea-
fantly invites us to agreeable Mirth,
Every one was of his Opinion, and
Philip ſaid he had ſomething to offer,
which was this, Your Servants, faid
he, that wait at the Side-board fhould
imitate good Coachmen, who are ne-
ver eſteem'd ſuch, till they can turn
dexterouſly and quick. The Advice
was immediately put in Practice, and
the Servants went round, and fill'd
every Man his Glaſs.
Then the little Boy tuning his
Guitar to the Flute, ſung and play'd
at the ſame time; which gave migh-
ty Satisfaction to all the Company.
Upon this Carmides ſpoke, What
Socrates, faid he, juſt now offerd,
about the Effects of Wine, may, in
my Opinion, with little Difference,
be apply'd to Muſick and Beauty, e-
ſpecially when they are found toge-
ther : For I begin, in good earneſt,
to be ſenſible, that this fine Mixture
buries Sorrow, and is at the ſame
cime
|
* w 745
The Banquet of Xenophon.
IOI
1
time the Parent of Love. Whereup-
on Socrates took Occaſion to ſay, If
theſe people are thus capable of di-
verting us, I am well aſſur'd, we
are now capable our felves, and I
believe no body here doubts it. In
my Judgment, it would be ſhame-
ful for us, now we are met toge-
ther, not to endeavour to benefit one
another, by ſome agreeable or ſeri-
ous Entertainment. What ſay you,
Gentlemen? They generally reply'd,
Begin then the Diſcourſe, from
which we are to hope ſo good an
Effect. I hope, ſaid Socrates, to ob-
tain that Favour of Callias, if he
would but give us a Taſte of thoſe
fine Things he learnt of Prodicus :
You know, he promis'd us this,
when we came to ſup with him.
With all my heart, ſaid Callias, Iam
willing, bứt on Condition, that you
will all pleaſe to contribute to the
Converſation, and every one tell, in
his Turn, what it is he values him.
ſelf moſt upon. Be it fo, ſaid So-
crates." I will tell you then (added
Callias) what I eſteem moſt, and va-
lue my ſelf-chiefly ripon; it is this,
That
H 3
102
The Banquet of Xenophon.
That I have it in my Power to make
Men better. How fo, faid Antiſthe-
nes, will you teach 'em to become
Rich or Honeſt. Juſtice is Hone-
fty, reply'd Callias. You are in the
right, "ſaid Antiſthenes, I don't diſ-
pute it; for tho' there are ſome Oc-
cafions, when even Courage or
Wiſdom may be hurtful to one's
Friends or the Guvernment, yet Ju-
ftice is ever the ſame, and can ne-
ver mix with Diſhoneſty. When
therefore every one of us, ſays Calli-
!!s, has told wherein he chiefly va-
lues 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 bet-
ter.
Soc. But, Nicerates, What is the
thing that you value your ſelf moſt
upon.
* Nic. 'Tis that my Father de-
iver e repreſents ſigning to make a virtuous Man of
me, ordered me to get by heart eve-
ry Verſe: of Homer. : And I believe I
can repeat you at this Minute the
whole Iliad and Odyſſes. But you
know
*
Sicerates
!1!1e Pedant.
1
The Banquet of Xenophon. 103
&
they
know very well, ſaid Antiſthenes, e.
very Publick * Rehearſer, or Ballad- * Theſe were
ſinger does the ſame at all the Cor- their Liveli
ners of the Streets. I acknowledge hood by ſinging
it, ſaid Nicerates, nor does a Day pais Homer's Vera
but I go to hear them.
Streets of A-
Ant. I think 'em a Pack of ſcan-thens.
dalous Wretches. What ſay you?
Nic. I am of your Opinion,
Soc. 'Tis certain, they don't
know the Senſe of one Verſe
recite : But you + who have given † This is ſpoke
ſo much Money to Hefimbrotus, A-in Railery.
naximander, and other wiſe Men,
to inſtruct you in Wiſdom, you
can't be ignorant of any thing.
Now 'tis your Turn, Critobulus,
continu'd Socrates : Tell us then, if
you pleaſe, what is it you value
your ſelf moſt upon ? On Beau-
ty, reply'd he. But will you fay,
Socrates, that yours is ſuch as will
help to make us better?
Soc. I underſtand you, but if I
don't make that out a-non, then
blame me.
What ſays Antiſthe-
nés ? Upon what does he value lima
ſelf?
♡
H 4
Ant.
I
104 The Banquet of Xenophon.
i
Ant. I think I can value my ſelf
upon nothing in this World equal to
that of being rich.
He had ſcarce done ſpeaking,
when Hermogenes took him up, and
ask'd him how much he was worth?
Faith, not one Half-penny, faid An-
tifthenes.
Her. But you have a good Eſtate
in Land
Ant. I may perhaps have juſt as
much as may afford Duft for Autoli-
cus, the next time he has a Mind to
* The Wrest, * wreſtle.
lers at the pub-
Soc. Carmides, Will you, in few
after they had Words, acquaint us, what it is you
sub'd them- yalue your ſelf moſt upon.
ſelves ipith
Qils, they
Car. Poverty.
Soc. Very well ; You have made
brown upon:
'em, to dry it an excellent Choice : It's indeed in
it ſelf of an admirable Nature ; no
body will be your Rival ; you may
preſerve it without Care, and even
Negligence is its Security. Theſe
are not ſmall Reaſons, you ſee.
Callias. But ſince you have ask'd
the whole Company, may we not
enquire of you, Socrates, what it is
you value your ſelf upon ?
When
lick Games,
Bad Dust
UD
The Banquet of Xenophon. 105
9
When Socrates putting on a very
grave and folemn Air, anſwer'd,
coldly, and without Hefitation, i
value my ſelf upon * Procuring. The * I cannot find
Gravity of the Speaker, and the " lofter Word
Manner of ſpeaking a Word ſo little the Greek
expected from Socrates, fet the whole here. Socrates
explains him-
Company a laughing. Very well, felf after-
Gentlemen, ſaid he, I am glad you wards.
are pleas'd, but I am very certain,
this Profeſſion of mine, if I apply my
felf cloſely to it, will bring in Money
enough, if I pleas'd.
When Lycon pointing to Philip,
Well, what ſay you ? You, I ſuppoſe,
ſelf upon making Meni
laugh? Yes certainly, ſaid Philip,
and have I not more Reaſon to be
proud of my ſelf for this, than that
fine Spark, C'allipides, who is ſo fond,
you know, of making his Audience
weep, when he recites his Verſes in
the Theatre ? But, Lycon, ſaid Anti-
fthenes, let us know what it is
you
value your ſelf moſt upon? What
gives you greateſt Content ? You
know very well, anſwer'd he, what
I eſteem the moſt, and which gives
me the greateſt Pleaſure, It's to be
the
value your
106
The Banquet of Xenophoni.
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
t'other Day, at the Olympick Games.
Not fo, I aſſure you, faid Autolicus,
bluſhing. And then the whole
Company turning their Eyes with
Pleaſure towards him, one of them
ask'd him, What is it then, Autoli-
614s, you value your ſelf moſt up-
on ? Tis, reply'd he, that I am the
Son of ſuch a Father; and at the
fame time turn’d himſelf lovingly
towards him for a Kiſs. Callias,
who obſerv'd it, ſaid to Lycon, Don't
you know your felf to be the richeſt
Man in the World ? I can't tell
that, reply'd Lycon : And yet ’tis
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 your ſelf moſt
felf moſt upon ?
On Vertue, anſwer'd he, and the
Pover
The Banquet of Xenophon.
107
Power of my Friends : And that with
theſe two Advantages, I have yet
the good Fortune to be belov'd by
theſe Friends.
Then every one looking upon him,
began to enquire, who were his
Friends ? I will ſatisfy you, ſaid he,
as you ſhall ſee, when it comes to
my turn.
Then Socrates reſum'd the Dif-
courſe ; Now you have all (faid he)
declar'd your Opinions, as to what
you value your ſelves moſt upon, it
remains, that you prove it.
now then hear every Mans Reaſons,
if you pleaſe, for his Opinion.
Hear me firſt then (ſaid Callias)
for tho' you have all been long
enquiring what Juſtice is, I alone
have found the Secret to make Men
juſt and honeſt.
Soc. How ſo?
Call. By giving 'em Money.
At theſe Words, Antiſthenes riſing
up, ask'd him, haſtily, Is Juſtice
to be found in the Heart, or the
Pocket ?
Call. In the Heart.
Let us
;
Ant.
