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 5966 
 
 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 OP
 
 In Weekly Volumes, /w^ 3d, ; or {n Cloth, 6d. 
 A SELECTION OF THE MOST POPULAR VOLUMES 
 
 IN 
 
 Cassell'S National Library. 
 
 Edited by HENRY MORLEY, LL.D. 
 ALREADY PUDLISHED. 
 
 The Haunted Man Dickens. 
 
 Iftopia Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome .. .. Macaulay. 
 
 Essays on Burns and Scott Carlyle. 
 
 Waiiderines in SoutU America Wathrion. 
 
 Heroes and Hero-"Worsliip Carlyle. 
 
 Voyages and Travels Marco Polo. 
 
 Hamlet Shakespeakk. 
 
 The Complete Angrier Isaac Walto.v. 
 
 Essays Civil and Moral Bacon. 
 
 The jLadv ot the Lake ScoTT 
 
 Friends in Council Sir A. Helps. 
 
 The Autobiot^raphy of Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 Grace Abounding John Bunyan. 
 
 The Rivals, and The School for Scandal .. Sheridan. 
 
 %Ararren Haslings Macaulav. 
 
 Areopagitiea, &e John Milton. 
 
 The Aiigel in the House Coventry Patmorh. 
 
 The Life of Nelson Southey. 
 
 The Battle of the Books, &o Jonathan Swift. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice Shakespeare. 
 
 Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful .. .. Burke. 
 
 Sir Roger de Coverley Steele and Addison. 
 
 Macbeth Shakespharr. 
 
 A Defence of Poesie Philip Sidney. 
 
 Paradise Regained John Milton. 
 
 A Ciiristmas Carol, andThe Chi:nes .. .. Dickens. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra Shakespeare. 
 
 Childe Harold Byron. 
 
 Murad the ITniucky Edgewortil 
 
 Measure for Measur3 Shakespeare. 
 
 Lives of the Poets (Waller, Milton, &c.) .. .. Johnson. 
 
 Mv Ten Years' Imprisoumeut Silvio Pellico. 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing ShakespcAre. 
 
 Plays Goldsmith. 
 
 Tales from the Decameron Boccaccio. 
 
 Julius Caesar .. Shakespear& 
 
 Visions of England Palgrave. 
 
 Rasselas Johnson. 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream Shakespeare. 
 
 Paradise Lost (.Vols. I. & ID Milton. 
 
 All's Well that Ends Well Shakespeare. 
 
 Knickertaoe:<er'sHist. of NewYork(\"ols. I. &I1.) Washington Irving. 
 
 Sintram and his Companions, &e LA MOTTE FoUQUE. 
 
 King Henry VIII .. .. Shakespeare. 
 
 Memorable Thouglrts of Socrat; 8 Xenophon. 
 
 The next Volujiie ivill be 
 Daphnai'da, and other Poems.— By Edmund Spenser. 
 
 *** AH the Volwiies published in the fitst issue of the National 
 Library can still be had by order th7-ough any Bookseller or Newsagent.
 
 CASSELL'S NATIONAL LIBRARY. 
 
 THE 
 
 Memorable Thoughts 
 
 OF 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 BY 
 
 X E »■ O P H O N". 
 
 TRANSLATED BY EDWARD BYSSIIE. 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Llmiied: 
 
 LONDON, PARIS <C- MELBOURNE. 
 1891.
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 This translation of Xonoplioii's " Memorabilia of 
 Socrates" was first published in 1712, and is here 
 printed from the revised edition of 1722. Its author 
 was Edward Bjsshe, who had produced in 1702 
 " The Art of English Poetry," a well-known work 
 that was near its fifth edition M'hen its author 
 published his translation of the " Memorabilia." 
 This was a translation that remained in good 
 repute. There was another edition of it in 1758. 
 Bysshe translated the title of the book into " The 
 Memorable Things of Socrates." I have changed 
 ''Things" into "Thoughts," for whether they be 
 sayings or doings, the words and deeds of a wise 
 man are alike expressions of his thought. 
 
 Xenoi)hon is said to have been, when young, 
 a pupil of Socrates. Two authorities have re- 
 corded that in the flight from the battle of 
 Delium in tlie year B.C. 424, when Xenophon 
 fell from his horse, Socrates picked hin) uy) and 
 carried him on his back for a considerable dis-
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tanoe. The time of Xenophon's death is not 
 known, but he was alive sixty-seven years after the 
 battle of Delium. 
 
 When Cyrus the Younger was preparing war 
 
 against his brother Artaxerxes Mnemon, King of 
 
 Persia, Xenophon went with him. After the 
 
 death of Cyrus on the plains of Cunaxa, the 
 
 barbarian auxiliaries fled, and the Greeks were 
 
 left to return as they could from the far region 
 
 between the Tigris and Eu]Dhrates. Xenophon 
 
 had to take part in the conduct of the retreat, and 
 
 tells the story of it in his " Anabasis," a history of 
 
 the expedition of the younger Cyrus and of the 
 
 retreat of the Greeks. His return into Greece 
 
 was in the year of the death of Socrates, B.C. 399, 
 
 but his association was now with the Spartans, 
 
 with whom he fought, B.C. 394, at Coroneia. 
 
 Afterwards he settled, and lived for about twenty 
 
 years, at Scillus in Eleia with his Avife and children. 
 
 At Scillus he wrote probably his " Anabasis " and 
 
 some other of his books. At last he was driven 
 
 out by the Eleans. In the battle of Mantineia 
 
 the Spartans and Athenians fought as allies, and 
 
 Xenophon's two sons were in tlie battle ; he had 
 
 sent tlicm to Athens as fellow-combatants from 
 
 Sparta. His banishment from Athens was ro-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 pealed hy change of times, but it does not appear 
 that he returned to Athens. He is said to have 
 lived, and perhaps died, at Corinth, after he had 
 been driven from his home at Scillus. 
 
 Xenophon ^vas a philosophic man of action. He 
 could make his value felt in a council of war, take 
 part in battle — one of his books is on the duties 
 of a commander of cavalry — and show himself 
 good sportsman in the hunting-field. He wrote a 
 book upon the horse ; a treatise also upon dogs 
 and hunting. He believed in God, thought earnestly 
 about social and political duties, and preferred 
 Spartan institutions to those of Athens. He wrote 
 a life of his friend Agesilaus TI.,'lving of Sparta, 
 He found exercise for his enersjetic mind in writini? 
 many books. In writing he was clear and to the 
 point ; his practical mind made his work interest- 
 ing. His " Anabasis " is a true story as delightful 
 as a fiction ; his " Cyropa^dia " is a fiction full of 
 truths. He wrote " Hellenica," that carried on the 
 history of Greece from the point at which Thucy- 
 dides closed his history until the battle of Man- 
 tineia. He wrote a dialogue between Hiero and 
 Simonides upon the position of a king, and dealt 
 with the administration of the little realm of a 
 man's household in his " G^conomicus," a dialogue
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 hetwcGii Socrates and Critobulus, whicli includes tlie 
 praise of agriculture. He wrote also, like Plato, a 
 symposium, in wliicli piiiiosopliers over their wine 
 reason of love and friendship, and he paints the 
 character of Socrates. 
 
 But his best momorial of his old guide, philo- 
 sopher, and friend is tliis work, in which Xenophon 
 brought together in simple and direct form the 
 views of life that had been made clear to himself 
 by the teaching of Socrates, Xenophon is through- 
 out opposing a plain tale to the false accusations 
 against Socrates. He does not idealise, but he feels 
 strongly, and lie shows clearly the worth of the 
 wisdom that touches at every point the actual con- 
 duct of the lives of men. H. M.
 
 THE 
 
 MEM0EAI3LE THOUGHTS 
 or SOCEATES. 
 
 33oofe ]?♦ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOCRATES NOT A CONTEMNER OP THE GODS OF 
 HIS COUNTRY, NOR AN INTRODUCER OF NEW 
 ONES. 
 
 I HAVE often wondered by what- show of argument tlie 
 accusers of Socrates could persuade the Athenians lio 
 had forfeited his life to the State. For though tho 
 crimes laid unto his cliarge were indeed great — " Tliat 
 he did not acknowledge the gods of the Republic ; that 
 he introduced new ones" — and, farther, "had de- 
 bauched the youth ; " yet none of these could, in the 
 Ica^st, be proved against him. 
 
 For, as to the first, " That he did not worship tlie 
 deities which the Republic adored," how could this be 
 made out against him, since, instead of paying no 
 homage to the gods of liis country, he was frequently 
 seen to assist in sacrificing to them, both in his own 
 family and in the public temples ? — perpetually wor- 
 shipping them in tlie most public, solemn, and religious 
 manner. 
 
 What, in my opinion, gave his accusers a specious 
 pretext for alleging against him that he introduced
 
 10 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 new deities was this — that lie liad frecjueutly declared 
 in public he had received counsel from a divine voice^ 
 ^Yllich he called his Demon. But this was no proof at 
 all of the matter. All that Socrates advanced about 
 his demon was no more than what is daily advanced hj 
 those wlio believe in and practise divination ; and 
 if Socrates, because he said he received intelligence 
 from his genius, must be accused of introducing new 
 divinities, so also must they ; for is it not certain 
 that those who believe in divination, and practise that 
 belief, do observe the flight of birds, consult the entrails 
 of victims, and remark even unexpected words and 
 accidental occurrences ? But they do not, therefore, 
 believe that either the birds Avhose flight they observe 
 or the persons tliey meet accidentally know either 
 their good or ill fortune — neither did Socrates — they 
 only believe that the gods make use of these things 
 to presage the future ; and such, too, was the belief of 
 Socrates. The vulgar, indeed, imagine it to be the 
 very birds and things which present themselves to them 
 that excite them to what is good for them, or make 
 them avoid what may hurt them ; but, as for Socrates, 
 he freely owned that a demon was his monitor ; and he 
 frequently told his friends beforehand what they should 
 do, or not do, according to the instructions he had 
 received from his demon ; and they who believed him, 
 and followed his advice, always found advantage by it ; 
 as, on the contrary, they who neglected his admoni- 
 tions, never failed to repent tlieir incredulity. Now, it 
 cannot be denied but that he ought to have taken care 
 not to pass with his friends either for a liar or a 
 visionary ; and yet how could he avoid incurring that 
 censure if the events had not justified the truth of the 
 things he pretended were revealed to him ? It is,
 
 OF SOCRATES. 11 
 
 tlierefore, manifest that lie would uot have spoken of 
 tilings to come if he had not believed he said true ; but 
 how could he believe he said true, unless he believed 
 that the gods, who alone ought to be trusted for the 
 knowledge of things to come, gave him notice of them ? 
 and, if he believed they did so, how can it be said that 
 he acknowledged no gods ? 
 
 He likewise advised his friends to do, in the best 
 manner they could, the things that of necessity they 
 were to do ; but, as to those whose events were doubtful, 
 he sent them to the oracles to know whether they 
 should engage in tliem or not. And he thought that 
 they who design to govern with success their families 
 or whole cities had great need of receiving instructions 
 by the help of divinations ; for though he indeed held 
 that every man may make choice of the condition of 
 life in which he desires to live, and that, by his in- 
 dustry, he may render himself excellent in it, whether 
 he apply himself to architecture or to agriculture, 
 whether he tlirow himself into politics or economy, 
 whether he engage himself in the public revenues or in 
 the army, yet that in all these things the gods have 
 reserved to themselves the most important events, into 
 which men of themselves can in no wise penetrate. 
 Thus he who makes a fine plantation of trees, knows 
 not who shall gather the fruit ; he who builds a house 
 cannot tell who shall inhabit it ; a general is not certain 
 that he shall be successful in his command, nor a 
 Minister of State in his ministry ; he who marries a 
 beautiful woman in hopes of being happy with her 
 knows not but that even slic herself may be the cause 
 of all his uneasinesses ; and he who enters into a grand 
 alliance is uncertain whether they with whom he allies 
 himseK will not at length be the cause of his ruin.
 
 12 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 Tliis made liim frequently say that it is a great folly to 
 imagine there is not a Divine Providence that presides 
 over tliese things, and that they can in the least depend 
 on liuman prudence. He likewise held it to be a 
 weakness to importune the gods with questions "which 
 we may resolve ourselves ; as if we should ask them 
 whether it be better to take a coachman who knows 
 how to drive than one who knows nothing of the 
 matter ? whether it be more eligible to take an 
 experienced j)ilot than one that is ignorant ? In a 
 word, he counted it a kind of impiety to consult tho 
 oracles concerning what might be numbered or weighed, 
 because we ought to learn the things which the gods 
 have been pleased to capacitate us to know ; but that 
 we ought to have recourse to the oracles to be in- 
 structed in those that surpass our knowledge, because 
 the gods are wont to discover them to such men as have 
 rendered them propitious to themselves. 
 
 Socrates stayed seldom at home. In tho morning he 
 went to the places appointed for walking and public 
 exercises. He never failed to be at the liall, or courts 
 of justice, at the usual hour of assembling there, and 
 the rest of the day he was at the places where tho 
 greatest companies generally met. There it was that 
 he discoursed for the most part, and whoever would 
 hear him easily might ; and yet no man ever observed 
 the least impiety either in his actions or his words. 
 Nor did he amuse himself to reason of the secrets of 
 nature, or to search into the manner of the creation of 
 what the sophists call the world, nor to dive into the 
 cause of the motions of the celestial bodies. On tho 
 contrary, he exposed the folly of such as give them- 
 selves up to these contemplations ; and he asked 
 whether it was, aft-er having acquired a perfect
 
 OF SOCRATES. 13 
 
 kiiowlcdge of liuinan tliing-s, tliat tlioy imdcrtook to 
 so.ircli into the diviue, or if tlioj tlioiight tlicmsolves 
 vory -wise in neglecting what concerned them to employ 
 themselves in things above them ? He was astonished 
 likewise that they did not see it was impossible for men 
 to comprehend anything of all those wonders, seeing 
 they wlio have the reputation of being most knowing 
 in them are of quite different opinions, and can agree 
 no better tlum so many fools and madmen; for as 
 some of these are not afraid of the most dangerous 
 and frightful accidents, while others are in dread of 
 wiiat is not to be feared, so, too, among those 
 philosopliers, some are of opinion that there is no 
 action but what may be done in public, nor word that 
 may not freely be spoken before the whole world, while 
 otliers, on tlie contrar}-, believe that we ought to avoid 
 the conversation of men and keep in a perpetual soli- 
 tude. Some have despised the temples and the altars, 
 and have taught not to honour the gods, while otliers 
 have been so superstitious as- to worsliip wood, stones, 
 and irrational creatures. And as to the knowledge 
 of natural things, some have confessed but one .only 
 being; others have admitted an infinite number: 
 some have believed that all things are in a per- 
 petual motion ; others that nothing moves : some have 
 lield the world to be full of continual generations and 
 corruptions ; others maintain that uotliing is engendered 
 or destroyed. He said besides that he should be glad 
 to know of those persons whetlier they were in hopes 
 one day to jmt in practice wluit they learned, as men 
 wlio know an art may practise it when tliey please 
 cither for tlic-Ir own advantage or for tlie service of 
 their friends ; or Vv'hether tliey did iuingine tliat, after 
 tlioy found out the causes of all tilings that happen,
 
 14 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tlioy slioiild be a])le to cause winds and rains, and io 
 dispose the times and seasons as tliey had occasion for 
 them; or whether they contented themselves with 
 tl'.e bare knowledge without expecting any farther 
 advantage. 
 
 Tliis was what he said of those wlio delight in such 
 studies. As for his -part, he meditated chiefly on what 
 is useful and proper for man, and took delight to 
 argue of I3iety and impiety, of honesty and dishonesty, 
 of justice and injustice, of wisdom and folly, of courage 
 and cowardice, of the State, and of tlie qualifications 
 of a Minister of State, of the Government, and of tliose 
 who are fit to govern ; in short, he enlarged on the like 
 subjects, which it becomes men of condition to know, 
 and of which none but slaves should be ignorant. 
 
 It is not strange, perhaps, that the judges of Socrates 
 mistook his opinion in things concerning which he did 
 not explain himself ; but I am surprised that they did 
 not reflect on what he had said and done in the face of 
 the whole world ; for when he was one of the Senate, 
 and had taken the usual oath exactly to observe the 
 laws, being in his turn vested with the dignity of 
 Epistate, he bravely withstood the j)opulace, who, 
 against all manner of reason, demanded that the nine 
 cax^tains, two of whom were Erasinides and Thrasilus, 
 should be put to death, he would never give consent to 
 this injustice, and was not daunted at the rage of the 
 peoi^le, nor at the menaces of the men in power, 
 choosing rather not to violate the oath he had taken 
 than to yield to the violence of the multitude, and 
 shelter himself from the vengeance of those who 
 threatened him. To this purpose he said that the 
 gods watch over men more attentively than the vulgar 
 imagine ; for they believe there are some things which
 
 OF SOCRATES. 15 
 
 tlie gods observe and others wliicli tliey pass by un- 
 regarded ; but lie held that the gods observe all our 
 actions and all our words, that they penetrate even 
 into our most secret thoughts, that they are present at 
 all our deliberations, and that they inspire us in all 
 our affairs. 
 
 It is astonishing, therefore, to consider hovr the 
 Athenians could suffer themselves to be persuaded 
 that Socrates entertained any unworthy thouglits of the 
 Deity; he who never let slip one single word against 
 the respect due to the gods, nor was ever guilty of any 
 action that savoured in the least of impiety ; but who, 
 on the contrary, has done and said things that could 
 not proceed but from a mind truly pious, and that are 
 sufficient to gain a man an eternal reputation of piety 
 and virtue. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SOCEATES XOT A DEBATJCHER OF YOUTH. 
 
 What sm-prises me yet more is, that some could 
 believe that Socrates was a debaucher of young men ! 
 Socrates the most sober and most chaste of all men, 
 who cheerfully supported both cold and heat; whom 
 no inconvenience, no hardships, no labours coidd 
 startle, and who had learned to wish for so little, that 
 though he had scarce anything, he had always enough. 
 Then how could he teacli impiety, injustice, gluttony, 
 impurity, and luxury ? And so far was he from doing 
 80, that he reclaimed many persons from those vices, 
 inspiring them with the love of virtue, and putting 
 them in hopes of coming to preferment in the world.
 
 16 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 provided tliey would take a littlo care of themselves. 
 Yet. lie never promised any man to teach him to l»e 
 virtuous ; but as he made a public profession of virtue, 
 ho created in the minds of those who frequented him 
 the hopes of becoming virtuous by his example. 
 
 He neglected not his oAvn body, and praised not 
 those that neglected theirs. In like manner, he blamed 
 the custom of some who cat too much, and afterwards 
 nse violent exercises ; but he approved of eating till 
 nature be satisfied, and of a moderate exercise after it, 
 believing that method to be an advantage to health, 
 and xn-oper to unbend and diA'ert the mind. In liis 
 clothes ho was neither Jiice nor costly ; and what I say 
 of his clothes ought likewise to be understood of his 
 whole way of living. Never any of his friends became 
 covetous in his conversation, and he reclaimed them 
 from that sordid disposition, as well as from all others ; 
 for he would accept of no gratuity from any who 
 desired to confer with him, and said that was the way 
 to discover a noble and generous heart, and that they 
 who take rewards betray a meanness of soul, and sell 
 their own persons, because they impose on themselves 
 a necessity of instructing those- from whom they 
 receive a salary. He wondered, likewise, why a man, 
 who promises to teach virtue, should ask money ; as if 
 he believed not the greatest of all gain to consist in 
 the acquisition of a good friend, or, as if he feared, 
 that he who, by his means, should become virtuous, 
 and be obliged to him for so great a benefit, would 
 not be sufficiently grateful for it. Quite different 
 from Socrates, who never boasted of any such thing, 
 and who was most certain that all who heard liim and 
 received his maxims would love him for ever, and be 
 capable of loving others also. After tliis, whosoever
 
 OF SOCRATES. 17 
 
 says that sucli a man debauched tlic yoiitli, Bir.st at ilio 
 same time say that tlie study of virtue is debaucJiery. 
 
 But the accuser says that Socrates taught to 
 despise the coustitutiou that was established in tlio 
 Republic, because he affirmed it to be a folly to elect 
 magistrates by lots ; since if anyone had occasion for a 
 j)ilot, a musician, or an architect, he would not trust to 
 chance for any such person, tliougli the faults that can 
 1)0 committed by men in such capacities are far from 
 being of so great importance as those that are com- 
 mitted in the government of the Republic. He says, 
 therefore, that sucli arguments insensibly accustom the 
 youtli to despise the laws, and render them more 
 audacious and more violent. But, in my opinion, sucli 
 as study the art of prudence, and who believe they 
 sliall be able to render themselves capable of giving 
 good advice and counsel to their fellow- citizens, seldom 
 become men of violent tempers; because they know 
 that violence is hateful and full of danger ; while, on 
 tlie contrary, to win by persuasion is full of love and 
 safety. For they, whom we have compelled, brood a 
 secret hatred against us, believing wc have done them 
 wrong ; but those Avliom we have taken the trouble to 
 persuade continue our friends, believing we have done 
 them a kindness. It is not, tJierefore, they who apply 
 themselves to the study of prudence that become 
 violent, but those brutish uutractable tempers who 
 have mucb power in their hands and but little judg- 
 
 ment to manage it. He farther said that when a 
 
 man desires to carry anything by force, he must have 
 many friends to assist him : as, on the contrary, he 
 that can persuade has need of none but himself, and 
 is not subject to shed blood; for who would rather 
 choose to kill a man than to make use of his services.
 
 18 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 after having gained liis friendsliii) and good-will by 
 mildness ? 
 
 The accuser adds, in proof of the ill tendency of the 
 doctrine of Socrates, that Critias and Alcibiades, wlio 
 were two of his most intimate friends, were very had 
 men, and did mucli mischief to their country. For 
 Critias was the most insatiable and cruel of all the 
 thirty tyrants ; and Alcibiades the most dissolute, the 
 most insolent, and tlie most audacious citizen that ever 
 the Republic had. As for me, I j)i'etend not to justify 
 them, and will only relate for what reason they 
 frequented Socrates, They were men of an unbounded 
 ambition, and who resolved, whatever it cost, to govern 
 the State, and make themselves be talked of. They 
 had heard that Socrates lived very content upon little 
 or nothing, that he entirely commanded his passions, 
 and that his reasonings were so persuasive that ho 
 drew all men to whicli side he i)leased. Reflecting on 
 this, and being of the temper we mentioned, can it be 
 thought that they desired the acquaintance of Socrates, 
 because they were in love with his way of life, and 
 with his temperance, or because they believed that; by 
 conversing with him they should render. themselves 
 capable of reasoning aright, and of well-managing the 
 public affairs ? For my part, I believe that if the 
 gods had proposed to them to live always like him, or 
 to die immediately, they would rather have chosen a 
 sudden death. And it is easy to judge this from their 
 actions ; for as soon as they thought themselves more 
 capable than their companions, they forsook Socrates, 
 whom they had frequented, only for the purpose I 
 mentioned, and threw themselves wholly into business. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be objected that he ought not to 
 have discoursed to his friends of things relating to the
 
 OF SOCEATES. 19 
 
 governiuent of tlie State, till after lie liad taiiglit tliein 
 to live virtuously. I have uotliing to say to this ; but 
 I observe that all who profess teaching do generally 
 two things : they work in presence of their scholars, 
 to sliow them how they ought to do, and they instruct 
 them likewise by word of mouth. ISTow, in either of 
 these two ways, no man ever taught to live well, like 
 Socrates ; for, in his wliole life, he was an example of 
 untainted probity ; and in his discourses he spoke of 
 virtue and of all the duties of man in a manner that 
 made him admired of all his hearers. And I know 
 too very well that Critias and Alcibiades lived very 
 virtuously as long as they frequented him ; not. that 
 they were afraid of him, but because they thought it 
 most conducive to their designs to live so at that time. 
 Many who pretend to philosophy will here object, 
 that a virtuous person is always virtuous, and that 
 when a man has once come to be good and temperate, 
 he will never afterwards become wicked nor dissolute • 
 because habitudes that can be acquired, when once they 
 are so, can never more be effaced from the mind. But 
 I am not of this opinion; for as they who use no 
 bodily exercises are awkward and unwieldy in the 
 actions of the body, so they who exercise not their 
 minds are incapable of the noble actions of the mind, 
 and have not courage enough to undertake anything 
 worthy of praise, nor command enough over them- 
 selves to abstain from tilings that are forbid. For 
 this reason, parents, though they be well enough 
 assured of the good natural disposition of their child- 
 ren, fail not to forbid them the conversation of the 
 vicious, because it is the ruin of worthy dispositions, 
 whereas the conversation of good men is a continual 
 meditation of virtue. Thus a poet says,
 
 20 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 ** Ey those whom we frequent, we're ever led : 
 Example is a law by all obeyed. 
 Thus with the good, we arc to good inclined, 
 3>ut vicious company corrupts the mind." 
 
 And aiK^ilior in like mauncr : 
 
 '' Virtue and vioe in the same man are found, 
 And novv' tlicy gain, and now they lose their ground." 
 
 And, in my opinion, tlicy are in the right. : for wlicn I 
 consider that they who have learned verses by lieart 
 foj-gi.t them unless they repeat them often, so I 
 believe that they who neglect the reasonings of philo- 
 soplicrs, insensibly lose the remembrance of them ; 
 and wiien they have let these excellent notions slip out 
 of tlieir minds, they at the same time lose the idea 
 of the things that supported in the soul the love of 
 temperance; and, having forgot those things, what 
 wonder is it if at length they forget temperance 
 likewise? 
 
 I observe, besides, that men who abandon themselves 
 to the debauches of wine or women fmd it more 
 difficult to apply themselves to things tliat are profit- 
 aljle, and to abstain from what is hurtful. For many 
 who live frugally before they fall in love become 
 prodigal when that passion gets the mastery over them ; 
 insomuch that after having wasted their estates, they 
 are reduced to gain their bread b}'- methods they would 
 have been ashamed of before. What liinders tlien, but 
 that a man, who has been once temperate, should be so 
 no longer, and that he who has led a good life at one 
 time should not do so at another? I should think, 
 therefore, that the being of all virtues, and chiefly of 
 temperance, depends on tlie practice of them : for lust, 
 that dwells in tlio same body with the soul, incites it
 
 OP SOCEATES. 21 
 
 continually to clospiso this virtue, and to find out tlio 
 slioi'test way to gratify the senses only. 
 
 Thus, -whilst Alcibiades and Critias conversed with 
 Socrates, they were able, with so great an assistance, to 
 tame their inclinations ; but after tliey had left him, 
 Critias, being retired into Thessaly, ruined himself 
 entirely in the company of some libertines ; and 
 Alcibiades, seeing himself courted by several women 
 of quality, because of his beauty, and suifering himself 
 to be corrux)ted by soothing tlatterers, who made their 
 court to him, in consideration of the credit he had in 
 the city and with the allies ; in a word, finding himself 
 respected by all the Athenians, and that no man 
 disputed the first rank with liim, began to neglect 
 himself, and acted like a great wrestler, who takes not 
 the trouble to exercise himself, when he no longer finds 
 an adversary who dares to contend witli him. 
 
 if we would examine, therefore, all that has happened 
 to them ; if we consider how mucli the greatness of 
 tlieir birth, their interest, and their riches, had puifed 
 up their minds ; if we reflect on the ill company they 
 fell into, and the many opportunities they had of 
 debauching themselves, can wo be surprised that, after 
 they had been so long absent from Socrates, they 
 arrived at length to that height of insolence to which 
 they have been seen to arise ? If they have been guilty 
 of crimes, the accuser will load Socrates with them, and 
 not allow him to be worthy of praise, for having kept 
 them within the bounds of their duty during their 
 youth, when, in all appearance, they would have been 
 the most disorderly and least governable. This, how- 
 ever, is not the way we judge of other things ; for who- 
 ever pretended that a musician, a player on the lute, 
 or any other person that teaclios, after ho has made a
 
 22 THE xMEMOHABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 good scliolar, ought to be blamed for liis growing moro 
 iguorant under tlie care of another master ? If a young 
 man gets an acquaintance that brings him into de- 
 baucher}^, ought his father to laj the blame on the 
 first friends of his son among whom he always lived 
 yirtuously ? Is it not true, on the contrary, that the 
 more he finds that this last friendship x^roves destruc- 
 tive to him, the more reason he will have to praise his 
 former acquaintance. And are the fathers themselves, 
 who are daily with their children, guilty of their faults, 
 if they give them no ill example ? Thus they ought to 
 have judged of Socrates ; if he led an ill life, it was 
 reasonable to esteem him vicious ; but if a good, was it 
 just to accuse him of crimes of which he was innocent ? 
 And yet he might have given his adversaries ground 
 to accuse him, had he but approved, or seemed to 
 approve those vices in others, from which he kept him- 
 self free : but Socrates abhorred vice, not only in him- 
 self, but in everyone besides. To prove which, I need 
 only relate his conduct toward Critias, a man extremely 
 addicted to debauchery. Socrates perceiving that this 
 man had an unnatural passion for Euthydemus, and 
 that the violence of it would precipitate him so far a 
 length as to make him transgress the bounds of nature, 
 shocked at his behaviour, he exerted his utmost strength 
 of reason and argument to dissuade him from so wild 
 a desire. And while the impetuosity of Oritias' passion 
 seemed to scorn all check or control, and the modest 
 rebuke of Socrates had been disregarded, the philoso- 
 pher, out of an ardent zeal for virtue, broke out in such 
 language, as at once declared his own strong inward 
 sense of decency and order, and the monstrous shame- 
 fulness of Critias' passion. Which severe but just 
 reprimand of Socrates, it is thought, was the founda-
 
 OF SOCRATES. 23 
 
 tiou of that grudge Tvliicli lie ever after bore him ; for 
 during the tyranny of the Thirty, of wliich Critias was 
 one, when, together with Charicles, lie had the care of 
 tiie civil government of the city, lie failed not to 
 remember this affront, and, in revenge of it, made a 
 law to forbid teaching the art of reasoning in Athens : 
 and having nothing to reproach Socrates with in 
 particular, he laboured to render him odious by 
 aspersing him with the usual calumnies that are 
 thrown on all philosophers : for I have never heard 
 Socrates say that he taught this art, nor seen any man 
 who ever heard him say so ; but Critias had taken 
 offence, and gave suificient proofs of it : for after the 
 Thirty had caused to be put to death a great number of 
 the citizens, and even of the most eminent, and had let 
 loose the reins to all sorts of violence and rapine, 
 Socrates said in a certain place that he wondered very 
 much that a man who keeps a herd of cattle, and by 
 his ill conduct loses every day some of them, and 
 suffers the others to fall away, would not own himself 
 to be a very ill keeper of his herd ; and that he should 
 wonder yet more if a Minister of State, who lessens 
 every day the number of his citizens, and makes the 
 others more dissolute, was not ashamed of his ministry, 
 and would not own himself to be an ill magistrate. 
 This was re]oorted to Critias and Charicles, who forth- 
 with sent for Socrates, and showing him the law they 
 had made, forbid him to discourse with the young men. 
 Upon which Socrates asked them whether they would 
 permit him to propose a question, that he might bo 
 informed of what he did not imderstand in this prohibi- 
 tion ; and his request being granted, he spoke in this 
 manner : " I am most ready to obey your laws; but that 
 I may not transgress through ignorance, I desire to
 
 21 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 know of you, wlietlier you condemn tlie art of reasoning, 
 because you believe it consists in saying things well, or 
 in saying them ill ? If for the former reason, we must 
 then, from henceforward, abstain from speaking as wo 
 ought ; and if for the latter, it is plain that we ought to 
 endeavour to s^jeak well." At these words Charicles 
 Hew into a passion, and said to him : " Since you pre- 
 tend to be ignorant of tilings that are so easily known, 
 we forbid you to speak to the young men in any 
 manner whatever." "It is enough," answered So- 
 crates; "but that I may not be in a perpetual 
 uncertainty, pray prescribe to me, till what age men 
 are young.'' " Till they are capable of being members 
 of the Senate," said Charicles : " In a word, speak to no 
 man under thirty years of age." '' How ! " says So- 
 crates, " if I would buy anything of a tradesman wlio is 
 not thirty years old am I forbid to ask him the price of 
 it ? " "I mean not so," answered Charicles : " but I am 
 not surprised that you ask me this question, for it is 
 your custom to ask many tilings that you know very 
 well." Socrates added : ''And if a young man ask mo 
 in the street where Cliaricles lodges, or whether I know 
 where Critias is, must I make him no answer ? " "I 
 mean not so neither," answered Charicles. Here 
 Critias, interrupting their discourse, said : " For the 
 future, Socrates, you must have nothing to do with the 
 city tradesmen, the shoemakers, masons, smiths, and 
 otlier mechanics, whom you so often allege as examples 
 of life ; and who, I apprehend, are quite jaded with 
 your discourses." " I must then likewise," replied 
 Socrates, " omit the consequences I draw from those 
 discourses ; and have no more to do with justice, piety, 
 and the other duties of a good man." " Yes, yes," said 
 Cliaricles ; " and I advise you to meddle no more witli
 
 01"' SOCRATES. 25 
 
 tliose tliat teud liercls of oxen ; otljerwlse take care you 
 lose not your own." And tliese last words made it 
 appear that Critias and Cliaricles liad taken oii'ence at 
 tlie discourse wkicli Socrates had held against their 
 government, when he compared them to a man that 
 suffers his herd to fall to ruin. 
 
 Tims we see how Critias frequented Socrates, and 
 what opinion they had of each other. I add, moreover, 
 that we cannot learn anything of a man whom we do 
 not like : therefore if Critias and Alcibiades made no 
 great improvement with Socrates, it proceeded from 
 this, that they never liked him. For at tlie very time 
 tJiat they conversed with liim, they always rather 
 courted the conversation of those who were employed 
 in the public affairs, because they had no design but to 
 govern. — The following conference of Alcibiades, in 
 particular, which he had with Pericles, his governor — 
 who was the chief man of the city, whilst he was yet 
 under twenty years of age — concerning the nature of 
 the laws, will confirm what I have now advanced. 
 
 "Pray," says Alcibiades, "explain to me what the 
 law is : for, as I hear men praised who observe the laws, 
 I imagine' that this praise could not be given to those 
 who know not what the law is.'' " It is easy to satisfy 
 you," answered Pericles : the law is only what the 
 X)eople in a general assembly ordain, declaring what 
 ought to be done, and what ought not to be done." 
 '•' And tell me," added Alcibiades, '* do they ordain to do 
 what is good, or wliat is ill ? " "Most certainly what 
 is good." Alcibiades pursued : " And how would yon 
 call what a small number of citizens should ordain, in 
 states where the xjeople is not the master, but all is 
 ordered by the advice of a few persons, who possess tlio 
 Bovereiguty ? " "I would call whatever they ordain a
 
 26 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 law ; for laws are iiotliiug else but the ordinances of 
 sovereigns." " If a tyrant then ordain anything, will 
 that be a law ? " " Yes, it will," said Pericles. " But 
 what then is violence and injustice ? " continued 
 Alcibiades; "is it not when the strongest makes him- 
 self be obeyed by the weakest, not by consent, but by 
 force only ? " " In my opinion it is." " It follows 
 then," says Alcibiades, " that ordinances made by a 
 prince, without the consent of the citizens, will be 
 absolutely unjust." "I believe so," said Pericles; 
 "and cannot allow that the ordinances of a prince, 
 when they are made without the consent of the people, 
 should bear the name of laws." "And what the 
 chief citizens ordain, without procuring the consent 
 of the greater number, is that likewise a violence ? " 
 " Tliere is no question of it," answered Pericles ; *' and 
 in general, every ordinance made without the consent 
 of those who are to obey it, is a violence rather than a 
 law." " And is what the populace decree, without the 
 coucurrencB of the chiefs, to be counted a violence 
 likewise, and not a law ? " " 'No doubt it is," said 
 Pericles : " but when I was of your age, I could resolve 
 all these difficulties, because I made it my business to 
 inquire into them, as you do now." " "Would to God," 
 cried Alcibiades, "I had been so ha23py as to have 
 conversed with you then, when you understood these 
 matters better." To this purpose was their dialogue. 
 
 Critias and Alcibiades, however, continued not long 
 with Socrates, after they believed they had improved 
 themselves, and gained some advantages over the other 
 citizens : for besides that they thought not his conver- 
 sation very agreeable, they were displeased that he 
 took upon him to reprimand them for their faults ; and 
 thus they threw themselves immediately into the public
 
 OF SOCRATES. 27 
 
 affairs, having never had any other design but that. 
 The usual companions of Socrates were Crito, Chaere- 
 X)hon, Chaerecrates, Simmias, Cebes, Phaedon, and some 
 others ; none of whom frequented him that they might 
 learn to speak eloquently, either in the assemblies of 
 the people, or in the courts of justice before the judges ; 
 but that they might become better men, and know how 
 to bahave themselves towards their domestics, their 
 relations, their friends, and their fellow-citizens. All 
 these persons led very innocent lives ; and, whether we 
 consider them in their youth or examine their behaviour 
 in a more advanced age, we shall find that they never 
 were guilty of any bad action, nay, that they never gave 
 the least ground to suspect them of being so. 
 