108
The Banquet of Xenophon
i
Ant. And wou'd you then make
us believe, that by filling a Bag with
Money, you can make the Heart How
nest 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 committing evil Actions.
Ant. But do they repay you again,
what they receive of you?
Call. Not at all.
Ant. Nothing but Gratitude, I
lope, 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 Antifthenes reply'd briskly,
Ant. That is wonderful, you make
Men Just and Honest to others, and
they prove Vnjuft and Diſhoneſt only
to You?
Call. Not ſo wonderful neither!
Have we not Architects and Maſons,
who build Houſes for other Men, and
liye in hired Lodgings themſelves?
Have
The Banquet of Xenophon. 109
prove
Have Patience, my Maſter, ſaid he,
(turning to Socrates) and I'll
this, beyond Diſpute. You need
not, ſaid Socrates, For beſides what
you alledge for a Proof, there is ano-
ther that occurs to me: Do you not
fee there are certain Diviners, who
pretend to foretell every thing to o
ther People, and are intirely igno-
rant of what is to happen to them-
felves. Socrates ſaid no more.
'Tis now my turn to ſpeak, ſaid
Nicerates; *Hear then what I am go.* Here Nice-
ing to ſay, Attend to a Converſation rates plays the
Pedant indeed,
which will neceſſarily make you bet-as if to be a-
ter, and more Polite. You all know,ble to repeat
Homer wu8
or I am much miſtaken, there is no-
to be truly
thing that relates to Human Life, learn'd.
but Homer has ſpoke of it. Whoever
then wou'd learn Oeconomy, Eloquence,
Arms, Whoever wou'd be Maí
fter 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
'em, for I am intirely Maſter of all
that. Very well, ſaid Antiſthenes,
You have learnt likewiſe the Art of
being a King; for you may remem .
ber
ΙΙο
The Banquet of Xenophon.
ber Homer praiſes Agamemnon for that
He was,
A Noble Warrior; and a Mighty Prince.
Nicer. I learnt too from Homer
how a Coachman ought to turn at the
End of his Carreir. He ought to
incline his Body to the Left, and give
the Word to the Horle that's 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 Ser-
vants bring an Onion, and you'll ſee
with what Pleaſure you'll drink. I
know very well, ſaid Carmides, what
he means; Nicerates, Gentlemen,
thinks deeper than you imagine. He
would willingly go home with the
Scent of an Onion in his Mouth, that
his Wife may not be jealous or ſuſpect
he has been kiſſing abroad. A very
good Thought, (faid Socrates) but
perhaps I have one full as whimſical,
and
The Banquet of Xenophon.
and worthy of him: 'Tis, that an
Onion does not only Reliſh Wine,
but Victuals too, and gives a higher
Seaſoning : But if we ſhould eat 'em
now after Supper, they wou'd ſay,
we had committed a Debauch at Cala
lias's; No, no, ſaid Callias, you can
never think fo; But Onions, they
fay, are very good to prepare People
for the Day of Battle, and inſpire
Courage ; You know they feed Cocks
fo againit they fight : But our Buſi-
neſs, at preſent, I preſume, is Love,
not War, and ſo much for Onions.
Then Critobulus began; I am now Beauty and its
Advantages.
(faid he) to give my Reaſons why I
value my ſelf ſo much upon my Beau-
ty;
“ If I am nor handlom (and I
know very well what I think of
66 the Matter) you ought all of you
" to be accounted Impoſtors, for
“ without being oblig'd to it upon
“ Oath, when you were ask'd what
was your Opinion of me, You all
“ ſwore I was Handſom; and I
" thought my ſelf oblig'd to believe
you, being Men of Honour that
«, fcorn'd a Lie: If then I am really
" handſom, and you feel the ſame
66 Plea-
II 2
The Banquet of Xenophont
66
« Pleaſure that I do, when I behold
6 another beautiful Perſon, I am rea-
dy 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
“ lo agreeably, as the sight of A.
“ mandra ; and I could willingly be
66 blind to all other Objects, if I
" might but always enjoy the Sight
" of her I ſo tenderly Love.
I curſe my Slumbers, doubly curſe the
Night,
That hides the lovely Maid from my de-
ſoring Sight :
But, Oh! I bleſs the chearful God's Rea
turn,
And welcome with my Praiſe the ruddy
Morni
Light with the Morn returns, return
my Fair,
She is my Light, the Morn reſtores mi
Dear.
“ There is ſomething more in the
“ Matter, beſides this, to be conſi:
« der'd.
The Banquet of Xenophon.
113
66
16
« der’d. À Perſon that's Vigorous
" and Strong, cannot attain his De-
" ſigns but by his Strength and Vi-
gour; a Brave Man by his Cou-
rage; a Scholar by his Learning
“ and Converſation : But the Beau-
" tiful Perſon does all this, without
any Pains, by being only look'd at.
" I know very well, how ſweet che
« Poſſeſſion of Wealth is, But I wou'd
" ſacrifice all to Amandra, and I
" ſhou'd with more Pleaſure give all
my Eſtate to her, than to receive
a Thouſand times more from any
« other. I wou'd lay my Liberty at
“ her Feet, if ſhe wou'd accept me
« for her Slave; Fatigue would be
“ much more agreeable to me, thari
“ Repoſe, and Dangers than Eaſe,
if indur'd in the Service of Aman.
“ dra. If then you boaſt your felf fo
" much, Callias, that you can make
“ Men honeſter by your Wealth, I
6 have much more Reaſon to be-
“ lieve, I am able to produce in them
“ all ſorts of Vertue by the meer
" Force of Beauty: For when Beau-
ty inſpires, it makes its Votaries
generous and induſtrious; They
1
« there:
1
114
The Banquet of Xenophon.
66
CA
66
" thereby acquire a Noble Thirſt af-
ter Glory, and a Contempt of Dan-
gers ; And all this attended with
an humble and reſpectful Modeſty';
« which makes them bluſh to ask,
“what they wiſh moſt to poffefs.
" I think the Government is ſtark
" mad, that they don't chooſe for
“ Generals the moſt Beautiful Perſons
“ in the State : For my part, I wou'd
go through Fire, to follow fuch
a Commander, and I believe you
" wou'd 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 foon 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
* Theſe were “ thoſe who carry the * Confeciated
of the Olite si Branches at the Feast of Minerva;
Tree kept fa-
cred in the Ci-“ for you know, før that Ceremony
zadel of A-. they make Choice always of the
thens, and
" handſomeft Old Men. Now if 'cis
and Old Wo- “ deſirable to obtain without Trou-
" ble what one wiſhes, I am ſatisfy'd
them by turns.
" that without fpeaking one Word,
" I ſhould ſooner perſwade that lit-
both Old Men
men carried
66 tle
The Banquet of Xenophon. 115
that this Article of Beauty will be formid.
« tle Girl to kiſs me than any of
" You, with all the Arguments you
« can uſe, No, not you your ſelf,
• Socrates, with all the Strength of
your extolld Eloquence. Why
Critobulus, do you give your ſelf this
Air of Vanity (faid Socrates) As if
you were handſomer than me?
Doubtleſs, reply'd Critobulus, If I
have not the Advantage of You in
Beauty, I muſt be uglier than the Si-
leni *, as they are painted by the * The Sileni
Poets. (Now Socrates had ſome Re- were the Fo-
fter-Fathers of
ſemblance to thoſe Figures.) Bacchus, and
Socr. Take notice, if you pleaſe, horridly de.
6
ſoon decided anon, after every one
has taken his turn to ſpeak; Nor
ſhall we call Paris to make a Judg-
ment for us, as he did in the Caſe of
the three Goddeſſes about the Apple ;
And this very young Girl, who you
wou'd make us believe, had much
rather kiſs you, than any of us, ſhe
ſhall determine it.
Crit. And why may not Amandrá
be as good a Judge of this Matter ?
Soc. Amandra muſt needs have a
large Poſſeſſion of your Heart, ſeeing
I 2
by
116
The Banquet of Xenophon.
by your Good Will, you wou'd ne-
ver name any other Name but hers.
Crit. True, and yet when I don't
ſpeak of her, do you think, ſhe lives
not in my Memory. I aſſure you, if
I were a Painter or a Statuary, I
cou'd draw her Picture or Statue by
the Idea of her in my Mind, as well
as if ſhe were to fit to it.
Socr. Since then you have lfer I-
mage in your Heart, and that Image
reſembles her ſo ſtrongly, why is it
that you importune me continually
to carry you to Places, where
you
are ſure to meet her?
Crit. 'Tis becauſe the sight of A.
mandra only gives me real Joy.
Th? Idea does no folid Pleaſure give,
She muſt within my Sight, as well as,
Fancy, live.
Hermogenes interrupted the Dif-
courſe, and addreſſing himſelf to So-
crates, faid, You ought not to aban-
don Critobulus in the Condition he is
in, for the violent Tranſport and Fu-
ry of his Paſſion makes me uneaſy
for liim, and I know not where it
Socr.
may end.
The Banquet of Xenophon. 117
A+ ,
*** X *******************************
Socr. What? Do you think he is
become thuś only ſince. He was ac-
quainted with me? You are mighti-
ly deceiv'd; for I can aſſure you this
Fire has been kindled ever ſince they
were Children. Critobulus's Father
having obſerv'd it, beg'd of me that
I wou'd take care of his Son, and en-
deavour, if I cou'd, by all means,
to cure him of it. He is better now;
Things were worſe formerly : For I
have ſeen when Amandra appear'd in
Company, Critobulus, poor Creature,
wou'd ſtand as one ſtrook dead, with-
out Motion, and his Eyes ſo fix'd up.
on her, as if he had beheld Medula's
Head, inſomuch that 'twas impoſſi-
ble almoſt for me to bring him to
himſelf.
I remember one Day after certain of Kiſing.
Amorous Glances (this is between
our felves only) he ran up to her and
kiſs'd her; and Heaven knows, no-
thing gives more Fuel to the Fire of
Love than Kiſſes. For this Pleaſure
is not like others, which either leffen
or vaniſh in the Injoyment; On the
contrary, it gathers Strength the
more it's repeated ; and flattering
I
our
118
The Banquet of Xenophon.
our
Souls with fweet and favourable
Hopes, bewitches our Minds with a
thouſand beautiful Images. Thence
it may be that to Love and to Kiſs
are frequently expreſs’d by the ſame
Word in the Greek : And it's for that
Reaſon, I think, He that wou'd
pre-
ferve the Liberty of his Soul, ſhou'd
abſtain from Kiffing handſom Peo-
ple. What then, ſaid Carmides, muſt
I be afraid of coming near a hand-
ſom Woman? Nevertheleſs, I re-
member very well, and I believe you
do ſo too, Socrates, That being one
Day in Company with Critobulus's
beautiful Sifter, who reſembles him
fo much, as we were fearching toge-
ther for a Paſſage in fome Author,
you held your Head very cloſe to
that Beautiful Virgin; and I thought
you ſeem'd to take Pleafure in touch-
ing her Naked Shoulder with yours.
Good God, reply'd Socrates, I will
tell you truly, how I was puniſh'd
for it for five Days after ; I thought
I felt in my Shoulder a certain tick-
ling Pain, as if I had been bit by
Gnats, or prick'd wich Nettles;
and I inuſt confeſs too, that during
all
The Banquet of Xenophon.
119
you have
all that time I fele a certain, hitherto
unknown, Pain at my Heart. But
Critobulus, take notice what Iam go-
ing to tell you before this Good Com-
pany; It is, That I would not have
you come too near me,
till
as many Hairs upon your Chin as
your Head, for Fear you put me in
Mind of your handſom Sifter.
Thus the Converfation between
theſe Gentlemen was fometimes feri-
ous, ſometimes in Railery. After
this, Callias took up the Diſcourſe;
It's your turn now (ſays he) Carmi-
des, to tell us what Reaſons you have
for valuing your ſelf ſo much upon
* Poverty : I will, reply'd Carmides, * Tse dilvan-
and without Delay.
“ more certain, than that it's better
“ to be Brave than a Coward, a
“ Freeman than a Slave, to be Cre-
dired than Diſtruſted, to be In-
quir’d after for your
your Converſation,
66 than to Court others for theirs ?
" Theſe things I believe may be
granted me without much Diffi-
“ culty: Now when I was Rich, !
was in continual Fear of having
my Houſe broken by Thrièves, and
I 4
my
. *****r's '.
66 Is
Is any thing tages of Po-
verty.
CC
60
I 20
The Banquet of Xenophon.
06
06
my Money ſtole, or my Throat
cut upon the account of it. Be-
" ſides all this, I was forc'd to keep
« in Fee with ſome of theſe Petty-
fogging Raſcals, that retain to the
“ Law, who ſwarm all over the
“ Town like ſo many Locuſts. This
“ I was forc'd to do, becauſe they
were always in a Condition to
“ hurt me ; And I had no way to
" Retalliate upon them.
Then I
was oblig'd to bear Publick Offices
" at my own Charges, and to pay
“ Taxes; Nor was it permitted me,
to go abroad to Travel, to avoid
“ that Expence. But now that my
“ Eſtate, which I had without the
“ Frontiers of our Republick, is all
gone, and my Land in Attica
" brings me in no Rent, and all
my Houſhold-Goods are expos'd
to Sale, I ſleep wonderfully found,
16 and ſtretch'd upon my Bed as one
" altogether fearleſs of Officers. The
" Government is now no more jea-
“ lous of me, nor 1 of it ; Thieves
“ fright me not, and I my ſelf af.
fright others. I travel abroad when
pleaſe; and when I pleaſe, I ſtay
66
6.
66 at
The Banquet of Xenophon.
I 21
2
37
7
:
.
seinen Formen
72
72
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 Republick: Now the Republick
pays Tribute to me; for it main-
tains me. Then every one fnarſd
at me, becauſe I was often with
» Socrates : Now that I am Poor, I
may
converſe with him, or any o-
”ther I pleaſe, without any body's
being uneaſy at it. I have yet a-
"nother Satisfaction ; In the Days
” of my Eſtate, either the Govern-
ment or my ill Fortune were con-
tinually clipping it: Now that's
all gone, 'tis impoſſible to get any
thing of me; He that has nothing,
can loſe nothing. And I have
>> the continual Pleaſure, of hoping
to be worth ſomething again, one
19 time or other.
Don't you pray heartily againſt
Riches, ſays. Callias ?. And if you .
ſhould
27
Dies wit me interesting and the internet te versekering and many more intentant de repetition in the
37
22
30
32
27
22
The Banquet of Xenophon
reply'd Carmides : But when any
Mould happen to dream you were
Rich, would you not ſacrifice to the
Gods, to avert the ill Omen ? No, no,
Riches.
flattering Hope preſents, I wait pa-
tiently for the Succeſs. Then Socra-
tes turning to Antiſthenes; And what
Reaſon have you, ſaid he, who have
very little, or no Money, to value
* Of true your ſelf upon * Wealth.
Ant. “ Becaufe 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 fee Num-
6 bers of very Rich Men, who be-
“ lieve themſelyes Poor; nor is there
any Peril or Labour they won't
« expofe themſelves to, to acquire
“ more Wealth. I knew two Bro-
" thers, tother Day, who ſhar'de:
" qually their Father's Eſtate. The
" Firſt had enough, and ſomething
" to ſpare; the other wanted eve-
ry" thing. I have heard likewiſe.
« of ſome 'Princes ſo greedy of
- Wealth, that they were more no-
! coriouſly criminal in the Search of
it, than private Men; for tlo' the
46
66 lat.
The Banquet of Xenophon.
123
ini berita
i
sa neprint Hilchig mith out on the
« /látter may ſometimes ſteal; break
6 Houſes, and fell free Perſoos tą
« Slavery, to ſupport the Neceflities
“ of Life; yet thoſe do much worfe :
6. They ravage whole Countries, put
« Nations to the Sword, enſlave Free
66 States, and all this for the ſake of
"Money, and to fill the Coffers of
" their Treaſury. The Truth is, I
“ have a great deal of Compaſſion
“ 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 fatif-
“ fy’d ? For my part, tho’I.confeſs I
“ have no Money at home, yet I want
“6 none; becauſe I never eat but juſt
" as much as will fatisfy my Hun-
ger ; nor drink, but to quench
Thirſt. I cloath my felf in
46. ſuch manner, that I am as warm
" abroad as Callias, with all his
great Abundance. And when I
am at home, the Floor and the
“ Wall, without Matts or Tapi-
ſtry, make my Chamber warm
" enough for me. And as for my
Bed, ſuch as it is, I find it more
(6
my Thirft.
16
แ
66 dif-
I 24
The Banquet of Xenophon.
“ difficult to awake, than to fall .2-
" ſleep in it. If at any time a na-
“ tural Neceſſity, requires me to
converſe with Women, I part
"! with them as well fatisfy'd as ano.
ther. 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
“ don't miſtake me, Gentlemen, for
governing my Paſſion in this as in
“ other Things: I am ſo far from
defiring to have more Pleaſure in
" the Enjoyment, that I wiſh it
“ leſs; becauſe, upon due Conſide-
ration, I find thoſe Pleaſures that
" touch us in the moſt ſenſible
« manner, deſerve not to be efteem.