 But the accuser says that Socrates encouraged 
 children to despise their parents, milking them believe 
 that he was more capable to instruct them than they ; 
 and telling tliem tliat as the laws permit a man to cliain 
 his own father if he can convict him of lunacy, so, in 
 like manner, it is but just that a man of excellent sense 
 should throw another into chains who has not so much 
 understanding. I cannot deny but that Socrates may 
 have said something like this ; but he meant it not in 
 the sense in which the accuser would have it taken : 
 and he fully discovered what his meaning by these 
 words was, when he said that he who should pretend 
 to chain others because of their ignorance, ought, for 
 the same reason, to submit to be chained himself l)y 
 men who know more than he. Hence it is that lie 
 argued so often of the difference between folly and 
 ignorance; and then he x^lainly said that fools and 
 madmen ought to be chained indeed, as well for their 
 own interest as for that of their friends; but that 
 they who are ignorant of things they should know,
 
 28 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 ouglit only to bo instructed by tliose that undorstaud 
 tbeiu. 
 
 Tho accuser goes ou, that Socrates did not only teacb 
 men to despise their parents, but their other reLations 
 too ; because he said that if a man be sick, or liavc a 
 suit in law, it is not his relations, but the physicians, 
 or the advocates who are of use to him. He further 
 alleged that Socrates, speaking of friends, said it was 
 to no purpose to bear good- will to any man, if it be not 
 in our power to serve him ; and that the only friends 
 whom we ought to value are they who know what is 
 good for us, and can teach it to us : thus, says the 
 accuser, Socrates, by persuading the youth that he was 
 the wisest of all men, and the most capable to set others 
 in the right road to wisdom, made them believe that all 
 the rest of mankind were nothing in comparison with 
 him. I remember, indeed, to have heard hiai some- 
 times talk after this manner of parents, relations, and 
 friends ; and he observed besides, if I mistake not, that 
 when the soul, in which the understanding resides, is 
 gone out of the body, we soon bury the corpse ; and 
 even though it be that of our nearest relation, we 
 endeavour to -pni it out of our sight as soon as decently 
 we can. Further, though every man loves his own 
 body to a great degree, we scruple not nevertheless to 
 take from it all that is superfluous : for this reason we 
 cut our liair and our nails, we take off our corns and our 
 warts, and we put ourselves into the surgeons' hands, 
 and endure caustics and incisions ; and after they have 
 made us suffer a great deal of pain, we think ourselves 
 obliged to give them a reward : thus, too, we spit, 
 because the spittle is of no use in the mouth, but on tlie 
 contrary is troublesome. Bat Socrates meant not by 
 these, or the like sayings, to conclude that jv man ought
 
 Oh' SOCllATES. 29 
 
 to bury liis father alive, or that we oiiglit to cut oH our 
 legs aud arms ; but he mcaut only to teacli us that wliat 
 is useless is coutemptible, and to exhort every luan to 
 improve aud render himself useful to others ; to the 
 end, that if we desire to be esteemed by our father, our 
 brother, or any other relation, wo should not rely so 
 much on our parentage and consanguinity, as not to 
 endeavour to render ourselves always useful to those 
 Trhose esteem we desire to obtain. 
 
 The accusv^r says further against Socrates, that ho 
 was so malicious as to choose out of the famous poets 
 the passages that contained the worst instructions, and 
 that he made use of them in a sly manner, to inculcate 
 the vices of injustice and violence : as this verso of 
 Hesiod, 
 
 "Blame no employment, bufe blame idleness." 
 
 And he pretends that Socrates alleged this [)assage to 
 prove that the j)oet meant to say that we ought not to 
 count any employment unjust or dishonourable, if we 
 can make any advantage of it. This, however, was far 
 from tlie thoughts of Socrates ; but, as he had always 
 taught that employment and business are useful and 
 honourable to men, and that idleness is an evil, ho 
 concluded that they wlio busy themselves about any- 
 thing that is good are indeed employed ; but tJiat 
 gamesters and debauched persons, aud all who have no 
 occupations, but such as are hurtful and wicked, are 
 idle. Now, in this sense, is it not true to say : — 
 
 " Blame no employment, but blame i'llene^s"? 
 
 The accuser likewise says that Socrates often re- 
 peated, out of Homer, a speech of Ulysses ; aud from 
 thence he concludes that Socrates tauglit that the poet
 
 30 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 advised to beat the poor aud abuse the common people. 
 But it is plain Socrates could never have drawn such 
 a wild and unnatural inference from those verses of the 
 poet, because he would have argued against himself, 
 since he was as poor as anyone besides. What he 
 meant, therefore, was only this, that such as are neither 
 men of counsel nor execution, who are neither fit to 
 advise in the city nor to serve in the army, aud are 
 nevertheless proud and insolent, ought to be brought 
 to reason, even though they be possessed of great riches. 
 And this was the true meaning of Socrates, for ho 
 loved the men of low condition, and expressed a great 
 civility for all sorts of persons ; insomuch that when- 
 ever he was consulted, either by the Athenians or by 
 foreigners, he would never take anything of any man 
 for the instructions he gave them, but imparted his 
 wisdom freely, and witliout reward, to all the world ; 
 while they, who became rich by his liberality, did not 
 afterwards behave themselves so generously, but sold 
 very dear to others what had cost them nothing ; aud, 
 not being of so obliging a temper as he, would not 
 impart their knowledge to any who had it not in their 
 power to reward them. In short, Socrates has rendered 
 the city of Athens famous throughout the whole earth ; 
 and, as Lychas was said to be the honour of Sparta, 
 because he treated, at his own expense, all the foreigners 
 who came to the feasts of the G-ymnopaedies, so it may, 
 with much greater reason, be said of Socrates that he 
 was the glory of Athens, he who all his life made a 
 continual distribution of his goodness and virtues, aud 
 who, keeping open for all the world the treasures of 
 an inestimable wealth, never sent any man out of his 
 comx)any but more virtuous, and more improved in the 
 principles of honour, than formerly ho was. Therefore,
 
 OF S0CEATE3. 31 
 
 in my opinion, if ]io liad been treated according to liis 
 merit, they siiould have decreed liim pulilic honours 
 rather than have condemned him to an infamous deatli. 
 For against whom have the laws ordained the punisli- 
 ment of death ? Is it not for thieves, for robbers, for 
 men ^guilty of sacrilege, for those who sell persons that 
 are free ? But where, in all the world, can we find a 
 man more innocent of all those crimes than Socrates ? 
 Can it be said of him that he ever lield correspondence 
 with the enemy, that he ever fomented any sedition, 
 that he ever was the cause of a rebellion, or any other 
 the like mischiefs? Can any man lay to his charge 
 that he ever detained his estate, or did him or it the 
 least injury ? Was he ever so much as 'suspected of 
 any of these things 1 How then is it possible he should 
 be guilty of the crimes of which he was accused ; since, 
 instead of not believing in the gods, as the accuser 
 says, it is manifest he was a sincere adorer of tliem ? 
 Instead of corrupting the youth, as he further alleges 
 against liim, he made it his chief care to deliver his 
 friends from the power of every guilty passion, and to 
 inspire t]iem with an ardent love for virtue, the glory, 
 the ornament, and felicity of families as well as of 
 states ? And this being fact (and fact it is, for who 
 can deny it ?), is it not certain tliat the Republic was 
 extremely obliged to him, and that slie ought to.liavo 
 paid him the highest honours ?
 
 32 THE MEMORABLE THOUGKTS 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 now SOCRATES BEHAVED THROUGH THE WHOLE 
 OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 Having, tliereforo, observed myself that all wlio fre- 
 quented him improved themselves very much in his 
 conversation, because ho instructed them no less by 
 his example than by his discourses, I am resolved to 
 set down, in tliis work, all that I can recollect botli of 
 his actions and words. 
 
 First, then, as to what relates to the service of tho 
 gods, he strictly conformed to the advice of the oracle^ 
 who never gives any other answer to those who inquire 
 of him in what manner they ought to sacrifice to tho 
 gods, or what honours they ought to render to tho 
 dead, than that everyone should observe the customs of 
 his own country. Thus in all the acts of religious 
 worship Socrates took particular care to do nothing 
 contraiy to tho custom of the Republic, and advised 
 his friends to make that the rule of their devotion to 
 tlie gods, alleging it to be an argument of superstition 
 and vanity to dissent from the established worship. 
 
 When he j)rayed to the gods he besought them oiily 
 to give him what is good, because they know better 
 than we do what things are truly good for us ; and he 
 said that men who pray for silver, or for gold, or for 
 the sovereign authority, made as foolish requests as if 
 tliey prayed that they might play or fight, or desired 
 any other thing whose event is uncertain, and that 
 might be likely to turn to tlieir disadvantage. 
 
 When ho offered sacrifices he did not believe that his 
 poverty rendered them despicable in the presence of 
 the gods; and, while he offered according to his ability^
 
 OF SOCEATES. 33 
 
 he thonglit lie gave as much as the rich, who load the 
 altars with costly gifts, for he held that it would be an 
 injustice in the gods to take more delight in costly- 
 sacrifices than in poorer ones, because it would then 
 follow that the offerings of the wicked woiild for the 
 most part be more acceptable to them than the gifts of 
 the good ; and that, if this were so, we ought not to 
 desire to live one moment longer : he thought, there- 
 fore, that nothing was so acceptable to the Deity as 
 the homage that is paid him by souls truly pious and 
 innocent. To this purpose he often repeated these 
 verses : — 
 
 " Offer to heaven according to thy pow'r : 
 Til' indulgent gracious gods require no more." 
 
 And not only in this, but in all the other occasions of 
 life, he thought the best advice he could give his friends 
 was to do all things according to their ability. 
 
 When he believed that the gods had admonished 
 him to do anything, it was as impossible to make him 
 take a contrary resolution as it would have been to have 
 prevailed with him in a journey to change a guide that 
 was clear-sighted for one that knew not the way, and 
 was blind likewise. For this reason he pitied their 
 folly, who, to avoid the derision of men, live not accord- 
 ing to the admonitions and commands of the gods ; 
 and he beheld with contempt all the subtilties of 
 human prudence when he compared them with divine 
 inspirations. 
 
 His way of living was such that whoever follows it 
 may be assured, with the help of the go(Js, that he shall 
 acquire a robust constitution and a health not to be 
 easily impaired; and this, too, without any great 
 expense, for ho was content with so little that Ibelievo 
 B— loS
 
 Si THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tliere was not in all the world a man who could work 
 at all but might have earned enough to have main- 
 tained him. He generally ate as long as he found 
 pleasure in eating, and when he sat down to table lie 
 desired no other sauce but a sound appetite. All sorts 
 of drink were alike pleasing to him, because he never 
 drank but when he was thirsty ; and if sometimes he 
 was invited to a feast, he easily avoided eating and 
 drinking to excess, which many find very difficult to 
 do in those occasions. But he advised those who had 
 no government of themselves never to taste of things 
 that tempt a man to eat when he is no longer hungry, 
 and that excite him to drink when his thirst is already 
 quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomacli, 
 causes the headache, and puts the soul into disorder. 
 And he said, between jest and earnest, that he believed 
 it was with such meats as those that Circe changed 
 men into swine, and that Ulysses avoided that trans- 
 formation by the counsel of Mercury, and because ho 
 had temperance enough to abstain from tasting them. 
 
 As to love, his advice was to avoid carefully the 
 company of beautiful persons, saying it was very 
 difficult to be near them and escape being taken in 
 the snare ; and, having been told that Critobulus had 
 given a kiss to the son of Alcibiades, who was a very 
 handsome youth, he held this discourse to Xenophon, 
 in the presence of Critobulus himself. 
 
 " Tell me, Xenophon, what opinion have you hitherto 
 had of Critobulus ? Have you i^laccd him in the rank 
 of the temperate and judicious ; or with the debauched 
 and imprudent ? " "I have always looked upon him," 
 answered Xenophon, " to be a very virtuous and 
 prudent man." " Change your opinion," replied 
 Socrates, " and believe him more rash than if he threw
 
 OF SOCEATES. So 
 
 liimst'lf on tlic points of naked swords or leapt into 
 tlie fire." " And what have you seen him do," said 
 Xenophon, " that gives you reason to speak tlius of 
 him ? " Why, he had the rashness," answered Socrates, 
 " to kiss the son of Alcibiades, who is so beautiful and 
 charming." " And is this all ? " said Xenophon ; " for 
 my part, I think I could also willingly expose myself 
 to the same danger that he did." " Wretch, that you 
 are ! " replied Socrates. •' Do you consider what happens 
 to you after you have kissed a beautiful face ? Do 
 you not lose your liberty ? Do you not become a slave ? 
 Do you not engage yourself in a vast expense to 
 procure a sinful pleasure ? Do you not find yourself 
 in an incapacity of doing what is good, and that you 
 subject yourself to the necessity of employing your 
 whole time and person in the pursuit of what you would 
 despise, if your reason were not corrupted?" '' Good 
 God ! " cried Xenophon, " this is ascribing a wonderful 
 power t-o a kiss forsooth." '' And are you surprised at 
 it .^ " answered Socrates. '"Are there not some small 
 animals whose bite is so venomous that it causes 
 insuiferable jjain, and even the loss of the senses ? " 
 '•' I know it very well," said Xenophon, " but these 
 animals leave a poison behind them when they sting." 
 *' And do you think, you fool," added Socrates, '• that 
 kisses of love are not venomous, because you perceive 
 not the poison? Know that a beautiful person is a 
 more dangerous animal than scorpions, because these 
 cannot wound unless they touch us ; but beauty strikes 
 at a distance : from what place soever we can but 
 behold her, she darts her A'enom upon us, and over- 
 throws our judgment. And perhaps for this reason 
 the Loves are represented with bows and arrows, 
 liecause a beautiful face wounds us from afar. I
 
 36 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 advise you, therefore, Xenoplion, -wlien you chance to 
 see a beauty to fly from it, without looking behind 
 you. And for you, Critobulus, I think it convenient 
 that you should enjoin yourself a year's absence, which 
 will not be too long a time to heal you of your 
 wound." 
 
 As for sucli as have not strength enough to resist 
 the XDOwer of love, he thouglit that they ought to 
 consider and use it as an action to which the soul 
 would never consent, were it not for the necessity of 
 the body ; and which, though it be necessary, ought, 
 nevertheless, to give us no inquietude. As for himself, 
 his continence was known to all men, and it was more 
 easy for him to avoid courting the most celebrated 
 beauties, than it is for others to get away from disagree- 
 able objects. 
 
 Thus we see what was his way of life in eating, 
 drinking, and in the affair of love. He believed, how- 
 ever, that he tasted of those pleasures no less than 
 they who give themselves much trouble to enjoy them ; 
 but that he had not, like them, so frequent occasions 
 for sorrow and repentance. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SOCRATES PROVETH THE EXISTENCE OF A DEITY. 
 
 If there be any who believe what some have written 
 by conjecture, that Socrates was indeed excellent in 
 exciting men to virtue, but that he did not pusli them 
 forward to make any great progress in it, let such 
 reflect a little on what he said, not only when he 
 endeavoured to refute those tliat boasted they knew all
 
 OF SOCRATES. 37 
 
 things, but likewise in liis familiar conversations, and 
 let tliem judge aftei-wards if lie was incapable to 
 advance his friends in the paths of virtue. 
 
 I will, in the first place, relate a conference which 
 he had with Aristodemus, surnamed the Little, touching 
 the Deity, for he had heard that he never sacrificed to 
 the gods ; that he never addressed himself to them in 
 prayer ; that he never consulted the oracles, and even 
 laughed at those that practised these things, he took 
 him to talk in this manner : — 
 
 " Tell me, Aristodemus, are there any persons whom 
 you value on account of their merit ? " He answered, 
 " Yes, certainly." " Tell me their names," added 
 Socrates. Aristodemus replied : '' For epic poetry I 
 admire Homer as the most excellent ; for ditlm'ambics, 
 Melanippides ; Sophocles for tragedy ; Polycletes for 
 statuary ; and Zeuxis for painting." " Which artists,'* 
 said Socrates, " do you think to be most worthy of 
 your esteem and admiration : they who make images 
 without soul and motion, or they who make animals 
 that move of their own accord, and are endowed with 
 understanding ? " " ISTo doubt the last," replied 
 Aristodemus, " provided they make them not by chance, 
 but with judgment and prudence." Socrates went on : 
 " As there are some things which we cannot say why 
 they were made, and others which are apparently good 
 and useful, tell me, my friend, whether of the two 
 you rather take to be the work of prudence than of 
 hazard." " It is reasonable," said Aristodemus, " to 
 believe that the things which are good and useful are 
 the workmanship of reason and judgment." " Do not 
 you think then," replied Socrates, " that the first 
 Former of mankind designed their advantage when he 
 gave tliera the several senses by which o])jects are
 
 38 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 apprelieiidecl ; eyes for thiugs visible, and ears for 
 sounds ? Of "wliat advantage Tvould agreeable scents 
 have been to ns if nostrils suited to their reception 
 had not been given ? And for the pleasures of the 
 taste, how could we ever have enjoyed these, if the 
 tongue had not been fitted to discern and relish tliem ? 
 Further, does it not appear to you wisely provided 
 that since the eye is of a delicate make, it is guarded 
 with the eyelid drawn \mck when the eye is used, and 
 covering it in sleej) ? How well does the hair at the 
 extremity of the eyelid keep out dust, and the eyebrow, 
 by its prominency, prevent the sweat of the forehead 
 from running into the eye to its hurt. How wisely is 
 the ear formed to receive all sorts of sounds, and not to 
 be filled with any to the exclusion of others. Are not 
 the fore teeth of all animals fitted to cut off proper 
 portions of food, and their grinders to reduce it to a 
 convenient smallness ? The mouth, by which we take 
 in the food we like, is fitly placed just beneath the 
 nose and eyes, the judges of its goodness ; and wliat is 
 offensive and disagreeable to our senses is, for that 
 reason, placed at a proper distance from thorn. In 
 short, these things being disposed in such order, and 
 with so much care, can you hesitate one moment to 
 determine whether it be an effect of providence or of 
 chance ? " "I doubt not of it in the least," replied 
 Aristodemus, "and the more I fix my thoughts on tlio 
 contemplation of these things tlie more I am persuaded 
 tliat all tills is the masterpiece of a great workman, 
 who bears an extreme love to men." " What say you," 
 continued Socrates, " to this, that he gives all animals 
 a desire to engender and propagate their kind ; that 
 he inspires the mothers with tenderness and affection 
 to bn-ing up their j^oung ; and that, from the very liour
 
 OF SOCRATES. 39 
 
 of their birth, he iufuses into tJiem this great love of 
 life and this mighty aversion to death ? " "1 saj," 
 replied Aristodemus, '' that it is an effect of his great 
 care for their preservation." '' This is not all," said 
 Socrates, "answer me yet farther; perhaps yon wonld 
 rather interrogate me. Ton are not, I persuade myself, 
 ignorant that you are endowed with understanding ; 
 do you then think that there is not elsewhere an 
 intelligent being ? Particularly, if you consider that 
 your body is only a little earth taken from that great 
 mass which you behold. TJie moist that composes you 
 is only a small drop of that immense heap of water 
 that makes the sea ; in a word, your body contains only 
 a small part of all the elements, which are elsewhere in 
 great quantity. There is nothing tlien but your under- 
 standing alone, which, by a wonderful piece of good 
 fortune, must have come to you from I know not 
 whence, if there were none in another place ; and can 
 it then be said that all this universe and all these so 
 vast and numerous bodies have been disposed iu so 
 much order, without the help of an intelligent Being, 
 and by mere chance ? " "I find it very difficult to 
 understand it otherwise," answered Aristodemus, 
 " because I see not the gods, who, you say, make and 
 govern all things, as I see the artificers who do any 
 piece of work amongst us." " N'or do you see your 
 soul neither," answered Socrates, " which governs your 
 body; but, because you do not see it, will you from 
 thence infer you do nothing at all by its direction, but 
 that everything you do is by mere chance ? Ai-isto- 
 demus now wavering said, '"'I do not despise tlie Deity, 
 but I conceive siich an idea of his magnificence and 
 Belf-sufficiency, that I imagine him to have no need of 
 me or my services." " You are quite wrong," said
 
 40 THE MEMOllABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 Socrates, " for by liow miicli tlio gods, wlio are so 
 magnificGut, vouchsafe to regard you, by so much you 
 are bound to praise aud adore tliem." " It is ueedless 
 for me to tell you," answered Aristodemus, " that, if I 
 believed the gods interested themselves in human 
 affairs, I should not neglect to worship them." 
 " How ! " rex)lied Socrates, " you do not believe tlie 
 gods take care of men, they who have not only given 
 to man, in common with otlier animals, the senses of 
 seeing, hearing, aud taste, but have also given him to 
 walk upright ; a privilege which no other animal can 
 boast of, and which is of mighty use to him to look 
 forward, to remote objects, to survey with facility 
 tliose above him, and to defend himself from any harm ? 
 Besides, although the animals that walk have feet, 
 which serve them for no other use than to walk, yet, 
 herein, have the gods distinguished man, in that, be- 
 sides feet, they have given liim hands, the instruments 
 of a thousand grand and useful actions, on which 
 account he not only excels, but is happier than all 
 animals besides. And, furtlier, though all animals 
 have tongues, yet none of them can speak, like man's ; 
 his tongue only can form words, by whicli he declares 
 his thoughts, and communicates them to others. Not 
 to mention smaller instances of their care, such as the 
 concern they take of our pleasures, in confining men 
 to no certain season for the enjoying them, as they 
 have done other animals. 
 
 "But Providence taketh care, not only of our bodies, 
 but of our souls : it hath pleased the great Author of 
 all, not only to give man so many advantages for tlie 
 body, but (which is the greatest gift of all, and tlie 
 strongest proof of his care) he hath breathed into liim 
 an intelligent soul, and that, too, the most excellent of
 
 OF SOCEATES. 41 
 
 all, for AYliieli of tlie other animals lias a soul tliat knows 
 tlie being of the Deity, by wliom so many great and 
 marvellous works are done ? Is there any species but 
 man that serves and adores him ? Which of the animals 
 can, like him, protect himseK from hunger and thirst, 
 from heat and cold ? Which, like him, can find remedies 
 for diseases, can make use of his strength, and is as 
 capable of learning, that so perfectly retains the things 
 he has seen, he has heard, he has known ? In a word, it 
 is manifest that man is a god in comparison with the 
 other living species, considering the advantages he 
 naturally has over them, both of body and soul. For, if 
 man had a body like to that of an ox the subtilty of his 
 understanding would avail him nothing, because he 
 would not be able to execute what he should project. 
 On the other hand, if that animal had a body like ours, 
 yet, being devoid of understanding, he would be no 
 better than the rest of the brute species. Thus the 
 gods have at once united in your person the most 
 excellent structure of body and the greatest perfection 
 of soul ; and now can you still say, after all, that they 
 take no care of you ? What would you have them do 
 to convince you of the contrary?" "I would have 
 them," answered Aristodemus, " send on purpose to let 
 me know expressly all that I ought to do or not to do, 
 in like manner as you say they do give you notice." 
 " What ! " said Socrates, " when they pronounce any 
 oracle to all the Athenians, do you think they do not 
 address themselves to you too, when by prodigies they 
 make known to the Greeks the things that are to 
 happen, are they silent to you alone, and are you the 
 only person they neglect ? Do you think that the gods 
 would have instilled this notion into men, that it is 
 they who can make them happy or miserable, if it were
 
 42 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 not indeed in their power to do so ? And do you 
 believe that the human race would have been thus long 
 abused without ever discovering the cheat ? Do you 
 not know that the most ancient and wisest republics 
 and people have been also the most pious, and that 
 man, at the age when his judgment is ripest, has then 
 the greatest bent to the worship of the Deity ? 
 
 " My dear Aristodemus, consider that your mind 
 governs your body according to its pleasure : in like 
 maimer we ought to believe that there is a mind diffused 
 throughout the whole universe that disposeth of all 
 things according to its counsels. You must not 
 imagine that your weak sight can reach to objects that 
 are several leagues distant, and that the eye of God 
 cannot, at one and the same time, see all things. You 
 must not imagine that your mind can reflect on the 
 affairs of Atliens, of Egypt, and of Sicily, and that the 
 providence of God cannot, at one and the same moment, 
 consider all things. As, therefore, you may make 
 trial of the gratitude of a man by doing him a kindness, 
 and as you may discover his prudence by consulting 
 him in difficult affairs, so, if you would be convinced 
 how great is the power and goodness of God, apply 
 yourself sincerely to piety and his worship ; then, my 
 dear Aristodemus, you shall soon be j)ersuaded that the 
 Deity sees all, hears all, is present everywhere, and, at 
 the same time, regulates and superintends all the events 
 of the universe." 
 
 By such discourses as these Socrates taught his 
 friends never to commit any injustice or dishonourable 
 action, not only in the presence of men, but even in 
 secret, and when they are alone, since the Divinity hath 
 always an eye over us, and none of our actions can be 
 liid from him.
 
 OP SOCRATES. 43 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE PRAISE OF TEMPERANCE. 
 
 And if temperance be a virtue in man, as undoubtedly 
 it is, let us see Trliether any improvement can be made 
 by what lie said of it. I -will liere give you one of his 
 discourses on that subject : — 
 
 " If we were engaged in a war,'' said he, " and were 
 to choose a general, would we make choice of a man 
 given to wine or women, and who could not support 
 fatigues and hardships ? Could we believe that such 
 a commander would be capable to defend us and to 
 conquer our enemies ? Or if we were lying on our 
 deatlibed, and were to appoint a guardian and tutor 
 for our children, to take care to instruct our sons in the 
 principles of virtue, to breed up our daughter* in the 
 paths of honour and to be faithful in the management 
 of their fortunes, should we think a debauclied person 
 fit for that employment ? Would we trust our flocks 
 and our gi'anaries in the hands of a drunkard ? Would 
 we rely upon him for the conduct of any enterprise ; 
 and, in short, if a present were made us of such a slave, 
 should we not make it a difl&culty to accept, him ? If, 
 then, we have so great an aversion for debauchery in 
 the person of the meanest servant, ought we not our- 
 selves to be very careful not to fall into the same fault ? 
 Besides, a covetous man has the satisfaction of enrich- 
 ing himself, and, though he take away another's estate, 
 he increases his own; but a debauched man is both 
 troublesome to others and injurious to himself. We 
 may say of him that he is hurtful to all the world, and 
 yet more hurtful to himself, if to ruin, not only his 
 family, but his body and soul likewise, is to be hurtful.
 
 44 THE MEMOKABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 Wlio, tlieu, can take delight in tlie company of liim 
 wlio lias no other diversion than eating and drinking, 
 and who is better j)leased with the conversation of a 
 prostitntc than of his friends ? Ought we not, then, to 
 practise temperance above all things, seeing it is the 
 foundation of all other virtues ; for witliout it what can 
 we learn that is good, what do that is worthy of praise ? 
 Is not the state of man who is plunged in voluptuous- 
 ness a wretched condition both for the body and soul ; 
 Certainly, in my opinion, a free person ought to wish 
 to have no such servants, and servants addicted to such 
 brutal irregularities ought earnestly to entreat Heaven 
 that they may fall into the hands of very indulgent 
 masters, because their ruin will be otherwise almost 
 unavoidable." 
 
 Tliis is what Socrates was wont to say upon this 
 subjects But if he appeared to be a lover of temper- 
 ance in his discourses, he was yet a more exact observer 
 of it in his actions, showing himself to be not only 
 invincible to the pleasures of the senses, but even 
 depriving himself of the satisfaction of getting an 
 estate ; for he held that a man who accepts of money 
 from others makes himself a servant to all their 
 humours, and becomes tlieir slave in a manner no less 
 scandalous than other slaveries.
 
 OF SOCRATES. 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DISPUTE OF SOCRATES WITH AXTIPHON, 
 THE SOPHIST. 
 
 To tliis end it will not be amiss to relate, for tlio 
 honour of Socrates, what passed between him and the 
 sophist Antiphon, who designed to seduce away liis 
 hearers, and to that end came to him when they were 
 with him, and, in their presence, addressed himself to 
 liim in these words: — "I imagined, Socrates, that 
 philosophers were happier than other men ; but, in my 
 opinion, your wisdom renders you more miserable, for 
 you live at such a rate that no footman would live with 
 a master that treated him in the same manner. You 
 eat and drink poorly, you are clotlied very meanly — the 
 same suit serves you in summer and winter — you go 
 barefoot, and for all this you take no money, though it 
 is a pleasure to get it ; for, after a man has acquired it, 
 he lives more genteely and more at his ease. If, there- 
 fore, as in all other sorts of arts, apprentices endeavour 
 to imitate their masters, should these who frequent 
 your conversation become like you, it is certain that 
 you will have taught them nothing but to make them- 
 selves miserable." 
 
 Socrates answered him in the following manner : — 
 " You think, Antiphon, I live so poorly that I believe 
 you would rather die than live like me. But what is it 
 you find so strange and difficult in my way of living ? 
 You blame me for not taking money ; is it because they 
 who take money are obliged to do what they promise, 
 and that I, who take none, entertain myself only with 
 whom I think fit ? You despise my eating and drinking ; 
 is it because my diet is not so good nor so nourishing
 
 46 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 as yours, or because it is more scarce and dearer, or 
 lastly, because your fare seems to you to be better ? 
 Know that a man wlio likes wliat lie eats needs no other 
 ragoiit, and that he who finds one sort of drink pleasant 
 wishes for no other. As to your objection of my 
 clothes, you appear to me, Autiphon, to judge quite 
 amiss of the matter ; for, do you not know that wo 
 dress ourselves differently only because of the hot or 
 cold weather, and if we wear shoes it is because we 
 would walk the easier ? But, tell me, did you ever 
 observe that the cold hath hindered me from going 
 abroad ? Have you ever seen me choose the cool and 
 fresh shades in hot weather? And, though I go bare- 
 foot, do not you see that I go wherever I will P Do 
 you not know that there are some persons of a very 
 tender constitution, who, by constant exercise, surmount 
 the weakness of their nature, and at length endure 
 fatigues better than they who are naturally more robust, 
 but have not taken pains to exercise and harden them- 
 selves like the others ? Thus, therefore, do not you 
 believe that I, who have all my life accustomed myself 
 to bear patiently all manner of fatigues, cannot now 
 more easily submit to this than you, who have never 
 thought of the matter ? If I have no keen desire after 
 dainties, if I sleep little, if I abandon not myself to any 
 infamous amour, the reason is because I spend my time 
 more delightfully in things whose pleasure ends not 
 in the moment of enjoyment, and that make me hope 
 besides to receive an everlasting reward. Besides, you 
 know very well, that when a man sees that his affairs 
 go ill he is not generally very gay ; and that, on the 
 contrary, they who think to succeed in their designs, 
 wliether in ngriculture, traffic, or any other under- 
 taking, are very contented in their minds. Now, do
 
 OF SOCRATES. 47 
 
 you tliiuk that from anytliing- wliatsoover tliore can 
 proceed a satisfaction equal to the inward consciousuesa 
 of improving daily in virtue, and acquiring the 
 acquaintance and friendship of the best of men ? And 
 if wo were to serve our friends or our country, would 
 not a man who lives like me be more capable of it than 
 one that should follow that course of life which you 
 take to be so charming? If it were necessary to carry 
 arms, which of the two would be the best soldier, lie 
 who must always fare deliciously, or he who is satis- 
 fied with what he finds ? If they were to undergo 
 a siege who would hold out longest, he who can- 
 not live without delicacies, or he who requires 
 notliing but what may easily be had ? One would 
 think, Antiphon, that you believe happiness to consist 
 in good eating and drinking, and in an expensive 
 and splendid way of life. For my part, I am 
 of opinion that to have need of nothing at all is a 
 divine perfection, and that to have need but of little is 
 to approach very near the Deity, and hence it follows 
 that, as there is notliing more excellent than the Deity, 
 whatever approaches nearest to it is likewise most near 
 the supreme excellence." 
 
 Another time Antiphon addressed himself to 
 Socrates : " I confess you are an honest, well-mcanino- 
 man, Socrates; but it is certain you know little or 
 nothing, and one would imagine you own this to be 
 true, for you get nothing by your teaching. And yet, 
 I persuade myself, you would not part with your house, 
 or any of the furniture of it, without some gratuity, 
 because you believe them of some small value ; nay, 
 you would not part with them for less tlian they are 
 worth : if, therefore, you tliought your teaching wortli 
 anything you would be paid for it according to its
 
 4S THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 value ; in tliis, iiicleetl, you show yourself honest, 
 ])ecause you will not, out of avarice, cheat any man, 
 but at i\iG same time 3'ou discover, too, that you know 
 but little, since all your knowledge is not worth the 
 buying." 
 
 Socrates answered him in this manner : — " There is a 
 great resemblance between beauty and the doctrine of 
 philosophers ; Avhat is praiseworthy in the one is so in 
 the other, and both of them are subject to the same 
 vice : for, if a woman sells her beauty for money, wo 
 immediately call her a prostitute ; but if she knows 
 that a man of worth and condition is fallen in love 
 with her, and if she makes him her friend, we say she 
 is a prudent woman. It is just the same with the 
 doctrine of philosophers ; they that sell it are sophists, 
 and like the public women, but if a philosopher observe 
 a youth of excellent parts, and teacheth him what he 
 knows, in order to obtain his friendship, we say of him, 
 that he acts the part of a good and virtuous citizen. 
 Thus as some delight in fine horses, others in dogs, 
 and others in birds ; for my part all my delight is to 
 be with my virtuous friends. I teach them, all tlio 
 good I know, and recommend them to all whom I 
 believe capable to assist them in the way to x^erfection. 
 We all draw together, out of the same fountain, the 
 precious treasures which the ancient sages have left 
 us ; we run over their works, and if we find anything 
 excellent we take notice of it and select it ; in short, 
 we believe we have made a great improvement when 
 we begin to love one another." This was the answer 
 he made, and when I heard him speak in this manner I 
 thought him very happy, and that he effectually stirred 
 up his hearers to the love of virtue. 
 
 Another time when Antiphon asked him why he did
 
 or SOCEATES. 49 
 
 not concern liimself with affairs of State, seeing Le 
 tliouglit liimself capable to make otliers good poli- 
 ticians ? he returned this answer : — " Should I be more 
 serviceable to the State if I took an employment whose 
 f imction would be wholly bounded in my person, and 
 take up all my time, than I am by instructing every 
 one as I do, and in furnishing the Republic witli 
 a great number of citizens who are capable to servo 
 her?" 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 IN WHAT MANNER SOCEATES DISSUADED MEN FEOM 
 SELF-CONCEIT AND OSTENTATION. 
 
 But let us now see whether by dissuading his friends 
 from a vain ostentation he did not exhort them to the 
 pursuit of virtue. He frequently said that there was 
 no readier way to glory than to render oneself excel- 
 lent, and not to affect to appear so. To prove this 
 he alleged the following example : — "Let us suppose," 
 said he, " that any one would be thought a good musician, 
 without being so in reality ; what course must he take ? 
 He must be careful to imitate the great masters in 
 everything that is not of their art ; he must, like them, 
 have fine musical instruments ; he must, like them, be 
 followed by a great number of persons wherever ho 
 goes, who must be always talking in his praise. And 
 yet he must not venture to sing in public : for tlien all 
 men would immediatelyperceive not only his ignorance, 
 but his presumption and folly likewise. And would it 
 not be ridiculous in him to spend liis estate to ruin hig 
 reputation ? In like manner, if any one would appear 
 a gi*eat general, or a good pilot, though lie knew
 
 50 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 notliiiig of either, "wliat would be the issue of it ? If 
 lie cannot make others believe it, it troubles him, and 
 if he can persuade them to think so he is yet more 
 unhappy, because, if he be made choice of for the 
 steering of ships, or to command an army, he will 
 acquit himself very ill of his office, and perhaps be the 
 cause of the loss of his best friends. It is not less 
 dangerous to appear to be ricli, or brave, or strong, if 
 we are not so indeed, for this opinion of us may 
 procure us employments that are above our capacity, 
 and if we fail to effect what was expected of us there 
 is no remission for our faults. And if it be a great 
 cheat to wheedle one of your neighbours out of any of 
 his ready money or goods, and not restore them to him 
 afterwards, it is a much greater impudence and cheat 
 for a worthless fellow to persuade the world that he is 
 capable to govern a Republic." By these and the like 
 arguments he inspired a hatred of vanity and ostenta- 
 tion into the minds of those who frequented him.
 
 OF SOCRATES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A CONFERENCE OP SOCRATES WITH ARISTIPPUS 
 CONCERNING PLEASURE AND TEMPERANCE. 
 
 In tlie same mauuer, likewise, lie encouraged Lis 
 hearers by the following arguments : to support hunger 
 and thirst, to resist the temptations of love, to fly from 
 laziness, and inure themselyes to all manner of fatigues. 
 For, being told that one of them lived too luxuriousl}^ 
 he asked him this question : " If you were entrusted, 
 Aristippus, witli the education of two young men, ouo 
 to be a prince and the other a private man, how would 
 you educate them ? Let us begin with their nourish- 
 ment, as being the foundation of all." " It is true," 
 said Aristippus, that nourishment is the foundation of 
 our life, for a man must soon die if he be not nourished." 
 " You would accustom both of them," said Socrates, 
 " to eat and drink at a certain hour ?" " It is likely I 
 should." " But which of the two," said Socrates, 
 " would you teach to leave eating before he was 
 satisfied, to go about some earnest business ? " " Him, 
 without doubt," answered Aristippus, " whom I in- 
 tended to render capable to govern, to the end that 
 under him the affairs of the Republic might not suffer 
 by delay." " Which of the two," continued Socrates, 
 " would you teach to abstain from drinking when lie 
 was thirsty, to sleep but little, to go late to bed, to rise 
 early, to watch whole nights, to live chastely, to get the 
 better of his favourite inclinations, and not to avoid 
 fatigues, but expose himself freely to them ? " " The
 
 52 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 same still," replied Aristippus. "And i£ tliere Ido any 
 nrt that teaches to overcome our enemies, to which of 
 the two is it rather reasonable to teach it ? " " To him 
 to," said Aristippus, " for witliout that art all tlie rest 
 would avail him nothing." " I believe," said Socrates, 
 " that a man, who has been educated in this manner, 
 would not suffer himself to be so easily surprised by 
 his enemies as the most part of animals do. For some 
 l^erish by their gluttony, as those whom we allure with 
 a bait, or catch by offering them to drink, and who 
 fall into the snares, notwithstanding their fears and 
 distrust. Others perish through their lasciviousness, 
 as quails and partridges, who suffer themselves to be 
 decoyed by the counterfeit voice of their females, and 
 blindly following the amorous warmth that transports 
 them, fall miserably into the nets." " You say true," 
 said Aristippus. " Well, then," pursued Socrates, " is 
 it not scandalous for a man to be taken in the same 
 snares with irrational animals ? And does not this 
 happen to adulterers, who skulk and hide themselves 
 in the chambers and closets of married women, though 
 they know they run a very great risk, and that the 
 laws are very strict and rigorous against those crimes ? 
 They know themselves to be watched, and that, if they 
 are taken, they shall not be let go with impunity. lu 
 a word, they see punishment and infamy hanging over 
 the heads of criminals like themselves. Besides, they 
 are not ignorant, that there are a thousand honourable 
 diversions to deliver them from those infamous passions, 
 and yet they run hand over head into the midst of 
 these dangers, and what is this but to be wretched and 
 desperate to the highest degree ? " " I think it so," 
 answered Aristippus. " What say you to this," con- 
 tinued Socrates, " that the most necessary and most
 
 OF SOCRATES. 53 
 
 imxjortaiit affairs of life, as those of war and hiisbaudiy, 
 are, witli otliers of little less cousequence, performed 
 in the fields and in tlie open air, and tliat the pfreatest 
 part of mankind accustom themselves so little to 
 endnre the inclemency of the seasons, to suffer heat 
 and cold ? Is not this a great neglect ? and do you 
 not think that a man who is to command others ought 
 to inure himself to all these hardships ? " "I think ho 
 ought," answered Aristippus. " Therefore," replied 
 Socrates, " if they who are patient and laborious, as we 
 have said, are worthy to command, may we not say 
 that they who can do nothing of all this, ought never 
 to pretend to any office ? " Aristippus agreed.' o it, and 
 Socrates went on. 
 
 " Since then you know the rank which either of these 
 two sorts of men ought to hold, amongst which would 
 you have us place you ? " " Me ! " said Aristippus ; 
 " why truly, not amongst those that govern ; for that 
 is an office I would never choose. Let those rule who 
 have a mind for it ; for my part, I envy not their con- 
 dition. For, when I reflect that we find it hard enough 
 to supply our own wants, I do not aj^prove of loading 
 ourselves, besides, with the necessities of a whole people ; 
 and that being often compelled to go without many 
 things that we desire, we should engage ourselves in an 
 employment that would render us liable to blame, if we 
 did not take care to supply others with everything they 
 want : I think there is folly in all this. For republics 
 make use of their magistrates as I do of my slaves, who 
 shall get me my meat and drink, and all other neces- 
 saries, as I command, and not presume to touch any of 
 it themselves ; so, too, the people will have those, who 
 govern the State, take care to provide them with plenty 
 of all things, and will not suffer them to do anything
 
 54 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 for ilieir o-v\'u advantage. I tliink, tlierefore, that all 
 who are ]3leased with a hurry of affairs, and iu creating 
 business for others, are most fit to govern, iirovided 
 they have been educated and instructed in the manner 
 we mentioned. But, for my part, I desire to lead a 
 more quiet and easy life." 
 
 " Let us/' said Socrates, " consider whether they who 
 govern lead more happy lives than their subjects : 
 among the nations that are known to us in Asia, the 
 Syrians, the Phrygians, and the Lydians, are under the 
 empire of the Persians. In Europe, the Mosotians are 
 subject to the Scythians ; in Africa, the Carthaginians 
 reign over the rest of the Africans. Which now, in 
 your opinion, are the most happy ? Let ns look into 
 Greece, where you are at present. Wliose condition, 
 think you, is most to be desired, that of the nations who 
 rule, or of the people who are under the dominion of 
 others ? " "I can never," said Aristippus, " consent to 
 be a slave ; but there is a way between both that leads 
 neither to empire nor subjection, and this is the road of 
 liberty, in wliich I endeavour to walk, because it is the 
 shortest to arrive at true quiet and repose." " If you 
 had said," replied Socrates, " that this way, which leads 
 neither to empire nor subjection, is a way that leads far 
 from all human society, you would, perhaps, have said 
 something; for, how can we live among men, and 
 neither command nor obey ? Do you not observe that 
 the mighty oppress the weak, and use them as their 
 slaves, after they have made them groan under the 
 weight of oppression, and given them just cause to 
 complain of their cruel usage, in a thousand instances, 
 both general and particular? And if they find any 
 who will not submit to the yoke, they ravage their 
 countries, spoil their corn, cut down their trees, and
 
 OF SOCRATES. 55 
 
 attack tliem, iu sliort, iu such a manner that they are 
 compelled to yield themselves np to slavery, rather than 
 undergo so unequal a Avar ? Among private men them- 
 selves, do not the stronger and more bold trample on 
 the weaker ? " " To the end, therefore, that this may 
 not happen to me," said Aristippus, " I confine myself 
 not to any republic, but am sometimes here, sometimes 
 there, and think it best to be a stranger wherever I am." 
 '•This invention of yours," replied Socrates, " is very 
 extraordinary. Travellers, I believe, are not now so 
 much infested on the roads by robl^ers as formerly, 
 deterred, I suppose, by the fate of Sinuis, Scyron, 
 Procrustes, and the rest of that gang. What then.^ 
 They who are settled in their own country, and are con- 
 cerned in the administration of the public affairs, they 
 have the laws in their favours, have their relations and 
 friends to assist them, have fortified towns and arms for 
 their defence : over and above, they have alliances with 
 their neighbours : and yet all these favourable circum- 
 stances cannot entirely shelter them from the attempts 
 and surprises of wicked men. But can you, who have 
 none of these advantages, who are, for the most part, 
 travelling on the roads, often dangerous to most men, 
 who never enter a town, where you have not less credit 
 than the meanest inhabitant, and are as obscure as the 
 wretches who XDrey on the properties of others ; in these 
 circumstances, can you, I say, expect to be safe, merely 
 because you are a stranger, or perhaps have got pass- 
 ports from the States that promise you all manner of 
 safety coming or going, or should it be your hard 
 fortune to be made a slave, you woidd make such a 
 bad one, that a master would be never the better for 
 you? For, wlio would suffer iu his family a man w]io
 
 56 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 would not work, and yet expected to live well ? But 
 let us see how masters use such servants. 
 
 '* When they are too lascivious, they compel them to 
 fast till they liave brought them so low, that they have 
 no great stomach to make love ; if they are thieves, 
 they prevent tliem from stealing, by carefully locking 
 up whatever they could take : they chain them for fear 
 they should run away : if they are dull and lazy, then 
 stripes and scourges are the rewards we give them. If 
 you yourself, my friend, had a worthless slave, would 
 you not take the same measures witli him ? " "I would 
 treat such a fellow," answered Aristippus, " with all 
 manner of severity, till I had brouglit him to serve me 
 better. But, Socrates, let us resume our former dis- 
 course." 
 
 "In what do they who are educated in the art of 
 government, which you seem to think a great happiness, 
 differ from those who suffer through necessity ? For 
 you say they must accustom themselves to hunger and 
 thirst, to endure cold and heat, to sleep little, and that 
 they must voluntarily expose themselves to a thousand 
 other fatigues and hardsliips. I^ow, I cannot conceive 
 what difference there is between being whipped willingly 
 and by force, and tormenting one's body either one way 
 or the other, except that it is a folly in a man to be will- 
 ing to suffer pain." "How," said Socrates, '*you know 
 not this difference between things voluntary and con- 
 strained, that he who suffers hunger because he is 
 pleased to do so may likewise eat wlien he has a mind ; 
 and he who suffers tliirst because he is willing may 
 also drink when he pleases. But it is not in tlie power 
 of him who suffers either of them through constraint 
 and necessity to relieve himself by eating and drinking 
 the moment he desires it ? Besides, he that voluntarily
 
 OP SOCRATES. 67 
 
 Gmbracetli any laborious exercise finds miicli comfort 
 and content in tlie liope that animates liim. Thus the 
 fatigues of hunting discourage not the hunters, be- 
 cause they hope to take tlie game they pursue. And 
 yet what tliey take, though they think it a reyrard foi 
 all their toil, is certainly of very little value. Ought 
 not they, then, who labour to gain the friendship of 
 good men, or to overcome their enemies, or to render 
 themselves capable of governing their families, and of 
 serving their country, ought not these, I say, joyfully 
 to undertake the trouble, and to rest content, conscious 
 of the inward approbation of their own minds, and the 
 regard and esteem of the virtuous ? And to convince 
 3'ou that it is good to impose labours on ourselves, it is 
 a maxim among those who instruct youth that the ex- 
 ercises which are easily performed at the first attempt, 
 and which we immediately take delight in, are not 
 capable to form the body to tliat vigour snd strength 
 tliat is requisite in great undertakings ; nor of im- 
 X^riuting in the soul any considerable knowledge : but 
 that tliose which require patience, application, labour, 
 and assiduity, prepare the way to illustrious actions 
 and great achievements. This is the opinion of good 
 judges, and of Hesiod in particular, who says some- 
 where — 
 
 ' To Tice, in crowded ranks, the course we steer, 
 The road is smooth, and her abode is near ; 
 But Virtue's heights are reached with sweat and pain, 
 For thus did the immortal powers ordain. 
 A long and rough ascent leads to her gate, 
 Xor, till the summit 's gained, doth toil abate.' 
 
 And to the same purpose Epicharmus : — 
 
 ' The gods confer their blessings at the price 
 Of labour .'
 
 58 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 Who remarks in anotlier place — • 
 
 ' Thou son of sloth, avoid the charms of ease, 
 Lest pain succeed .' 
 
 " Of tlie same opinion is Prodicus, in the book he 
 lias written of the life of Hercules, where Yirtne and 
 Pleasure make their court to that hero under the 
 appearance of two beautiful women. His words, as 
 near as I can remember, are as follows : — • 
 
 " ' When Hercules,' says the moralist, ' had arrived 
 at that part of his youth in which young men com- 
 monly choose for themselves, and show, by the result 
 of their choice, whether they will, through the suc- 
 ceeding stages of their lives, enter into and walk in the 
 path of virtue or that of vice, he went out into a solitary 
 place fit for contemplation, there to consider with him- 
 self which of those two paths he should pursue. 
 
 " ' As he was sitting there in suspense he saw two 
 women of a larger stature than ordinary approaching 
 towards him. One of them had a genteel and amiablo 
 aspect ; her beauty was natural and easy, her person 
 and shape clean and handsome, her eyes cast towards 
 the ground with an agreeable reserve, her motion and 
 behaviour full of modesty, and her raiment white as 
 snow. The other wanted all the native beauty and 
 proportion of the former ; her person was swelled, by 
 luxury and ease, to a size quite disproportioned and 
 uncomely. She had jD'^iin^ed her complexion, that it 
 might seem fairer and more ruddy than it really was, 
 and endeavoured to appear more graceful than or- 
 dinary in her mien, by a mixture of affectation in all her 
 gestures. Her eyes were full of confidence, and her 
 dress transparent, that the conceited beauty of her 
 person might appear through it to advantage. She
 
 OF SOCEATES. 59 
 
 cast her eyes frequently upon licrself, then turned 
 them on tliose that were present, to see Wiiether any 
 one regarded her, and now and then looked on the 
 figure she made in her owu shadow. 
 
 " ' As they drew nearer, the former continued tlie 
 same composed pace, while the latter, striving to get 
 before her, ran up to Hercules, and addressed herself 
 to him in the following manner : — ■ 
 
 " I perceive, my dear Hercules, you are in doubt 
 which path in life you should j)'^i-r3ue. If, then, you 
 will be my friend and follow me, I will lead you to a 
 path the most easy and most deliglitf al, wherein you 
 shall taste all the sweets of life, and live exempt from 
 every trouble. You shall neither be concerned in war 
 nor in the aifairs of the world, but shall only consider 
 how to gratify all your senses — your taste with tlie 
 finest dainties and most delicious drink, your sight 
 with the most agreeable objects, your scent with the 
 richest perfumes and fragrancy of odours, how you 
 may enjoy the embraces of the fair, repose on the 
 softest bids, render your slumbers sweet and easy, and 
 by what means enjoy, without even the smallest cai-e, 
 all those glorious and mighty blessings. 
 
 '•' And, for fear you suspect that the sources whence 
 you are to derive those invaluable blessings might at 
 some time or other fail, and that you might, of course, 
 be obliged to acquire them at the expense of your mind 
 and the miited labour and fatigue of your body, I 
 beforehand assure you that you shall freely enjoy all 
 from the industry of others, undergo neither hardship 
 nor drudgery, but have everything at your command 
 that can afford you any pleasure or advantage." 
 
 " ' Hercules, hearing the lady make him such offers, 
 desired to know her na!ue, to which she answered,
 
 60 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 " My friends, and those who are well acquainted with 
 me, and whom I have conducted, call me Happiness ; 
 but my enemies, and those who would injure my repu- 
 tation, have given me the name of Pleasure." 
 
 " ' In the meantime, the other lady approached, and 
 in her turn accosted him in this manner : — "I also am 
 come to you, Hercules, to offer my assistance ; I, who 
 am well acquainted with your divine extraction and 
 have observed the excellence of your nature, even from 
 your childhood, from which I have reason to hope 
 that, if you would follow the path that leadetli to my 
 residence, you will undertake the greatest enterprises 
 and achieve the most glorious actions, and that I shall 
 thereby become more honourable and illustrious among 
 mortals. But before I invite you into my society and 
 friendship I will be open and sincere with joii, and 
 must lay down this as an established truth, that there 
 is nothing truly valuable wliich can be purchased with- 
 out pains and labour. The gods have set a ^y'igq upon 
 every real and noble pleasure. If you would gain the 
 favour of the Deity you must be at the pains of 
 worshipping Him; if you would be beloved by your 
 friends you must study to oblige them ; if you would 
 be honoured by any city you must be of service to it ; 
 and if you would be admired by all Greece, on account 
 of your probity and valour, you must exert yourself to 
 do her some eminent service. If you would render your 
 fields fruitful, and fill your arms with corn, you must 
 lalDOur to cultivate the soil accordingly. Would you 
 grow rich by your herds, a proper care must be taken 
 of them ; would you extend your dominions by arms, 
 and be rendered capable of setting at liberty your 
 captive friends, and bringing your enemies to subjec- 
 tion, you must not only learn of those that aro
 
 OF SOCRATES. 61 
 
 experienced in tlie art of war, but exercise yourself also 
 in the use of military affairs ; and if you would excel 
 in the strength of your body you must keep your body 
 in due subjection to your mind, and exercise it with 
 labour and pains." 
 
 " ' Here Pleasure broke in upon her discourse — 
 " Do you see, my dear Hercules, through what long 
 and difficult ways this woman would lead you to her 
 promised delights ? Follow me, and I will show you a 
 much shorter and more easy way to happiness," 
 
 "Alas!" replied the Goddess of Virtue, whoso 
 visage glowed witli a j)assion made up of scorn and 
 pity, ''what happiness can you bestow, or what pleasure 
 can you taste, who would never do anything to acquire 
 it ? You who will take your fill of all pleasures before 
 you feel an appetite for any ; you eat before you are 
 hungry, you drink before you are athirst ; and, that 
 you may j)lease your taste, must have the finest artists 
 to prepare your viands; the richest wines that you may 
 drink with pleasure, and to give your wine the finer 
 taste, you search every place for ice and snow 
 luxuriously to cool it in the heat of summer. Then, 
 to make your slumbers uninterrupted, you must have 
 the softest down and the easiest couches, and a gentle 
 ascent of steps to save you from any the least dis- 
 turbance in mounting up to them. And all little 
 enough, heaven knows ! for you have not prepared 
 yourself for sleep by anything you have done, but seek 
 after it only because you have nothing to do. It is the 
 same in the enjoyments of love, in which you rather 
 force than follow your inclinations, and are obliged to 
 use arts, and even to pervert nature, to keep your 
 passions alive. Thus is it that you instruct your 
 followers — kept awake for the gi'eatest part of the
 
 62 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 niglit by debaucheries, and consuming in drowsiness 
 all the most useful part of the day. Though immortal, 
 you are an outcast from the gods, and despised by good 
 men. iN'ever have you heard that most agreeable of all 
 sounds, your own praise, nor ever have you beheld the 
 most pleasing of all objects, any good work of your 
 own hands. "Who would ever give any credit to an}'- 
 thing that you say ? Who would assist you in your 
 necessity, or what man of sense would ever venture to 
 be of your mad parties ? Such as do follow you are 
 robbed of tlieir strength when they are young, void of 
 wisdom when they grow old. In their youth they are 
 bred up in indolence and all manner of delicacy, and 
 pass their old age with difficulties and distress, full of 
 shame for what they have done, and oppressed with the 
 burden of what they are to do, squanderers of pleasures 
 in their youth, and hoarders up of afflictions for their 
 old age. 
 
 '' On the contrary, my conversation is with the gods, 
 and with good men, and tliere is nothing excellent per- 
 formed by either without my influence. I am respected 
 above all things by the gods and by the best of mortals, 
 and it is just I should. I am an agreeable companion 
 to the artisan, a faithful security to masters of fa- 
 milies, a kind assistant to servants, a useful associate 
 in the arts of peace, a faithful ally in the labours of 
 "^var, and the best uniter of all friendships, 
 
 " My votaries, too, enjoy a pleasure in everything 
 i hey either eat or drink, even without having laboured 
 for it, because they wait for the demand of their ap- 
 petites. Their sleep is sweeter than that of the in- 
 dolent and inactive ; and they are neither overburdened 
 with it when they awake, nor do they, for the sake of 
 it, omit the necessary duties of life. My young men
 
 OF SOCEATES. 63 
 
 Lave tlic pleasure of beiug praised by those vrho are in 
 years, and tliose wlio are in years of being honoured 
 by those who are young. They look back with com- 
 fort on their past actions, and delight themselves in 
 their present employments. By my means they are 
 favoured by the gods, beloved by their friends, and 
 honoured by their country; and when the appointed 
 period of their lives is come they are not lost in a 
 dishonourable oblivion, but live and flourish in the 
 praises of mankind, even to the latest posterity." 
 
 " Thus, my dear Hercules, who are descended of 
 divine ancestors, you may acquire, by virtuous toil 
 and industry, this most desirable state of perfect 
 happiness." 
 
 " Such was the discourse, my friend, which the 
 goddess had with Hercules, according to Prodicus. 
 Tou may believe that he embellished the thoughts with 
 more noble expressions than I do. I heartily wish, 
 my d«ar Aristippus, that you should make such an im- 
 provement of those divine instructions, as that you too 
 may make such a happy choice as may render you happy 
 during the future course of your life." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SOCEATES' DISCOURSE WITH HIS ELDEST SON 
 LAMPROCLES CONCERNING THE RESPECT DUE 
 TO PARENTS. 
 
 Socrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a 
 rage with his mother, spoke to him in this manner : — ■ 
 " Come hither, my son. Have you ever heard of a certain 
 sort of men, who are called ungrateful ? " " Yery often,'*
 
 61- THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 answered the young man. " And do yon know," said 
 Socrates, '' why they are called so ? " " We call a man 
 ungrateful," answered Lamprocles, " who, having re- 
 ceived a kindness, does not return the like if occasion 
 offers." " I think, therefore," said Socrates, " ingrati- 
 tude is a kind of injustice ? " "I think so too," an- 
 swered Lamprocles. Socrates went on : — " Have you 
 never considered of what nature this injustice is ? For 
 since it is an injustice to treat our friends ill, and on 
 the contrary, a piece of justice to make our enemies 
 smart for their conduct, may it be said, with like reason, 
 that it is an injustice to be ungrateful towards our 
 friends, and that it is just to be ungrateful towards 
 our enemies." " On mature consideration," answered 
 Lamprocles, " I think it is criminal to do injustice to 
 either of them." "If, then," pursued Socrates, "in- 
 gratitude be an injustice, it follows that the greater the 
 favours are which we have received, the greater is the 
 injustice in not acknowledging them." Lamprocles 
 granted this consequence, and Socrates continued — • 
 " Can there be any stricter obligations tlian those that 
 children are laid under to their parents'? For it is 
 they who gave them a being, and who have put them 
 in a condition to behold all tlie wonders of Xature, and 
 to partake of the many good things exhibited before 
 them by the bounty of Providence, and which are so 
 delightful, that there is not anythng that all men more 
 dread than to leave them ; insomuch that all govern- 
 ments have ordained death to be the punishment of the 
 most enormous crimes, because there is nothing can 
 more effectually put a stop to the rage of the wicked 
 than the apprehension of death. In the affair of mar- 
 riage, it is not merely the gratification of the appetite 
 which Natm-o has so strongly imx)lanted in both sexes
 
 OF SOCRATES. 65 
 
 for their prescrvatiou that we regard ; no, that passiou 
 cau be satisfied in a less expensive manner, even in 
 our streets, and other places ; but when we design to 
 enter into that state, we make choice of a woman of 
 such a form and shape, by whom we may expect to 
 liave fine children, and of such a temper and disposi- 
 tion as to assure us of future happiness. When that 
 is finished, it is then the chief care of the husband to 
 maintain his wife, and to j)i*o"^i(ie for his children 
 things usefid for life in the greatest abundance he can. 
 On the part of the wife, many are her anxieties and 
 troubles for the preservation of her offspring during 
 the time of her pregnancy ; she gives it then part of 
 her nourishment and life ; and after having suffered 
 the sharpest pangs at the moment of its birth, she then 
 gives it suck, and continues her care and love to it. 
 All this she does to the poor helpless infant, so void of 
 reason, that it knows not even her that is so good to it, 
 nor can ask her for its own necessities. Full of tender- 
 ness for the welfare and happiness of her babe, her 
 whole time, day and niglit, is spent in joleasing it, 
 without the least prospect of any recompense for all 
 her fatigue. After this, when the children are come to 
 an age fit to be instructed, the fathers teach them all 
 the good things they can for the conduct of their life ; 
 and if they know any man more capable to instruct 
 them than themselves, they send them to him, without 
 regard to the expense, thus indicating by their whole 
 couduct what sincere pleasure it would afford them to 
 see their children tuni out men of virtue and probity." 
 " Undoubtedly," answered LamproL'lcs, " if my mother 
 had done all this, and an hundred times as much, no 
 man could suffer her ill-humours." " Do not you 
 think," said Socrates, " that the anger of a beast ia
 
 Q6 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 mucli more difficult to siip]3ort tlian tliat of a motlier ? " 
 ** Not of a motlier like her," said Lamprocles. So- 
 crates coutinued, " "What strange thing has she done to 
 you ? Has she bit you, has she kicked yon, as beasts do 
 when they are angry ? " " She has a tongue that no 
 mortal can suffer," answered Lamprocles. " And you," 
 rex^liod Socrates, " hoTV many crosses did you give her 
 in your infancy by your continual bawling and im- 
 portunate actions ? how much trouble by night and by 
 day ? how much affliction in your illnesses ? " " At 
 worst," answered Lamprocles, "I never did nor said 
 anything that might make her blush." " Alas ! " said 
 Socrates, "is it more difficult for you to hear in 
 patience the hasty expressions of your mother, than it 
 is for the comedians to hear what they say to one 
 another on the stage when they fall into the most in- 
 jurious reproaches ? For they easily suffer it, knowing 
 well that when one reviles another, he reviles him not 
 with intent to injure him ; and when one threatens 
 another, he threatens not with design to do him any 
 harm. Ton who are fully convinced likewise of the 
 intentions of yo^r mother, and who know very well 
 that the hard words she gives you do not proceed from 
 hate, but that she has a great affection for you, how 
 can you, then, be angry with her ? Is it because you 
 imagine that she wishes you ill ? " " ISTot in tho 
 least," answered Lamprocles; "I never had such a 
 thought." " "What ! " continued Socrates ; " a mother 
 that loves you ; a mother who, in your sickness, does 
 all she can to recover your health, who takes care that 
 you want for nothing, who makes so many vows to 
 heaven for you ; you say this is an ill mother ? In 
 truth, if you cannot live with her, I will say you 
 cannot live at your ease. Tell me, in short, do you
 
 OP SOCRATES. 67 
 
 believe yoii ouglit to liavc any rcyercnee or respect for 
 any one wliatever? Or do you not care for any man's 
 favour and goodwill, neither for that of a general, 
 suppose, or of any other magistrate ? " '"' On the con- 
 trary," said Lamprocles, " I am very careful to gain 
 the goodwill of all men." " Perhaps you would en- 
 deavour to acquire the goodwill of your neighhour, 
 to the end he might do you kind offices, such as giving 
 you fi.re when you want it, or, when any misfortune 
 befalls you, speedily relieve you ? " " Yes, I would," 
 "x\.ud if you were travelling v.'ith any man, either by 
 sea or land, would you count it a matter of indifference 
 whether you were loved by him or not ?" " IJo, in- 
 deed." '"Are you then so abandoned, Lamprocles," 
 replied Socrates, " tliat you would take pains to ac- 
 quire the goodwill of those persons, and yet will do 
 nothing to your mother, who loves you incomparably 
 better than they ? Know you not that the Republic 
 concerns not herself with common instances of in- 
 gratitude ; that she takes no cognisance of such crimes, 
 and that she neglects to punish tiiose who do not re- 
 turn the civilities they receive ? But if any one be 
 disrespectful to his parents there is a punishment 
 provided for such ingratitude ; the laws reject him as 
 an outlaw, and will not allow him to be received into 
 any X3ublic office, because it is a maxim commonly re- 
 ceived amongst us, that a sacrifice, when offered by an 
 impious hand, cannot be acceptable to the gods, nor 
 profitable to the Republic. IsTobody can believe, thjit 
 a person of such a character can bo capable to perform 
 any great or worthy action, or to act the part of a 
 righteous judge. The same punishment is ordained 
 likewise for those who, after the death of their pa- 
 rents, neglect to honour their funerals: and tliis is
 
 68 THE MEMOKABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 particularly examined into in tlie inquiry that is made 
 into the lives of such as stand candidates for offices. 
 
 '' Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will beseech 
 Heaven to pardon you the offences committed against 
 your mother, to the end that tlie favours of the Deity 
 may be still continued to you, and that you may not 
 forfeit them by an ungrateful behaviour. Take care, 
 likewise, that the public may not discover the contempt 
 you sliow her, for then would you be blamed and 
 abandoned by all the Avorld ; for, if it were suspected 
 that you did not gratefully resent the benefits conferred 
 on you by your parents, no man could believe you 
 would be grateful for any kind actions that otliers 
 might do you." 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 SOCRATES RECONCILES CHAEREPHON AND CHAERE- 
 CRATES, TWO BROTHERS V7H0 WERE FORMERLY 
 AT VARIANCE. 
 
 Two brothers, whose names were Chaerephon and 
 Chaerecrates, were at enmity with each other. Socrates 
 was acquainted with them, and had a great mind to 
 make them friends. Meeting therefore with Chaere- 
 crates, he accosted him thus : — " Are you, too, one of 
 those who prefer the being rich to the having a 
 brother, and who do not consider that riches, being 
 inanimate things, have need of being defended, whereas 
 a brother is himself a good defence, and, after all, that 
 there is more money than brothers ? For is it not ex- 
 travagant in such men to imagine that a brother does 
 them wrong because they enjoy not his estate ? Why 
 say they not likewise, tliat all the world does them
 
 OF SOCEATES. 69 
 
 wrong", because tlioy arc not in possession of what 
 belongs to the rest of mankind? But they believe, 
 with great reason, that it is better to live in society 
 and to be ensured of a moderate estate than to have the 
 sole possession of all that is their neighbours', and to be 
 exposed to the dangers that are inseparable from soli- 
 tude. Nevertheless, they are not of the same opinion 
 as to the company of their brothers. If tliey are 
 rich they buy themselves slaves to serve them, they 
 ]3rocure themselves friends to stand by them ; but for 
 their brothers they neglect them ; as if a brother were 
 not so fit to make a friend of as another person. And 
 yet it is of great efficacy towards the begetting and 
 establishing of friendships to have been born of the 
 same parents and brought np together, since even 
 beasts, we see, retain some inclination for those who 
 have come from the same dams, and have been bred 
 up and nourished together. Besides, a man who has a 
 brother is the more regarded for it, and men are more 
 cautious to oifeud him." Chacrecratos answered him 
 thus :— 
 
 '■ You are indeed in the right to say that a good 
 brother is a great happiness ; and, unless there be a 
 very strong cause of dissension, I think that brothers 
 ought a little to bear with one another, and not part on 
 a slight occasion ; but when a brother fails in all things, 
 and is quite the reverse of what he ought to be, would 
 you have a man do what is impossible and continue iu 
 good amity with such a person ? " Socrates replied, 
 " Does your brother give oiience to all the world as 
 well as to you? Does nobody speak well of him?" 
 " That," said Chaerecrates, '' is one of the cliief causes 
 of the hatred I bear bim, for he is sly enough to please 
 otliers ; but whenever wo twQ happen to meet you
 
 70 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 would think his solo design wero to fall out with mo." 
 Socrates replied, '' Does not this proceed from what I 
 am going to say P When any man would make use of 
 a horse, and knows not how to govern him, ho can 
 expect nothing from him but trouble. Thus, if wo 
 know not in what manner to behave ourselves toAvard 
 our brother, do you think we can expect anything from 
 him but uneasiness ? " " Why do you imagine," said 
 Chaerecrates, "that I am ignorant in what manner I 
 ought to carry myself to a brother, since I can show 
 him as much love and resj)ect, both in my words and 
 actions, as he can show me in his ? But when I see a 
 man endeavour to disoblige me all manner of ways, 
 shall I express any goodwill for that man ? ISTo ; this 
 is what I cannot do, and will not so much as endeavour 
 it." "I am astonished to hear you talk after this 
 manner," said Socrates ; '' pray tell me, if you had a 
 dog that were good to keep your flocks, who should 
 fawn on your shepherds, and grin his teeth and snarl 
 whenever you come in his wa}^, whether, instead of 
 being angry with him, you would not make much of 
 him to bring him to know you ? IsTow, you say that a 
 good brother is a great happiness ; you confess tliat 
 you know how to oblige, and yet you put it not in 
 l^ractice to reconcile yourself with Ohaerephon." " I 
 fear I have not skill enougli to compass it." " I think," 
 said Socrates, ''there will bo no need of any extra- 
 ordinary skill in the matter ; and am certain tliat 3"0u 
 have enough to engage him to wish you well, and to 
 liave a great value for you." " Pray," cried Cliaere- 
 crates, ''if you know any art I have to make myself 
 beloved, let mo know it immediately, for hitherto I 
 never perceived any such thing.'' " Answer me," said 
 Socrates- " If you desired tliat one of your friends
 
 OF SOCRATES. 71 
 
 should iuvite you to Lis feast "wlieii lie offered a sacri- 
 fice, what course would you take ? " "I would begin 
 first to invite liim to mine." " And if you would 
 engage liini to take care of your affairs in your absence 
 on a journey, what would you do ? " "I would first, 
 during his absence, take care of his." "And if you 
 would have a foreigner entertain you in his family 
 when you come into his country, what method would 
 you take ? " " I would make him welcome at my 
 house when he came to this town, and would endeavour 
 to further the dispatch of his business, that he might 
 do me the like favour when I should be in the city 
 where he lives." " Strange," said Socrates, "that you, 
 wlio know the common methods of ingratiating your- 
 self, will not be at the ^Dains of practising them. Why 
 do you scrapie to begin to practise those methods ? Is 
 it because you are afraid that, should you begin with 
 your brother, and first do him a kindness, you would 
 appear to be of a mean-spirited and cringing dispo- 
 sition ? Believe me, my friend, you will never, on 
 that account, appear such. On the contrary, I take it 
 to be the ])RYi of an heroic and generous soul to prevent 
 our friends with kindness and our enemies with valour. 
 Indeed, had I thought that Chaerephon had been more 
 proper than you to propose the reconciliation, I would 
 have endeavoured to have persuaded liim to prevent 
 you; but I take you to bo more fit to manage this 
 matter, and believe you will bring it to pass rather 
 than he." '' Wliat you say is absurd and unworthy of 
 you," replied Chaerecrates. " Would you have me 
 break the ice ; I, who am the younger brother ? Do 
 you forget that among all nations the lionour to begin 
 is reserved to the elder ? " " How do you mean ? " said 
 Socrates. " Must not a younger brother give the
 
 72 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 precedency to the elclei* ? Must lie not rise up when lio 
 comes in, j^ive him the best place, and hold his peace 
 to let him speak ? Delay, therefore, no longer to do 
 what I desire you ; go and try to appease your brother. 
 He will receive you with open arms ; it is enough that 
 he is a friend to honour, and of a generous temper, for 
 as there is no readier way to gain the goodwill of the 
 mean and poor than by being liberal to them, so nothing 
 lias more influence on the mind of a man of honour and 
 note than to treat him with respect and friendship." 
 Chaerecrates objected : " But when I have d me what 
 you say, if my brother should not be better tempered, 
 what then ? " " What harm would it be to you ? " said 
 Socrates. "It will show your goodness, and that you 
 love him, and make him appear to be ill-natured, and 
 not deserving to be obliged by any man. But I am of 
 opinion this will not happen, and when he sees that 
 you attack him with civilities and good offices, I am 
 certain he will endeavour to get the better of you in so 
 kind and generous a contention. You are now in tlie 
 most wretched condition- imaginable. It is as if the 
 hands which God has given us reciprocally to aid each 
 other were employed only to hinder one another; or as 
 if the feet, which by the divine providence were made 
 to assist each other to walk, were busied only in pre- 
 venting one another from going forward. Would it 
 not, then, be a great ignorance, and at the same time a 
 great misfortune, to turn to our disadvantage what 
 was made only for our utility ? N^ow, it is certain tliat 
 God has given us brothers only for our good ; and tliat 
 two brothers are a greater advantage to one anotlier 
 than it can be to either of them to have two hands, two 
 feet, two eyes, and other the like members, which aro 
 double in our body, and which Nature has designed as
 
 OF SOCRATES. 73 
 
 brotlicrs. For tlie Lands cannot at tlic same time reach 
 two things S3veml fathoms distant from one anotlier; 
 the feet cannot stretch themselves from the end of ono 
 fathom to another; the eyes, which seem to discover 
 from so far, cannot, at the same time, see tlie fo^e and 
 liind-parfc of one and the same object ; hnt "wheu two 
 brothers are good friends, no distance of place can 
 hinder them from serving each other." 
 
 CHAPTER TV. 
 
 A DISCOUESE OF SOCRATES CONCERNING FRIEND- 
 SHIP. 
 
 I REMEMBER likewise a discourse which I have heard 
 him make concerning friendship, and that may be of 
 great nse to instruct us by what means we ought to 
 X^rocure ourselves friends, and iu what manner we 
 should live Avith tliem. He said ''that most men agree 
 that a true friend is a precious treasure, and that 
 nevertheless there is nothing about which we give 
 ourselves so little trouble as to make men our friends. 
 We take cave," said he, " to buy houses, lauds, slaves, 
 flocks, and household goods, and when we have them 
 we endeavour to keep them ; but though a friend is 
 allowed to be capable of affording us a far greater 
 happiness than any or all of tliese, yet how few are 
 solicitous to procure themselves a friend, or, when 
 tliey have, to secure his friendship ? Nay, some men 
 are so stupid as to prefer their very slaves to their 
 friends. How else can we account for their want of 
 concern about the latter when either in distress or 
 sickness, and at the same time their extreme anxiety 
 for the recovery of the former when in tlie same
 
 7'! THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 condition? For then immediately pliysicians are sent 
 for, and all remedies that can be thought of applied to 
 their relief. Should both of them happen to die, they will 
 regret more the loss of their slave than of their friend, 
 and shed more tears over the grave of the former than 
 of the latter. They take care of everything but their 
 friends ; they will examine into and take great notice 
 of the smallest trifle in their affairs, -which perhaps 
 stand in no need of their care, but neglect their friends 
 that do. In short, though they have many estates, 
 they know them all ; but though they have but few 
 friends, yet .^they know not the number of them ; in- 
 somuch that if they are desired to name them, they 
 are puzzled immediately, so little are their friends in 
 their thoughts. N'cvertlieless, there is nothing com- 
 parable to a good friend; no slave is so affectionate to 
 our person or interest ; no horse can render us so great 
 service ; in a word, nothing is so useful to us in all 
 occasions. For a true friend supplies all the wants 
 and answers all the demands of another, either in the 
 conduct of his private affairs or in the management of 
 the public. If, for instance, his friend be obliged to 
 do a kindness to any man, hs puts him in the Avay of 
 it ; if he be assaulted with any danger he immediately 
 flies to his relief. At one time he gives him j)arfc of his 
 estate, at another he assists him witli the labour of his 
 hands ; sometimes he helps him to persuade, sometimes 
 he aids him to compel ; in prosperity lie heightens 
 his delight by rejoicing with him; in adversity he 
 diminisheth his sorrows by bearing a share of them. 
 The use a man may make of liis iiands, his eyes, his 
 cars, his feet, is nothing at all when compared with the 
 service one friend may render another. For often 
 what we cannot do for our own advantage, wliat wo
 
 OF SOCRATES. 75 
 
 liave not seen, nor thouglit, nor heard of, wlion our 
 own interests were concerned, what we have not 
 pursued for ourselves, a friend has done for his friend. 
 How foolish were it to be at so much trouble in 
 cultivating a small orchard of trees, because we expect 
 some fruit from it, and yet be at no pains to culti- 
 vate that which is instead of a whole estate — I mean 
 Friendship — a soil the most glorious and fertile whero 
 we are sure to gather the fairest and best of fruit ! " 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 OF THE WORTH AND VALUE OF FRIENDS. 
 