"ed 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 Employ-
“ment in Life ſo barren, but would
“ maintain me, without the leaſt
“ Uneaſineſs, and afford me a Din-
“ ner, without any Trouble. For
“ if I have an. Inclination at any
66 time
The Banquet of Xenophon. 125
***
수
​66
“ time to regale my ſelf, and indulge
my Appetite, I can do it eaſily;
“ 'Tis 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 Contented-
“ neſs of my Mind ſupplies me with
Delicacies, that are wanting in
( the Meat it ſelf. Now 'is not the
66 exceſſive Price of what we eat that
“ gives it a Reliſh; but 'tis Neceſſi-
ty and Appetite. Of this I have
• Experience juſt now, while I am
ſpeaking; for this Generous Wine
c of Thalos *, that I am now drink-* The noblejt
“ ing, The exquiſite Flavor of it is Vines that
16 the occaſion that I drink it now the Grecian
grew in one of
66 without Thirſt, and conſequently Ijlınds.
« without Pleaſure. Beſides all this,
" I find 'tis neceſſary to live thus, in
“ order to live honeſtly. For he
" that is content with what he has,
“ will never cover what's his Neigh-
“ bour's. Further, 'Tis certain, the
"Wealth I am ſpeaking of, makes
" Men liberal: For Socrates, from
66 whom I have all mine, never
“ gave it me by Number or Weight;
U
66 but
126
The Banquet of Xenophon.
CB
« but whenever I was willing to
" receive, he loads me always with
as much as I can carry. I do the
« fame by my Friends ; I never con-
“ ceal my Plenty. On the contra-
ty I Now 'em all I have, and at
the ſame time I let 'em ſhare with
me. It's from this likewiſe, I am
« become Maſter of one of the moſt
delightful things in the World;
“ I mean, that Toft and charming
“ Leiſure, that permits me to ſee e-
very thing that's 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 So-
crates from Morning to Night;
“ for he having no great Venerati-
on for thoſe, that can only count
66 vaſt Sums of Gold and Silver, con-
“ verſes only with them who he
“ finds are agreeable to him, and
“ deſerve his Company. Truly,
faid-Callias, I admire you, and theſe
your excellent Riches, for two Rea-
fons : Firſt, that thereby you are no
Slave to the Government : And, Se-
condly, That no Body cari take it
ill
The Banquet of Xenophon. 127
ill you don't lend 'em Money. Pray
don't admire him for the laſt, ſaid
Nicerates * ; for I am about to bor- * Nicerates
row of him what he moſt values ; rich and very
was both very
that is, to need Nothing ; for by covetous, being
reading Homer, and eſpecially that the son of Ni
cias, whore
Paſſage, wliere he ſays,
Life is writ by
Ten Golden Talents, ſeven three-leg’d
Stools,
Juſt Twenty Ciſterns, and Twelve char-
ging Steeds.
Plutarch.
I have ſo accuſtom’d my ſelf, 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 laugh'd
heartily; for there was no body
there, but believ'd Nicerates ſpoke
what he really thought, and what
were his real Inclinations.
After this, One ſpoke to Hermoze.
nes, 'Tis yours now (faid he) to tell
us * who are your Friends ; and * Pietj.
make it appear, that if they have
much Power, they have equal Will
to ſerve you with it ; and conſe-
quently, that you have reaſon to va-
lue your ſelf
Her.
upon 'em.
1
128
The Banquet of Xenophon.
។
66
66 do.
or
to
+ This is one
Hermog. "f. There is one Thing,
of the nobel « Gentlemen, univerſally receiv'd, a.
Antiquity mong 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 apply'd to by
“ all Mankind, with Sacrifices, to
“ know of 'em what they ought to
This ſuppoſes, that they
6 have the power to do us Good or
“ Evil; otherwiſe why ſhould we
pray to 'em, to be deliver'd from
« Evils that threaten us,
grant us the Good we ſtand in
“ need of ? Now theſe very Gods,
who are both All-ſeeing and Alla
powerful, they are ſo much my
“ Friends, and have fo peculiar a
“ Care of me, that be ic Night, be
“ it Day, whether I go any where;
“ or take any thing in hand, they
" have me ever in their View, and
“ under their Protection, and never
of their Sight.
They fore-know all the Events,
" and all the Thoughts and Adions
" of us pour Mortals: They fore-
warn us by ſome ſecret Preſcience
“ impreſsid
66 loſe me
out
The Banquet of Xenophon.
129
CC
66
66
!" **
" impreſs’d on our Minds or by ſome
“good Angel or Dream, what we
ought to avoid, and what we ought
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 puni-
“ ſhed 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's done ve-
ry cheap, and at little or no Ex-
pence, reply'd Hermogenes, for the
“ Praiſes I give 'em, coſt me no-
" thing. If I ſacrifice to 'em after
• I have receiv'd a Bleſſing from
« 'em, that very Sacrifice is at their
own Charge. I return them
" Thanks on all Occaſions; and if at
any time I call 'em to witneſs, 'tis
never to a Lie, or againſt my Con-
66 ſcience,
Truly, ſaid Socrates, if
“ ſuch Men as you have the Gods
" for their Friends, and I am ſure
" they have, 'tis certain, thoſe Gods
K
(C
66
66 take
130
The Banquet of Xenophon.
“ take Pleafure in good Actions, and
" the Practice of Vertue.
Here ended their ſerious Enter-
tainment. What follow'd, was of
another kind; for all of 'em turning
to Philip, ask'd him, What it was he
found ſo very valuable in his Profef-
fion ? Have I not Reaſon to be
proud of my Trade (faid he) all the
World knowing me to be a Buffoon?
If any good Fortune happens to 'em,
they chearfully invite me : But when
any Misfortune comes, they avoid
me like the Plague, leſt I ſhould
make 'em laughi in ſpite of them-
ſelves. Nicerates interrupting him,
You liave Reaſon indeed, faid he, to
boaſt of your Profeſſion, for 'tis quite
otherwiſe with me.
Friends have no Occaſion for me,
they avoid me like the Plague ; buc
in Misfortunes, they are ever about
me, and by a forg'd Genealogy, will
needs claim Kindred with me, and
at the ſame time carry my Family
up as high as the Gods. Very well,
faid Carmides, now to the reſt of the
Company..
Well,
When my
The Banquet of Xenophon. 131
M
*
Well, Mr. Syracuſian, What is it
gives you the greateſt Satisfaction,
or that you value your ſelf moſt up-
on? I ſuppoſe, 'tis that pretty little
Girl of yours. Quite contrary, ſays
he, I lave much more Paini than
Pleaſure upon her Account. I am
in conſtant Apprehenſion and Fear,
when I ſee certain People ſo buſy, a-
bout her, and trying all inſinuating
ways to *ruin her. Good God, faid * The Iord in
Socrates, What Wrong could they fignifies, to
pretend to have receiv'd from that kill, to ruiñ;
poor young Creature, to do her a °F 10 corrüpt,
Miſchief? Would they kill her ?
Syr. I don't ſpeak of killing ; you
don't take me, They would willing-
get to Bed to her.
Socr. Suppoſe it were fo; Why
muſt the Girl be ruin'd therefore?
Syr. Ay, doubtleſs.
Socr. Don't you lie in Bed with her
Syr. Moſt certainly, all Night
long
Socr. By Junio, thou art å liappy
Fellow; to be the only Man in the
World that don't ruin thoſe you lie
with. Well then; according to yout
Ka
Ae
**********;
your ſelf.
132
The Banquet of Xenophon.
*
Account, what you are proudeſt of,
muſt be, that you are ſo wholſome
and ſo harmleſs a Bed-fellow?
Syr. But you're miſtaken ; it's
not her I value my ſelf for neither.
Socr. What then?
Syr. That there are ſo many Fools
in the World. For 'tis theſe kind
of Gentlemen who come to ſee my
Children dance and ſing, that ſup-
ply me with the Neceſſaries of Life,
which otherwiſe I might want.
I ſuppoſe then, ſaid Philip, That
was the Meaning of your Prayer you
inade the other day before the Altar,
when you ask'd the Gods, that there
might be Plenty of every thing in this
World, where-ever you came, but of
Judgment and good Senſe?
Immortal Beings, grant my humble
Prayer;
Give Athens all the Bleſſings you can
ſpare;
Let 'em abound in Plenty, Peace, and
Pence, 1
But never let 'em want a Dearth of
Senſe.
All
The Banquet of Xenophon.
133
Procurer.
All is well hitherto, ſaid Callias : Socrates ex-
But, Socrates, what Reaſon have you plains what he
to make us believe you are fond of his Affertion,
the Profeſſion you attributed to your ofvaluing him-
ſelf juſt now ; for really I take it for felfon ile
Trade of a
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, Letus,
in ſhort, fix upon ſome one thing,
that we may
all
agree in. Shall it be
{o? Doubtleſs, anſwer'd all the
Company. And during the Thred
of his Diſcourſe, they made him no
other Anſwer, but Doubtlefs. Ha-
ving began fo, * Is it not certainly * It was
true, ſaid Socrates, that the Buſineſs engedte bat osa-
of an Artiſt of that kind, is to ma-crates bad in
nage ſo, as that the Perſon they intro- that his Ara
ducę be perfectly agreeable to oneguments were
that employs him ? Doubtleſs, they generally by
reply'd. Is it not certain too, that rogation; by
a good Face, and fine Cloaths, does which be a1-
mightily contribute towards the gued from the
making ſuch a Perſon agreeable ? that were
Doubtleſs. Do you not obferve, that made him, what
be defigu'd to
K 3
the prove.
134
The Banquet of Xenophon.
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? Doubt-
lefs. What, Does not the ſame
Voice fometimes expreſs it ſelf with
Modeſty and Sweetneſs, and ſome-
times with Anger and Fierceneſs?
Doubtleſs. Are there not ſome Dif.
courſes that naturally beger Hatred
and Averſion; and others, that con-
ciliate Love and Affeétion? 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 themſelves a-
grecable to athers, in all theſe things
I have mention'd? Doubtleſs. But
who is moſt to be valu'd? He who
renders. 'em agreeable to one Perſon
only, or he that renders them agreea-
ble to many? Are you not for the
laſt ?: Some of 'em anſwer'd 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's very well, ſaid
Socrates ; We agree upon every
Head hitherto: But what if the Per-
fon
The Banquet of Xenophon.
135
;
fon we are ſpeaking of, can inſtruct
his Pupil to gain the Hearts of a
whole State ? Will not you 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 handſom Reward ? Every
one anſwer'd, It was their Opinion
he did. Now, ſaid Socrates, If there
is ſuch a Man to be found in the
World, 'tis Antiſthenes, or I am mi-
Ataken.
Ant. How, Socrates! Will you
make me one of your fcurvy Profef-
fion ?
Socr. Certainly, for I know you
are perfectly skill'd in what may
properly be call's an Appendix to it,
Ant. What is that?
Socr. Bringing People together.
To this Antiſthenes, with ſome
Concern, reply'd, Did you ever
know me guilty of a thing of this
kind?
Socr. Yes, but keep your Temper,
You procur'd Callias for Prodicus,
finding the one was in Love with
Phi.
ķ4
136
The Banquet of Xenophon.
.
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 every Woman he fees, that's to-
lerable handlom, he can never for-
get her, ſo perfectly has he learnt of
Hippias the Art of Memory. You
have done yet more than this, Antif-
thenes ; 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 prais'd
me to him, which occaſion’d his De-
fire to be acquainted with me; for
which I am mightily oblig'd to you,
for I find him a very worthy Man.
Praiſing likewiſe in the ſame man-
ner Eſquilius to me, and me to him,
did not your Diſcourſe inflame us
both with ſuch mutual Affection,
that we ſearch'd every Day for one
another with the utmoſt Impatience,
till we came acquainted ? Now ha-
ving obſerv'd you capable of bring-
ing about ſuch deſirable things, had
nor I reaſon to ſay, you are an ex-
cellent
The Banquet of Xenophon.
137
cellent 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 ano-
ther, 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 Republick,
or our Allies, a Subject that may be
more uſeful to them. And yet you
were angry with me, as if I had affion-
ted you, when I ſaid you were Ma.
ſter 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.
Now you have heard in what
manner every one ſpoke, when Cal-
lias 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 fome Intereſt with
the Judges.
Crit.
138
The Banquet of Xenophon.
Socrates's
Critob. Come, I will not refuſe to
enter the Liſts, for once, with you ;
Pray then uſe all your Eloquence,
and fet us know, how you prove
your
ſelf to be handſomer than me.
Deſcription of Socr. That ſhall be done preſenta
Perfon.
ly; bring but a Light, and the thing's
done,
Crit. But in order to ſtate the
Queſtion well
, you'll give me leave
to ask a few Queſtions.
Socr. I will
Crit. But, on ſecond Thoughts,
I'll give you leave to ask what Que-
ſtions you pleaſe firſt.
Socr. Agreed. Do you believe
Beauty is no where to be found, but
in Man.
Crit. Yes certainty in other Crea.
tures too, whether Animate, as a
Horſe or Bull, or Inanimate Things,
as we ſay, that is a handfom Sword,
or a fine Shield, c.
Socr. But how comes it then, that
Things ſo very different as theſe,
ſhould yet all of 'em be handſom?
Crit. Becauſe they are well made;
either by Art or Natute, for the Pur-
poſes they are employ'd in.
SOCK
The Banquet of Xenophon.
139
Socr. Do you know the Uſe of
Eyes?
Crit. To ſee.
Soc. Well ! 'Tis for that very
Reaſon mine are handſomer than
yours.
Crit. Your Reaſon?
Socr. Yours ſee only in a direct
Line; but as for mine, I can look
not only directly forward, as you,
but fideways too, they being feated
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.
Socr. Certainly: For their's are in-
comparably 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 ſhap'd
than mine?
Socr. There's 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 turn’d up to-
wards Heaven, to receive Smells
that
140
The Banquet of Xenophon.
that come from every part, whither
from above or below.
Crit. What! Is a ſhort flat Noſe
then more beautiful than another.
Soc. Certainly; Becauſe being
fuch, 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, 'tis certain yours will
Receive and Chew, as much at once,
as Mine at thrice.
Socr. Don't you believe too, that
my
Kiſſes are more luſcious and ſweet,
than yours, having my Lips ſo thick
and large?
Crit. According to your Reckon-
ing then, an Alles Lips are more
beautiful than mine.
Soc. And laſtly, I muſt excel you
in Beauty for this Reaſon; The Naia-
des, notwithſtanding they are Şeą-
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.
The Banquet of Xenophon.
141
i
*
3
Crit. I ſay 'tis impoſſible to hold
a Diſpute with you, 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, left Antifthenes's Riches and
your Eloquence ſhou'd corrupt the
Judges.
Whereupon the little Dancing Boy
and Girl brought in the Ballotting
Box, and Socrates call'd at the ſame
time for a Flambeau to be held before
Critobulus, that the Judges might
not be ſurpriſed in their Judgment.
He deſir'd likewiſe, that the Con-
queror, inſtead of Garters and Rib-
bands, as were uſual in ſuch Victo-
ries, ſhould receive a Kiſs from eve-
ry one of the Company. After this
they went to Ballotting, and it was
carry'd unanimouſly for Critobulus.
Whereupon Socrates ſaid to him, In-
deed 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. After this, ſome of the
Company told Critobulus, He ought
to
142
The Banquet of Xenophori.
to demand the Kiſſes due to his Via
&tory; and the reſt ſaid, it was pro-
per to begin with him who made the
Propoſition. In ſhort, every one was
pleaſant in his way, except Hermoge-
nes, who ſpoke not one Word all the
time, which oblig'd Socrates to ask
him, if he knew the Meaning of the
word Paroinia ?
Her. If you ask me what it is pre-
ciſely, I don't know : But if you ask
my Opinion of it, perhaps I can tell
you what it may be.
Socr. That's enough.
Her, I believe then that Paroinia
fignifies the Pain and Uneaſineſs we
undergo in the Company of People
that we are not pleas'd with. Be ar-
fur'd then, ſaid Socrates, this is what
has occaſion'd that prudent Silence of
yours all this time.
.
Her. How my Silence? When you
were all ſpeaking.
Socr. No, but
your Silence, when
we have done ſpeaking, and made a
full Stop:
Her. Well ſaid, indeed! No ſoon-
er one has done, but another begins
to ſpeak; and I am ſo far from be-
ing
The Banquet of Xenophon.
143
;
On W ME PAS
sem se treba se
ing able to get in a Sentence, that I
can't find Room to edge in a Syllable.
Ah then, ſaid Socrates to Callias,
can't you aſliſt a Man that's thus out
of Humour ? Yes, ſaid Callias for
I will be bold to ſay, when the Mu-
fick begins again, every body will
be filent as well as Hermogenes.