 To what I have advanced above I shall here relate 
 another discourse of his, as far as I can remember, in 
 which he exhorted his hearers to examine themselves, 
 that they might know what value their friends might 
 set upon them ; for seeing a man who had abandoned 
 his friend in extreme poverty, he asked Antisthenes 
 this question in presence of that very man and several 
 others : " Can we set a price upon friends as we do upon 
 slaves? One slave may be worth twenty crowns, 
 another not worth five; such a one will cost fifty 
 crowns, another will yield a hundred. !N'ay, I am 
 told that Xicias, the son of Niceratus, gave even six 
 hundred crowns for one slave to be inspector of his 
 silver mines. Do you think we might likewise set 
 prices upon friends ? " ''I believe we may," answered 
 Antistlienes ; "for there are some men by whom I 
 would rather choose to be loved than to have twenty 
 crowns ; others for whose affection I would not spend 
 five. I know some, too, for whose friendship I would
 
 76 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 give all I am v/ortli." " If it bo so," said Socrates, " it 
 would bo well tliat oacli man slionld consider liow 
 mucli lie can be Avortli to bis friends, and tliat bo 
 slionld endeavour to render bimself as valuable as bo 
 can in tlieir regard, to tbe end tboj miglitnot abandon 
 him; for wlien I bear one complain. tliat bis friend 
 bas betrayed biui ; anotber tliat be, wlioni be tbougbt 
 faitbful, bas xn'eferred a small gain to tbe preservation 
 of bis friendsbip, I reflect on tbese stories, and ask 
 wbetber, as we sell a good-for-notliiug slave for wdiat 
 we can get for bim, we are not likewise tempted to get 
 rid of an ill-friend wdien we are offered more for bim 
 tbaii be is wortli ? because I do not see men part Avitli 
 tlieir slaves if tliey be good, nor abandon tbeir friends 
 if tbey be faitbful." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF THE CHOICE OP FRIENDS. 
 
 The following conversation of Socrates witb Crito- 
 bulus uiay teacb us bow we ouglit to try friends, and 
 witb whom it is good to contract friendsbip : — " If avo 
 were to cboose a friend," said Socrates to bim, " Avbat 
 precaution ougbt we to take ? Ongbt we not to look 
 out for a man wlio is not given to luxury, to drunken- 
 ness, to Avomeii, nor to idleness ? For witb tbese vices 
 be could never bo very useful to bis friend nor to 
 bimself." " Tbat is certain," answered Critobuliis. 
 " Tben," said Socrates, '' if Ave foimd a man iliat loA'ed 
 to live great, tbougli bo bad not an estate to sap- 
 port tbe expense, and wbo baAnug daily occas-on to 
 employ tbe purses of bis friends slionld sliow by bis 
 actions tbat Avbatevcr von lend bim is so mucb lost.
 
 OF SOCRATES. il 
 
 and t]:rit if you do not lond liini lie will take it ill of 
 you, do you not think that sucli a man would be very 
 improper to make a friend of ? " " There is no doubt 
 of it," said Critobulus. " And if we found anotlier," 
 continued Socrates, "who was saving of what he had, but 
 who, on the other hand, was so covetous that it would 
 bo quite unfit to have anything to do with him, because 
 he would always bo very ready to receive and never 
 to give again ? " "In my opinion," said Critobulus, 
 " this would be a worse friend than the former. And 
 if we should find a man who was so carried away 
 with the desire of enriching himself that he applied 
 his mind to nothing else, but getting all he could 
 scrape together ? " " "We ought not to have anything 
 to do with him neither," answered Critobulus, " for ho 
 would be good to no man but himself." " If we found 
 a quarrelsome man," continued Socrates, '' who was 
 every day like to engage all his friends in new broils 
 and squabbles, what would you think of him ? " " That 
 he ought to be avoided," answered Critobulus. " And 
 if a man," said Socrates, " were free from all these 
 faults, and were only of a humour to desire to receive 
 kindnesses, but never to concern himself to return 
 them, what would you think of him ? " " That neither 
 he, too, would be proper to make a friend of," rejDlied 
 Critobulus ; " and indeed, after having rejected so 
 many, I can scarce tell whom we should take." " "We 
 ought to take," said Socrates, " a man who Avere the 
 reverse of all those we have mentioned, who would be 
 temperate in his manners, faithful in his promises, 
 and sincere in all his actions; who would think it 
 a point of honour not to bo outdone in civilities so 
 that it would be of advantage to liave to do with him." 
 "But how can we bo certain of all this," said Cri-
 
 78 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tolniliis/' before we liave tried him ? " " Wlien we would 
 give our judgmeut of statuaries, we liave no regard," 
 replied Socrates, " to wLat they say of themselves, "but 
 consider tlieir works ; and he who has already made 
 good statues is the person of whom we have the best 
 opinion for those he shall make for the future. Apj)ly 
 this to the question you asked me, and be assured that 
 a man who has served his former friends well will be 
 likely to show no less affection for those that come 
 after; as we may strongly conjecture that a groom, 
 whom we have formerly seen dress horses very well, 
 is capable of dressing others." " But," said Crito- 
 bulus, "when we have found a man worthy of our 
 choice, how ought we to contract a friendship with 
 him ? " "In the first place," answered Socrates, " we 
 must inquire whether the gods approve of it." *' But 
 supx^osing they do not dissuade us, how are we to 
 take this precious prey ? " " Not by hunting, as we 
 catch hares," said Socrates ; " nor in nets, as we take 
 birds, nor by force, as we take our enemies ; for it is 
 very difficult to gain any man's friendship against his 
 will, or stop him by force, and detain him in i^rison as 
 a slave, seeing such ill-usage would oblige him rather 
 to wish us ill than to love us.'"' ''What, then, ought 
 we to do ? " pursued Critobulus. " It is reported," 
 replied Socrates, " that there are some words so power- 
 ful that they who know them make themselves loved 
 by pronouncing them, and that there are likewise other 
 charms for the same purpose." " And where can one 
 learn these words ? " added Critobulus. " Have you 
 not read in Homer," answered Socrates, "what the 
 Syrens said to enchant Ulysses ? The beginning of it 
 is tlms — ■ 
 
 ' Oil, stay 1 oh, pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay ! '
 
 OP SOCEATES. 79 
 
 '■'Toil say true," continued Critobulus ; '"'but did not 
 they say as much to the others, to stoj) them too ? " 
 " Xot at all," said Socrates, " they enchanted witli these 
 words only the generous men -who were in love with 
 virtue." " I begin to understand you," said Critobulus, 
 '•'and seeing this charm, which is so powerful to en- 
 chant and captivate the mind, is nothing but praise, 
 you mean that we ought to praise a man in such a 
 manner that he may not distrust we laugh at him; 
 otherwise, instead of gaining his affection, we shall 
 incur his hate ; for it would be insupportable to a man, 
 who knows he is little and weak, to be praised for his 
 graceful appearance, for being well-sliaped, and of a 
 robust constitution.'' " But do you know no other 
 charms ? " " l^o," answered Socrates ; " but I have in- 
 deed heard it said, that Pericles knew a great many, 
 by means of which he charmed the E/cpublic, and gained 
 the favour and esteem of all." Critobulus continued, 
 " "What was it that Themistocles did to make himself 
 so esteemed?" '"'He used no other charms," said 
 Socrates, " than the eminent services he rendered to the 
 State." " Which is as much as to say," replied Crito- 
 bulus, '•' that to gain the friendship of the great, we 
 must render ourselves capable to perform great 
 actions." 
 
 "And could you tiiink it possible," said Socrates, 
 " that any one should share in the friendship of 
 men of merit without being possessed of one good 
 quality ? " '" Why not ? " answered Critobulus ; " I liavo 
 seen despicable rhetoricians beloved by the most 
 famous orators, and persons who knew nothing of 
 war live in familiarity with great generals." " But 
 have you seen men who are fit for nothing (for 
 that is the question we speak of) get any friends of
 
 80 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 consequence ? " ''I confess I have not," answered Cri- 
 tobulus ; " nevertheless, since it is impossible for a man 
 of no worth whatever to liave the friendship of men 
 of condition and merit, tell me whether the man who 
 acquires the character of worth and merit obtains, at 
 the same time, the friendsliip of all who possess that 
 excellent character?" "The reason, I suppose, why 
 you ask this question," answered Socrates, " is because 
 you frequently observe dissensions among those who 
 equally cherish honour, and would all of them rather 
 die than commit a base action; and you are surprised, 
 that instead of living in friendship, they disagree 
 among themselves, and are sometimes more difficult to 
 reconcile than the vilest of all men." " This is a mis- 
 fortune," added Critobulus, " that arrives not among 
 private men only ; for dissensions, nay, even wars, will 
 happen sometimes, to break out in the best-governed 
 republics, where virtue is in the highest repute, and 
 where vice is held in the utmost contempt. ISTow, 
 when I revolve these considerations in my mind, I 
 know not where to go in search of friends ; for it is 
 imx^ossible, we see, for the wicked to cultivate a true 
 friendship among themselves. Can there subsist a 
 true and lasting friendship amongst the ungrateful, 
 the idle, the covetous, the treacherous, and the disso- 
 lute ? !N"o, for persons of such a character will mutu- 
 ally expose themselves to hatred aud contempt ; to 
 hatred, because of the hurtful effects of their vices ; 
 to contempt, on account of the deformity of them. 
 Neither, on the other liand, can we expect, as you have 
 well observed, to find friendship between a virtuous 
 man and a person of the opposite character. For 
 how can they who commit crimes be in good amity 
 with those that abhor them ? But what puzzles ma
 
 OF SOCRATES. 81 
 
 most, mj dear .Socrates, is to soe m?n of merit and 
 virtue harassing one another, and endeavouring", to the 
 utmost of their power, to crash and ruin their an- 
 tagonists, when, in different interests, both are con- 
 tending for the most lucrative posts of the Republic. 
 I am quite at a loss to account for such a conduct on 
 the principles of f riendsliip ; for when I daily observe 
 the noblest affections of the mind rooted up by the 
 sordid views of interest, I am in a great doubt 
 whether there is any real friendship and affection in 
 the world." " My dear friend," replied Socrates, " this 
 matter is very intricate ; for, if I mistake not, N'atiiro 
 has placed in men the principles both of friendship 
 and dissension. Of friendship, because they have 
 need of one another, they have compassion of their 
 miseries, they relieve one another in their necessities, 
 and they are grateful for the assistances which they 
 lend one another : of dissension, because one and the 
 same tiling being agreeable to many they contend to 
 have it, and endeavour to prejudice and thwart one 
 another in their designs. Thus strife and anger beget 
 war, avarice stifles benevolence,- envy produces hate. 
 But friendship overcoming all these difficulties, finds 
 out the virtuous, and unites them together. For, out 
 of a motiv^e of virtue they choose rather to live quietly 
 in a mean condition, than to gain the empire of the 
 whole earth by the calamities of Avar. When tliey are 
 pinched with hunger or thirst, tliey endure them witli 
 constancy, till they can relieve themselves without 
 being troublesome to any one. "When at any time 
 their desires for the enjoyments of love grow violent 
 and headstrong, tlien reason, or self-government, Ia3's 
 hold on the reins, checks the impetuosity of the pas- 
 sion, keeps it within duo bounds, and will not allow
 
 82 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tliem to transgress the great rule of tlieir duty. Tliey 
 eujoy wliat is lawfully tlieir own, and are so far froni 
 nsufj)ing tlie rights and properties of others, that they 
 even give them part of what they have. They agree 
 their differences in such a manner, that all are gainers, 
 and no man has reason to complain. They are never 
 transported with anger so far as to commit any action 
 of which they may afterwards repent. Envy is a 
 passion they are ignorant of, because they live in a 
 mutual communication of what they possess, and con- 
 sider what belongs to their friends as things in their 
 own possession. From hence you see that the virtuous 
 do not only not o^Dpose, but that they aid one another 
 in the emj)loyments of the Republic ; for they who seek 
 for honours and great offices, only to have an o]3por- 
 tunity of enriching themselves, and exercising a cruel 
 tyranny, or to live an easy and effeminate life, are cer- 
 tainly very wicked and unjust, nor can they ever hope 
 to live in friendship with any man. 
 
 "But why sliould he who desires not any authority, 
 but only the better to defend himself from the Avicked, 
 or to assist his friends, or be serviceable to his country ; 
 why should such a man, I say, not agree with another, 
 whose intentions are the same with his own ? Is it 
 because he would be less capable to serve the Republic, 
 if he had virtuous associates in the administration of 
 aff'airs ? If, in the tournaments and other games, the 
 most strong were permitted to enter into a league 
 against the weaker, tliey would infallibly be victors in 
 all the courses, and win all the j)i'izes ; for which reason 
 they are not suffered to do so. Therefore, in affairs of 
 State, since no man is hindered from joining with whom 
 he XDleases, to do good to the Republic, is it not more 
 advantageous, when we concern ourselves in tlie sroveru-
 
 OP SOCRATES. 83 
 
 ment, to make friGiitlsliip witli men of liououi* aud 
 prol^ity, who are generally, too, tlie most kiiovring aud 
 capable, aud to Lave them for oiir associates tliau to 
 make them onr adversaries ? For it is manifest, tliat 
 when a man is engaged in a combat, he ought to have 
 some to assist him, and that he will have need of a 
 great many, if those whom he opposes be valiant and 
 powerful. Besides, he must be liberal, and give 
 presents to those who espouse his quarrel, to encourage 
 them to make a more resolute and vigorous defence. 
 Xow, it is beyond all dispute, that it is much better to 
 oblige the good, though they are but a few, than the 
 wicked, of whom there is a great number, because the 
 former are easily gained over to your side ; whereas the 
 latter are liardly won by the best favours, and those in 
 the greatest abundance, too, to espouse your interest. 
 
 " However it be, Critobulus, take courage, endeavour 
 only to become virtuous, and then boldly pursue the 
 friendship of honest men; this is a sort of chase in 
 which I may be helpful to you, because I am naturally 
 inclined to love. I attack briskly those I love, and lay 
 out all my skill to make myself beloved by them. I 
 endeavour to kindle in their minds a flame like mine, 
 and to make them desire my company, as ardently as I 
 long for theirs. Tou stand in need of this address 
 when you would contract a friendship with any one. 
 Hide not, then, the secrets of youi* soul from me, but let 
 me know who they are for whom you have a regard : 
 for, having made it my study to please those wlio were 
 agreeable to me, I believe that, bj long experience, I 
 have now got some considerable insight into the pursuits 
 and ways of men," " I have longed a great while," 
 said Critobulus, ''to learn this art, especially if it may 
 be employed to gain me the friendship of those whoso
 
 81- THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 persons are not only comoly and genteel, but wliose 
 minds are replenislied and adorned with all virtue." 
 Socrates replied: "But my method forbids to uso 
 violence, and I am of opinion that all men fled from 
 the wretch Scylla, because she detained them by force : 
 wliereas the Syrens did no violence to any man, and 
 employed only their tuneful voices to detain those who 
 passed near them, so that all stopped to hear, and 
 suffered themselves to be insensibly charmed by the 
 music of their songs." " Be sure," said Critobulus, 
 " that I will use no violence to them whose friendship 
 I would gain, and therefore delay no longer to teach me 
 your art." " Will you give me your word likewise," 
 said Socrates, "that you will not even give them a 
 kiss ? " "I promise you," said Critobulus, " I will not, 
 unless they are very beautiful persons." " You mistake 
 the matter," replied Socrates ; " the beautiful permit 
 not those liberties; but the ugly grant them freely 
 enough, because they know very well that should any 
 beauty be ascribed to them, it is only in consideration 
 of that of the soul." " I will not transgress in this 
 point," said Critobulus ; " only impart to me the secret 
 you know to gain friends." 
 
 " When you would contract a friendship with any 
 one," said Socrates, " you must give me leave to tell 
 him tliat you have a great esteem for him, and that 
 you desire to be his friend." " With all my heart," 
 answered Critobulus; "for sure no man can wish ill to 
 a man who esteems him." " And if I add besides," con- 
 tinued Socrates, " that because you set a great value 
 on his merit you have much affection for his person, 
 will you not take it amiss ? " " ITot at all," said Cri- 
 tobulus; " for I am sensible we have a great kindness 
 for those who bear us good-will." " I may, then," said
 
 OF SOCRATES. 85 
 
 Socrates, " speak iu tliat manuer to those Avliom you 
 desire to love : but Avill you likewise give me leave to 
 r.dvance that your greatest pleasure is to have good 
 ffieudsj tliat you take great care of tliem, that you 
 l)ehold their good actions with as much joy as if you 
 yourself had performed them, aud that you rejoice at 
 their good fortune as much as at your own : that you 
 are never weary when you are serving them, and that 
 you believe it the glory of a man of honour to surpass 
 his f rieuds in benefits, aud his enemies in valour ? By 
 this means I think I shall be very useful to you in 
 procuring you good friends." " Why do you ask mo 
 leave," said Critobulus, " as if you might not say of me 
 vrhatever you please ? " " Xo, indeed," answered So- 
 crates, "for I remember what Aspasia once said, that 
 match-makers are successful in their business when 
 they tell truth of the persons in whose behalf they 
 court, but that the marriages made by tlieir lies are 
 unfortunate, because they who are deceived hate one 
 another, and hate yet more the person that put them 
 together. And therefore, for the same reason, I think 
 T ought not to tell lies in your praise." " You are then 
 so far only my friend," replied Critobulus, " that if T 
 have any good qualities to make myself be esteemed, 
 you will assist mo ; if not, you will invent notliing in 
 my behalf." " Aud do you think," said Socrates, " that 
 I should do you more service in giving you false praises, 
 that are not your due, than by exhorting you to merit 
 the praise of all men ? If you doubt of this, consider 
 tlie consequences of it. If, for instance, I should tell 
 the owner of a ship that you are an excellent pilot, and 
 he upon that should give you the conduct of the vessel, 
 what hopes could you have that you should not perish ? 
 Or if I should say, publicly, that you are an experienced
 
 8G THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 general, or a great politician, and if you, by tliat 
 character Trliich I sLould unjustly have obtained for 
 you, should be promoted to the supreme magistracy, to 
 what dangers would you expose your own life, and the 
 fortune of the State ? Or if I should make any private 
 person believe that you were a good economist, and ho 
 should trust you afterwards with the care of his family, 
 would not you be the ruin of his estate, and expose 
 yourself to ridicule and contempt ? "Which is as much 
 as to say, Critobulus, that the shortest and surest way 
 to live with honour in the world is to be in reality 
 what we would appear to be : and if you observe, you 
 will find that all human virtues increase and strengthen 
 themselves by the practice and experience of them. 
 Take my advice, then, and labour to acquire them : but 
 if you are of a different opinion, pray let me know it." 
 '' I might well be asliamed," answered Critobulus, " to 
 contradict you : for no good nor solid objection can bo 
 brought against so rational an assertion." 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 SOCRATES SHOWETH ARISTARCHUS HOW TO GET 
 RID OF POVERTY. 
 
 Socrates had an extreme tenderness for his friends, 
 and if through imprudence they fell into any misfortune, 
 he endeavoured to comfort them b}'- his good counsels ; 
 if they laboured under poverty he did all he could to 
 relieve them, teaching all men tliat they ought mutually 
 to assist one another in necessity. I will set down 
 some examples of his behaviofir in these occasions. 
 Meeting Aristarchus, who looked very dejected, he
 
 or SOCKATES. 87 
 
 said to liim, " I see, Aristarcliiis, that sometliing 
 troubles you, but imxoart tlie causs of your grief to 
 your frieuds, and perhaps we may comfort you." 
 " Indeed," said he, "I am in great affliction; for since 
 the late troubles, many persons having fled for shelter 
 to the Piraeus, it lias so fallen out that my. sisters, 
 nieces, and cousins have all thrown themselves upon 
 me, so that I have no less than fourteen of them to 
 maintain. You know very well that we receive no 
 profit of our lands, the enemies being masters of the 
 open country ; our houses in the city are uninhabited, 
 there being at present very little company in Athens ; 
 nobody will buy any goods ; no man will lend money 
 upon any interest whatever, and I believe we may as 
 soon take it up in the middle of the streets as find 
 where to borrow it. And I am much concerned that I 
 shall not be able to assist my relations whom I see 
 ready to perish, while it is impossible for me to main- 
 tain them in the present scarcity of all things." 
 Socrates having heard him patiently, said to him, 
 " How comes it to pass that Ceramon, who has so 
 many persons in his family, finds means not only to 
 maintain them, but likewise to enrich himself by the 
 profit he makes of them, and that you are afraid of 
 starving to death, because you have a great many in 
 your family ? " " The reason," answered Aristarchus, 
 "is this, Ceramon has none but slaves lo take care of, 
 and I am to provide for persons who are free." 
 Socrates went on : " For which have you most esteem, 
 for Ceramon's slaves, or for the persons Avho are at 
 your house ? " '" There is no comparison between 
 them," said Aristarchus. "Is it not then a shameful 
 thing," replied Socrates, " that Ceramon should groAV 
 rich by means of those whom you acknowledge to ba
 
 88- THE JMEMOr.ABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 of less valiio, and tl.at j'ou slio:ild groAV poor and bo 
 reduced to straits, tlioujjli you keep men of condition in 
 your house, whom you value more ? " " By no means," 
 said Aristarchus, " there is a wide difference betwixt 
 the two ; the slaves that Oeramon keeps follow some 
 trades, but the persons I liave with me have had a 
 liberal education and follow none." " May not he," 
 reiDlied Socrates, " who knows how to do anything that 
 is useful be said to know a trade ? " " Yes, certainly." 
 *' And are not," continued Socrates, " oatmeal, bread, 
 the clothes of men and Avomen, cassocks, coats, and other 
 the like manufactures, tilings very useful ? " " With- 
 out doubt." " And do not the j)ersons at your house 
 know how to make any of these things ? " " On the 
 contrary," said Aristarchus, " I believe they know how 
 to make all of them." " What are you then afraid of," 
 added Socrates ? " Why do you complain of poverty, 
 since you know how to get ricli ? Do not you observe 
 how Avealthy Nausicides is become, what numerous 
 herds he is master of, and what A-ast sums he lends the 
 Republic ? Now what made this man so rich ? Why, 
 nothing but one of those manufactures we mentioned, 
 that of making oatmeal. You see, too, that Cirthes 
 keeps all his family, and lives at his ease upon what 
 he has got by being a baker. And liow doth Demeas, 
 of the village of Colyttus, get his livelihood? By 
 making cassocks. What makes Menon live so comfort- 
 ably ? His cloak manufacture. And are not most of 
 the inhabitants of Megara in good circuuistanccs 
 enough by the trade which they drive of coats and 
 short jackets ? " "I grant all this," said Aristarchus, 
 " but still there is a difference betwixt these persons and 
 me : for, whereas, theyhave with them some barbarians 
 whom they have bought, and compel to work what
 
 OF SOCEATES. 89 
 
 briugs tliem iu gaiu ; I, for my pai t, keep only hulios 
 and geutlemeu at my house, persons wlio are free, and 
 some of them my own relations. Now would you haA*e 
 mo to set thevi to work ? " " And because they aro 
 free and your relations," said Socrates, " do you think 
 they ought to do nothing but eat and sleep ? Do you 
 observe that they, who live thus idle and at their ease, 
 lead more comfortable lives than others? Do you 
 think them more content, more cheerful, that is to say, 
 more hapj)y than those who employ tliemselves in any 
 of those manufactures we have mentioned, or in wliat- 
 over else tends to the utility or convenience of life ? 
 Do you imagine that idleness and laziness contribute 
 toward our learning things necessary ; that they can 
 enable us to retain those things we have already learnt ; 
 that they help to strengthen the body or keep it in 
 health ; that they can assist us to get riches, or keep 
 what we have got already ; and do you believe that 
 labour and industry are good for nothing ? Wliy did 
 your ladies learn what you say tliey know. Did they 
 believe them to be useless things, and had they resolved 
 never to put them iu practice ? Or, on the contrary, 
 was it with design to employ themselves in those 
 matters, and to get sometliing by them ? Is it a 
 greater piece of wisdom to sit still and do nothing, 
 than to busy oneself in things that are of use in life, 
 and that turn to account ? And is it not more reason- 
 able for a man to work than to be with his arms across, 
 thinking how he shall do to live ? Shall I tell you my 
 mind, Aristarchus ? Well, then, I am of opinion that 
 in the condition you are in you cannot love your guests, 
 nor they you : for this reason, that you, on the one 
 hand, feel they are a burden to you, and they, on the 
 other, perceive you uneasy and di'^contentcd on their
 
 90 THE MEMOEABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 account. And it is to be feared tliat tlie discontent 
 will increase on both sides, and tliat tlie sense of past 
 favours will wear oif ; but when jou set them to work 
 you will begin to love them, because they will bring 
 you some profit ; and when they find that you regard 
 them with more com^Dlacency they will not fail to have 
 more love for you. The remembrance of your kind- 
 nesses will be more grateful to them, and the obliga- 
 tions they have to you will bo the greater. In a word, 
 you will be kinder relations and better friends. In- 
 deed, if what they were to do was a thing worthy of 
 blame, it would be better to die than to think of it ; 
 but what they can do is honourable, and becoming of 
 their sex, and whoever knows how to do a thing well 
 will acquit himself of it with honour and pleasure. 
 Therefore defer no longer to make the proposal to 
 them, since it will be so advantageous to all of you, and 
 be assured they will receive it with joy and pleasure." 
 " Good God ! what a fine scheme you have i)i'oposed ! 
 Indeed, I cannot but approve of it ; nay, it has made 
 such a wonderful impression on my mind, that whereas 
 I was lately against borrowing money at all, because I 
 saw that when I had spent it I should not be in a 
 condition to repay it, I am now resolved to go try 
 where I can take some up upon any terms, to buy tools 
 and other materials to set ourselves to work." 
 
 What was proposed was forthwith executed. Arls- 
 tarchus bought what he wanted ; he laid in a provision 
 of wool, and the ladies worked from morning to night. 
 This occupation diverted their melancholy, and, instead 
 of the uneasiness there was before between them and 
 Aristarchus, they began to live in a reciprocal satis- 
 faction. The ladies loved him as their protector, and
 
 OF SOCRATES. 91 
 
 iio cojisidorod tliem as persous who were very useful 
 aud necessary to liim. 
 
 To couclude, some time afterwards Aristarclius 
 came to see Socrates, and related the whole matter to 
 him with great content, and told him the women began 
 to complain that none but he was idle. " Why do you 
 not put them in mind," said Socrates, "of the fable of 
 the dog ? For, in the days wlien beasts could speak, 
 according to the fable, the sheep said to her master, 
 ' You are a strange man ; we yield you wool, lambs, 
 aud cheeses, and yet you give us nothing but what we 
 can get upon tlie ground ; and the dog, who brings you 
 in no profit, is kindly used, for you feed him with the 
 same bread you eat yourself.' The dog, overhearing 
 this complaint, answered her : ' It is not without reason 
 that I am used so well. It is I who protect you ; it is I 
 who hinder thieves from taking you away, and wolves 
 from sucking your blood. If I were not always keepiug 
 watch about you, you would not dare so much as to go 
 to feed.' This answer was the reason that the sheep 
 yielded freely to the dog the honour they pretended to 
 before. In like manner do you also let these ladies 
 know that it is you who are their guardian and jiro- 
 tector, and that you watch over them for their safety 
 with as much care as a faithful aud courageous dog 
 watcheth over a herd committed to his charge. Tell 
 them that because of you no man dares Jmrt tliem, aud 
 that it is by yoiu* means that they live at ease and in 
 safety."
 
 92 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER YITI. 
 
 SOCRATES PERSUADES EUTHERUS TO AEATTDON HIS 
 FORMER WAY OF LIVING, AND TO BETAKE HIM- 
 SELF TO SOME MORE USEFUL AND HONOURABLE 
 EMPLOYMENT. 
 
 Another time, meeting' with Eutlierus, one of liis old 
 friends, whom lie had not seen for a great while before, 
 lie inquired of him from whence he came ? " At 
 present," answered Eutlierus, "I come not from abroad ; 
 but towards the end of the war I returned from a 
 voyage I had made, for, after having lost all the estate 
 I had upon tlie frontiers, and my father having left mo 
 nothing in Attica, I was forced to work for my living, 
 and I believe it better to do so than to be troublesome 
 to others ; besides, I can no longer borrow anything, 
 because I have nothing left to mortgage." " And how 
 much longer," said Socrates, " do you think you shall 
 be able to work for your living?" "Alas! but a 
 short while," answered Eutherus. " J^evertheless," 
 replied Socrates, " when you come to be old it will cost 
 you something to maintain yourself, and yet you will 
 not then be able to earn anytliing." " You say very 
 true." '' You had best, then," continued Socrates, 
 '' employ yourself now in business that will enable you 
 to lay by something for your old age, and get into the 
 service of some rich man, who has occasion for an 
 economist, to have the inspection over his workmen, to 
 gather in his fruits, to preserve what belongs to him, 
 that he may reward you for the service you do him." 
 "I should find it very difficult," replied Eutherus, " to 
 submit to be a slave." "Yet," said Socrates, "tlio 
 magistrates in republics, and all tliat are in employ-
 
 OF SOCRATES. 93 
 
 meuts, are not, therofore, reputed slaves ; on tin 
 contrary, tliey are esteemed honourable." " Be that as 
 it will," said Eutherus, " I can never think of enterin^^ 
 into any office where I might be liable to blame, for I 
 Avould not like to be censured by another." " But 
 where," said Socrates, "will you find any employment 
 in which a man is absolutely perfect, and altogether 
 free from blame ? For it is very difficult to be so 
 exact as not to fail sometimes, and even though we 
 should not have failed, it is hard to escape the ctnsuro 
 of bad judges ; and I should think it a very odd and 
 surprising thing if in that very employment wherein 
 you say you are now engaged you were so dexterous 
 and expert as that no man should find anything amiss. 
 " What you are, tlicrefore, to observe is to avoid 
 those who make it their business to find fault without 
 reason, and to have to do with more equitable persons ; 
 to undertake what you can actually perform, to reject 
 what you find yourself unfit to do ; and when you have 
 taken in hand to do anything, to accomplish it in a 
 manner the most excellent and perfect you can. Thus 
 you will be less subject to be blamed, will find relief to 
 your poverty, lead an easier life, be out of danger, and 
 will sufficiently provide for the necessities of your old 
 age."
 
 di THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VJ WHAT MANNER SOCRATES TAUGHT HIS FRIEND 
 CRITO TO RID HIMSELF OF SOME INFORMERS, 
 WHO TOOK THE ADVANTAGE OF HIS EASY 
 TEMPER. 
 
 One day Crito, liappeniugto meet Socrates, comxilaiued 
 to liiin that it was very difficult for a mau wlio would 
 keep what he had to live iu Athens; " for," said he, " I 
 am now sued by some men, though I never did them 
 the least injury, but only because they know that I 
 had rather give them a little money than embroil 
 myself iu the troubles of law." Socrates said to him, 
 " Do you keep dogs to hinder the wolves from coming 
 at your flocks ? " '•' You need not doubt but I do," 
 answered Crito. " Ought you not likewise," replied 
 Socrates, '•' to keep a man who were able to drive away 
 all those that trouble you without cause ? " " I would 
 -u-ith all my heart," said Crito, "but that I fear that in 
 tlie end he, too, would turn against me." " Wliy so ? " 
 said Socrates ; " is it not better to serve a mau like 
 you, and to receive favours from him, than to have him 
 for an enemy ? Ton may be certain that there are in 
 this city many men who would think themselves very 
 happy to be honoured with your friendship." 
 
 After this they happened to see a certain person 
 name Archedemus, who was a man of very good parts, 
 eloquent, and extremely skilful in tlie management of 
 affairs ; but withal very poor and in a low condition, 
 for he was not of that sordid disposition to take all 
 ho could get, by what means soever; but he was a 
 lover of justice and of honest men, and abhorred to
 
 OF SOCRATES. 9o 
 
 make rich, or to raise liimself by inforining and back- 
 biting ; for he held that nothing was more base than 
 that \rretched practice of those miscreants called 
 sycophants or informers. Crito cast an eye upon him, 
 and as often as they brought him any com, or win?, 
 or oil, or any other thing from his country-houses, lie 
 sent him some of it ; when he offered sacrifices he in- 
 Tited him to the feasts, and showed him many civilities 
 of tlie like nature. Archedemus, seeing the doors of 
 that house open to him at all times, and that he always 
 found so favourable a reception, laid aside all his 
 former dependences, and trusted himself wholly to 
 Crito ; then he made it his business immediately to 
 inquire into the characters of those sycophants who 
 had slandered Crito or informed against him, and 
 found them to be guilty of many crimes, and tliat they 
 had a great number of enemies. This encouraged hiai 
 to take them to task, and he prosecuted one of them 
 for a crime which would have subjected liim to a 
 corporal puuishment, or at least to a pecuniary mulct. 
 This fellow, who knew his case to be bad, and that ho 
 could not justify himself, employed all sorts of strata- 
 gems to get rid of Archedemus, who nevertheless 
 would not quit his hold till tlie other had discharged 
 Crito, and given him money besides, in name of trouble 
 and charges. He managed several of his affairs with 
 like success, which made Crito be thought happy in 
 having him ; and as when a shepherd has an excellent 
 dog, tlie other shepherds are glad to bring their tlocks 
 near his that they may be safe likewise, so several of 
 Crito's friends began to make their court to him, and 
 begged him to lend them Archedemus to defend tliein. 
 He, for his part, was glad to oblige Crito ; and it 
 was observed at length that not only Crito lived
 
 96 THE MEMOHABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 undisturbed, but all his friends likewise ; and if auy oue 
 reproached Arclicdemus that self-interest had made 
 him his master's creature, and to adore him and be so 
 faithful and zealous in his service lie would answer 
 liim thus : — " Which of the two do jou think most 
 dishonourable — to do services to men of quality from 
 wliom we have received favours, and to enter into their 
 friendship to declare war against bad men, or to 
 endeavour to prejudice men of honour, and to make 
 them our enemies, tliat bad men may be our friends ? " 
 From thenceforward Crito contracted a strict friend- 
 ship with Archedemus, and all his friends had likewise 
 a great respect for him. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SOCRATES ADVISES DIODOEUS TO DO JUSTICE TO 
 THE MERIT OF HERMOGENES, AND TO ACCEPT 
 OF HIS SERVICE AND FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Socrates, meeting one day with Diodorus, addressed 
 him thus : — " If oue of your slaves ran away, would 
 you give yourself any trouble to find him?" "Yes, 
 certainly,'' answered he; "and I would give public 
 notice, and promise a reward to any that brought him 
 to me." " And if one of them were sick, would you 
 take care of him, and send for physicians to endeavour 
 to save his life ? " *' Without doubt I would." '' And 
 if you saw," replied Socrates, " one of your friends — 
 that is to say, a person who renders you a thousand 
 times more service than a slave, reduced to extreme 
 want — ought you not to relieve him ? I speak this to 
 you on account of Herraogencs. Ton very well know
 
 OV SOCRATES. 97 
 
 he is not uugratof 111, and that he would scorn to receive 
 the least favour from you and not return you the like. 
 You know likewise that a great number of slaves are 
 not to be valued like one man who serves willingly, 
 who serves with zeal and affection, and who is not 
 only capable of doing what he is desired, but who can 
 likewise of himself think of many things that may be 
 of service to us ; who reasons well, who foresees what 
 may happen, and from whom we may expect to receive 
 good advice. Now, the best managers hold it as a 
 maxim that when we find anything of value to be sold 
 cheap we ought to buy it. Think of it, therefore, for 
 as times now go you may procure yourself many friends 
 at a cheap rate." " You say right," replied Diodorus, 
 ''and therefore pray send Hermogenes to me." "Ex- 
 cuse me in that," answered Socrates, '' you would do as 
 well to go to him yourself as to send for him." 
 
 This discourse was the reason that Diodorus went i^y 
 Hermogenes, and for a small gratification obliged him 
 to be his friend ; after which Hermogenes took par- 
 ticular care to please Diodorus, and sought all oppor- 
 tunities of serving him and of giving him content 
 
 D — los
 
 98 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE QUALIFICATIONS OF A GENERAL. 
 
 Let us uow see liow Socrates was serviceable to those 
 who were desirous to qualify tliomselves for euix^loy- 
 meuts of trust and lionour, by advising them to apply 
 themselves diligently to the study of their duty, that 
 they might acquire a perfect knowledge of it. 
 
 Having heard that there was arrived at Athens one 
 Dionysodorus, who undertook to teach the art of war, 
 he made the following discourse to one of his friends, 
 who pretended to one of the highest posts in tlio 
 army : — 
 
 "It were a scandalous thing," said Socrates to him, 
 " for a man who aims to be chief over others, to neg- 
 lect to learn how to command, when so fair an oppor- 
 tunity offers ; nay, I think he would rather deserve to 
 be punished, than the man who should undertake to 
 make a statue without having learnt the sculptor's 
 trade ; for as in war ihe whole fortune of the Re- 
 public is trusted to the general, it is to be presumed 
 that his good conduct will procure success, and that 
 his faults will be followed with great losses. And, 
 therefore, a man who should neglect to make himself 
 capable of such an employment, and yet j)i'etend to it, 
 ought to be severely punished." By these reasons ho 
 persuaded this yoimg man to get himself instructed. 
 
 After the youth had imagined that he had acquired 
 some knowledge of the art, he returned to x^ay Socrates 
 a visit, who, jesting him, addressed the company that 
 were present in tliis manner : — " Do net yon tliink,
 
 OF SOCRATES. 99 
 
 gentlemen, that as Homer, when speaking of Agamem- 
 non, gives him the surname of venerable, wo ought 
 also to bestow the same epithet on this young man, 
 who justly deserveth to be called by that name, since, 
 like him, he has learned how to command] For, as 
 a man who can play on the lute is a player on that in- 
 strument, thougli he never toucheth it ; and as he who 
 is knowing in the art of physic is a physician, though 
 ho never practise ; so this young man, having learned 
 to command is become a general, thougli not a man of 
 us should ever give our voice to make him so. On the 
 contrary, it is in vain for liim who knows not how to 
 command, to get himself chosen ; he will not be one 
 jot a better general for it, no more than he who knows 
 nothing of pliysic is a better physician, because he has 
 the reputation of being one." Then turning towards 
 the young man, he went on : — " But because it may 
 happen that one of us may have the honour of com- 
 manding a regiment or a company in the troops that 
 are to compose your army, to the end we may not be 
 entirely ignorant of the military art, pray tell us by 
 what he began to instruct you." " By what he ended," 
 answered the young man ; " for he showed me only the 
 order that ought to be observed in an army, either in 
 marching, encamping, or fighting." " But what is tliat," 
 said Socrates, " in comparison of the many other duties 
 incumbent on a general ? He must, besides, take care 
 for the preparations of war ; he must furnish the 
 soldiers with necessary ammunition and provisions ; 
 he must be inventive, laborious, diligent, patient, quick 
 of apprehension; he must be mild and rigorous to- 
 gether ; he must be open and close ; he must know to 
 preserve his own, and take what is another's ; he must 
 be prodigal and a ravager ; ho must he liberal and
 
 100 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 covetous ; lie must be warj, and yet enterprising. I 
 confess that lie ouglit to know likewise liow to draw 
 up his troops in order of battle; and, indeed, order 
 and discipline are the most important things in an 
 army, and without them it is impossible to have any 
 other service of the troops than of a confused heap of 
 stones, bricks, timber, and tiles ; but when everything 
 is in its due place, as in a building, when the founda- 
 tions and the covering are made of materials that will 
 not grow rotten, and which no wet can damage, such 
 as are stones and tiles, and when the bricks and timber 
 are employed in their due places in the body of the 
 edifice, they altogether make, a house, which we value 
 among our most considerable enjoyments." Here the 
 young man, interrupting him, said : — 
 
 " This comparison puts me in mind of another thing 
 that generals ought to observe ; which is, to place their 
 best soldiers in the first and last ranks, and the others 
 in the middle ; that those in the first rank may draw 
 them on, and those in the last push them forward." 
 " He has taught you too," said Socrates, " how to know 
 the good and the bad soldiers asunder, otherwise this 
 rule can be of no use to you; for if you were to reckon 
 money upon a table, and were ordered to lay the best 
 at the two ends, and the worst in the middle, how 
 could you do this, if you had not been shown how to 
 distinguish between the good and the bad ? " " In- 
 deed," replied the young man, " he did not teach mo 
 Nvhat you mention ; and, I suppose, we must learn of 
 ourselves to discern the good soldiers from the bad." 
 " If you j)lease," continued Socrates, " let us consider 
 how a general ought to govern himself in this matter. 
 If it were to take any money, ought he not to make 
 the most covetous march in the front ? If it were an
 
 OF SOCRATES. 101 
 
 action of great peril, ouglit he not to send the most 
 ambitions, becanse they are the men who, ont of a de- 
 sire of glory, rush into the midst of dangers ? And 
 as for them, you wonld not be much troubled to kno^y 
 them, for they are forward enough in discovering 
 themselves. But tell me, when this master showed 
 you the different ways of ordering an army, did he 
 teach you when to make use of one way, and when of 
 another ? " " Not at all," answered he. " And yet," 
 replied Socrates, " the same order is not always to be 
 observed, nor the same commands given, but to be 
 changed according to tlie different occasions." " He 
 taught me nothing of that," said the young man. '' Go 
 to him, then," added Socrates, "and ask him concerning 
 it ; for if he know anything of the matter, and have 
 ever so little honour, he will be ashamed to have taken 
 your money and send you away so ill-instructed." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PRINCE. 
 
 Another time he asked a general, whom the 
 Athenians had lately chosen, why Homer calls Aga- 
 memnon the pastor of the people ? "Is it not," said 
 he, " because as a sheplierd ought to take care of his 
 flocks, that they be well and want for nothing ; so a 
 general ought to take care to keep his soldiers always 
 in a good condition, to see they be supplied with pro- 
 visions, and to bring to a happy issue the design 
 that made them take arms, which is to overcome their 
 enemies, and to live more happil}- afterwards ? And 
 why does the same poet praise Agamemnon likewise 
 for being —
 
 102 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 * At once a gracious prince and generous warrior ' ? 
 For is it not true, tliat to gain a prince the cliaractcr 
 of being generous and a warrior too, it is not sufficient 
 to be brave in liis own person, and to fight with in- 
 trepidity ; but he must likewise animate the whole army, 
 and be tlie cause that every soldier behave himself like 
 him ? and to gain the reputation of a good and gracious 
 prince, it is not enough to have secured his private 
 affairs, he must also take care that plenty and happi- 
 ness bo seen in all places of his dominions. For 
 kings are not chosen to take care of themselves only, 
 but to render hapjDy tlie j)eople who choose tliem. All 
 people engage in war only to secure their own quiet, 
 and choose commanders that they may have guides to 
 conduct them to the end which they propose to them- 
 selves. A general, therefore, ought to x^i'epare the way 
 of good fortune to tliose who raise him to that dignity; 
 this is the most glorious success he can desire, as 
 nothing can be more ignominious to him than to do 
 the contrary." 
 
 We see by this discourse that Socrates, designing 
 to give the idea of a good prince, required scarce any- 
 tliing of him but to render his subjects happy. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON THE BUSINESS 0¥ A GENERAL OF HORSE. 
 
 Socrates at another time, as I well remember, had 
 the following conference with a general of the 
 cavalry :^ 
 
 " What was your reason," said Socrates, " to desire 
 this ofiice ? I cannot think it was that you might
 
 OP SOCRATES. 103 
 
 marcli first at the head of tlie troops, for the horse- 
 archers are to march before you. Xor can I believe it 
 was to make yourself be kno^Yn, for no men are more 
 generally known than madmen. Perhaps it was because 
 you thought you could mend What was amiss in the 
 cavalry, and make the troops better than tliey are, to 
 the end that if the E/cpublic should have occasion to 
 use them, you might be able to do your country some 
 eminent service." " That is my design," answered the 
 other. " It were well you could do this," said Socrates, 
 " but does not your office oblige you to have an eye on 
 the horses and troopers ? " " Most certainly." " What 
 course will you then take," continued Socrates, " to 
 get good horses ? " " It is not my business to look to 
 that," replied the general; " every trooper must take 
 care for himself." " And what," said Socrates, " if 
 they bring you horses whose feet and legs are good 
 for nothing, or that are so weak and lean that they 
 cannot keep up with the others, or so restive and vicious 
 that it would be impossible to make them keep tlieir 
 ranks, what good could you expect from such cavaliy ? 
 Wliat service would you be able to do the State?" 
 " Ton are much in the right, Socrates, and I promise 
 you I will take care what horses are in my troops.' 
 "And will you not have an eye likeAvise on the 
 troopers?" "Yes," answered he. " In my opinion 
 then," answered Socrates, " the first thing you ought 
 to do is to make them learn to get a horseback." " Is'o 
 doubt of it," replied the general, " for by that means 
 they would the more easily escape, if they should 
 happen to be thrown off their horses." Socrates went 
 on : " Ton ought also to make them exercise, sometimes 
 here, sometimes there, and particidarly in places like 
 those where the enemy generally is, that they may be
 
 104 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 good liorsGuicii in all sorts of counti-ies ; for wlieu you 
 are to fight you will not send to bid the enemy come to 
 you in the plain, where you used to exercise your horse. 
 You must train them up, likewise, to lance the spear; 
 and if you would make them very brave fellows, you 
 must inspire them with a principle of honour, and 
 inflame them with rage against the enemy." " Fear 
 not," said he, " that I will spare my labour." " But 
 have you," resumed Socrates, " thought on the means 
 to make yourself obeyed ? for without that all your 
 brave troopers will avail you nothing." " It is true," 
 said he, " but how shall I gain that point of them ? " 
 " Know you not," said Socrates, " that in all things men 
 readily obey those whom they believe most capable ? 
 Thus in our sickness we most av illiugly submit to the 
 prescriptions of the best physicians ; at sea, to the most 
 skilful pilot ; and in affairs of agriculture, to him who 
 has most experience in it." " All this I grant you." 
 *' It is then to be presumed, that in the conduct of the 
 cavalry he who makes it appear that he understands 
 it best will be the person whom the others will be best 
 pleased to obey." "But if I let them see that I am 
 most worthy to command, will that be sufficient to make 
 them obey me ? " " Yes, certainly," said Socrates, " if 
 you can persuade them besides that their honour and 
 safety depend on that obedience." " And how shall I 
 be able to make them sensible of this ? " " With less 
 trouble," answered Socrates, " than it would be to 
 prove that it is better to be virtuous than vicious." 
 " Then a general," added the other, " ought to study 
 the art of speaking well ? " "Do you imagine," said 
 Socrates, '' that he will be able to execute his office 
 without speaking a word ? It is by speech that we 
 know what the laws command us to learn for the
 
 OF SOCRATES. 105 
 
 concluet of our lives. Xo excellent knowledge can be 
 attained Tritliout the nse of speech ; the best method to 
 instruct is by discourse, and they who are thorouglily 
 versed in the sciences speak with the applause of all 
 the world. But hare you observed," continued he, 
 " that in all sorts of occasions tlie Athenians distinguish 
 themselves above all the Greeks, and tliat no Republic 
 can show such youths as that of Athens ? For ex- 
 ample : when we send from hence a choir of musicians 
 to the Temple of Apollo in the Isle of Delos, it is 
 certain that none comparable to them are sent from 
 other cities ; not that the Athenians have better voices 
 than the others, nor that their bodies are more robust 
 and better made, but the reason is because they are 
 more fond of honour, and this desire of honoiu- is wliat 
 excites men to excellent actions. Do not you think, 
 therefore, that if good care were taken of our cavalry, 
 it would excel that of other nations, in the beauty of 
 arms and horses, in order of good discipline, and in 
 bravery in fight ; provided the Athenians were per- 
 suaded that this would be a means to acquire them 
 glory and renou-n .^ " " I am of your opinion." " Go, 
 then, and take care of your troops," said Socrates, 
 "make them serviceable to you, that you may be so to 
 the Republic." " Tour advice is good," saitl he, " and 
 I will immediately follow it."
 
 106 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH NICOMACHIDES, 
 IN WHICH HE SHOWETH THAT A MAN SKILFUL 
 IN HIS OWN PROPER BUSINESS, AND WHO 
 MANAGES HIS AFFAIRS WITH PRUDENCE AND 
 SAGACITY, MAY MAKE, WHEN OCCASION OFFERS, 
 A GOOD GENERAL. 
 
 Another time, Socrates meeting Nicomachides, wlio 
 was coming from tlie assembly where they had chosen 
 the magistrates, asked him, " of whom tliey liad made 
 clioice to command the army ? " Nicomachides 
 answered: "Alas! the Athenians would not chose 
 me ; me ! Avho have spent all my life in arms, and 
 have gone tlirough all the degrees of a soldier ; who 
 have been first a private sentinel, then a captain, next 
 a colonel of horse, and who am covered all over with 
 wounds that I have received in battles " (at these words 
 he bared his breast, and showed the large scars which 
 were remaining in several places of his body) ; " but 
 they have chosen Antisthenes, who has never served in 
 the infantry, who even in the cavalry never did any- 
 thing remarkablej, and whose only talent consists in 
 knowing how to get money." " So much the better," 
 said Socrates, " for then the army will be well paid." 
 " A merchant," replied Mcomachides, " knows how to 
 get money as well as he; and does it follow from 
 thence that he is fit to be a general? " " You take no 
 notice," replied Socrates, " that Antisthenes is fond of 
 honour, and desirous to excel all others in whatever he 
 undertakes, which is a very necessary qualification in 
 a general. Have you not observed, that whenever he 
 gave a comedy to the people, ho always gained the
 
 OF SOCRATES. 107 
 
 prize?" "There is a ^Yide difference," answered 
 Nicomacliides, " between commanding an army and 
 giving orders concerning a comedy." "But," said 
 Socrates, " though Antisthenes understands not music, 
 nor the hi.ws of the stage, yet he found out those Avho 
 were skilful in both, and by their means succeeded 
 extremely well." " And when he is at the head of the 
 army," continued Xicomachides, "I suppose you will 
 have him to find out too some to give orders, and some 
 to figlit for him ? " " Why not ? " replied Socrates, 
 " for if in the affairs of war he take the same care to 
 provide himself with persons skilful in that art, and fit 
 to advise him, as he did in the affair of the plays, I see 
 not what should hinder him from gaining the victory 
 in the former as well as in the latter. And it is very 
 likely that he will be better pleased to expend his 
 treasure to obtain an entire victory over the enemy, 
 which will redound to the honour and interest of the 
 whole Republic, than to be at a great expense for 
 shows, to overcome his citizens in magnificence, and to 
 gain a victory, which can be honourable to none but 
 himself and those of his tribe." '* We must then 
 infer," said Nicomachides, "that a man who knows 
 ■well how to give a comedy knows well how to command 
 an army 1 " " Let us rather conclude," answered 
 Socrates, "that every man who has judgment enough 
 to know the things that are necessary for his designs, 
 and can procure tliem, can never fail of success, whether 
 he concern himself with the stage, or govern a State, 
 or command an army, or manage a family." 
 
 " Indeed," resumed Nicomachides, " I could never 
 have thought you would have told me, too, that a good 
 economisi; would make a good general." " Come, then," 
 said Socrates, "let us examine wherein consists tho
 
 108 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 duty of tlie ouo and of tlie other, aud see what relation 
 there is between those two conditions. Must not both 
 of them keep those that are under them in submission 
 and obedience ? " "I grant it." "Must not both of 
 them take care to employ every one in the business lio 
 is fit for ? Must he not j)iiiiish those who do amiss 
 and reward those that do well ? Must they not make 
 themselves be esteemed by those they command ? 
 Ought they not alike to strengthen themselves with 
 friends to assist tliem upon occasion ? Ought tbey 
 not to know how to preserve what belongs to them, 
 and to be diligent and indefatigable in the performance 
 of their duty ? " "I own," answered Nicomachides, 
 " that all you have said concerns them equally; but if 
 they were to fight it would not bo the same as to both 
 of them." " Why ? " said Socrates. " Have not both 
 of them enemies?" "They have." "And would it 
 not be the advantage of both to get the better of 
 them ? " ''I allow it," said Nicomachides ; " but what 
 will economy be good for when they are to come to 
 blows ? " " It is then it will be most necessary," 
 replied Socrates. " For when the good economist sees 
 that the greatest profit he can get is to overcome, and 
 that the greatest loss he can suffer is to be beaten, he 
 will prepare himself with all the advantages that can 
 procure him the victory, and will carefully avoid what- 
 ever might be the cause of his defeat. Thus, when he 
 sees his army well provided witli all things, and in a 
 condition that seems to promise a good success, he will 
 give his enemies battle ; but when he wants anything 
 lie will avoid coming to an engagement with them. 
 Thus you see how economy may be of use to him ; 
 and therefore, Nicomachides, despise not those who 
 apply themselves to it ; for between the conduct of a
 
 OF SOCRATEJ. lOD 
 
 family aud tliat of a State tlio sole difference is tliat of 
 a greater or lesser number ; for as to all besides there 
 is much conformity bet^Yeen them. The sum of 
 what I have advanced is this, that without men there 
 •could not be any policy or any economy, that they are 
 often executed by the same persons, and that they who 
 are called to the .government of the Republic are the 
 very same whom great men employ for their private 
 affairs. Lastly, that they who make use of proper 
 persons for their several businesses are successful in 
 their economy and in politics ; and that, on the con- 
 trary, they who fail in this point commit great faults 
 botli in one and the other." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CONVERSATION BETWEEN SOCRATES AND PERICLES 
 CONCERNING THE THEN PRESENT STATE OF THE 
 REPUBLIC OF ATHENS, IN WHICH SOCRATES 
 LAYS DOWN A METHOD BY WHICH THE ATHE- 
 NIANS MAY RECOVER THEIR ANCIENT LUSTRE 
 AND REPUTATION. 
 
 Socrates one day being in company with Pericles, 
 the son of the great Pericles, introduced the following 
 discourse : — 
 
 '*' I hopS that when you command the army the Re- 
 public will be more successful and gain more glory in 
 their wars than formerly." " I should be glad of it," 
 answered Pericles, "but I see little likelihood of it.'* 
 " We may bring this matter to the test," said Socrates, 
 *' Is it not true that the Boeotians are not uiuro 
 numerous than the Athenians ? " "I know it." " Xor
 
 110 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 are they eitlicr braver or stronger? " " True, tlicy are 
 uot." " Do you believe tliat they agree better among 
 themselves ? " " Quite the contrary," said Pericles ; 
 *' for there is a great misunderstanding between most 
 of the Boeotians and the Thebans, because of the great 
 hardships the latter -put upon the former, and we have 
 notliing of this among us." '' But the Boeotians," 
 replied Socrates, " are wonderfully ambitious and 
 obliging; and these are the qualities that naturally 
 push men on to expose themselves for the sake of 
 glory and of their country." " Tlie Athenians," 
 answered Pericles, " come not short of them in either 
 of those qualities," "It is true," replied Socrates, 
 "that there is no nation whose ancestors have done 
 braver actions, and in greater number, than those of 
 the Athenians. And these domestic examples excite 
 us to courage, and create in us a true love of virtue 
 and bravery." " Notwithstanding all this," continued 
 Pericles,." you see that after the defeat of Tolmidos 
 at Lebadia, where we lost a thousand men, and after 
 anotlier misfortune that happened to Hipjjocrates 
 before Delium, tlie greatness of the Athenians is sunk 
 so low, and the courage of the Boeotians so increased, 
 that they, who even in their own country durst not 
 look the Athenians in the face without the assistance 
 of the Lacedemonians and of the other States of the 
 Peloponnesus, now threaten Attica with tlieir single 
 forces. And that the Athenians, who before ravaged 
 Boeotia when it was not defended by foreign troops, 
 begin to fear, in their turn, that the Boeotians will put 
 Attica to fire and sword." " In my opinion," answered 
 Socrates, " a governor ought to be well pleased to find 
 a republic in sucli a condition ; for fear makes a people 
 more careful^ more obedient, and more submissive.
 
 OF SOCEATES. Ill 
 
 Whereas a too great security is attended with careless- 
 ness, luxury, and disobedience. This is plainly seen in 
 men who are at sea. When they fear not anything, 
 there is nothing in the ship but confusion and dis- 
 order ; but when they apprehend that they shall bo 
 attacked by pirates, or that a tempest is hanging over 
 their head, they not only do whatever they are com- 
 manded, but even observe a profound silence, waiting 
 tlie order of their captain, and are as decent and orderly 
 in their behaviour and motions as those who dance at a 
 public entertainment." 
 
 " We shall yield, then," replied Pericles, " that tho 
 Athenians are obedient. But how shall we do to 
 create in them an emulation to imitate the virtue of 
 their ancestors to equal their reputation and to restore 
 the happiness of their age in this present one ? " " If 
 we would have them," answered Socrates, " make them- 
 selves masters of an estate, which is in the i^ossession 
 of others, we need only tell them that it is descended 
 to them from their forefatliers, and they will imme- 
 diately be for having it again. If we would encourage 
 them to take the first rank among the virtuous, we 
 must persuade them that it is their due from all 
 antiquity, and that if they will take care to preserve to 
 themselves this advantage they will infallibly likewise 
 surpass others in power. We must frequently repre- 
 sent to them that the most ancient of their predecessors 
 were highly esteemed on account of their great virtue." 
 '' You would be understood," said Pericles, " to speak 
 of the contention of two of the divinities concerning 
 the patronage of the city of Athens, of which the 
 citizens, in the days of Cecrops, were chosen arbitra- 
 tors on account of their virtue." " You are in the 
 right," said Socrates ; "but I would have them be put
 
 112 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 in miud likewise of tlie birth and nourishment of 
 Erictliens, and of the war that was in his time against 
 the neighbouring nations ; as also of that which was 
 made in favour of the descendants of Hercules against 
 the x^eople of Peloponnesus, and, in short, of all the 
 other wars that were in the days of Theseus, in whicli 
 our ancestors were always reputed the most valiant 
 men of their age. If you think fit, they may likewise 
 be told what the descendants of these ancients and our 
 predecessors of the last age have done. They may be 
 represented to them as resisting sometimes with their 
 own forces only the nations whom all Asia obeyed, 
 whose dominions extended into Europe as far as Mace- 
 donia, and who had inherited a potent empire from 
 their fathers, together with formidable forces, and who 
 were already renowned for many great exploits. Some- 
 times you mast relate to them the victories they gained 
 by sea and land in conjunction with the Lacedemonians, 
 who are likewise reputed a very brave people. They 
 should be told also that great commotions being arisen 
 among the Greeks, and the most part of them having 
 changed their places of abode, the Athenians always 
 continued in their country ; that tlioy have been cliosen 
 by several j)eople to arbitrate their differences, and that 
 the oppressed have always fled to them for protection." 
 *' When I reflect on all this," said Pericles, " I am sur- 
 prised to see the Republic so much fallen off from what 
 it was." " In my opinion," replied Socrates, " she has 
 behaved lierseK like those persons who, for having too 
 great advantage over their rivals, begin to neglect 
 themselves, and grow in the end pusillanimous ; for 
 after the Athenians saw themselves raised above the 
 other Greeks they indulged themselves in indolence, 
 and became at lengtli degenerate,"
 
 OF SOCEATES. 113 
 
 " What course must they take now," said Pei-ic'ies 
 " to regain the lustre of their ancient virtue ? " " Tliey 
 need only call to mind," replied Socrates, " what were 
 the exercises and the discipline of their ancestors, and 
 if, like them, they apply themselves to those practices, 
 they will no doubt arrive at their perfection ; or if they 
 will not govern themselves by that example, let them 
 imitate the nations that are now uppermost ; let them 
 observe the same conduct, follow the same customs, and 
 be assured they will equal, if not surpass them, if they 
 labour to do so." " You seem to be of opinion, my dear 
 Socrates, that virtue is much estranged from our 
 Republic? And, indeed, when will the Athenians 
 respect old age as they of Sparta do, since they begin, 
 even by their own fathers, to deride men advanced in 
 years ? When, too, will they use themselves to the 
 manly exercises of that Republic, since they not only 
 neglect the good disposition and activity of body, but 
 laugh at those who endeavour to acquire them ? WJien 
 will they be obedient to the magistrates, they who make 
 it a glory to despise them ? When will they be in 
 perfect unity, they who, instead of assisting, daily 
 X^rejudice one another, and who envy one another more 
 than they do all the rest of mankind ? They are every 
 day quarrelling in the public and private assemblies • 
 they are every day suing one another, and had rather 
 find their own advantage in the ruin of their neighbours 
 than get an honest gain by reciprocally assisting one 
 another. The magistrates mind not the Government 
 of the Republic any farther than their own interests 
 are concerned, and, therefore, they use their utmost 
 endeavours to be in office and authority ; and for this 
 reason in the administration of the State there is so 
 jnnch ignorance and malice, and such animosities, and
 
 114 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 SO many different parties among private persons. And 
 I mucli fear that this miscliief will gei such a head tliat 
 at lenc^tli there will be no remedy against it, and that 
 the Republic will sink under the weight of its mis- 
 fortunes." 
 
 " Fear it not," said Socrates, " and do not believo 
 that the Athenians labour under an incurable disease. 
 Do you not observe how skilful and obedient they are 
 at sea, that in the combats for prizes they exactly obey 
 the orders of tliose that preside there, and in the 
 comedies how readily they comply with what they are 
 bid to do ? " "I see it well," answered Pericles, '' and 
 cannot but wonder that they are so ready to obey in 
 these and the like occasions, and that the military men, 
 who ought to be the chosen part of the citizens, are so 
 mutinous and refractory." " And what say you," 
 pursued Socrates, "to the Senate of the Areopagus; 
 are they not all of them persons of great worth ? Do 
 you know any judges who discharge their office with 
 more integrity, and who more exactly observe the laws, 
 who more faithfully render justice to private men, and 
 who more worthily acquit themselves of all manner of 
 affairs ? " "I blame them not," said Pericles. " Despair 
 not, then, of the Athenians," added Socrates, " as of 
 an untractable people." "But it is in war," replied 
 Pericles, " that much discipline is required, and much 
 modesty and obedience, and these things the Athenians 
 wholly want in that occasion." " Perhaps, too," con- 
 tinued Socrates, " they who command them know little 
 of their own duty. Do you not take notice that no 
 man undertakes to govern a company of musicians, or 
 of comedians, or of dancers, or of wrestlers, unless he 
 be capable of it ; and that all who take such employ- 
 ments upon them can give an account where they have
 
 OP SOCRATES. 115 
 
 learnt tlie exercises of Nvliicli they are become masters ? 
 Our misfortunes in war, tlien, I A'ery mucli appreliend, 
 must be owing in a great measure to tlie bad education 
 of our generals. 
 
 '• I know very well that you are not of this number, 
 and tliat you have improved to your advantage the 
 time you have spent in learning the art of war and other 
 laudable exercises. I imagine, likewise, that in the 
 memoirs of your father, the great Pericles, you have 
 found many rare stratagems, and that by your diligence 
 you have also collected up and down a great number 
 of others. ISTor do I doubt but that you frequently 
 meditate on these matters, that nothing may be wanting 
 in you that may be of use to a general. Insomuch, 
 that if you find yourself in doubt of anything, you 
 immediately have recourse to those that know it, and 
 spare neither presents nor civilities to incline them to 
 assist you and to teach you the things of wliich you arc 
 ignorant." " Alas ! Socrates," said Pericles, " you 
 flatter me, and flatter me for many things that, I am 
 afraid, I am deficient in ; but by that you instruct me 
 in my duty." 
 
 Upon this Socrates, interrupting him — "I will," 
 said he, " give you an adWce. Have you not observed 
 that in the high mountains, which are the frontiers of 
 Attica, and divide it from Boeotia, the roads through 
 which you must of necessity pass to go from one 
 country to the other are very rough and narrow ? " 
 " Tes, I have." " Tell me, besides, have you never 
 heard say that the Mysians and the Pisidians, who are 
 in possession of advantageous places where tliey dwell 
 in the dominions of the King of Persia, arm themselves 
 lightly, and make continual inroads upon the neigh- 
 bouring provinces, and by that means are very trouble-
 
 116 THE MEMOliABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 some to tliat king's subjects, and preserve tlieir owu 
 liberty ? " "I Lave heard so." "It is probable, too," 
 eoiitiimed Socrates, " tliat if the Atheuians would 
 possess themselves of the mountains that are between 
 Boeotia and Attica, and if they took care to send 
 thither some young men with arms proper for in- 
 roaders, our enemies would bo muc]i prejudiced by 
 them, and all those mountains would be as a great 
 rampart to cover our country from their insults." "I 
 believe what you say," answered Pericles, " and take 
 all the advices you have given me to be very good." 
 " If you think them so," replied Socrates, " endeavour, 
 my friend, to put them in practice ; for if any of them 
 succeed you will receive the lionour, and the Republic 
 the profit ; and even though they should not meet with 
 success the Republic would liave no inconvenience to 
 apprehend, uor you the least dishonour." 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 SOCRATES DISSUADES GLAUCON, A VERV FORWARD 
 YOUTH, FROM TAKING UPON HIM THE GOVERN- 
 MENT OF THE REPUBLIC, FOR WHICH HE WAS 
 
 UNFIT. 
 
 A YOUNG man whose name was Glaucou, the son of 
 Ariston, had so fixed it in his head to govern the 
 Republic, that before lie was twenty years of age he 
 frequently presented himself before the people to 
 discourse of affairs of state ; nor was it in the power 
 of his relations or friends to dissuade liim from that 
 design, though all the world laughed at him for it, 
 and though sometimes he was dragged from the
 
 OF SOCliATES. 117 
 
 tribuual by force. Socrates had a kiiiduess for liiiu, 
 upon account of Plato and Charmidas, and lie only it 
 was who made him change his resolution. He met 
 him, and accosted him in so winning a manner, that ho 
 first obliged liim to liearken to his discourse. He began 
 witli him thus : — 
 
 ''You have a mind, then, to govern the Republic, my 
 friend ? " " I have so," answered Glaucou. '' You 
 cannot," replied Socrates, " have a more noble design ; 
 for if you can accomplish it you will be absolute. You 
 will be able to serve your friends, you will raise your 
 family, you will extend the bounds of your country, 
 you will be known not only in Athens but through all 
 Greece, and perJiaps your renown will Hy even to the 
 barbarous nations, as did that of Themistocles. In 
 short, wherever you come you will be respected and 
 admired." 
 
 These words soothed up Glaucon, and won him to 
 give ear to Socrates, who went on in this manner : — 
 " But it is certain, my dear friend, that if you desire 
 to be honoured, you must be useful to the State." 
 " Certainly," said Glaucon. " I conjure yon, then, to 
 tell me," replied Socrates, " what is the first service tliat 
 you desire to render the' State?" Glaucon was con- 
 sidering what to answer, when Socrates continued: — 
 "If you intended to make the fortune of one of your 
 friends, you would endeavour to make him rich, and 
 thus perhaps you will make it your business to enrich 
 the Republic." " I would," answered Glaucou. "Would 
 not the way to enrich the Republic," replied Socrates, 
 " be to increase its revenue ? " " It is very likely it 
 would," said Glaucon. " Tell me, tlien, in what consists 
 the revenue of the State, and to how much it may 
 amount ? I presume you have particularly studied
 
 118 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tliis matter, to tlie end tliat if anytliing should bo lost 
 on one hand, you might know where to make it good 
 on another, and that if a fund should fail on a sudden, 
 you might immediately he ahle to settle another iu 
 its x^lace." '' I protest," answered Glaucon, " I have 
 never thought of this." " Tell me at least the expenses 
 of the Republic, for no doubt you intend to retrench 
 the superfluous," " I never thought of this neither," 
 said Glaucon. " Tou had best, then, put off to another 
 time your design of enriching the Republic, which yo 
 can never be able to do while you are ignorant both of 
 its expense and revenue," 
 
 " There is another way to enrich a State," said 
 Glaucon, " of which you take no notice, and that is by 
 the ruin of its enemies," " You are iu the right," an- 
 swered; Socrates ; " but to this end it is necessary to 
 be stronger than they, otherwise we should run the 
 hazard of losing what we have. He, therefore, who 
 talks of undertaking a war, ought to know the strength 
 on both sides, to the end that if his party be the 
 stronger, he may boldly advise for war, and that if it 
 be the weaker, he may dissuade the j)eople from en- 
 gaging themselves in so dangerous an enterprise," 
 " All this is true." " Tell me, then,'' continued 
 Socrates, " how strong our forces are by sea and land, 
 and how strong are our enemies ? " " Indeed," said 
 Glaucon, " I cannot tell you that on a sudden," " If 
 you have a list of them in writing, pray show it me, I 
 should be glad to hear it read," " I never took a list 
 of them." " I see, then," said Socrates, " tliat we shall 
 not engage in war so soon ; for it is like that the 
 greatness of the undertaking will hinder you from 
 maturely weighing all the consequences of it in the 
 beginning of your government. But," continued ho.
 
 OF SOCRATES. 119 
 
 *' you have tlionglit of the defence of the country, you 
 know what garrisons are necessary, and what are not ; 
 you know what number of troops is suflBcient in ono 
 garrison, and not sufficient in another ; you will cause 
 the necessary garrisons to be reinforced, and will dis- 
 band those that are useless ? " "I should be of opinion," 
 said Glaucon, " to leave none of them on foot, because 
 they ruin a country, on pretence of defending it." 
 " But," Socrates objected, " if all the garrisons were 
 taken away, there would be nothing to hinder the first 
 comer from carrying off what he pleased. But how 
 come you to know that the garrisons behave themselves 
 so ill ? Have you been upon the j)lace, have you seen 
 Ihemp" "Not at all; but I suspect it to be so." 
 " When, therefore, we are certain of it," said Socrates, 
 " and can speak upon better grounds than simple con. 
 jectures, we will propose this advice to the Senate." 
 " It will be very proper to do so," said Glaucou. 
 
 " It comes into my mind too," continued Socrates, 
 " that you have never been at the mines of silver, to 
 examine why they bring not in so. much now as they 
 did formerly." " You say true, I have never been 
 there." " Indeed, they say the place is very un- 
 healthy, and that may excuse you.'' " You rally me 
 now," said Glaucon. Socrates added, " But I be- 
 lieve you have at least observed how much corn our 
 lands produce, how long it wiU serve to supply our 
 city, and how much more we shall want for the whole 
 year, to the end you may not be surprised with a 
 scarcity of bread, but may give timely orders for the 
 necessary provisions." " There is a deal to do," said 
 Glaucon, " if we must take care of all these things." 
 " There is so," replied Socrates ; " and it is even im- 
 possible to manage our oayu familios well unless we
 
 120 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 know all that is Traiitiiig, and take care to provide it. 
 As you see, therefore, that our city is composed of 
 above ten tliousand families, and it being a difficult 
 task to watch over them all at once, why did you not 
 first try to retrieve your uncle's affairs, which are 
 running to decay, that after having given a proof of 
 your care, faithfulness, and capacity in that smaller 
 trust, you might have taken upon you a greater? 
 But now, when you find yourself incapable of aiding a 
 private man, how can you think of behaving yourself 
 so as to be useful to a whole people ? Ought a man 
 who has not strength enough to carry a hundred pound 
 weight undertake to carry a burden that is much 
 heavier?" " I would have done good' service to my 
 uncle," said Glaucon, " if he would have taken my ad- 
 vice." " How ! " replied Socrates ; " have you hitherto 
 been unable to govern your uncle, who is but one 
 person, and do you imagine, when you have failed in 
 that, to govern the whole Athenians, whose minds are 
 so fickle and inconstant ? Take heed, my dear Glaucon, 
 take lieed, lest a too great desire of glory should 
 render you despised. Consider how dangerous it is to 
 speak and employ ourselves about things we do not 
 understand. What a figure do those forward and rash 
 people make in the world who do so : and you yourself 
 may judge whether they acquire more esteem than 
 blame, whether they are more admired than con- 
 temned. Think, on the contrary, with how much 
 honour a man is regarded who understands i)erf cctly 
 what he says and what ho does, and then you will 
 confess that renown a-iid applause have always been 
 the recompense of true merit:, and sliamo the reward of 
 ignorance and temerity. If, therefore, you would bo 
 hououred, endeavour to be a man of true merit,
 
 OF SOCliATES. 121 
 
 foi" if you enter upou the government of the Republic 
 with a mind more sagcacions than usual, I shall not 
 wonder if you succeed in all your designs." 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 SOCRATES PERSUADETH CHARMIDAS, A PERSON OF 
 MERIT AND GREAT CAPACITY, BUT VERY MODEST 
 AND DIFFIDENT OF HIMSELF, TO UNDERTAKE 
 THE GOVERNMENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 As Socrates, who was ever watchful for the interests 
 of his country, and consulted the good of every one 
 with whom he conversed, took care, on the one hand, to 
 dissuade persons who had no capacity for it, however 
 bent they were upon the thing, from entering upou 
 any offices of trust, so he was ever mindful, on the 
 other, to persuade those that were bashful and diffident 
 to take upon themselves the government of the Re- 
 public, provided he knew they had proper talents and 
 abilities for it. In confirmation whereof we shall here 
 relate a conversation of his Avith Charmidas, the son of 
 Glaucon. Socrates, who knew him to be a man of 
 sense and merit, and more capable to govern the 
 Republic than ehj that were then in that post, but 
 withal a person very diffident of himself — one that 
 dreaded the people, and was mightily averse from en- 
 gaging himself in public business — addressed himself 
 to him in this manner : — 
 
 '' Tell me, Charmidas, if you knew any man who 
 could gain the prizes in the public games, and bj' that 
 means render himself illustrious, and acquire glory to 
 his country, what would you say of him if he refused
 
 122 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 to offer lilniself to tlie combat?" "I would say," 
 answered Cliarmidas, " that lie was a mean-spirited, 
 effeminate fellow." " And if a man were capable of 
 governing a Republic, of increasing its power by Lis 
 advices, and of raising liimseK by tbis means to a liigli 
 degree of honour, would you not brand him likewise 
 with meanness of soul if he would not j)resent himself 
 to be employed h " " Perhaps I might," said Char- 
 midas; "but why do you ask me this question?" 
 *' Because you are capable," replied Socrates, " of 
 managing the affairs of the Republic, and yet you avoid 
 doing so, though in the quality of a citizen you are 
 obliged to take care of the commonwealth," "And 
 wherein have you observed this capacity in me ? " 
 ''When I have seen you in conversation with the 
 Ministers of State," answered Socrates ; " for if they 
 impart any affairs to you, I see you give them good 
 advice, and when they commit any errors you make 
 them judicious remonstrances." " But there is a very 
 great difference, my dear Socrates," replied Cliarmidas, 
 " between discoursing in private and contending in a 
 public manner before the i)eople." " And yet," replied 
 Socrates, " a skilful arithmetician can calculate as well 
 in x^resence of several persons as when alone ; and they 
 who can play well upon the lute in their closets play 
 likewise well in company." " But you know," said 
 Charmidas, " that fear and shame, w^hich are so natural 
 to man, affect us more in public assemblies than in 
 private companies." "Is it possible," said Socrates, 
 " that you can converse so unconcernedly with men of 
 parts and authority, and that you should not liavo 
 assurance enough to speak to fools ? Are you afraid 
 to present yourself before dyers, shoemakers, masons, 
 smiths, labourers, and brokers ? for of such are com-
 
 OF SOCRATES. 123 
 
 posed tlie popular assemblies. This is tlio same thing 
 as to bo tliG most expert in a f eucing-school, and to fear 
 the thrust of an unskilful person who never handled a 
 foil. Thus you, though you speak boldly in the presence 
 of the chief men of the Republic, among whom there 
 might perhaps be found some who would despise you, 
 dare not, nevertheless, speak in the presence of an 
 illiterate multitude, wlio know nothing of the aifairs of 
 state, and w^ho are not capable of despising you, and 
 you fear to be laughed at by them." " Do they not 
 usually," said Charmidas, " laugh at those who speak 
 best ? " " So likewise," said Socrates, " do the men of 
 quality with whom you converse every day ; and I am 
 surprised that you have eloquence and persuasive sense 
 sufficient to bring these to reason, and that you think 
 not yourself capable even to approach the others. Learn 
 to know yourself better, Charmidas, and take care not 
 to fall into a fault that is almost general ; for all men 
 inquire curiously enough into the aifairs of others, but 
 they never enter into their own bosoms to examine 
 themselves as they ouglit. 
 