Herm. You wou'd have me do
then as the Poet Nicoftrates, who
us'd to recite his Grand Lambics to the
Sound of his Flute. And it wou'd
be certainly very pretty, if I ſhould
talk to you all the time the Muſick
plaid ; For God fake do ſo, ſaid So.
crates, for as the Harmony is the
more agreeable that the voice and
the Inſtrument go together, fo your
Diſcourſe will be inore Entertaining,
for the Mufick that accompanies it;
and the more delightful 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 pleas’d to
be angry in Company, what Flute
will be tuneable enough to his Voice?
Ant. I don't know what Occaſion
there will be for Flutes tun'd to my
1
Voice;
144 The Banquet of Xenophon.
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 any thing he cou'd
ſhow 'em, but that they entertain'd
one another on Subjects out of his
Road, he was out of all Temper
with Socrates, who he ſaw gave Oc .
caſion at every turn for ſome new
Diſcourſe. Are you, ſaid he to him,
that Socrates who is firnamed the
Contemplative.
Soc. Yes, ſaid Socrates : And is it
not much more preferable to be cal-
led ſo, than by another Name, for
ſome oppoſite Quality ?
Syr. Let that paſs : But they don't
banters the only ſay in general that Socrates is
and in the Contemplative, but that He contem-
plates Things that are Sublime.
Play of Words
Soc. Know you any thing in the
be imitated in World ſo ſublime and elevated as the
Engliſh. Gods?
Syr. No; But I am told your
Contemplations run not that way;
They ſay they are but trilling, and
that
Here Socrates
Greek its a
which cannot
The Banquet of Xenophon. 145
that in ſearching after things above
your Reach, Your Enquiries are good
for nothing.
Soc. 'Tis by this, if I deceive not
my felf, that I atrain to the Know-
ledge of the Gods, for its from above
that the Gods make us ſenſible of
their Affiſtance; It's from above they
inſpire us with Knowledge. But if
what I have ſaid appears dry and in-
ſipid, 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 Geometrițian, and under-
ſtand the Mathematicks perfectly well,
But Antiſthenes, who was diſpleas’d
with his Diſcourſe, addreſſing him-
ſelf to Philip, told him, You are
wonderfully happy I know in making
* Compariſons; Pray who is this Sy- * To nizke bi.
racufian like, Philip; Does he not re- ting Compari-
ſemble a Man that's apt to give Af- James content
fronts, and ſay ſhocking things in Buffons of
thit Age.
Company ? Faith faid Philip hie ap-
pears fo to me, and I believe to eve-
ry Body elſe. Have a Care, faid
Socrates, don't affront him, leſt you
L
fall
www.4*** - . "--
146
The Banquet of Xenophon.
fall under the ſame Character your
felf, that you wou'd give him.
Philip. Suppoſe I compare him to
a well-bred Perſon, I hope no Body
will ſay, I affront him then?
Socr, So much the more,' ſaid So-
crates; Such a Compariſon muſt
needs affront him to ſome purpoſe.
Phil. Wou'd you then that I com-
pare him to ſome one that is neither
Honeſt nor Good?
Soc. By no means.
Phil. Who muſt I compare him to
then? To no Body ?
Soc. No Body.
Phil. But it is not proper we ſhou'd
be ſilent at a Feaſt.
Soc. That's true, But 'tis as true,
We ought rather to be ſilent, than
ſay any thing we ought not to ſay.
Thus ended the Diſpute between
Socrates and Philip: However ſome
of the Company were for having Phi-
lip: make his Compariſons, others
were againſt it, as not liking that
ſort of Diverſion; So that there was
a great Noiſe abouç it in the Room
Which Socrates obſerving, Very well,
faid He, fince you are for ſpeaking
The Banquet of Xenophon.
147
all together, it were as well in my
Opinion that We ſhould fing altoge-
ther, 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 Compa-
ny, in turning her ſelf round it. Up-
on which Socrates turning to the Syra-
cuſian, I believe I ſhall paſs for a Con-
templative Perſon indeed, ſaid he; as you
call'd me juſt now, For I am now con-
ſidering, how it comes to paſs, that
thoſe two little Astor's 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 lias done juſt
now, muſt be a very dangerous Leap,
but I am nor convinc'd that ſuch a
Spectacle is proper for a Feaft; I con-
feſs likewiſe 'tis a ſurprizing Sight to
ſee a Perſon writing and reading at
the ſame time that fhe is carry'd
round with the Motion of the Wheel,
as the Girl has done : But yet I muſt
L 2
Own
148
The Banquet of Xenophon.
own it gives me no great pleaſure.
For wou'd it not be much more agree-
able to ſee her in a Natural Eaſy Po-
fture, than putting her handſom Bo-
dy into an unnatural Agitation, meer-
ly to imitate the Motion of a Wheel?
Neither is it ſo rare, to meet with
ſurprizing and wonderful Sights, for
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 di-
ftinctly 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 like-
wiſe, extinguiſh it? But theſe Queſti-
ons are not proper at this time; And
indeed if the two children were to
dance to the Sound of the Flute,
dreſs’d 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 Syracufian
to Socrates, and I ain going to repre.
fent
The Banquet of Xenophon. 149
ſent 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.
FC What then, ſaid he, muſt we 4 Diſcourſe
of Socrates
part without ſaying a Word of the
concerning
“ Attributes of that great Demon or Love.
“ Power who is preſent here,and cquals
“in Age the immortal Gods, tho' to
“ look at, le reſembles but a Child ?
“ That Damon, who by his mighty
S. Power is. Maſter of all things; and
" yet is ingrafted into the yery Eſſence
"and Conſtitution of the Soul of Man
(I mean Love). We may indeed with
· Reaſon extol his Empire, as having
4 more Experience of it than the Vul-
gar, who are not initiated unto the
" Myſteries of that Great God,as we are.
" Truly to ſpeak for one, I never Re-
< member, ‘I was without being in
" Love; I know too that Carmides has
had a great many Lovers, and being
(much Belov’d, has lov'd again. As
" for Critobulus, he is ſtill of an Age
to Love, and to be Belov’d; and Ni-
cerates too, who loves ſo paſſionately
his Wife, at leaſt as Report goes, is
“ equally
66
L 3
150
The Banquet of Xenophon.
.
$
equally Belov'd by her. And who
« of us does not know, that the Ob-
« ject of that Noble Paſſion and Love
« of Hermogenes is Vertue and Honeſty?
“ Conſider, pray, the Severity of his
“ Brows, his piercing and fixid Eyés,
his Diſcourſe ſo compos'd and
“ ſtrong, the Sweetneſs of his Voice
* the Gaiety of his Manners. And
of what is yet more wonderful in him,
that ſo beloy'd as he is by his Friends
" the 'God's He does not diſdain us
« Mortals. But for you, Antiſthenes,are
you the only Perſon in the Com-
pany 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, faid,
Don't trouble me with it now, You
fee I have other Buſineſs upon my
hands at preſent.
Ant. I confeſs you muſt be an ex-
pert Maſter, of the Trade you valu'd
your ſelf 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 Demon won't
permit you, or that you have other
Busineſs.
Soc.
The Banquet of Xenophon. 151
Soc. Spare me a little, Antiſthenes,
I can bear well enough any other
Troubles that you give me, and I
will always bear 'em as a Friend ;
But I bluſh to ſpeak of the Paſſion
you have for me, ſince I fear you are
not enamour'd with the Beauty of my
Soul, but with that of my Body.
“As for you, Callias, * you love as * Here Socra-
* well as the reſt of us : For who is it res flows a
" that's ignorant of your Love for wonderful dú-
« Autolicus ? ?Tis the Town-talk, and ing the Paſſion
Foreigners as well as our Citizens of Callias
are acquainted with it.The Reaſons cus, to fome-
” for your loving him, I believe to be, thing more e
S that you
are both of you born of 11- levated, and
beyond Perfo-
“ luftrious Families, and at the ſame nal Beauty.
“ time are both poſſeſs’d of perſonal
" Qualities that render you yet more
Illuſtrious. For me, I always admir'd
“ the Sweetneſs and Evenneſs of
your Temper; But much more,
" when I conſider that your Paſſion
“ for Autolicus is plac'd on a Perſon
“ who has nothing Luxurious or Af-
* fected in him ; But in all things
« ſhows a Vigor and Temperance wore
thy of a Vertuous Soul, which is a
“ Proof at the ſame time, that if he
L
64
L 4
66 is
152 The Banquet of Xenophon.
66
66 know very well, that both the Ves
" is infinitely Belov’d, he deſerves
to be fo.