 "Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter, 
 consider yourself with more attention, and let not slip 
 the occasions of serving the Republic, and of rendering 
 it, if possible, more flourishing than it is. This will be 
 a blessing, whose influence will descend not only on the 
 other citizens, but on your best friends and yourself."
 
 124: THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER Yni. 
 
 SOCRATES' DISPUTE WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING 
 THE GOOD AND BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 One day Aristippus proposed a captious question to 
 Socrates, meaning to surprise him ; and this by Avay of 
 revenge, for Ids having before put him to a stand : but 
 Socrates answered him warily, and as a person who has 
 no other design in his conversations than the improve- 
 ment of his hearers. 
 
 Tlie question which Aristippus asked him was 
 whether he knew in the world any good thing, and if 
 Socrates had answered him that meat, or drink, or 
 riches, or health, or strength, or courage are good 
 things, he would forthwith have shown him that it may 
 happen that they are very bad. He therefore gave him 
 such an answer as he ought ; and because he knew very 
 well that when we feel any indisposition we earnestly 
 desire to find a remedy for it, he said to him : " Do 
 you ask me, for example, whether I know anything 
 that is good for a fever ? " " No," said Aristippus. 
 ** Or for sore eyes ? " said Socrates. " Neither." " Do 
 you mean anything that is good against hunger ? " 
 " Not in the least," answered Aristippus. " I promise 
 you," said Socrates, "that if you ask me for a good 
 thing that is good for nothing, I know no such thing, 
 nor have anything to do with it." 
 
 Aristippus pressed him yet further, and asked him 
 whether he knew any beautiful thing. "I know a 
 great many," said Socrates. " Are they all like one 
 another ? " continued Aristippus. " Not in the least," 
 answered Socrates, " for they are very different from 
 one another." " And liow is it possil)lo that twq
 
 OF SOCRATES. 125 
 
 beautiful tiling's should be contrary one to the other ? " 
 " This," said Socrates, " is seen every day in men : a 
 beautiful make and disposition of body for runnins: is 
 very different from a beautiful make and disposition 
 for ^vrestling : the excellence and beauty of a buckler 
 is to cover -well him that wears it. On the contrary, the 
 excellence and beauty of a dart is to be light and 
 piercing." "You answer me," said Aristippus, "as 
 you answered me before, when I asked you whether 
 you knew any good thing." " And do you think," 
 replied Socrates, " that the good and the beautiful are 
 different ? Know you not that the things that are 
 beautiful are good likewise in the same sense 9 It 
 would be false to say of virtue that in certain occasions 
 it is beautiful, and in others good. When we speak of 
 men of honour we join the two qualities, and call them 
 excellent and good. In our bodies beauty and good- 
 ness relate always to the same end. In a word, all 
 things that are of any use in the world are esteemed 
 beautiful and good, with regard to the subject for 
 which they are proper.'' " At this rate you might find 
 beauty in a basket to carry dung," said Aristippus. 
 "Yes, if it be well made for that use," answered 
 Socrates ; " and, on the contrary, I would say that a 
 buckler of gold was ugly if it was ill-made." " Would 
 you say," pursued Aristippus, '' that the same thing 
 may be beautiful and ugly at once ? " "I would say 
 that it might be good and bad. Often what is good 
 for hunger is bad for a fever ; and what is good for a 
 fever is very bad for liunger ; often wliat is beautiful 
 to be done in running is ugly to be done in wrestling ; 
 and what is beautiful to do in wrestling is ugly in 
 running. For all things are reputed beaut if uj. and 
 ^ood when they are compared with those which thej
 
 126 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 suit or become, as they are esteemed ugly and bad 
 when compared with those they do not become." 
 
 Thus we see that when Socrates said that beautiful 
 houses were the most convenient, he taught plainly 
 enough in what manner we ought to build them, and 
 he reasoned thus : " Ought not he who builds a house to 
 study chiefly liow to make it most pleasant and most 
 convenient ? " This proposition being granted, he pur- 
 sued : " Is it not a pleasure to have a house that is cool 
 in summer and warm in winter ? And does not this 
 happen in buildings that front towards the south? 
 For the beams of the sun enter into the apartments in 
 winter, and only pass over the covering in summer. 
 For this reason the houses that front towards the south 
 ought to be very high, that they may receive the sim in 
 winter ; and, on the contrary, those tliat front towards 
 the north ought to be very low, that they may be less ex- 
 posed to the cold winds of that quarter." In short, he used 
 to say, that ho had a very beautiful and very agreeable 
 house, who could live there with ease during all the 
 seasons of the year, and keep there in safety all that he 
 has ; but that for painting and other ornaments, there 
 was more trouble in them than pleasure. 
 
 He said further that retired places, and such as could 
 be seen from afar, were very proper to erect altars and 
 build temples in ; for though we are at a distance from 
 them, yet it is a satisfaction to pray in sight of the 
 holy places, and as they are apart from the haunts of 
 men, innocent souls find more devotion in approaching 
 them.
 
 OP SOCEATES. 127 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SOCRATES RETURNS SUITABLE ANSWERS TO A 
 VARIETY OF QUESTIONS PROPOSED TO HIM. 
 
 Another time being asked whether courage can bo 
 learut as an art or was a gift of Xature, he answered : 
 "In my opinion, as we see many bodies that are naturally 
 more vigorous than others, and that better endure 
 fatigue, so there are some souls that are naturally more 
 brave, and look dangers in the face with greater resolu- 
 tion. For I see some men, who live under the same 
 laws, who are brought up in the same customs, and 
 who are not all equally valiant. jSTevertheless, I believe 
 that education and exercise add much to natural 
 courage. "Whence comes it to pass that the Scythians 
 and the Thracians durst not face the Lacedemonians 
 with pikes and targets ; and, on the contrary, that the 
 Lacedemonians would not fight against the Thracians 
 with shields and darts, nor against the Scythians with 
 bows ? 1 see it to be the same in all other tilings, and 
 that when some men are better inclined by nature for 
 certain things than other men are, they very much 
 advance and perfect themselves in those things by 
 study and diligence. This shows that they who are 
 most favoured by !N'ature, as well as those to wJiom she 
 has been less indulgent, ought to apply themselves 
 assiduously to the things by which they would gain 
 themselves a reputation." 
 
 He allowed no difference between knowledge and 
 temperance ; and he held that iie who knows what is 
 good and embraces it, who knows what is bad and 
 avoids it, is learned and temperate ; and when he was 
 asked whether he believed that they who know very
 
 128 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 well what ought to be done, but do quite otherwise, 
 were learned aud temperate ? " On tlie contrary," 
 answered he, " they are very ignorant and very stupid, 
 for, in my opinion, every man who, in the great 
 number of possible things that offer themselves to him, 
 can discern what is most advantageous for him to do, 
 never fails to do it ; but all who govern not themselves 
 well and as they ought, are neither learned nor men of 
 good morals." 
 
 He said likewise that justice aud every other virtue 
 is only a science, because all the actions of justice and 
 of the other virtues are good and honourable ; and that 
 all who know the beauty of these actions think nothing 
 more charmiug; as, on the contrary, they who are 
 ignorant of them cannot perform any one virtuous 
 action, or, if they attempt to do it, are sure to perform 
 it in a wrong manner. So that the persons only who 
 possess this science can do just and good actions; but 
 all just aud good actions are done by the means of 
 virtue, therefore justice and virtue is only a science. 
 
 He said, moreover, that folly is contrary to know- 
 ledge, and yet he did not allow ignorance to be a folly ; 
 but that not to know oneself, or to imagine one knows 
 what he does not know, is a weakness next to folly. 
 And he observed that among the vulgar a man is not 
 accused of folly for being mistaken in things that are 
 unknown to most of the world, but for mistaking in 
 things which no man mistakes that knows anything at 
 all ; as if any man should think himself so tall as to 
 be obliged to stoop when he came in at the gates of the 
 city ; or if he thought himself so strong as to under- 
 take to carry away whole houses on his back, or to do 
 any other thing visibly impossible, the people would 
 sav that he had lost his wits, which tliey do not say of
 
 OF SOCRATES. 129 
 
 tliosG wlio comuiit only some slight extravagauces ; 
 and as thej give the uame of love to a violent affection 
 only, so they give the uame of folly only to an extra- 
 ordinary disorder of the mind. 
 
 Reflecting on the nature of envy, he said that it is 
 a certain grief of mind, which proceeds, not from tlio 
 misfortune of friends or good fortune of enemies, but 
 (which is very surprising) only from the prosperity of 
 friends. '* For," said he, " those may be truly said to be 
 envious who cannot endure to see their friends happy," 
 But, some wondering whether it were possible for a 
 man to be grieved at the good fortune of his friend, 
 he justified the truth of what he had advanced, by 
 telling them plainly that there are some men so 
 variously affected towards their friends, that, while 
 they are in calamity and distress, they will com- 
 passionate and succour them, but when they are well 
 and in prosperity will fret at and en^y them, " But 
 this," he said, " is a fault from which wise and good 
 men are free, and never to be found but in weak and 
 wicked minds." 
 
 As to idleness, he said that he had observed that 
 most men were always in action, for they who play at 
 dice, or who serve to make others laugh, are doing 
 something, but in effect they are idle, because they 
 might employ themselves more usefully. To which he 
 added, tliat no man finds leisure to quit a good employ- 
 ment for an ill one, and that if he did he would deserve 
 the greater blame, in that he wanted not something to 
 do before. 
 
 He said likewise that the sceptre makes not the 
 
 king, and that princes and governors are not they 
 
 wliom cliance or the choice of the i)eople has raised to 
 
 those dignities, nor those who have established them- 
 
 E— 1-58
 
 130 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 selves iu them by fraud or force, "but they who know 
 how to command ; for if it were allowed that it is tlie duty 
 of a prince to command, as it is the duty of a subject to 
 obey, he showed in consequence of it that in a ship, where 
 there are several persons, the honour of commanding 
 it is given to him who is most capable of it, and that 
 all obey him, without excepting even the owner of the 
 vessel ; that likewise in husbandry, he to whom the 
 land belongs obeys his own servants, if they under- 
 stand agriculture l^etter than himself ; that thus the 
 sick obey the physicians, and they who learn exercises, 
 their masters; nay, that even women are masters of 
 the men in working with tlie needle, because they 
 understand it better than they; in short, that in all 
 things which require care and industry men govern 
 themselves when they think they are capable of doing 
 so ; otherwise, they leave themselves to the conduct of 
 such as they judge to have more capacity, and take 
 care to have them near at hand for that j)urpose. And 
 if any man made him tliis objection, that a tyrant is at 
 liberty not to believe the best advices, he answered, 
 "Why do you say he is at liberty not to do so, seeing he 
 will bear the smart of it ? for every man who shuts his 
 ears to good counsel commits a fault, and this fault is 
 always attended with some damage." And if it were 
 said that a tyrant is permitted to put to death the men 
 of the best parts and understanding in his State, he re- 
 plied again, " Do you think he is not X3unished in losing 
 his chief suj^ports, or that he will be quit for a slight 
 punishment ? Is to govern in tliis manner the way to 
 preserve himself? or rather, is it not the certain 
 means to hasten his own ruin ? " 
 
 Being asked what was the best study for man to 
 apply himself to, he answered, " To do well ; " and
 
 OF SOCRATES. 131 
 
 being asked farther wlietlier good fortune was tlio 
 effect of study, " On the coutrarY," said lie, " I 
 think good fortune and study to be two opposite 
 things ; for what I call good fortune is, when a man 
 meets with what is necessary for him, without the 
 trouble of seeking it ; but when he meets with any good 
 success after a tedious search and labour, it is an 
 effect of study. This is what I call to do well ; and I 
 tliink that all who take delight in this study are for 
 the most part successful, and gain the esteem of men, 
 and the affection of tlie Deity. Such are they as have 
 rendered themselves excellent in economy, in physic, 
 and in politics ; bnt he who knows not any one thing 
 perfectly is neither useful to men, nor beloved by the 
 gods." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 £OCr.ATES, IN COXYEESATION WITH SEVERAL ARTI- 
 FICERS, A PAINTER, A STATUARY, AND AN AR- 
 MOURER, SHOWETH HIS SKILL AND GOOD TASTE 
 IN THE FINER ARTS. 
 
 As Socrates studied to be useful in all his conversa- 
 tions, so he never happened to be in company even 
 with tradesmen but he always said something that 
 might be of service to them. Going once into the 
 shop of the painter Pan-hasius, he entertained himself 
 with him in the following manner : — 
 
 " Is not painting/' said he, " a representation of all 
 w6 see ? For with a few colours you represent on a 
 canvas mountains and caverns, light and obscurity; 
 you cause to be observed the difference between soft 
 things and hard, between tilings smooth and rough ;
 
 132 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 you give youtli and old age to bodies ; and wlien you 
 would represent a perfect beauty, it being impossible 
 to find a body but what lias some defect, your way is 
 to regard several, and taking Avliat is beautiful from 
 each of them, you make one that is accomplished in 
 all its parts." "We do so," said Parrhasius. "Can 
 you represent likewise," said Socrates, "what is most 
 charming and most lovely in the person, I mean the 
 inclination ? " " How think you," answered Parrha- 
 sius, " we can paint what cannot be expressed by any 
 proportion, nor with any colour, and that has nothing 
 in common with any of those things you mentioned, 
 and wliich the pencil can imitate ; in a word, a thing 
 that cannot be seen ? " " Do not the very looks of 
 men," replied Socrates, " confess either hatred or 
 friendship ? " " In my opinion they do," said Parrha- 
 sius. " You can then make hatred and friendsliip 
 appear in the eyes?" "I own we can." "Do you 
 think likewise," continued Socrates, " that they who 
 concern themselves either in the adversity or pros- 
 perity of friends, keep the same look with those who 
 are wholly unconcerned for either ? " " By no means," 
 said he, "for during the prosperity of our friends, our 
 looks are gay and full of joy, but in their adversity 
 we look cloudy and dejected." "This, then, may 
 bo painted likewise ? " " It may." " Besides," said 
 Socrates, " magnificence, generosity, meanness of mind, 
 cowardice, modesty, prudence, insolence, rusticity, all 
 ajjpear in the looks of a man, whether sitting or stand- 
 ing." " You say true." " And cannot the pencil imi- 
 tate all this likewise ? " " It may." *' And in which 
 do you take most pleasure," said Socrates, " in regard- 
 ing the picture of a man whose external appearance 
 discovereth a good natural disposition, and bespeaks
 
 OF SOCRATES. 13'3 
 
 au lioucst man, or of one ayIio wears iu his face tlio 
 marks of a vicious iiieliuatioii ? " " There is no com- 
 parison between them," said Parrhasius. 
 
 Another time, talking with Clito the sculptor, he said 
 to him, " I wonder not that you make so great a differ- 
 ence between the statue of a man who is running a race 
 and that of one who stands his ground to wait for hiy 
 antagonist with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to 
 play a prize at all sorts of defence ; but what ravishes 
 the Ijeholdors is, tliat your statues seem to be alive. I 
 would fain know by what art you imprint upon them 
 this Avonderful vivacity ? " Clito, surprised at this 
 question, stood considering what to answer, when 
 Socrates went on : — "Perhaps you take great care to 
 make them resemble the living persons, and tliis is the 
 reason that they seem to live likewise." " It is so," said 
 Clito. " You must then," replied Socrates, " observe 
 very exactly in the different postures of the body what 
 are the natural dispositions of all tlie parts, for when 
 some of them stoop down, the others raise tliemselves 
 up ; when some are contracted, the others stretch them- 
 selves out ; when some are stiff with straining, others 
 relax themselves ; and when you imitate all this, you 
 make your statues approach very near the life." " You 
 say true," said Clito. "Is it not true likewise," re- 
 plied Socrates, " that it is a great satisfaction to 
 beholders to see all the jjassions of a man who is in 
 action well expressed ? Tlius, in the statue of a 
 gladiator who is fighting, you must imitate the sternness 
 of look with which he threatens his enemy ; on the 
 contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of 
 gaiety and content." " There is no doubt of what you 
 say." " We may then conclude," said Socrates, " that it 
 is the part of an excellent statuary to express the various
 
 134 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 affections and passions of the soul, by representing 
 sucli-and-sucli motions and postures of the body as are 
 commonly exerted in real life wlieneYer the mind is so- 
 and-so affected." 
 
 Another time, Socrates being in the shop of Pistias 
 the armourer, who showed him some corselets that 
 were very well made : " I admire," said Socrates to 
 him, " the invention of these arms that cover the body 
 in the places where it has most need of being de- 
 fended, and nevertheless are no hindrance to the 
 motions of the hands and arms ; but tell me why you 
 sell the suits of armour you make dearer than the other 
 workmen of the city, since they are not stronger nor 
 of better- tempered or more valuable metal ? " "I sell 
 them dearer than others," answered Pistias, "because 
 they are better made than theirs." " In what does 
 this make consist ? " said Socrates, " in the weight, or 
 in the largeness of the arms? And yet you make 
 them not all of the same weight nor of the same size, 
 but to fit every man." "They must be fit," said 
 Pistias, " otherwise they would be of no use." " But 
 do you not know," replied Socrates, " that some bodies 
 are well-shaped and others not ? " "I know it well." 
 " How, then," continued Socrates, " can you make a 
 well-shaped suit of armour for an ill-shaped body ? " 
 "It will be sufficient if they are fit for him," answered 
 Pistias ; " for wliat is fit is Avell made." " Tou are of 
 opinion, then," added Socrates, " that one cannot judge 
 whether a thing bo well made, considering it merely 
 in itself, but in regard to the person who is to use it ; 
 as if you said that a liuckler is y\^o11 made for him 
 whom it fits, and in like manner of a suit of clotlies 
 and any other thing whatsoever. But I think there 
 is another convenience in having a suit of armour
 
 OF SOCEATES. 135 
 
 well ir.ado/' "What do you take that to be?" said 
 Pistias. " I think," answered Socrates, " a suit of 
 armoiir that is well made does not load the iDearer so 
 much as one ill made, even though it weigh as much. 
 For ill-made arms, by pressing too much upon the 
 shoulders, or hanging cumbrous on some other part, 
 become almost insupportable, and greatly incommode 
 the person that weareth them. But those arms which, 
 as they ought, distribute an equal weight to all the 
 j)arts of the body, that join upon the neck, the 
 shuolders, the breast, the back, and the hips, may be 
 said to be glued to the body, and to weigh notliing at 
 all." " For this," said Pistias, " I value the arms I 
 make. It is true that some choose rather to part with 
 their money for arms that are gilt and finely carved, 
 but if with all this they fit not easy upon them, I 
 think they buy a rich inconveniency." Socrates went 
 on : — " But since tlie body is not always in the same 
 posture, but sometimes bends, and sometimes raises 
 itself straight, how can arms that are very fit be con- 
 venient and easy ? " " They never can," said Pistias. 
 " Tour opinion therefore is," said Socrates, " that the 
 best arms are not those that are most fit, and fit closest 
 to the body, but those that do not incommode tlie 
 person that wears them." "Ton, too, are of the same 
 opinion," replied Pistias, " aud you understand the 
 matter ario:ht."
 
 136 THE MEMOPvAELE THuUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH THEODOTA, AN 
 ATHENIAN LADY, OP NO GOOD CHARACTER; 
 WHEREIN HE ENDEAVOURETH, IN THE MOST 
 ARTFUL AND ENGAGING MANNER, TO WIN HER 
 OVER FROM THE CRIMINAL PLEASURES TO 
 WHICH SHE WAS ADDICTED UNTO THE SUB- 
 LIMER AND MORE INNOCENT DELIGHTS OF 
 PHILOSOPHY AND VIRTUE. 
 
 There was at Athens a very beautiful lady called 
 Theodota, wlio had the character o£ a loose dame. 
 Some person was speaking of her in presence of 
 Socrates, and saying that she was the most beautiful 
 woman in the whole world ; tliat all the painters went 
 to see her, to draw lier picture, and that they were very 
 well received at her house. " I think," said Socrates, 
 *' we ought to go see her too, for we shall be better 
 able to judge of her beauty after we have seen her 
 ourselves than upon the bare relation of others." The 
 person who began the discourse encouraged tlie matter, 
 and tliat very moment they all went to Theodota's 
 house. They found her with a painter who was draw- 
 ing her picture ; and having considered her at leisure 
 when the painter had done, Socrates began thus :^ 
 " Do you thiuk that we are more obliged to Theodota 
 for having afforded us the sight of her boauty than 
 she is to us for coming to see her ? If all the advan- 
 tage be on her side, it must be owned that she i3 
 obliged to us ; if it bo on ours, it must be confessed that 
 we are so to her." Some of the company saying there 
 was reason to think so, Socrates continued in tlicse 
 words:— ''Has she not already had the advantage of
 
 OF SOCRATES. 137 
 
 receiviug the praises "sve liave given lier? But it will 
 bo yet a much greater to her when we make known 
 her merit in all the companies we come into ; but as 
 for ourselves, what do we carry from hence except a 
 desire to enjoy the things we liave seen ? "We go 
 hence with souls full of love and uneasiness ; and from 
 this time forward we must obey Theodota in all she 
 pleases to enjoin ns." " If it be so," said Theodota, 
 "I must return you many thanks for your coming 
 hither." Meanwhile Socrates took notice tliat she was 
 magnificently apparelled, and that her mother appeared 
 likewise like a woman of condition. He saw a great 
 number of women attendants elegantly dressed, and 
 that the whole house was richly furnished. He took 
 occasion from hence to inform himself of her circum- 
 stances in the world, and to ask her whether she had 
 an estate in land or houses in the city, or slaves, whose 
 labour supplied the expenses of her family. " I have 
 nothing," answered she, " of all this ; my friends are 
 my revenue. I subsist by their liberality." 
 
 Upon which Socrates remarked that " friendship 
 was one of tlie greatest blessings in life, for that a 
 good friend could stand one in stead of all possessions 
 whatever." And he advised Theodota to try all lier 
 art to procure to herself some lovers and friends that 
 might render her happy. Tlie lady asking Socrates 
 whether there were any artifices to be used for tliat 
 purpose, he answered, '• there were," and proceeded to 
 mention several : — " Some for attracting the regard of 
 the men, some for insinuating into their hearts ; others 
 for securing their affections and managing their 
 passions.'"' Whereupan Theodota, whoso soul then lay 
 open to any impression, mistaking the virtuous design 
 of Socrates in the whole of tliis discourse for an in-
 
 138 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tention of another sort, cried out in raptures, " All ! 
 Socrates, why will not you help me to friends ? " "I 
 will," replied Socrates, ''if you can persuade me to do 
 80." ''And what means must I use to persuade you ? " 
 "You must invent the means," said Socrates, "if you 
 want me to serve you." '' Then come to see me often," 
 added Theodota. Socrates laughed at the simplicity 
 of the woman, and in raillery said to her, " I have not 
 leisure enough to come and see you ; I have both 
 public and private affairs which take up too much of 
 my time. Besides, I have mistresses who will not 
 suffer me to be from them neither day nor night, and 
 who against myself make use of the very charms and 
 sorceries that I have taught them." " And have you 
 any knowledge in those things, too ? " said she. 
 "Why do Apollodorus and Antisthenes," answered 
 Socrates, "never leave me ? why do Cebes and Simmias 
 forsake Thebes for my company? This they would 
 not do if I were not master of some charm." " Lend 
 it me," said Theodota, " that I may employ it against 
 you, and charm you to come to me." " ITo,'' said 
 Socrates, " but I will charm you, and make you come 
 to me." " I will," said Theodota, " if you will promise 
 to make me welcome." " I promise you I will," 
 answered Socrates, "provided there be nobody with 
 me whom I love better than vou."
 
 OF SOCRATES. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OF THE NECESSITY OF EXERCISE TO HEALTH AND 
 STRENGTH OF BODY. 
 
 A31ONG others who frequented Socrates, tliere was a 
 young man whose name was Epigenes, and who was 
 very awkward in his person and behaviour, and liad 
 contracted an iU liabit of body, having never learnt nor 
 used any exercise. Socrates reproached him for it, and 
 told him that it was unworthy of any man to be so 
 negligent of himself. Epigenes slightly answered 
 that be was under no obligation to do better. " Tou 
 are no less obliged to it," replied Socrates, " than they 
 who train themselves up for the Olympic Games. For 
 do you believe that to fight for one's life against the 
 enemies of the Republic, which we are all ol^liged to do 
 when the Athenians j)l(?ase to command us, is a less 
 important occasion than to contend with antagonists 
 for a prize ? How many men arc there who, for want 
 of strength, perish in fights ; or have recourse to dis- 
 honourable means to seek their safety ? Some are 
 taken prisoners, and remain in slavery all the rest of 
 their days, or are forced to pay so great a ransom, as 
 makes them live poor and miserable ever afterwards : 
 others are ill thought of, and their weakness is imputed 
 to cowardice. And do you value so little all tlieso 
 misfortunes, which constantly attend an ill habit of 
 body, and do they seem to you so slight ? In my 
 opinion, there are no fatigues in the exercises but what 
 are more easy and more agreeable. But perhaps you 
 desj)ise the advantages of a good disposition of body : 
 nevertheless, they are considerable; for men in that 
 condition enjoy a perfect health, they are robust and
 
 140 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 active, they come off from combats with honour, they 
 escape from dangers, they succour their friends, they 
 render great services to their country. For these 
 reasons they are well received wherever they come, 
 they are in good reputation with all men, they attain to 
 the highest offices, they live the more honourably and 
 the more at ease, and they leave their posterity the most 
 noble examples. If, therefore, you do not practise the 
 military exercises in public, you ought not to neglect 
 the doing so in private, but to apply yourself to them 
 with all possible diligence. 
 
 " To have the body active and healthy can be hurt- 
 ful to you in no occasions : and since we cauLot do 
 anything without the body, it is certain that a good 
 constitution will be of great advantage to us in all our 
 undertakings. Even in study, where there seems to be 
 least need of it, we know many persons who could never 
 make any great progress for want of health. Forget- 
 fulness, melancholy, loss of appetite, and folly, are the 
 diseases that generally proceed from the indisposition 
 of the body; and these diseases sometimes seize the 
 mind witli so great violence, that they wipe out even 
 the least remembrance of what we knew before. But 
 in health we have nothing like this to fear, and conse- 
 quently there is no toil which a judicious man would 
 not willingly undergo to avoid all these misfortunes. 
 And, indeed, it is shameful for a man to grow old 
 before he has tried his own strength, and seen to what 
 degree of dexterity and perfection he can attain, which 
 he can never know if ho give himself over for useless ; 
 because dexterity and strength come not of themselves, 
 but by practice and exercise."
 
 OF SOCKATES. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SEVERAL APOPHTHEGMS OF SOCEATES. 
 
 A CERTAIN man being vexed tliat lie had saluted one 
 who did not return his civility, Socrates said to him, 
 " It is ridiculous in you to be uuconcemed when you 
 meet a sick man in the way, aud to be vexed for having 
 met a rude feUow," 
 
 2. Another was saying that he had lost his appetite 
 and coidd eat nothing. Socrates, having heard it, told 
 him he could teach him a remedy for that. The man 
 asking what it was, " Fast," said he, " for some time, 
 anJ 1 will warrant you will be in better health, spend 
 less money, and cat with more satisfaction afterwards." 
 
 3. Another complained that the water which came 
 into the cistern was warm, and nevertheless he was 
 forced to drink it. " Tou ought to be glad of it," said 
 Socrates, " for it is a bath ready for you, whenever you 
 have a mind to bathe yourself," '' It is too cold to 
 bathe in," replied the other. " Do your servants," said 
 Socrates, "find any inconvenience in drinking it, or in 
 bathing in it ? " "•' No, but I wonder how they can 
 suffer it." "Is it," continued Socrates, "warmer to 
 drink than that of the temple of ^sculapius ? " "It 
 is not near so warm." " You see, then," said Socrates, 
 " that you are harder to please than your own servants, 
 or even than the sick themselves." 
 
 4. A master having beaten his servant most cruelly, 
 Socrates asked him why he was so angry with him. 
 The master answered, " Because he is a drunkard, n 
 lazy fellow who loves money, and is always idle." 
 *' Suppose he be so," said Socrates : " but be your oavu
 
 142 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 judge, aud tell me, wliicli of you two deserves ratlier to 
 be punished for tliose faults ? "' 
 
 5, Another made a difficulty of undertaking- a journey 
 to Olympia. "What is the reason," said Socrates to 
 him, " that you are so much afraid of walking, you, 
 who walk up aud down about your house almost all day 
 long ? Ton ought to look upon this journey to be only 
 a walk, and to think that you will walk away the 
 morning till dinner-time, and the afternoon till supper, 
 and thus you will insensibly find yourself at your 
 journey's end. For it is certain that in five or six days' 
 time you go more ground in walking up and down than 
 you need to do in going from Athens to Olympia. I 
 will tell you one thing more : it is much better to set 
 out a day too soon than a day too late ; for it is trouble- 
 some to be forced to go long journeys; and on the 
 contrary, it is a great ease to have the advantage of a 
 day beforehand.. Ton were better therefore to hasten 
 your departure than be obliged to make haste upon the 
 road." 
 
 6. Another telling him that he had been a great 
 journey, and was extremely weary, Socrates asked 
 whether he had carried anything. The other answered 
 tliat he had carried nothing but his cloak. "Were you 
 alone ? " said Socrates. '' 'No ; I had a slave with me." 
 " Was not he loaded ? " continued Socrates. " Yes, 
 for he carried all my things." " And how did he find 
 himself upon the road ? " " Much better than I." 
 '' And if you had been to carry what he did, what 
 ■W'ould have become of you?" "Alas!" said he, "I 
 should never have been able to have done it." " Is it 
 not a shame," added Socrates, " in a man like you, who 
 have gone through all the exercises, not to be able to 
 undergo as much fatigue as his slave? "
 
 OF SOCRATES. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 SOCEATES PE,OPOSETH SOME KEGULATIOXS FOR THE 
 BETTER MAXAGEMEXT OF THEIR PUBLIC FEASTS. 
 
 Socrates liaYing observed that in public suppers every 
 oue brouglit his own dish of meat, and that sometimes 
 some brought more and others less, was wont, when 
 this happened, to bid a servant set the least dish in the 
 middle of the table, and to give some of it to all the 
 company. Xo man could, in civility, refuse it, nor 
 exempt himself from doing the like with his own dish, 
 insomuch that every man had a taste of the whole, and 
 all fared alike. Tliis in some measure banished luxury 
 and expensiveness from these feasts. For they who 
 would have laid out a great deal of money in delicacies 
 cared no longer to do so, because they would have been 
 as much for others as for themselves. 
 
 Being one day in these assemblies, and seeing a 
 young man who ate his meat without bread, he took 
 occasion to rally him for it upon a question that was 
 started touching the imposing of names. " Can we 
 give any reason," said he, "why a man is called 
 flesh-eater — that is to say, a devoiu'er of flesh ?— for 
 every man eats flesh when lie has it ; and I do not 
 believe it to be upon that account that a man is called 
 so." " Xor I neither," said one of the company. " But," 
 continued Socriites, '' if a man takes delight to eat his 
 meat without bread, do you not take him to be, indeed, 
 a flesh-eater .P " "I should think it difficult to find 
 another who better would deserve that name." Upon 
 which somebody else taking the word said, '"' What 
 think you of him who, with a little bread only, eats a 
 great deal of flesh ? " "I should," replied Socrates,
 
 1-M THE ME3I0RABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 *' judge liim, (oo, to be a flesli-eater ; and whereas 
 others ask of the gods in their prayers to give tliem an 
 abundance of fruits, such men in their petitions it is 
 likely would pray only for abundance of flesh." 
 
 The young man whom Socrates had in mind, sus- 
 pecting that he spoke upon his account, took some 
 bread, but continued still to eat a great deal of flesh 
 with it. Socrates perceived him, and showing him 
 with his finger to those that sat next to him, said to 
 them, '' Take notice of your neighbour, and see whether 
 it be the meat that makes him eat his bread, or ihe 
 bread that makes him eat his meat." 
 
 In a like occasion, seeing a man sop the same morsel 
 of meat in several sauces, he said, " Is it possible to 
 make a sauce that will cost more, and be not so good, 
 as one that is made by taking out of several different 
 sauces at once ? For there being more ingredients 
 than usual, no doubt it costs more ; but then because 
 we mix things together, which the cooks never used to 
 mingle, because they agree not well with one another, 
 we certainly spoil the whole ; and is it not a jest to be 
 curious in having good cooks, and at the same time to 
 be so fantastical as to alter the relish of the dishes 
 they have dressed ? Besides, when we have once got a 
 habit of eating thus of several dishes at once, we are 
 not so well satisfied when we have no longer that 
 variety. Whereas a man who contents himself to eat 
 but of one dish at a time finds no great inconvenience 
 in having but one dish of meat for his dinner." 
 
 Ho made likewise this remark : that to express 
 what the other Greeks called " to eat a meal," the Athe- 
 nians said '' to make good cheer ; " and that the word 
 '* good " shows us that we ought to eat such things only 
 as will neitlier disorder the bodv nor the mind, which, are
 
 OF SOCEATES. 145 
 
 easily had, and purchased without great expense. From 
 wlieuce he inferred that they alone who live temperately 
 and sol3erly can truly be said to make good cheer — 
 that is to say, to eat well. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THAT PERSONS OF GOOD NATURAL PARTS, AS WELL 
 AS THOSE WHO HAVE PLENTIFUL FORTUNES, 
 OUGHT NOT TO THINK THEMSELVES AEOVE IN- 
 STRUCTION. ON THE CONTRARY, THE ONE OUGHT, 
 BY THE AID OF LEARNING, TO IMPROVE THEIR 
 GENIUS ; THE OTHER, BY THE ACQUISITION OF 
 KNOWLEDGE, TO RENDER THEMSELVES VALU- 
 ABLE. 
 
 There was always, as we have already remarked, some 
 improvement to be made with Socrates ; and it must 
 be owned that his company and conversation were 
 very edifying, since even now, when he is no more 
 among us, it is still of advantage to his friends to call 
 him to their remembrance. And, indeed, whether he 
 spoke to divert himself, or whether he spoke seriously, 
 he always let slip some remarkable instructions for the 
 benefit of all that heard him. 
 
 ' He used often to say he was in love, but it was easy 
 to see it was not with the beauty of one's person that 
 he was taken, but with the virtues of his mind. 
 
 The marks of a good genius, he said, were these 
 — a good judgment, a retentive memory, and an 
 ardent desire of useful knowledge ; tlir.t is to sav,
 
 146 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 when a j)erson readily learus what he is taught, and 
 strongly retains what he has learnt, as also when he is 
 curious to know all that is necessary to the good 
 government either of a family or of a republic ; in a 
 word, when one desires to obtain a thorough know- 
 ledge of mankind and of whatever relates to human 
 affairs. And his opinion was that when these good 
 natural parts are cultivated as they ought, such men 
 are not only happy themselves, and govern their 
 families prudently, but are capable likewise to render 
 others happy, and to make republics flourish. 
 
 On the one hand, therefore, whenever he met with 
 any who believed themselves men of parts, and for 
 that reason neglected to be instructed, he proved to 
 them that men of the best natural parts are they who 
 have most need of instruction ; and to this purpose ho 
 alleged the example of a high-mettled horse, who, 
 having' more courage and more strength than others, 
 does us very great service, if he be broke and managed 
 in his youth ; but if that be neglected, he grows so 
 vicious and unruly that we know not what to do with 
 him. Thus also dogs of a good breed, and that by 
 nature are the most strong and mettlesome, are excel- 
 lent for game, if they are well taught ; otherwise they 
 are apt to become high rangers and at no command. 
 In like manner among men they who are blessed with 
 the greatest advantages of ISTature, to whom she has 
 given the most courage and the greawst strength to 
 enable them to succeed in their undertakings, are 
 likewise the most virtuous, and do more good than 
 others, when they meet with a good education ; but if 
 they remain without instruction they fall into an 
 excess of ill, and become most pernicious to them- 
 selves and others. Merely for want of knowing their
 
 OF SOCEATES. 147 
 
 duty tliey often engage tliemselyes in yery wicked 
 designs ; and being imperious and violent, it is yery 
 difficult to keep them within bounds and to make them 
 cliange their resolution, which is the reason they do 
 a great deal of mischief. 
 