“ | confeſs indeed I am not firm-
ly perſwaded, Whether there be
“ but One Venus or two, the Cæle-
“ ſtial and the Vulgar : And it may be
“ with this Goddeſs, as with Jupiter,
« who has many different Naines,tho
" there is ſtill but one Jupiter. But I
0
66
“ nus's have altogether different Al-
tars,Temples and Sacrifices: The Vul.
gar Venus is worſhip'd after a com-
mon negligent manner; whereas the
" Cæleſtial one is ador'd in Purity and
“ Sanctity of Life. The Vulgar inſpires
“ Mankind with the Love of the Body
only,but the Cæleſtial fires the Mind
“ with the Love of the Soul, with
"Friendſhip and a Generous Thirſt
" after Noble Actions. I hope that 'tis
" this lait kind of Love that
has touch-
66 ed the Heart of Callias ; This I be-
" lieve, becauſe the Perſon he loves is
“ truly Vertuous; and whenever he
“ deſires to converſe with him, 'tis in
" the Preſence of his Father, which is
a Proof his Love is perfectly Ho-
si nourable.
Upon
܀
The Banquet of Xenophon. 153
66
“ Upon which Hermogenes began to
'ſpeak, I have always admir'd you,
“Socrates, on every Occaſion, but
"much more now than ever. You are
“complaiſant to Callias, and indulge
“his Paffion. And this your Com-
“plaiſance is agreeable to him, ſo ʼtis
“wholfom 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 That we are to
incomparably preferable to that of love the Beau-
“the Body. I lay then, and we all not of the
“feel the Truth of it, That no Com- Body.
pany can be truly agreeable to us
“without Friendſhip, and we general-
ly ſay, Whoever entertains a great
" Value and Etteem 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 diſap
ic
prove the Humour of the Perſon they
“fo love, and hate perhaps at the ſame
“time the Mind and Temper, while
Is they endeavour to poſſeſs the Body.
“ Yet further, Let us ſuppoſe a mus
(C
66 tual
154
The Banquet of Xenophon.
66
i
4
“tual Paſſion between two Lovers of
“this kind, 'Tis 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 Foundati:
"on, ſhould ſubîſt, when the Cauſe
that produc'd it has ceas'd ? But 'tis
otherwiſe with the Soul,for the more
"ſhe ripens, and the longer ſhe en-
dures, the more lovely ſhe becomes.
“Beſides, As the conſtant Uſe of the
“fineſt Delicates is attended, in pro-
greſs of Time, withi Diſguſt; fo the
“conſtant Enjoyment of the finest
Beauty palls the Appetite at laſt.
But that Love that terminates on the
“briglie Qualities ofthe Soul, becomes
“ ſtill more and more ardent; and,
" becauſe it is in its Nature altogether
pure and chaſt, it admits of no Sati-
ety. Neither let us think with ſome
« People, that this paſſion, fo pure and
"fo chaſt, is leſs charming, or leſs
ſtrong than the other. On the con-
แ
trary, Thoſe who love in this man-
ners are poſſeſs’d of all that we ask,
“in that our Common Prayer to Ve-
"nus, Grant, O Goddeſs, that we ſay
LC
.
G
nus
The Banquet of Xenophon.
155
şi 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 touch'd 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 Per-
«fon thus addreſs’d to, mult infalli-
bly return the Love of a Man that's
"thus enduld with ſuch ſhining Ac-
$ compliſhments. For is it poſſible
“ for a Woman to hate a Man,who ſhe
« believes has infinite Merit, and who
"makes his Addreſſes to her upon the
! Motive of doing Juſtice to her Ho.
nour and Vertue, rather than from
« a Principle of pleaſing his Appetite ?
“And how great is the Contentment
"we feel, when we are perſwaded,
that no liglic Faults or Errors ſhall
"ever difturb the Courſe of a Friend.
"ſhip ſo happily begun, or that the
" Diminution of Beauty ſhall never leſ-
"fen one's Affection? How can it ever
"happen otherwiſe, but that perſons
4
56 who
156
The Banquet of Xenophon.
“who love one another thus tenderly,
" and with all the Liberties of a pure
" (and ſacred Friendſhip, ſhould take
"the utmoſt Satisfaction in one ano.
"ther's Company, in diſcourſing to-
gether, with an intire Confidence,
in mingling their mutual Intereſts,
“and rejoicing in their good Fortune,
"and bearing a Share in their bad?
Such Lovers muſt needs pártake of
one another's Joy or Griet, be mer-
ry and rejoice with one another in
“ Health, and pay the cloſest and ten-
“dereſt: Attendance on one another
“when ſick and expreſs rather a grea-
"ter Concern for'em when abſent,than
“preſent. Does not Venus, "and the
« Gracés ſhower down their Bleſſings
on thoſe who love thus? For my
"part; I take ſuch to be perfectly
happy ; and a Friendſhip like this,
" muft neceſſarily perſevere to the End
of their Lives, uninterrupted, and al.
"together pure. But I confeſs, I can.
“not ſee any Reaſon, why one that
“loves only the exterior Beauty of the
“Perſon he courts, ſhould be lov'd
"again. Is it becauſe lie endeavours
a to obtain ſomething from her that
gives
od
The Banquet of Xenophon.
157
"gives him Pleaſure, but her Shame?
“Or is it, becauſe in the Conduct of
“their Paſſion, they carefully conceal
“the Knowledge of it from their Pa-
"rents or Friends? Some body per-
"haps 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 Perfwaſion ; 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 a.
gainſt ſuch open Villainy: Whereas
“the laſt, by ſly Infinuations, does in-
“
ſenſibly corrupt and defile the Mind
“ of the Perſon they pretend to love.
“Beſides, Why ſhould they who bar;
ter their Beauty for Money, be ſup-
"pos’d 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. Don't be ſure
priz'd then, if ſuch Lovers as theſe
meet often with the Contempt they
" deſerve. There is one thing more
“in this caſe worthy of
* deration;
66
your Conci-
158
.
The Banquet of Xenophoni
“deration ; We ſhall never find, that
" the Love which terminates in the
noble Qualities of the Mind, has ever
"produc'd any diſmal Effects. But
“There are innumerable Examples of
“tragical Conſequences, which have
"attended that Love, which is fix'd
only on the Beauty of the Body. Chi.
“ron and Phenix lov'd Achilles, but af-
ter a vertuous manner, without any
“other Deſign than to render him a
" more accomplish'd Perſon: Achilles
« likewiſe lov?d and honourd them in
return, and held them both in the
« higheſt Veneration. And indeed I
“ ſhould wonder, if one that is per-
fectly accompliſh'd ſhould not enter-
“tain the laſt Contempt for thoſe who
"admire only their perſonal Beauty.
"Nor is it hard to prove, Callias, that
"Gods and Heroes have always liad
"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 lov'd ſeveral Mortals upon the
“ Account of their Perſonal Beauty
only,
“
The Banquet of Xenophon.
159
06
5
" only, never confer'd upon 'em Im-
“mortality. Whereas it was other-
« wiſe with Hercules, Caſtor, Pollux,
“and ſeveral others; For having ad-
"mir'd and applauded the Greatneſs
“of their Courage, and the Beauty of
“their Minds, he inrolld them in the
“Number of the God's. And whate-
ver fome affirm to the contrary of
“Ganymede, I take it, he was carry'd
"up to Heaven from Mount Olympus,
not for the Beauty of his Body, but
“that of his Mind. At leaſt,his Name
“feems 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 Wif-
“ dom. When Homer repreſents Achil-
“ les ſo gloriouſly revenging the Death
of Patroclus, 'twas not properly the
“ Paſſion of Love that produc'd thať
" noble Reſentment, but that pure
“ Friendſhip and Efteem he had for his
“Partner in Arms. Why is it, that
" the Memory of Pylades and Oreſtes,
Theſeus and Perithous, and other De-
“my-Gods, are to this Day ſo highly
“celebrated ? Was it for the Love of
the Body, think you? No! by no
means :
160
The. Banquet of Xenophori:
60
" means: It was the particular Eſteem
"and Friendſhip they had for one a-
“nother, and the mutual Aſliſtance
"every one gave to his Friend, in thoſe
“ renown'd and immortal Enterprizes,
“ which are to this Day the Subject of
"our Hiſtories and Hymns. And,
pray, who are they, that perform'd
“Thoſe glorious A&ions ? Not they
“that abandon'd themſelves to Plea-
"Jure, but they that thirſted after
“Glory; and who to acquire that Glo-
“ry, under-went the fevereſt Toils,
“and almoſt inſuperable Difficulties.