 On the other hand, when he saw any of those men 
 who j)icine tliemselyes on their estates, and who belieye 
 because they are men of high condition that they are 
 aboye instruction, or haye no need of it, because their 
 riclies alone are sufficient to gain them the esteem of 
 the world, and to make them succeed in all their 
 undertakings, he endeayoured to conyince them of 
 their error, and to show them that they, too, haye need 
 of instruction. He told them that that man is a fool 
 who imagines with himself that he can know the 
 things that are useful from those that are hurtful, 
 without haying eyer learnt the difference ; or who, 
 not discerning between them, fondly thinks that be- 
 cause he has wherewithal to buy wliatever he has 
 a mind to, he can therefore do whatever may tend to 
 his advantage ; or who, judging himself incapable to 
 do what is useful for himself, thinks, nevertheless, tliat 
 ho is well in the world, and in a safe and happy con- 
 dition of life. That it is likewise a folly for a man to 
 persuade himself tliat, being rich and liaving no merit, 
 he'will pass for a man of parts ; or that, not having tlio 
 rei3utation of being a man of parts, he shall neverthe- 
 less be esteemed.
 
 VtS THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 CONFERENCE BETWEEN SOCRATES AND EUTHY- 
 DEMUS, IN WHICH HE CONVINCES THAT YOUNG 
 MAN, WHO HAD A GREAT OPINION OF HIMSELF, 
 THAT HE KNEW NOTHING. 
 
 When Socrates, on the other hand, found any who 
 soothe themselves np in the belief that they are well 
 instructed, and who boast of their own sufficiency, lio 
 never failed to chastise the vanity of such persons. 
 Of his conduct in this particular I will relate the 
 following instance : — 
 
 He had been told that Euthydemus had bought up 
 several works of the most celebrated poets and sophists, 
 and that this acquisition had so puffed him up with 
 arrogance, that he already esteemed himself the greatest 
 man for learning and parts of any of the age, and 
 pretended to no less than being the first man of the 
 city, eitlier for negotiating or for discoursing in public. 
 Nevertheless, he was still so young that he was not 
 admitted into the assemblies of the people, and if he 
 had any affair to solicit he generally came and placed 
 himself in one of the shops that were near the courts 
 of justice. Socrates, having observed his station, failed 
 not to go thither likewise with two or three of liis 
 friends; and there, being fallen into discourse, this 
 question was smarted : Whether it was by the improving 
 conversation of philosophers or by the strength of his 
 natural parts only, that Themistocles surpassed all his 
 countrymen in wisdom and valour, and advanced him- 
 self to such a high rank and to so great esteem, that 
 all the Republic cast their eyes ujDon him whenever 
 their affairs required the conduct of a man of bravery
 
 OF SOCRATES. 149 
 
 and wisdom ? Socrates, wlio had a mind to reflect 
 upon Euthydcmus, answered that "a man must be 
 very stupid to believe that mechanic arts (which are 
 comparatively things but of small importance) cannot 
 be learnt without masters ; and yet that the art of 
 governing of States, which is a thing of the greatest 
 moment and tliat requires the greatest effort of human 
 prudence, comes of itself into the mind." And this 
 was all that passed in this first interview. 
 
 After this Socrates, observing that Euthydcmus 
 always avoided being in his company, lest he should 
 be taken for one of his admirers, attacked him more 
 openly ; and once when he happened to be where ho 
 was, addressed himself to the rest of the company in 
 these words : — " Certainly, gentlemen, by what may 
 be conjectured from the studies of this young man, it 
 is very likely tliat when he shall have attained the age 
 that permits him to be present in the assemblies of the 
 people, if any important affair come to be debated 
 there, he will not fail to give his judgment of it ; and 
 in my ojDinion he would introduce his harangue by 
 a very pleasant exordium, if he should begin with 
 giving them to understand that he had never learnt 
 anything of any man whatsoever; he must addi-css 
 himself to them in words to this purpose : — 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, I have never been taught anytliing, T 
 never frequented the conversation of men of parts, I 
 never gave myself the trouble to look out for a master 
 that was able to instruct me. On the contrary, gentle- 
 men, I have not only had an aversion to learn from 
 others, but I should even have been very sorry to have 
 it believed I had done so ; nevertheless, I will venture 
 to tell you what chance shall suggest to me in this 
 present occasion.' At tins rate they wlio present
 
 150 THE MEBIORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 tliemselves to he received physicians miglit introduce 
 a like discourse as tlius : — ■' Gentlemen, I have never 
 had any master to teach me this science ; for, indeed, 
 I would never learn it, nor even have the repute of 
 having learnt it ; nevertheless, admit me a pliysician, 
 and I will endeavour to become learned in the art by 
 making experiments on your own bodies.' " 
 
 All the company fell a-laughing at this pleasant 
 preface, and from that time Euthydemus never avoided 
 Socrates' company as he had done before ; but he never 
 offered to speak, believing that his silence would be an 
 argument of his modesty. Socrates, being desirous to 
 rally him out of that mistaken notion, spoke to him in 
 this manner : — 
 
 "I wonder that they who desire to learn to play 
 upon the lute, or to ride well, do not endeavour to 
 learn it alone by themselves ; but that they look out 
 for masters, resolved to do everything they bid tlicm, 
 and to believe all they say, there being no other vray to 
 arrive at X3erf ection in those arts ; and that they who 
 hope one day to govern the Republic, and to declaim 
 before ilie people, imagine they can become fit to do 
 so of themselves all of a sudden. ^Nevertheless, it 
 must be owned that these employments are more diffi- 
 cult than the others, since among the great number of 
 persons who j)ush themselves into office so few dis- 
 charge their duty as they ought. Tliis shows us that 
 more labour and diligence is required in sucli as would 
 capacitate themselves for those offices than for any- 
 thing else." 
 
 By these discourses, Socrates having prepared the 
 mind of Euthydemus to hearken to what he intended 
 to say to him, and to enter into conference with him, 
 he came another time by himself into the same shop,
 
 OE SOCEATES. 151 
 
 and taking a seat next to tLis young man — " I have 
 heard," said lie to liim, "tliat you liave been curious in 
 buying a great many good books." "I liave," said 
 Euthydemns, " and continue to do so every day, de- 
 signing to have as many as I can get." '■' I commend 
 you very mucb," said Socrates, "for choosing rather to 
 hoard up a treasure of learning and knoTrledge than of 
 money. For you testify by so doing that you are not 
 of opinion that riches, or silver and gold, can render 
 one more valuable, that is to say, a wiser or a better 
 man ; but that it is only the writings and precepts of 
 the philosophers and other fine writers that are the 
 true riches, because they enrich with virtue the minds 
 of those that possess them." Euthydemus was pleased 
 to hear him say this, believing that he approved Ids 
 method ; and Socrates, j)erceiving his satisfaction, 
 went on : " But what is your design of making a 
 collection of so many books ? Do you intend to be a 
 physician ? There are many books in that science." 
 " That is not my design," said Euthydemus. " Will 
 you be an architect, then?" said Socrates, "for that 
 art requires a learned man. Or do you study geometry 
 or astrology ? " " ISTone of them." " Do you mean to 
 be a reciter of heroic verses?" continued Socrates, 
 "for I have been told that you have all Homer's 
 works." '•' Xot in the least," answered Euthydemus, 
 "for I have observed that men of that profession 
 know indeed a great many verses by heart, but for any- 
 thing else they are for the most part very impertinent." 
 " Perhaps you are in love with that noble science that 
 makes politicians and economists, and that renders 
 men capable to govern, and to be useful to others and 
 to themselves ? " " That is what I endeavour to 
 Icani," said Euthydemus, " and what I imssionately
 
 152 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 desire to know.'' '' It is a siiblims science," replied 
 Socrates ; "it is that vre call the royal science, be- 
 cause it truly is the science of kings. But have you 
 weighed this point, whether a man can excel in that 
 science without being an honest man ? " "I have," 
 said the young man, " and am even of opinion tliat 
 none but honest men can be good citizens." " And are 
 you an honest man ? " said Socrates. " I hope I am," 
 answered Euthydemus, "as honest a man as another." 
 " Tell me," said Socrates, " can wo know who are 
 honest men by what they do, as we know what trade a 
 man is of by his work ? " " We may." " Then," said 
 Socrates, "as architects show us their works, can 
 honest men show us theirs likewise ? " " No doubt of 
 it," replied Euthydemus; " and it is no difficult task to 
 show you which are the works of justice, and which 
 those of injustice, that we so often hear mentioned." 
 " Shall we," said Socrates, " make two characters, the 
 one (J) to signify justice, the other (I) to denote in- 
 justice ; and write under one of them all the works 
 that. belong to justice, and under the other all that 
 belong to injustice?" "Do," said Euthydemus, "if 
 you think fit." 
 
 Socrates, having done what he proposed, continued 
 thus his discourse : — " Do not men tell lies ? " " Yery 
 often," answered Euthydemus. "Under which head 
 shall we -put lying ? " " Under that of injustice," 
 said Euthydemus. "Do not men sometimes cheat?" 
 " Most certainly." " Where shall we put cheating ? " 
 said Socrates. "Under injustice." "And doing 
 Avrong to one's neighbour ? " " There too." " And 
 selling of free persons into slavery ? " " Still in tlio 
 same place." " And shall we write none of all these," 
 said Socrates " under the Inad of justice ? " " Not
 
 OF SOCK AXES. 153 
 
 one of tlieiii," answered E;it!iyilem;is; "it would bo 
 strange if we did." '• But what," replied Socrates, 
 '' when a general plunders an enemy's city, and makes 
 slaves of all the inhabitants, shall wo twy that ho 
 commits an injustice ? " '' By no means." " Shall wo 
 own, then, that he does an act of justice ? " " Without 
 doubt." " And when he circumvents his enemies in 
 the war, does he not do well? " " Yery well." " And 
 when he ravages their land, and takes away their 
 cattle and their corn, does he not do justly.^ " "It is 
 certain he does," said Euthydemus ; "and when I 
 answered you that all these actions were unjust, I 
 thouglit you had spoken of them in regard only of 
 friend to friend." " We must, therefore," replied 
 Socrates, " put among the actions of justice those very 
 actions we have ascribed to injustice, and we will only 
 establish this distinction, that it is just to behave our- 
 selves so towards our enemies ; but that to treat our 
 friends thus is an injustice, because we ought to live 
 with them uprightly, and without any deceit." " 1 
 think so," said Eutliydomus. "But," continued So- 
 crates, " wlien a general sees that his troops begin to 
 be disheartened, if he make them believe that a great 
 reinforcement is coming to him, and by that stratagem 
 inspires fresh courage into the soldiers, under what 
 head shall we put this lie ? " " Under the head of 
 justice," answered Euthydemus. " And when a child 
 will not take the physic that he has great need of, and 
 his father makes it be given him in a mess of broth, 
 and by that means the child recovers his health, to 
 which shall we ascribe this deceit ? " " To justice 
 likewise." " And if a man, who sees his friend in 
 despair, and fears he will kill himself, hides his sword 
 from himj or takes it out of his hands by force, what
 
 154 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 shall we say of tliis violonco ? " " That it is just," 
 replied Euthydemus. " Observe what you say," con- 
 tinued Socrates; "for it follows from your answers 
 that we are not always obliged to live with our friends 
 uprightly, and without any deceit, as we agreed wo 
 were." " No ; certainly we are not, and if I may be 
 permitted to retract what I said, I change my ox^inion 
 very freely." " It is better," said Socrates, " to change 
 an opinion than to persist in a wrong one. But there is 
 still one point which we must not pass over without 
 inquiry, and this relates to those whoso deceits are 
 prejudicial to their friends ; for I ask you, which are 
 most unjust, they who with premeditate design cheat 
 their friends, or they who do it through inadvertency ? '' 
 "Indeed/' said EutJiydemus, "I know not what to 
 answer, nor what to believe, for you have so fully 
 refuted what I have said, that what appeared to me 
 before in one light appoars to me now in another. 
 Nevertheless, I will venture to say that he is the most 
 unjust who deceives his friend deliberately." " Do 
 you think," said Socrates, " that one may learn to be 
 just and honest, as well as we learn to read and Avrite ? " 
 " I think we may." " Which," added Socrates, " do 
 you take to be the most ignorant, he who reads -^vrong on. 
 purpose, or he who reads wrong because he can read no 
 better ? " " The last of them," answered Euthydemus ; 
 " for the other who mistakes for pleasure need not 
 mistake when he pleases.'" " Then," inferred Socrates, 
 " ho who reads wrong deliberately knows how to read ; 
 but he who reads wrong without design is an ignorant 
 man." " You say true." " Tell me likewise," pursued 
 Socrates, " which knows best what ought to be done, 
 and what belongs to justice, he who lies and cheats 
 with x^remeditate design, or he who deceives without
 
 OP SOCRATES. 155 
 
 intention to deceive ? " " It is most plain," said Eutlij- 
 deniiis, '' that it is lie tvIio deceives with premeditate 
 design." '• But you said," replied Socrates, " that he 
 who can read is mere learned than he who cannot 
 read ? " "I did so." " Therefore he who best knows 
 which are the duties of justice is more just than he 
 that knows them not." " It seems to be so," answered 
 Euthvdemus, "and I know not weU how I came to say 
 what I did." " Indeed," said Socrates, " you often 
 change your opinion, and contradict what you say ; and 
 what would you yourself think of any man who pre- 
 tended to tell the truth, and yet never said the same 
 thing ; who, in pointing out to you the same road, 
 should show you sometimes east, sometimes west, and 
 who, in telling the same sum, should find more money 
 at one time than another; wliat would you think of 
 such a man?" "He would make all men think," 
 answered Euthydemus, " that he knew nothing of 
 what he j)i'etended to know." 
 
 Socrates urged him yet further, and asked him : 
 " Have you ever heard say that some men have abject 
 and servile minds ? " " I have." " Is it said of them 
 because tliey are learned or because they are ignor- 
 ant?" "Surely because they are ignorant." "Per- 
 haps," said Socrates, " it is because they understand 
 not the trade of a smith?" "Kot in the least for 
 that." "' Is it because they know not how to build a 
 house, or to make shoes?" "By no means," said 
 Euthydemus ; " for most who are skilled in such pro- 
 fessions have likewise abject and servile minds." 
 " This character, then," pursued Socrates, " must be 
 given to those who are ignorant of the noble sciences, 
 and who know not what is just nor Avliat is liou- 
 ourable?" "I believe so." "We ought, thereforo^
 
 156 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTa 
 
 Eutliydemiis, to do all we can to avoid falling into that 
 ignominious ignorance that sinks us down so low." 
 " Alas, Socrates ! " cried he out, " I will not lie for the 
 matter; I thought I knew something in philosophy, 
 and that I had learnt whatever Avas requisite to bo 
 known by a man who desired to make a practice of 
 virtue ; but judge how much I am afflicted to see that, 
 after all my labours, I am not able to answer you con- 
 cerning things which I ought chiefly to know ; and yet 
 I am at a loss what method to pursue in order to 
 render myself more capable and knowing in the things 
 I desire to understand." Upon this, Socrates asked 
 him whether he had ever been at Deli)lii, and Euthy- 
 demus answered that he had been there twice. "Did 
 you not take notice," said Socrates, " that somewhere 
 on the front of the temple there is this inscription, 
 ' Know thyself ' ? " "I remember," answered he, " I 
 have read it there." " It is not enough," replied So- 
 crates, " to have read it. Have you been the better 
 for this admonition ? Have you given yourself the 
 trouble to consider what you are ? " "I think I know 
 that well enough," replied the young man, "for I 
 should have found it very diflicult to have known any 
 other thing if I had not known myself." " But for a 
 man to know himself well," said Socrates, "it is not 
 enough that he knows his own name ; for, as a man 
 that buys a horse cannot be certain that he knows what 
 he is before he has ridden him, to see whether he be quiet 
 or restive, whether he be mettlesome or dull, whether 
 he be fleet or heavy — in short, before he has made trial 
 of all that is good and bad in him — in like manner, a 
 man cannot say that ho knows himself before he has 
 tried what he is fit for, and what he is able to do." 
 " It is true," said Euthydemus, " that whoever knows
 
 OY SOCRATES. 157 
 
 uot his owu strcngl;]! knows not himself." " But," con- 
 tinued Socrates, " who sees not of how great advantage 
 this knowledge is to man, and how dangerous it is to 
 bo mistaken in this affair ? for he who knows himself 
 knows likewise what is good for himself. He sees 
 what he is able to do, and what he is not able to do ; 
 by applying himself to things tliat he can do, he gets 
 his bread with pleasure, and is happy ; and by not 
 attempting to do the things he cannot do, he avoids 
 the 'danger of falling into errors, and of seeing him- 
 self miserable. By knowing himself, he knows like- 
 wise how to judge of others, and to make use of their 
 sei-vices for his own advantage, eitlier to procure him- 
 self some good, or to protect himself from some 
 misfortune ; but he who knows not himself, and is 
 mistaken in the opinion he has of his own abilities, 
 mistakes likewise in the knowledge of others, and in 
 the conduct of his own affairs. He is ignorant of 
 what is necessary for him, he knows not what he 
 undertakes, nor comprehends the means he makes use 
 of, and this is the reason that success never attends 
 his enterprises, and that he always falls into misfor- 
 tunes. But the man who sees clear into his own 
 designs generally obtains the end he proposes to 
 himself, and at the same time gains reputation and 
 honour. For this reason, even his equals are well 
 pleased to follow his advices ; and they whose affairs 
 are in disorder implore his assistance, and throw them- 
 selves into Ids hands, depending upon his prudence to 
 retrieve their affairs, and to restore them to their 
 former good condition. But he who undertakes he 
 knows not what, generally makes an ill choice, and 
 succeeds yet worse; and the present damage is not t]:c 
 only punislimont lie undergoes for his temerity. Ho i.s
 
 158 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 disgraecd for ever; all men laugli at liim, all men 
 despise and speak ill of liim. Consider likewise what 
 hax^pens to Republics who mistake their own strength, 
 and declare war against States more powerful than 
 themselves ; some are utterly ruined, others lose their 
 liberty, and are compelled to receive laws from tlio 
 conquerors." 
 
 "I am fully satisfied," said Euthydemus, "that a 
 great deal depends on the knowledge of oneself. I 
 hope you will now tell me by what a man must begin 
 to examine himself." " You know," said Socrates, 
 " wliat things are good and what are bad ? " " Indeed," 
 answered Euthydemus, " if I knew not that, I were 
 the most ignorant of all men." " Then tell me your 
 thoughts of this matter," said Socrates. " First," said 
 Euthydemus, " I hold that health is a good and sick- 
 ness an evil, and tliat whatever contributes to either of 
 them partakes of the same qualities. Thus nourish- 
 ment and the exercises that keep the body in health 
 are very good ; and, on the contrary, those that cause 
 diseases are hurtful." " But would it not be better to 
 say," replied Socrates, " that health and sickness are 
 ])oth good when they are the causes of any good, and 
 that they are both bad when they are the causes of any 
 ill ? " " And Avhen can it ever happen," said Euthy- 
 demus, " that health is the cause of any ill, and sick- 
 ness the cause of any good ? " " This may happen," 
 answered Socrates, " when troops are raised for any 
 enterprise that proves fatal ; when men are embarked 
 who are destined to perish at sea ; for men who are in 
 health may be involved in these misfortunes, when 
 they who, by reason of their infirmities, are left at 
 home, will be exempted from the mischiefs in which 
 the others perish." " You say true," said Euthydemus,
 
 OF SOCRATES. 159 
 
 " but you see, too, tliat men wlio are in liealtli arc x)re- 
 sent in fortunate occasions, wliile tliey who are con- 
 fined to their beds cannot be there." " It must therefore 
 be granted," said Socrates, " that tliese tilings which 
 are sometimes useful and sometimes hurtful are not 
 rather good than bad." " That is, indeed, the conse- 
 quence of your argument," replied Euthydemus ; " but 
 it cannot be denied that knowledge is a good thing ; 
 for wliat is tliere in wliich a knowing man has not the 
 advantage of an ignorant one ? " " And have you not 
 read," said Socrates, " what happened to Daedalus for 
 his knowing so many excellent arts, and how, being 
 fallen into the hands of Minos, he was detained by 
 force, and saw himself at once banished from his 
 country and stripped of his liberty ? To complete his 
 misfortune, flying away with his son, he was tlie occa- 
 sion of his being miserably lost, and could not, after 
 all, escape in his own person ; for, falling into the 
 hands of barbarians, he was again made a slaA'e. Know 
 you not likewise the adventure of Palamedes, who was 
 so envied by Ulysses for his great capacity, and who 
 perished wretchedly by the calumnious artifices of tliat 
 rival ? How many great men likewise has the King 
 of Persia caused to be seized and carried away because 
 of their admirable parts, and who are now languishing 
 under him in a perpetual slaver}^ ? " '•' But, granting 
 this to be as you say," added Euthydemus, " you will 
 certainly allow good fortune to be a good ? " "I Avill," 
 said Socrates, " provided this good fortune consists in 
 things that are undoubtedly good." '• And liow can it 
 be that the things which comx^ose good fortune should 
 not be infallibly good ? " " They are," answered 
 Socrates, "unless you reckon among them beauty and 
 strength of body, riches, honours, and other things
 
 160 THE MEMOPvABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 of that iiatui-e." " And how can a man be liappy witli- 
 out them ? " " Rather," said Socrates, " how can a 
 man be happy witli tilings that are tlie causes of so 
 many misfortunes ? For many are daily corrupted 
 because of their beauty ; many who presume too much 
 on their own strength are oppressed under the burden 
 of their undertakings. Among the rich, some are lost 
 in luxury, and others fall into the snares of those that 
 wait for their estates. And lastly, the reputatiofe and 
 honours that are acquired in Republics are often the 
 cause of their ruin who possess them." "Certainly,'* 
 said Euthydemus, " if I am in the wrong to praise 
 good fortune, I know not what we ought to ask of the 
 Deity." " Perhaps, too," replied Socrates, " you have 
 never considered it, because you think you know it 
 well enough. 
 
 " But," continued he, changing the subject of their 
 discourse, '' seeing you are preparing yourself to enter 
 upon the government of our Republic, where the people 
 are master, without doubt you have reflected on the 
 nature of this State, and know what a democracy is ? " 
 '* You ought to believe I do. *' " And do you think it 
 possible," said Socrates, ''to know what a democracy 
 or popular State is without knowing what the people 
 is ? " " I do not think I can." " And what is the 
 people ? " said Socrates. *' Under that name," answered 
 Euthydemus, ' I mean the poor citizens." " You know, 
 then, who are the poor ? " " I do," said Euthydemus. 
 *' Do you know, too, who are the rich ? " " I know that 
 too." " Tell me, then, who are the riph and who are 
 the poor ? " "I take the j)Oor," answered Euthydemus, 
 " to be those who have not enougli to supply their 
 necessary expenses, and the rich to be they who have 
 more than tliey have occasion for." " But have you
 
 OF SOCRATES. 161 
 
 observed," replied Socrates, " tliat tlicro are certain 
 persons who, thougli they have very little, have never- 
 theless enough, and even lay up some small matter out 
 of it ; and, on the contrary, there are others who never 
 liave enough how great soever their estates and posses- 
 sions are ? " " Tou put me in mind," said Euthydemus, 
 " of something A^ery much to the purpose, for I have 
 seen even some princes so necessitous that they have 
 been compelled to take away tlioir subjects' estates, and. 
 to commit many injustices." "We must, then," said 
 Socrates, " place such princes in tlie rank of the poor, 
 and those who have but small estates, yet manage tliem 
 well, in the number of the rich." " I must give consent 
 to all you say," answered Euthydemus, '' for I am too 
 ignorant to contradict you ; and I think it vrill be best 
 for me, from henceforward, to hold my peace, for I am 
 almost ready to confess that I know nothing at all." 
 
 Having said this, he withdrew, full of confusion and 
 self -contempt, beginning to be conscious to himself that 
 he was indeed a person of little or no account at all. 
 Nor was he the only person whom Socrates liad thus 
 convinced of their ignorance and insufficiency, several 
 of whom never came more to see him, and. valued, liim 
 the less for it. But Euthydemus did not act like them. 
 On the contrary, he believed it impossible for him to 
 improA'e his parts but by frequently conversing" witli 
 Socrates, insomuch that he never left him, unless some 
 business of moment called liim away, and he even took 
 delight to imitate some of his actions. Socrates, seeing 
 him thus altered from what he was, was tender of say- 
 ing anything to him that might irritate or discourage 
 him ; but took care to speak more freely and plainly to 
 liim of the things he ought to know and apply liim- 
 eelf to. 
 
 F— 158
 
 162 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PKOOrS OF A KIND SUPERINTENDING PROVIDENCE. — 
 WHAT RETURNS OP GRATITUDE AND DUTY MEN 
 OUGHT TO MAKE TO GOD FOR HIS FAVOURS. — 
 AN HONEST AND GOOD LIFE THE BEST SONG 
 OF THANKSGIVING OR THE MOST ACCEPTABLE 
 SACRIFICE TO THE DEITY. 
 
 As Socrates considered virtue aud i^iety as the two 
 grand pillars of a State, and was fully persuaded that 
 all other qualifications whatever, without the knowledge 
 and practice of these, would, instead of enabling men 
 to do good, serve, on the contrary, to render them more 
 wicked and more capable of doing mischief. For that 
 reason he never pressed his friends to enter into any 
 public office until he had first instructed them in their 
 duty to God and mankind. But, above all, he en- 
 deavoured to instil into their minds pious sentiments 
 of the Deity, frequently displaying before them high 
 and noble descriptions of the Divine power, wisdom, 
 aud goodness. But seeing several have already written 
 what they had heaixi him say in divers occasions upon 
 this subject, I will content myself with relating some 
 things which he said to Euthydemus when I myself 
 was present. 
 
 " Have you never reflected, Euthydemus, on the great 
 goodness of the Deity in giving to men whatever they 
 want ? " " Indeed, I never have," answered he. " Tou 
 see," replied Socrates, " how very necessary light is 
 for us, and how the gods give it us." " Tou say true," 
 answered Euthydemus, " aud without light we should 
 be like the blind." " But because we have need of 
 repose they have given us the night to rest in ; tho
 
 OF SOCEATES. 163 
 
 night, which, of all times, is the fittest for repose." 
 " You are in the right,'* said Euthydemus, " and we 
 ought to render them many praises for it." " More- 
 over," continued Socrates, "as the sun is a luminous 
 body, and by the brightness of liis beams discovers to 
 us all visible things, and shows us the liours of the day ; 
 and as, on the contrary, the night is dusky and obscure, 
 they have made the stars to appear, which, during tho 
 absence of tho day, mark the liours to us, by which 
 means we can do many things we have occasion for. 
 They have likewise made the moon to shine, which 
 not only shows us the hours of the night, but teaches 
 us to know the time of the month." " AH this is true," 
 said Euthydemus. " Have you not taken notice like- 
 wise that having need of nourishment, they supply us 
 with it by the means of the eartli ? How excellently 
 the seasons are ordered for the fruits of the earth, of 
 which we have such an abundance, and so great a 
 variety, that we find, not only wherewith to supply 
 our real wants but to satisfy even luxury itself." 
 "This goodness of the gods," cried Euthydemus, "is 
 an evidence of the great love they bear to men." 
 " What say you," continued Socrates, " to their having 
 given us water, which is so necessary for all things ? 
 For it is that which assists the earth to j)roduco tho 
 fruits, and that contributes, with the influences from 
 above, to bring them to maturity ; it helps to nourish 
 us, and by being mingled with what we eat, makes it 
 more easily got ready, more useful, and more delightful ; 
 in short, being of so universal an use, is it not an 
 admirable providence that has made it so common? 
 What say you to their having given us fire, which 
 defends us from cold, which liglits us when it is dark, 
 which is necessary to us in all trades, and v.'hieh wo
 
 164 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 canuot be witliout iu tlie most excelleut and useful 
 inventious of men ? " " Witliout exagfgeration," said 
 Eutlmlemus, "this goodness is immense." "What 
 say you, besides," pursued Socrates, " to see tliat after 
 the winter the sun comes back to us, and tliat pro- 
 portionably as he brings tlie new fruits to maturity, he 
 withers and dries those whose season is going over ; 
 iliat after having done us this service he retires that 
 his heat may not incommode us ; and then, when he is 
 gone back to a certain point, which ho cannot trans- 
 gress, without putting us in dangin- of dying witli cokl, 
 he returns again to retake his i)kice in this part of tlie 
 heavens, where his presence is most advantageous to 
 us ? And because we should not be able to support 
 either cold or heat, if we passed in an instant from one 
 extreme to the other, do you no I; admire that this planet 
 approaches us anJ withdraws himself from us by so 
 just and slow degrees, that we arrive at the two 
 extremes without almost perceiving the change?" 
 " All these things," said Euthydemus, " make, me doubt 
 whether the gods have anything to do but 'to servo 
 mankind. One thing puts me to a stand, that tho 
 irrational animals x^'^i'ticipate of all these advantages 
 with us." " How!" said Socrates, "and do you then 
 dou])t whether the animals themselves are in the world 
 for any other end than for the service of man ? AYhat 
 other animals do, like us, make use of horses, of oxen, 
 of dogs, of goats, and of the rest? Nay, I am of 
 opinion, that man receives not so much advantage from 
 the earth as from ihe animals ; for the greatest part of 
 mankind live not on the fruits of the earth, but nourish 
 themselves with milk, cheese, and the flesh of beasts ; 
 they get the mastery over them, they make them tamo, 
 and use them to their great advantage in war and for
 
 OF SOCEATES. 1G5 
 
 tlio other uceessities of life." '• I own it," said 
 Butliydeinus, "for some of tlieni are luiicli stronger 
 thau iiiau, aud yet are so obedient to liim, that he docs 
 with tliem whatever he pleases." 
 
 "Admire yet furtlier the goodness of the gods," 
 said Socrates, " aud consider, that as there is in the 
 workl an infinite number of excellent and useful things, 
 Ijut of very different natures, they have given us 
 external senses, which correspond to eacli of thoso 
 sensible objects, and by means of which senses we can 
 perceive and enjoy all of them. They have, besides, 
 endued us with reason and understanding, which 
 enableth us to discern between those things that tho 
 senses discover to us, to inquire into the different 
 natures of things usefid. and things hurtful, and so to, 
 know by experience which to choose and which to 
 reject. They have likewise given us speccli, by means 
 whereof we communicat<3 our thoughts to each other, 
 and instruct one another in tlio knowledge of whatever 
 is excellent and good ; by which also we publish our 
 laws and govern States. In fine; as we cannot always 
 foresee what is to happen to us, nor know what it will 
 be best for us to do, the gods offer us likewise their 
 assistance by the means of the oracles ; they discover 
 the future to us wlien we go to consult them, aud 
 teach us liow to behave ourselves in the affairs of 
 life." 
 
 Here Euthydemus, interrupting liim, said, " And 
 indeed these gods are in this respect more favourable 
 to you than to the rest of mankind, since, without 
 expecting 3'ou to consult them, they give you notice 
 of what 3'ou ought or ought not to do." '' You will 
 allow, therefore, that I told you tnie," said Socrates, 
 " when I told vou there were a'od.s. aud tliat tliov take
 
 166 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 great care of men; but expect not that tliey will 
 appear to you, and present tliemselves before your 
 eyes. Let it suffice you to behold their works, and to 
 adore them, and be persuaded that this is the way by 
 which they manifest themselves to men, for among all 
 the gods that are so liberal to us there is not one who 
 renders himself visible to confer on us his favours. 
 And that Supreme God, who built the universe, and 
 who supports this great work, whose every part is 
 accomplished in beauty and goodness ; He, who is the 
 cause tliat none of its parts grow old with time, and 
 that they x^reserve themselves always in an immortal 
 vigour, who is the cause, besides, that they inviolably 
 obey His laws with a readiness that surpasses our 
 imagination; He, I say, is visible enough in the so 
 many wondrous works of which He is author, but our 
 eyes cannot penetrate even into His throne to behold 
 Him in these great occupations, and in that manner it 
 is that He is always invisible. Do but consider that 
 the sun, who seems to be exposed to the sight of all 
 the world, does not suffer us to gaze fixedly upon him, 
 and whoever has the temerity to undertake it is 
 punished with sudden blindness. Besides, whatever 
 the gods make use of is invisible ; the thunder is 
 lanced from above, it shatters all it finds in its way, 
 but we see it not fall, we see it not strike, we see it 
 not return. The winds are invisible, though we see 
 the desolations they daily make, and easily feel when 
 they grow boisterous. If there be anything in man 
 that partakes of the divine nature it is his soul, whicli, 
 beyond all dispute, guides and governs him, and ye' 
 we cannot see it. Let all this, therefore, teach yov 
 not to neglect or disbelieve the Deity, because He is 
 invisible ; learn to know His presence and power from
 
 OF SOCRATES. 1G7 
 
 tlio visible effects of it in tlio world around you; bo 
 persuaded of the universal care and providence of tlio 
 all-surrounding Deity from the blessings He showers 
 down upon all His. creatures, and be sure to worship 
 and serve this God in a becoming manner." 
 
 " I am sure," said Euthydemus, " I stall never 
 derogate from the respect due to the gods : and I am 
 even troubled that every man cannot sufficiently ac- 
 knowledge the benefits he receives from them." "Be 
 not afflicted at that," said Socrates, " for you know 
 what answer the Delx3hian Oracle is wont to return to 
 those who inquire what they ought to do in order to 
 make an acceptable sacrifice. ' Follow the custom of 
 your country,' says he to them. Now, it is a custom 
 received in all places for every man to sacrifice to them 
 according to his power ; and by consequence there is 
 no better nor more pious a way of honouring the gods 
 than that, since they themselves ordain and approve it. 
 It is indeed a truth that we ought not to spare any- 
 thing of what we are able to offer, for that would be a 
 manifest contempt. When, therefore, a man has done 
 all that is in his power to do, he ought to fear nothing 
 and hope all ; for, from whence can we reasonably 
 hope for more, than from those in whose power it is 
 to do us the greatest good ? And by what other way 
 can we more easily obtain it, than by making ourselves 
 acceptable to them ? And how can we better make 
 ourselves acceptable to them, than by doing their 
 will?" 
 
 This is what Socrates tauglit, and by this doctrine, 
 which was always accompanied witli an exemplary de 
 votion, he greatly advanced his friends in piety.
 
 168 'IllE MEIilOr.ABLE TKOUGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 INSTANCES OF THE INVIOLABLE INTEGRITY OP SO- 
 CRATES.— HIS CONVERSATION WITH HIPPIAS 
 
 CONCERNING JUSTICE. 
 
 Concerning justice, it cauuot be said tliat Socrates 
 concealed his opiuiou of it, for lie plaiuly revealed Ids 
 sentiments by Ids actions, as well in public as in 
 private, making- it his Inisiness to serve every man, and 
 to obey the niaf^istrates and the laws ; insomuch, that 
 as well in the army as in the city, his obedience and 
 uprightness rendered him reinarkalde above all others. 
 He fully discovered the integrity of his soul, when ho 
 presided in the assemblies of the people ; he would 
 never pass a decree that was contrary to the laws ; he 
 alone defended the cause of justice against the efforts 
 of the multitude, and oj^posed a violence Avhich no man 
 but himself was able to resist. Again, when the 
 Thirty commanded him anything that was unjust, ho 
 did not obey them. Thus, when they forbid him to 
 speak to the young men, he regarded not their inhibi- 
 tion ; and when they gave orders to him, as well as to 
 some other citizens, to bring before them a certain 
 man, whom they intended to put to death, he alone 
 would do nothing in it, because that order was unjust. 
 In like manner Avhen he was accused by Melitus, 
 though in such occasions others endeavour to gain 
 their judges by flatteries and ignominious solicitations, 
 which often procure them their x^'i^i'don, he would not 
 put in pi-actice any of these mean artifices that are re- 
 pugnant to the laws, and yet he might very easily havo 
 got himself acquitted, if he could have prevailed with 
 timself to comply in the least with the custom ; but
 
 OF SOCr.ATES. 1G9 
 
 ]ie clioso rather to die in an exact observance of the 
 laws, than to save his life by acting contrary to tlieni, 
 for he utterly abhorred all mean or indirect practices ; 
 and this was the answer he gave to several of his 
 friends who advised him to the contraiy. 
 
 Since I am now illustrating the character of Socrates 
 with regard to justice, I will, at the same time, relato 
 a conversation I remember he had with Hippias of Elis 
 on that subject. 
 
 It was a long wliile tliat Hippias had not been at 
 Athens ; and being arrived there, he happened to come 
 to a place where Socrates was discoursing with some 
 persons, and telling them that if any one had a mind 
 to learn a trade, there wanted not masters to teach liim ; 
 nay, that if one would have a horse trained up tliere 
 were persons enough to undertake it ; but that if one 
 desired to learn to bo a good man, or to have his son, 
 or any of his family taught to be so, it would be diflB.- 
 cult to know to whom to apply himself. Hippias 
 rallying him, said : — " What ! Socrates, you are still 
 repeating the same tilings I heard you say so long ago." 
 " ISTay, more," replied Socrates, " and always upon the 
 same subject ; but you, perhaps, being learned as you 
 are, do not always say the same thing upon the same 
 subject." " Indeed," said Hippias, " I always en- 
 deavour to say something new." " Is it possible," 
 replied Socrates ? " Pray tell mo if you were asked 
 how many letters there are in my name, and which 
 they are, would you answer sometimes in one manner 
 and sometimes in anotlier? Or if you were asked 
 whether twice five bo not ten, woidd you not always 
 say the same thing ? " " In subjects like tliose," said 
 Hippias, '• I should bo obliged to say the same thing 
 as well as you; but since wo are. upnn the tliemo of
 
 170 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 justice, I Ijelieve I can now say some tliiugs of it, 
 against Avliicli, ueitlier you nor any man else can make 
 any objection." " Good God ! " cried Socrates, " w];at 
 a miglity boast is liere ! Uj)on my word, Hippias, you 
 have made an admirable discovery ! and you have 
 reason to value yourself upon it ; for, let me tell you, 
 if you can establish one single oj)iniou of justice, the 
 judges will be no longer divided in their sentiments, 
 there will be no more quarrels, no more suits at law, 
 no more seditious among citizens, no more wars be- 
 tween republics. Indeed, it much troubles me to leave 
 you before you have taught me this secret, which you 
 say you have discovered." "I give you my word," 
 answered Hippias, " that I will tell you nothing of it, 
 till you have first declared your own opinion concern- 
 ing justice ; for it is your old way to interrogate others, 
 and then to laugli at them by refuting what they have 
 said ; but you never make known your own opinions, 
 that you may not be obliged to give a reason for them." 
 " Why do you lay this to my charge," said Socrates, 
 " since I am continually showing to all the world 
 what are the things I believe to be just ? " " How do 
 you show it ?" said Hippias. " If I explain it not by 
 my words," answered Socrates, " my actions speak it 
 suflBciently ; and do you think that actions deserve not 
 rather to be believed than words ? " " Much rather," 
 said Hipi^ias, " because many may say one thing, and 
 do another ; nay, we see that, in fact, many who x^reach 
 up justice to others are very unjust themselves ; but 
 this cannot be said of a man whose every action 
 is good, and that never in his life did an unjust thing." 
 " Have you known, then," said Socrates, " that I have 
 accused any man out of malice, that I have sown dissen- 
 sion among friends, that I liave raised seditions in tiie
 
 OF SOCEATES. 171 
 
 Republic ; in sliort, tliat I Lave committed any other 
 sort of injustice ? *' *' Not in the least," said lie. 
 *' Well, then," added Socrates, " do you not take him to 
 bo just who commits no manner of injustice ? " " It is 
 plain, now," said Hippias, " that you intend to get loose, 
 and that you will not speak your mind freely, nor give 
 us an exact definition of justice. For all this while you 
 liave only shown what just men do not, but not what 
 they do." " I should have thought," said Socrates, " I 
 had given at once a good definition, and a clear 
 instance of justice, when I called it an aversion from 
 doing injustice. But since you will not allow it to bo 
 so, see whether this will satisfy you: I say, then, that 
 justice ' is nothing but the observance of the laws.' " 
 " You mean," said Hippias, "that to observe the laws 
 is to be just ? " " Yes," answered Socrates. " I cannot 
 comprehend your thought," said Hippias. " Do you 
 not know," pursued Socrates, "what the laws in a 
 State are ? " " The laws," answered Hip^Dias, " are 
 what the citizens have ordained by an universal con- 
 sent." "Then," inferred Socrates, "he who lives 
 conformably to those ordinances observes the laws ; 
 and he who acts contrary to them is a transgressor of 
 the laws." " You say true." " Is it not likewise true," 
 continued Socrates, " that he who obeys these ordinances 
 does justly, and that he obeys them not does unjustly ? " 
 "Yes." "But," said Socrates, " he who acts justly is 
 just, and he who acts unjustly is unjust? " " Without 
 doubt." " Therefore," said Socrates, '' whosoever ob- 
 serves the laws is just, and whosoever observes them 
 not is unjust." " But how can it be imagined," objected 
 Hippias, "that the laws are a good thing, and that it is 
 good to obey them, since even they that made them 
 mend, alter, and repeal them so often ? " To this
 
 172 THE MEMORABLE TliOUGIlTS 
 
 Socrates ansHTcrcd, " When you blame tlioso who obey 
 the lav»\s, because they arc subject to bo abrogated, you 
 do the same thing' as if you laughed at your enemies for 
 keeping tliemselves in a good posture of defence during 
 the war, because you might tell them that tlio peace 
 will one day bo made : and thus you would condemn 
 those who generously expose their lives for tlie service 
 of their country. Do you know," added lie, " tliat 
 Lycurgus could never have rendered the Republic of 
 Sparta more excellent than other States if he had not 
 made it his chief care to incline the citizens most 
 exactly to observe the laws? This, too, is what all 
 good magistrates aim at, because a Republic that is 
 obedient to the laws is happy in x^eace, and invincible 
 in war. Moreover, you know that concord is a great 
 happiness in a State. It is daily recommended to tho 
 people ; and it is an established custom all over G-reeco 
 to make the citizens swear to live in good understand- 
 ing with one another, and each of them takes an oath 
 to do so. Now, I do not believe that this unity is 
 exacted of them, only that they might choose tho same 
 company of comedians, or of musicians, nor that they 
 might give their approbation to tlie same poets, or all 
 take delight in the same diversions, but that they may 
 all unanimously obey the laws, because that obedience 
 is the security and the happiness of the State. Con- 
 cord, therefore, is so necessary, that v/ithout it good 
 polity and authority cannot subsist in any State, nor 
 good economy and order in any family. 
 
 " In our private capacity, likewise, how advantageous 
 is it to obey the laws ? By what moans can wo more 
 certainly avoid punishments, and deserve rewards? 
 "What more prudent conduct can we observe, always 
 to gain our suits at law, and never to bo cast ! To
 
 OF SOCRATES. 173 
 
 ^vliom SiiGuld wo Avitli greater coniidenco trust our 
 estates or our cliildron, tlian to liiin wlio makes a 
 conscience of observing the laws? WJio can deserve 
 more of liis country ? whom can she more safely entrust 
 with pulilie po.;ts, and on whom can she more jusily 
 ])(.'stow the highest honours, than on tlie good and 
 honest man ? Who will discharge himself batter of 
 his duty towards his father or his mother, towards Ids 
 relations or his domestics, towards his friends, liis 
 fellow-citizens, or liis guests ? To whom will the 
 enemy rather trust for the observing of a truce, or for 
 the performance of a treaty of peace ? With whom 
 would wo rather choose to make an alliance ? To 
 whom will the allies more readily give the command 
 of their armies, or the go^-ernment of their towns ? 
 From whom can we rather hope for a grateful return 
 of a kindness than from a man who strictly obeys tho 
 laws ? and, by consequence, to whom will men bo 
 more ready to do good turns, than to him of whose 
 gratitude they are certain ? With whom will men bo 
 batter i^leased to contract a friendship, and, consc- 
 quentl}", against whom will men bo less inclined to 
 commit acts of hostility, than against that person who 
 has everybody for his well-wisher and friend, and few 
 or none for his ill-wishers or enemies ? These, Hap- 
 pias, are the advantages of observing tho laws. And 
 now, having shown you that tho observance of the laws 
 is the same thing with justice, if you aro of another 
 opinion, pray let mo knoAV it." " Indeed, Socrates," 
 answered Hippias, "'what you have said of justico 
 agrees exactly with my sentiments of it." '' Havo 
 you never heard,"' continued Socrates, "of certain 
 laws that are not written ? " " You mean tho laws," 
 Euswered Hippias, " which are received all over tho
 
 174 THE MEMOSABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 earth." " Do you think, then," added Socrates, " tha-t 
 it was all mankind that made them ? " " That is im- 
 possilile," said Hippias, " because all men cannot be 
 assembled in the same place, and they speak not all 
 of them the same language." ""Who, then, do you 
 think gave us these laws?" " The gods," answered 
 Hippias ; " for the first command to all men is to 
 adore the gods." " And is it not likewise commanded 
 everywhere to honour one's father and mother?" 
 " Yes, certainly," said Hippias. Socrates went on : — 
 *' And that fathers and mothers should not marry with 
 their own children, is not that too a general command ? " 
 " Xo," answered Hippias, " this last law is not a 
 Divine law, because I see some persons trangress it." 
 " They observe not the others better," said Socrates ; 
 " but take notice, that no man violates with impunity 
 a law established by the gods. There are unavoidable 
 punishments annexed to this crime; but we easily 
 secure ourselves from the rigour of human laws, after 
 we have transgressed them, either by keeping ourselves 
 hid, or defending ourselves by open force." "And 
 what is this punishment," said Hippias, " which it is 
 impossible for fathers, who marry with their own 
 children, to avoid ? " *' It is very great," said So- 
 crates; "for what can be more afflicting to men, who 
 desire to have children than to have very bad ones ? " 
 "And how do you know," piu'sued Hip^Dias, "that 
 they will have bad children ? What shall hinder them, 
 if they are virtuous themselves, from having children 
 that are so likewise? " ''It is not enough," answered 
 Socrates, "that the father and the mother be virtuous : 
 they must, besides, be both of them in the vigour and 
 perfection of their age. 'Now, do you believe, that the 
 seed of persons who are too young, or who are already
 
 OF SOCEATES. 175 
 
 in tlieir declining age, is equal to that of persons who 
 are in their full strength ? " " It is not likely that it 
 is," said Hippias. " And which is the best ? " pursued 
 Socrates. " Without doubt," said Hippias, " that of 
 a man in his strength." '' It follows, then," continued 
 Socrates, " that the seed of persons who are not yet 
 come to their full strength, or who are past it, is not 
 good." " In all appearance it is not." " In those ages, 
 then, we ought not to get children ? " said Socrates. 
 " I think so." "Such, therefore, as indulge their lust 
 in such untimely fruition will have very weakly cliil- 
 dren ? " " I grant they will." '•' And are not weakly 
 children bad ones ? " '"' They are," said Hippias. 
 
 "Tell me, further," said Socrates, "is it not an 
 universal law to do good to those who have done good 
 to ns ? " " Yes," said Hippias, " but many olfend 
 against this law." " And they are punished for it," 
 replied Socrates, " seeing their best friends abandon 
 them, and that they are obliged to follow those who 
 have an aversion for them. For are not they the best 
 friends who do kindnesses whenever they are desired ? 
 And if he who has received a favour neglect to ac- 
 knowledge it, or return it ill, does he not incur their 
 hate by his ingratitude ? And yet, finding his advan- 
 tage in preserving their goodwill, is it not to them that 
 he makes his court with most assiduity.^" "It is 
 evident," said Hippias, " that it is the gods who have 
 ordered these things ; for, when I consider that each 
 law carries with it the punisliment of the transgressor, 
 I confess it to be the work of a more excellent legislator 
 than man." '•' And do you think," said Socrates, '• that 
 the gods make laws that are imjust ? " " On tlie 
 contrary," answered Hippias, " it is very diffcidt for 
 any but tlie gods to make Laws that are just." " Thoro-
 
 17G THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 fore, Hippias," said Socrates, " according to tlie j^ods 
 themselves ' to obey tlie laws is to be just.' ■ ' 
 
 This is what Socrates said on the subject of justice) 
 and Ills actions being conformable to his words, Iio 
 from day to day created a greater love of justice in the 
 minds of those who frequented him. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 OP THE MISCHIEFS OF INTEMPERANCE, AND THE 
 ADVANTAGES OF SOBRIETY. 
 
 I WILL now set down the arguments tliat Socrates 
 used to bring his friends to the i)ractico of good 
 actions, for being of opinion that temperance is a great 
 advantage to such as desire to do anything tliat is 
 excellent, he first shovt^ed them, by his way of living, 
 that no man was more advanced than himself in the 
 exercise of that virtue; and in his conferences lie 
 exhorted liis hearers above all things to the practice of 
 it, and his thoughts being continually employed in tlie 
 means of arriving to be virtuous, he made it likewise 
 tl:e subject of all his discourses. 
 
 I remember that talking once with Euthydomus 
 concerning temperance he delivered himself to this 
 effect : — '' In your opinion, Euthydemus, is liberty a 
 very valuable thing?" "To bo valued above all 
 things," answered Euthydemus. '' Do you believe that 
 a man who is a slave to sensual pleasures, and finds 
 himself incapable of doing good, enjoys liis liberty ? " 
 " Not in the least." " You allow, then, that to do good 
 is to be free, and that to bo i)revented from doing it, 
 by any obstacle whatever, is not to bo free ? " '* I
 
 OF SOCRATES. 177 
 
 tliiiik SO," said Eutliydciims. " You boliovo, tlian," 
 said Soeratos, " that dobauclied j)orsoiis are not free ? " 
 " I do." " Do you believe likewise," continued Socrates, 
 " that debauchery does not only hinder from doin^ 
 good, but compels to do ill?" "I think it does." 
 " What would you say, then, of a master who should 
 hinder you from applying yourself to what is honest, 
 and force you to undertake some infamous occupa- 
 tion ? " "I would say he was a very wicked master," 
 answered Eutliydemus. "And which is the worst 
 of all slaveries ? " added Socrates. " To serve ill 
 masters," said Eutliydemus. " Therefore," inferred 
 Socrates, " the debauched are in a miserable slavery." 
 "jSTo doubt of it." "Is it not debauchery, likewise," 
 said Socrates, " that deprives men of their wisdom, the 
 noblest gift of the gods, and drives them into ignorauco ■ 
 and stupidity, and all manner of disorders ? It robs 
 them of leisure to apply themselves'to things profitable, 
 while it drowns them in sensual pleasures ; and it 
 seizes their minds to tliat degree that, tliough they 
 often know which is the best way, they are miserably 
 engaged in the worst." " They are so." "Nor can wo 
 expect to find temperance nor modesty in a debauched 
 person, since tlie actions of temperance and debauchery 
 are entirely opposite." '' There is no doubt of it," said 
 Euthydomus. ''I do not think neither," added Socrates, 
 " that it is possible to imagine any tiling tliat makes 
 men neglect their duty more than debauchery." " You 
 say true." " Is there anything more pernicious to 
 man," said Socrates, "tlian that which robs liim of his 
 judgment, makes him embrace and cherish tilings that 
 are hurtful, avoid and neglect wliat is profitable, and 
 lead a life contrary to tliat of goovd men ? " " Tliero is 
 nothing," said Eutliydomus. Socrates went on : — '" And
 
 178 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 may we uot ascribe tlie contrary effects to temperance?" 
 " Without doubt." " And is it not likely to be true 
 tliat tlie cause of the contraryreffects is good?" " Most 
 certainly." " It follows, then, my dear Euthydemus," 
 said Socrates, " that temperance is a very good thing ? " 
 " Undoubtedly it is." " But have you reflected," 
 pursued Socrates, " that debauchery, which pretends to 
 lead men to pleasures, cannot conduct them thither, but 
 deceives them, leaving them in disappointment, satiety, 
 and disgust ? and have you considered that temperance 
 and sobriety alone give us the true taste of pleasures ? 
 For it is the nature of debauchery not to endure hunger 
 nor thirst, nor the fatigue of being long awake, nor the 
 vehement desires of love, which, nevertheless, are the 
 true dispositions to eat and drink with delight, and to 
 find an exquisite pleasure in the soft approaches of 
 sleep, and in the enjoyments of love. This is the 
 reason that the intemperate find less satisfaction in 
 these actions, which are necessary and frequently done. 
 But temperance, which accustoms us to wait for the 
 necessity, is the only thing that makes us feel an 
 extreme pleasure in these occasions." " You are in the 
 right," said Euthydemus. " It is this virtue, too," said 
 Socrates, "that puts men in a condition of bringing to 
 a state of perfection both the mind and the body, of 
 rendering themselves capable of well governing their 
 families, of being serviceable to their friends and their 
 country, and of overcoming their enemies, which is not 
 only very agreeable on account of the advantages, but 
 very desirable likewise for the satisfaction that attends 
 it. But the debauched know none of this, for what 
 share can they pretend to in virtuous actions, they 
 whose minds are wholly taken up in the pursuit of 
 present pleasures?" "According to what you say,"
 
 OF SOCRATES. 179 
 
 replied Eiitlijdemus, " a iiiaii given to voluptuousness 
 is unfit for any virtue." " And wliat diii'crcnec is 
 there," said Socrates, " between an irrational animal 
 a-id a voluptuous man, wlio lias no regard to what is 
 best, but blindly pursues what is most delightful ? It 
 belongs to the temperate only to inquire what things 
 are best and what not ; and then, after having found out 
 the difference by experience and reasoning, to embrace 
 the good and avoid the bad, which renders them at 
 once most happy, most virtuous, and most prudent." 
 
 This was the sum of tliis conference with Euthy- 
 demus. ISTow Socrates said that conferences were so 
 called because the custom was to meet and confer 
 together, in order to distinguish things according to 
 their different species, and he advised the frequent 
 holding of these conferences, because it is an exercise 
 that improves and makes men truly great, teaches them 
 to become excellent politicians, and ripens the judg- 
 ment and understanding. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 SOCRATES' FEIEXDS ATTAIN, BY FREQUENTING HIS 
 CONVERSATION, AN EXCELLENT WAY OF REASON- 
 ING. — THE METHOD HE OBSERVED IN ARGUING 
 SHOWN IN SEVERAL INSTANCES. — OF THE 
 DIFFERENT SORTS OF GOVERNMENT. — HOW 
 SOCRATES DEFENDED HIS OPINIONS. 
 
 I WILL show, in the next place, how Socrates' friends 
 learnt to reason so well by frequenting his conver- 
 sation. He held that they who perfectly understand 
 the nature of things can explain themselves very well
 
 180 THE MEMOPvABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 concerning- tJieni, but that a man wLo lias not tLat 
 knowledge often deceives liiinsclf and otliers likewise. 
 He therefore perpetually conferred with his friends 
 widiout ever being weary of that exercise. It would 
 ])e very difficult to relate how ho defined every par- 
 ticular thing. I will tliercfore mention only what I 
 think sufficient to show what method he observed iu 
 reasoning. And, in the first place, let us sec how ho 
 argues concerning luety. 
 
 " Tell me," said he to Euthydemus, " what piety is ? " 
 " It is a very excellent thing," answered Euthydemus. 
 " And who is a pious man ? " said Socrates. " A man 
 who serves the gods." ''Is it lawful," added Socrates 
 " to serve the gods in what manner we please ? " " By 
 no means," said Euthydemus ; " there are laws mado 
 for that purpose, which must be kept." " He, then, 
 vvho keeps these laws wiU know how he ought to servo 
 the gods?" "I think so." "And is it not true," 
 continued Socrates, " that he who knows one way of 
 serving the gods believes there is no better a way than 
 his ?" " That is certain." *• And will he not be care- 
 ful how ho does otlierwise ? " "I believe he will." 
 " He, then, who knows the laws that ought to bo 
 observed in the service of the gods, will serve them 
 according to the laws ? " " Without doubt." " But 
 he who serves the gods as the laws direct, serves them 
 as he ought ? " " True, he does." " And he who serves 
 the gods as he ought is pious ? " " There can be no 
 doubt of it." *' Thus, then," said Socrates, " wo have 
 the true definition of a pious man : He who knows in 
 what manner he ought to serve the gods ? " "I think 
 so," said Euthydemus. 
 
 " Tell me further," continued Socrates, ''is it lawful 
 for men to behave themselves to one another as they
 
 OF SOCRATES. 181 
 
 pIcasQ ? " " 111 no-.viso," answered Eiitjiydoinns ; 
 '• tliore arc also coriain laws Avliicli they ouglit to 
 observe amou<^ themselves." " And do tlioy," said 
 Soerates, " who live together according to tliose laws, 
 live as they ought?" "Yes." "And do tliey wlio 
 live as they ought live well ? " " Certainly they do." 
 *' And does he wlio knows how to live well with men 
 undei'stand well how to govern his alfairs?" "It is 
 likely that ho may." " Now, do you believe," said 
 Socrates, " that some mm obey the laws without 
 knowing what the laws command ? *' "I do not 
 believe it." "And wlien a man knows what he ought 
 to do, do you think ho believes that he ought not to do 
 it ? " "I do not think so.'' " And do you know any 
 men who do otlierwise than they bclievo thoy ouglit to 
 do?" " Kone at all." "They, then, who know tlio 
 laws that men ought to observe among themselves, do 
 what those laws command ? " "I believe so.'' " And 
 do they who do what the laws command, do what is 
 just? " " Most surely." "' And they who do what is 
 just arc just likewise?" "Xouo but they arc so." 
 " We may, tlierefore, well conclude," said Socrates, 
 " tliat the just are tlioy who know tlio laws that men 
 ought to observe among tlicmselves ? " " I gr.mt it," 
 said Euthydemus. 
 
 "And as for wisdom," pursued Socrates, " what shall 
 we say it is ? Tell me wlietlier are men said to be wise 
 in regard to the things they know, or in regard to 
 those they do not know ? " " There can be no doubt," 
 answered Euthydemus, " but that it is in consider- 
 ation of what they know ; for how can a man be wise 
 in things he knows not ? " " Then," said Socrates, 
 " men are wise on account of their knowledge ? " " It 
 cannot be otherwise." '' Is wisdom anything but what
 
 182 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 renders us v»dse ? " " ISTo." " "Wisdom tlierefore is 
 only knowledge?" "I tliink so." "And do you 
 believe," said Socrates, " that it is in the j)ower of a 
 man to know cYerything?" "Not so much as even 
 the Imndredth part." " It is, then, impossible," said 
 Socrates, " to find a man who is wise in all things ? " 
 *' Indeed it is," said Euthydemus. " It follows, then," 
 said Socrates, "that every man is wise in what he 
 knows ? " "I believe so." 
 
 " But can we, by this same way of comparison, judge 
 of the nature of good ? " " As how ? " said Euthyde- 
 mus. "Do you tliink," said Socrates, "that the same 
 thing is x)i'ofitable to all men?" "By no means." 
 " Do you believe that the same thing may be profitable 
 to one and hurtful to another?" "I think it may." 
 " Then is it not the good that is profitable ? " " Yes, 
 certainly." " Therefore, ' what is profitable is a good 
 to him to whom it is i^rofitable.' " " That is true." 
 
 "Is it not the same with what is beautiful ? For, 
 can you say that a body or a vessel is beautiful and 
 proper for all the world ? " " By no means." " You 
 will say, then, that it is beautiful in regard to the 
 thing for which it is pro^jer ? " " Yes." " But tell 
 me wlietlier what is reputed beautiful for one thing 
 has the same relation to another as to that to which it 
 is proper ? " " 'No.'^ " Then 'whatever is of any use 
 is reputed beautiful in regard to the thing to which 
 that use relates ? '" "I think so." 
 
 "And what say you of courage?" added Socrates. 
 "Is it an excellent thing?" "Yery excellent," 
 answered Euthydemus. "But do you believe it to 
 be of use in occasions of little moment ? " " Yes ; 
 but it is necessary in great affairs." " Do you think 
 it of great advantage in dangers," continued Socrates,
 
 OP SOCRATES. 183 
 
 "uot to pcrcoivo the peril avo aro iu? " "I am not of 
 that opinion." " At that rate," said Socrates, " they 
 who are not frightened because they see not the danger 
 are iu nowise valiant." " There is no doubt of it," 
 said Euthydemus, "for otherwise there would be some 
 fools, and even cowards, who must be accounted 
 brave." "And what are they wlio fear what is not 
 to be feared ? " "They are less brave than the others," 
 answered Buthydemus. " They therefore," said So- 
 crates, "who show themselves valiant iu dangerous 
 occasions, are they wUom you call brave ; and they 
 who behave themselves in them unworthily, are they 
 whom you call cowards ? " " Yery right." " Do you 
 think," added Socrates, " that any men are valiant in 
 such occasions except they who know how to behave 
 themselves in them ? " "I do not think there are." 
 " And are not they, who behave themselves unworthily, 
 the same as they who know not how to behave them- 
 selves ? " " I believe they are." " And does not every 
 man behave himself as he believes he ought to do ? " 
 " Without doubt." " Shall we say, then, that they 
 who behave themselves ill know how they ought to 
 behave themselves ? " " By no means." " They, there- 
 fore, who know how to behave themselves, are they 
 who behave themselves well?" "They and no others." 
 "Let us conclude, then," said Socrates, " that they wlio 
 know how to behave themselves well in dangers and 
 difficult occasions are the brave, and that they who 
 know not how to do so are the cowards." " That is 
 my opinion," said Euthydemus. 
 
 Socrates was Avont to say, that a kingly government 
 and a tyrannical government were indeed two sorts uf 
 monarchy, and that there Avas this difference between 
 tiiem ; tliat, under a kingly government, the sul)joets
 
 184 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 obeyed willingly, and tliat everything was done accord- 
 ing to the laws of the State ; but that, under a tyran- 
 nical government, tlie j)^'oplG obeyed by force, and 
 that all the laws were reduced to the sole will of 
 the sovereign. 
 
 Coucerning the other sorts of government, he said : 
 That when the offices of a Republic are given to the 
 good citizens, this sort of State was called aristocracy, 
 or government of good meu ; wlieu, on the contrary, 
 the magistrates were chosen according to their re- 
 venues, it was called a plutocracy, or government of 
 the rich ; and when all the people are admitted, with- 
 out distinction, to bear employments, it is a demo- 
 cracy, or popular government. 
 
 If any one opposed the opinion of Socrates, on any 
 affair whatever, without giving a convincing reason, 
 liis custom was to bring back the discourse to the first 
 proposition, and to begin by that to searcli for the 
 truth. For example : if Socrates had commended 
 any particular person, and any stander-by had named 
 another, and pretended that he was more valiant, or 
 more experienced in affairs, he would have defended his 
 opinion in the following manner : — 
 
 " You pretend," would he have said, " that ho of 
 whom you speak is a better citizen than the person 
 whom I was praising. Let us consider what is the 
 duty of a good citizen, and what man is most esteemed 
 in a Republic. Will you not grant me, that in relation 
 to the management of the public revenue, he is in the 
 highest esteem who, wliile lie has that office, saves tlic 
 Republic most money ? In regard to the war, it is lie 
 who gains most Aactorios over the enemies. If we 
 are to enter into a treaty with oilier States, it is he 
 who can dexteroiisly win over to the parfcv of tlie
 
 OF SOCRATES. 185 
 
 Repiiblie those who before opposed its interests. If wo 
 are to have regard to Avliat passes iu the assemblies 
 of the people, it is he who breaks the cabals, wlio ap- 
 peases the seditious, who maintains concord and unity 
 among the citizens," This being granted him, he api)lied 
 these general rules to the dispute iu question, and made 
 the truth plainly appear, even to the eyes of those who 
 contradicted liiui. As for himself, when he undertook 
 to discourse of anything, he always began by tlic most 
 common and universally received propositions, and 
 was wont to say, that the streiigtli of the argumentation 
 consisted in so doing. And, indeed, of all tlie men I 
 have ever seen, I know none who could so easily bring 
 others to own the truth of what he had a mind to 
 prove to them. And he said that Homer, speaking of 
 Ulysses, called him "the certain or never-failing 
 orator," because he had the art of supporting his 
 arguments upon principles that were acknowledged Ijy 
 all men. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 METHOD TO BE OBSEIIYED IN STUDY. — ARTS AND 
 SCIENCES NO FURTHER USEFUL, THAN THEY 
 CONTRIBUTE TO RENDER MEN WISER, BETTER, 
 OR HAPPIER. — VAIN AND UNPROFITABLE KNOW- 
 LEDGE TO BE REJECTED, 
 
 I PRESUME now, tliat what I have said lias l)een a 
 sufficient evidence of the frankness and sincerity with 
 which Socrates conversed with his friends, and made 
 known his opinions to them. It remains uovr that I 
 should say something of the extreme care Socrates
 
 180 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 showed iov the advancemoiit of liis friends, and liow 
 mueli lie had at heart that thoy might not he ignorant 
 of anything that could be useful to them, to the end 
 they might not want the assistance of others in their 
 own affairs. For this reason, he applied himself to 
 examine in what each of them was knowing ; then, if he 
 thought it in his power to teach them anything that 
 an honest and worthy man ought to know, he taught 
 them such things with incredible readiness and 
 affection ; if not, he carried them himself to masters 
 who were able to instruct them. But he resolved 
 witliin himself how far a person who was well-edu- 
 cated in his studies ought to learn everything. 
 
 Thus for geometry he said, that we ought to know 
 enough of it not to be imposed upon in measure when 
 we buy or sell land, when we divide an inheritance 
 into shares, or measure out the work of a labourer, and 
 that it was so easy to know tliis, that if a man applied 
 himself ever so little to the practice of such things, he 
 would soon learn even the extent and circumference of 
 the whole earth, and how to measure it ; but he did 
 not approve that a man should dive into the very 
 bottom of this science, and puzzle his brains with I 
 know not what figures, though he himself was expert 
 in it, for he said he could not see what all those 
 niceties and inventions were good for, which take up 
 the whole life of a man, and distract him from other 
 more necessary studies. 
 
 In like manner he was of oxDinion that a man should 
 employ some time in astronomy, that he might know 
 by the stars the hour of the night, what day of the 
 month it is, and what season of the year we are in, in 
 order that we might know when to relieve a sentinel 
 in the night, and when it is best to venture out to sea.
 
 OF SOCKATES. 187 
 
 or unclortako ca jounioy, aud, in sliort, that we miglit 
 know liow to do eTerything in its pro^^er season. He 
 said that all this was easily learnt by conversing witli 
 seamen, or witli such as go a-hunting by night, or 
 others who profess to know these things ; but lie 
 dissuaded very much from penetrating farther into 
 this science, as even to know what planets are not in 
 the same declination, to explain all their different 
 motions, to know how far distant they are from the 
 earth, in how long time they make their revolutions, 
 and what are their several influences, for he thought 
 these sciences wholly useless, not that he was ignorant 
 of them himself, but because they take up all our time, 
 and divert us from better employments. 
 ' In fine, ho could not allow of a too curious inquiry 
 into the wonderful workmanship of the Deity in the 
 disposition of the universe, that being a secret whicli 
 the mind cannot comprehend, and because it is not an 
 action acceptable to God to endeavour to discover 
 what He would hide from us. He held, likewise, that 
 it was dangerous to perplex the mind with tliese 
 sublime speculations, as Anaxagoras had done, who 
 pretended to bo very knowing in them, for in teaching 
 that the sun was the same thing as fire, he does not 
 consider that fire does not dazzle the eyes, but that it 
 is impossible to support the splendour of the sun. He 
 did not refiect, neither, that the sun blackens the sky, 
 which fire does not ; nor lastly, that tlio heat of the 
 sun is necessary to the earth, in order to the production 
 of trees and fruits, but that tlie heat of fire burns and 
 kills them. When ho said, too, that the sun was only a 
 etone set on fire, he did not consider that a stone 
 glitters not in the fire, and cannot last long iv. it
 
 188 THE MEMOKABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 without cousumiiig, wliercas tlie suu lasts calways, aud 
 is au inexliaustible source of light. 
 
 Socrates advised, likewise, to learii arithmetic, l)ut 
 not to amuse ourselves with the vain curiosities of that 
 science, liaviug established this rule in all his studies 
 and in all his conferences, never to go beyond what is 
 useful. 
 
 He exhorted his friends to take care of their health, 
 and to that purpose to consult with the learned ; aud 
 to observe, besides, each in liis own particular, what 
 meat, what drink, and wliat exercise is best for him, 
 and how to use them to preserve himself in health. 
 For when a man has thus studied liis own constitution, 
 he cannot have a better physician than himself. 
 
 If any one desired to attempt or to learn things that 
 were above the power or capacity of human nature, he 
 advised him to apply himself to divination; for ho 
 who knows by what means the gods generally signify 
 their mind to men, or how it is they used to give tlieui 
 counsel and aid, such a person never fails to obtain from 
 the Deity all that direction and assistance that is neces- 
 sary for him. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BEUAVIOUE Oi*' SOCRATES FROM THE TIME OF HIS 
 CONDEMNATION TO HIS DEATH.— HIS CHAR- 
 ACTER SUMMED UP IN A FEW AV0RD3. 
 
 To conclude : if, because Socrates was condemned to 
 death, any one should believe that he was a liar to say 
 tliat he had a good demon that guided him, and gave 
 him instructions what he should or should not do, let 
 him consider, in the first place, that he was arrived to
 
 OF SOCKATES. 189 
 
 siicli au age Uiat if ho had not died when lio dlti, lie 
 could not havo lived much louger ; that bj dying when 
 lie did lie avoided the most toilsome part of life, in whicli 
 tlie mind loses much of its vigour ; and that in amends 
 for it ho discovered to the whole world the greatness of 
 his soul, acquired to himself au immortal ghry, by tlio 
 defence he made before his judges, in behaving him- 
 self with a sincerity, courage, and probity that wero 
 indeed wonderful, and in receiving his sentouco witli a 
 patience and resolution of mind never to be equalled ; 
 for it is agreed by all that no man eA'or suffered death 
 with greater constancy than Socrates. 
 
 Ho lived thirty days after his condemnation, because 
 tho Delian feasts happened in that month, and the law 
 forbids to put any man to death till the consecrated 
 vessel that is sent to the Isle of Delos be come back 
 t,o Athens. During that time his friends, who saw 
 him continually, found no change in him ; but that he 
 always retained that tranquillity of mind and agree- 
 al)lenes3 of temper which before had mado all the 
 world admire him. Now, certainly no man can die 
 with greater constancy than this ; this is doubtless tho 
 most glorious death that can be imagined ; but if it 
 bo the most glorious, it is the most happy ; and if it 1)3 
 the most happy, it is tho most acceptable to tlio Deity. 
 
 Hermogenes has told me, that being with him a 
 little after Melitus had accused him, he observed, that 
 lio seemed to decline speaking of that affair : from 
 whence he took occasion to tell him that it would not 
 be amiss for him to think of what he sliould answer in 
 his own justification. To which Socrates replied : '' Do 
 you believe I have done anything else all my life tliaii 
 think of it? " And Hermogenes asking him what he 
 meant by saying so ? Socrates told liim tliat he had
 
 190 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS 
 
 made it tlie whole business of liis life to examine what 
 was just and wliat unjust ; that he had always cherished 
 justice and hated injustice, and that he did not believe 
 there was any better way to justify himself. 
 
 Hermogenes said further to him : — "Do you not know 
 that judges have often condemned the innocent to 
 death, only because their answers ofPended them, and 
 that, on the contrary, they have often acquitted the 
 guilty P " "I know it very well," answered Socrates ; 
 " but I assure you, tliat having set myself to think what 
 I should say to my judges, the demon that advises me 
 dissuaded me from it." At wliicli Hermogenes seem- 
 ing surprised, Socrates said to him, " Why are you 
 surprised that this God thinks it better for me to leave 
 this world than to continue longer in it ? Sure, you 
 are not ignorant that I have lived as well and as 
 pleasantly as any man, if to live well be, as I take it, 
 to have no concern but for virtue, and if to live 
 pleasantly be to find that we have made some progress 
 in it. Now, I have good reason to believe that this is 
 my happy case, that I have always had a steady regard 
 for virtue, and made progress in it, because I perceive 
 that my mind, at this time, doth not misgive me ; nay, 
 I liave the sincere testimony of my conscience that I 
 have done my duty ; and in this belief I strengthen 
 myself by the conversation I have had with others, and 
 by comparing myself with them. My friends, too, 
 liave believed tlie same thing of me, not because they 
 wish me well, for in that sense every friend would 
 think as much of his friend, but because they thought 
 they advanced in virtue by my conversation. 
 
 " If I were to live longer, perliaps I should fall into 
 the inconveniences of old age : perhaps my sight should 
 grow dim, my h.caring fail me, my judgment become
 
 OP SOCRATES. 191 
 
 VToak, aud I should have more trouble to loam, more to 
 retain what I had learnt ; ]oerliaps, too, after all, I 
 sliould find myself incapable of doing the good I had 
 done before. And if, to complete my misery, I should 
 have no sense of my wretchedness, would not life bo 
 a iDurden to me ? And, on the other hand, say I had 
 a sense of it, would it not afflict me beyond measure ? 
 As things now stand, if I die innocent the shame will 
 fall on those who are the cause of my death, since all 
 sort of iniquity is attended with shame. But who will 
 ever blame me because others have not confessed my 
 innocence, nor done me justice ? Past experience lets 
 us see that they who suffer injustice, and they wdio 
 commit it, leave not a like reputation behind them 
 after their death. And thus, if I die on this occasion, 
 I am most certain that posterity will more honour my 
 memory than theirs who condemn me ; for it will be 
 said of me, that I never did any wrong, never gave 
 any ill advice to any man ; but that I laboured all my 
 life long to excite to virtue those who frequented me." 
 
 This was the answer that Socrates gave to Her- 
 mogcuos, and to several others. In a word, all good 
 men who knew Socrates daily regret his loss to this 
 very hour, reflecting on ihe advantage and improve- 
 ment they made in his company. 
 
 For my own part, having found him to be the man 
 I have described, that is to say, so pious as to do 
 nothing without the advice of the Deity ; so just as 
 never to have in the least injured any man, and to have 
 done very signal services to many ; so chaste and tem- 
 perate as never to have preferred delight and pleasure 
 before modesty and honesty ; so i)i'ndent as never to 
 have mistaken in the discernment of good and evil, 
 and never to have had need of the advice of others.
 
 192 THE MEMORABLE THOUGHTS OF SOCRATES. 
 
 to form a right judgment of eitlicr; moroover, most 
 capable to deliberate aud resolve iu all sorts of affairs, 
 most capable to examine into men, to repreliend tliom 
 for their vices, aud to excite them to virtue ; having, 
 I say, found all these perfections in Socrates, I liavo 
 always esteemed him the most virtuous and most 
 liappy of all men ; and if any one bo not of my opinion, 
 let him take the pains to compare him with other men, 
 and judge of him afterwards. 
 
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