“You are then infinitely oblig'd to
“the Gods, Callias, who have inſpir'd
* you with Love and Friendſhip for Au-
“tolicus, as they have inſpir'd Critobu-
“lus with the ſame for Amandra; for
"real and pure Friendſhip knows no
. Difference in Sexes. It's certain Au-
“tolicus has the moſt ardent Paflion for
“Glory ; ſince, in order to carry the
· Prize at the Olympick Games, and be
proclaim'd Victor by the Heralds
" with Sound of Trumpet, as he lately
was, He muſt needs have under:
gone numberleſs Hardſhips, and the
“greateſt Fatigues: For no leſs was
16 re-
The Banquet of Xenophon. 161
A
.
!
(requir'd towards * gaining.the. Vi * There were
“ctory in ſo many different Exerciſes
: leaping, run-
ç But if He propoſes to himſelf, as I mingilrowing
kam ſure he does, to acquire further the Favelin,
"Glory, to become an Ornament to his fighting with
,
'Family, benificent to his Friends, to and wreſtling,
dextend the Limits of his Country, by was to conquer
@his Valour, and by all honeſt Endea- in 'em all.
divours to gain the Efteem of Barbaria
sans, as well as Greeks ; Don't you
believe he will always have the
#greateſt Value for One who he be-
(lieves may be uſeful and aſſiſtant to
# him in ſo noble a Deſign ? If you
I would then prove acceptable, Calli-
kasy to any one you love, you ought
ato conſider and imitate thoſe Me-
withods by which Themiſtocles roſe to
of the firſt Dignities of the State, and
flracquir'd the glorious Title of, the
& Deliverer of Greece; the Methods by
"which Pericles acquir'd that Confum-
s mate Wiſdon, which prov'd ſo bene-
"ficial, and brought immortal Hos
pour to his Native Country. You
sought to ponder well how it was,
that Solon became the Lawgiver to
" this Republick of Athens, and by what
“honourable Means the Lacedemonians
M
CC
66 hayo
162 The Banquet of Xenophon.
.
66
&
60
, a
havé jarriv'd to ſuch wonderful Skill
“in the Art of War: And this laſt you
"may leaſily acquire, by entertaining,
as you do, at your Houſe, ſome of
“the moſt accompliſh'd Spartans:
“When you havefufficiently ponder'd
“all theſe things, and imprinted thoſe
“noble Images upon your Mind, Doubt
not but your Country will ſome time
“ Reins of Government, You having
“ already the Advantage of a Noble
Birth, and that important Office of
High Prieſt, which gives you, a
greater Lultre already, than any of
your renown'd Anceſtors could ever
o boaſt of. And let me add that Air of
Greatneſs, which ſhines in your. Per-
"fon, and that Strength and Vigor
" that's lodg'd in ſo handſom a Body,
“capable of the ſevereſt Toils, and the
“ moſt difficult Enterprizes.
- Socrates having faid all this to Cal-
lias, addreſs'd himſelf to the Com-
pany, and ſaid, " I know very well,
* This: Diſcourſe is too ſerious for a
Feaft; But you won't be ſurpriz'd,
when you conſider, that our com-
monwealth has been always fond of
“ thoſe
The Banquet of Xenophon.
163
a
2
골
​1
“thoſe who, to the Goodneſs of their
“natural Temper, have added an in-
defatigable Search after Glory and
6 Vertue.
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 Socra-
tes ; When Callias, with a modeſt
Bluſh in his Face, addreſs’d himſelf
to him ; You muſt then lend me,
faid he, the Aſſiſtance of your Art,
to which you gave ſuch a ſurprizing
* Name a while ago, to render me ac-* Procuring
ceptable to the Commonwealth and that
when it ſhall pleaſe my Country to in-
truſt me with the Care of its Affairs,
I may ſo behave my ſelf, as to pre-
ferve its good Opinion, and never do
any thing, but what tends to the
Publick Good. “You will certainly The Method of
" fucceed; Don't doubt it, ſaid Socra- becoming a-
You muſt apply your ſelf in state
, and of
of good earneſt to Vertue, and not con- acquiringia
lajting Repito
tent your ſelf, as ſome People do, ration.
with the Appearance of it only, as
" if that might ſuffice. For know,Cala
Alias, that
falſe Glory can never ſubfiit
.
M2
long
vi per finis politiet
meinen tulee
"tes.
C6
50
164
The Banquet of Xenophon.
“ long. Flattery or Diffimulation may
66 for a while varniſh over ſuch a rat-
"ten Structure; But it muſt tumble
“ down at laſt. On the contrary, So?
" lid Glory will always maintain its
“ Poſt; Unleſs God, for ſome fecret
“Reaſons, hid from us, think fit to
s oppoſe its Progreſs : Otherwiſe,
" that ſublime Vertue, which every
“ Man of Honour ſhould aim at, does
naturally reflect back upon him,
« ſuch Rays of Glory, as grow brigh-
“ ter and brighter every Day, in pro-
“ portion as his Vertae riſes higher
$$ and higher.
The Diſcourſe being ended, Au-
tolicus rofe to take a Walk, and his
Father following him, turn'd to-
wards Socrates, and ſaid, Socrates I
muſt declare my Opinion, that you
are a truly honeſt Man.
After this, there was an Elbow
Tie Lores af Chair brought into the Middle of
Ariadne and the Room, and the Syracuſian ap-
pearing at the ſame time; Gentle-
men, ſaid he, Ariadne is juſt now
entering, And Bacchus, who has
made a Debauch to Day with the
Gods, is coming down to wait up.
an
Bacchus.
j
The Banquet of Xenophon.
165
on her ; And I can aſſure you, They
will both divert the Company, and
one another.
Immediately Ariad-
ne enter'd the Room, richly dreſs’d,
in the Habit of a Bride, and plac'd
her ſelf in the Elbow Chair. A lit
tle after, Bacchus appear’d, While at
the ſame time the Girl that play'd
on the Flute, ftruck up an Air, that
us’d to be ſung at the Feſtival of
that God. It was then, that the Sy.
Tacuſian was admir'd for an excellent
Maſter in his Art : For Ariadne being
perfectly well inſtructed in her Part,
fail'd not to ſhow, by her pretty in-
ſinuating manner, that Îhe was
touch'd with the Air of the Muſick;
and that tho' ſhe roſe not from her
Chair to meet her Lover, ſhe yer
expreſs’d ſufficiently che great De-
fire ſhe had to do it.
ceiving it, came on dancing toward
her, in the moſt paſſionate manner,
Then fat himſelf down on her Lap,
and taking her in his Arms, kiſs'd
her. As for Ariadne, ſhe perſona-
red to the Life a Bride's Modeſty, and
for a while, looking down to the
Ground, appear'd in the greateft
Con-
Bacchus per
166
The Banquet of Xenophon.
Confuſion : But at length recover-
ing her ſelf, The threw her Arms
about her Lover's Neck, and return-
ed his Kiſſes. All the Company ex-
preſs?d the great Satisfaction the Pera
formance gave 'em;And indeed nothing
could be better acted, nor accompa-
ny'd with more Grace in the Asting.
But when Bacchus roſe, and took A-
riadne by the Hand, to lead' her out,
they were ſtill more pleas'd; For the
pretty Couple appear'd to embrace and
kifs one another after a much more
feeling manner, than is generally an
Eted on the Stage. Then Bacchus att
dreſſing himſelf to Ariadne, ſaid,
Do'ſt thou love' me, my deareſt Cream
ture? Yes, yes (anſwer'd 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 na-
tural, that the Company came to be
fully convinc'd of what they never
dream'd of before; That the little Boy
and Girl were really in Love with
one another: Whicli occaſion'd both
the marry'd Gueſts, and ſome of
thoſe that were not, to take Horſe
iminediately, and ride back full
ſpeed
/
The Banquet of Xenophon.
167
ſpeed to Athens, with the briskeſt
Reſolutions imaginable. I know
not what happend afterwards; but
for Socrates, and ſome who ſtay'd
behind, they went a walking with
Lycon, Autolicus, and Callias,
+
$
1
1
TO
1
*
13
1
#
***
FIN I S.
i
܃܇
.
.
*
?
f
:
A
Fter four Editiòns of Dr: Wela
wood's Memoirs, by Mr. Good-
win, that firſt Printed them, There
being ſome other Editions lately
pirated, and very uncorrect; The
Author deſigns, in ſome little time,
to publiſh a New Edition of thefe
Memoirs, with ſeveral large Addi-
tions.
EMED
Pr. Cole.
q 와
​33
1930
EARLY MODERN ENGLISH DICTIONARY
Š