Xenophon/Chapter 5

by Alexander Grant

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CHAPTER V.

THE 'RECOLLECTIONS OP SOCRATES.'

The 'Memorabilia'—or, as the Greek name should rather have been translated, the 'Memoranda'—the 'Recollections,' or 'Notes from the Conversations,' of Socrates, ranks second by general repute among the works of Xenophon. But it is the interest of the name of Socrates, and the fact of its professing to be a genuine matter-of-fact record of what he said, that gives this book its importance. Xenophon had not in reality the qualifications of a Boswell. We have always a feeling, in reading the conversations which he records, that his notes could only have been accurate in a lower sense. The matter of the dialogue was given, or attempted to be given, but the delicacy of the form was lost. The words employed look like paraphrase reports of the substance of what Socrates said, or appeared to Xenophon to say, and they fail to bring the distinctive personality of the speaker before us. Plato, as most people are aware, wrote imaginary philosophical dialogues in which he constantly introduces Socrates. And it is to these imaginary and dramatic dialogues that we must refer, to explain and complete the Recollections of Xenophon. Those who know Plato can "read between the lines" of Xenophon, and see that much which the latter represents as bluntly said was in all probability accompanied by delicate intellectual turns, which the quick and impatient soldier's mind of Xenophon did not appreciate or think worth reproducing in detail. The ancients were agreed that nothing was more strikingly characteristic of Socrates than his "irony," which consisted in a sort of mock deference, always in good taste, to those whom he was going to instruct. Of the exact nature of this manner of his we should know nothing from Xenophon or any one else, were it not for the dramatic representation of it in Plato. Again, from Plato we learn to believe that Socrates was one of the finest "gentlemen" that ever lived; in the heat of argument not wounding the susceptibilities of any; answering insolence with superior repartee, but never triumphant or offensive; always entering into the feelings of others; and always conveying intellectual instruction under the forms of urbanity and good-breeding. The account of him in Xenophon is not inconsistent with this idea, but would never have fully suggested it. But the work of Xenophon has, after all, a certain value of its own. It gives a solid basis of facts, and prevents one from thinking that the Socrates of philosophy was a mere creation of the genius of Plato. We shall now take some of the most salient of those facts, and endeavour thus to put before our readers one of the most strange and wonderful men that ever lived.

According to the descriptions both of Plato and of Xenophon, which are corroborated by antique gems, Socrates had a strong burly figure, prominent and crab-like eyes, a flat nose with broad open nostrils, a large and thick-lipped mouth, and a forehead indicative of great mental power. Everything about him conveyed the idea of force, character, and originality. His father had been a sculptor, and his mother a midwife. He was bred up to his father's profession, and followed it for a time with some success; and a statue which he executed of the Graces was preserved in the Acropolis of Athens. In time of war he served his country^[1] as a heavy-armed soldier, and was in action, and distinguished himself, at the siege of Potidæa and at the battle of Delium. Xenophon omits to mention one peculiarity of Socrates which we learn from Plato—namely, his strange fits of protracted reverie, almost amounting to trance. But he is full of allusions to the Dæmon, or divine mentor, under whose guidance Socrates laid claim to act. The whole life of Socrates was represented by himself as being ordered under the direction of internal signs from the gods, which told him what to do and what not to do. He thoroughly believed in the reality of these intimations, which perhaps all of us have at times, without recognising and obeying them. But Socrates by habit learnt more and more to recognise and obey. And thus his whole life took the form of a mission, which consisted in improving others, both in intellect and character, by his conversations.

Socrates was twice married, having first espoused Xanthippe, whose name has unfortunately become a byword in history for a shrew.^[2] By her he had a son, and in all probability Xanthippe may have had many a word with him on the subject of his not going on with his profession, and making money to keep his family in comfort. But, by inheritance or otherwise, he had some very small means, and instead of increasing these to meet the desires of ordinary people, he determined to cut down his wants to what he had, and thus he voluntarily adopted a life of austere simplicity and poverty, entirely devoted to what he considered his spiritual calling. India of the present day throws light on many of the features of ancient Greek society, and in India such lives of renunciation and of contented poverty are not unfrequent. Often in the Indian bazaars may you see Socrates, or something like him, in the person of some stout Brahman, good-humouredly lounging about in loose robes and with bare legs, ready to discuss for hours, with all comers, any topic that may turn up, but for preference some point of Vedanta philosophy. The resemblance is doubtless an external one, yet still there is the same simple notion of life, contented with the barest necessaries, and cheered by the play of the intellect in talk.

But the talk of Socrates was not idle—it was always directed to a definite purpose. Every conversation was meant to produce a result, and to leave the person who had talked with Socrates in a better condition than before—either with truer views as to the conduct of life, or disabused of some fallacy, or stimulated to inquire about some point in a deeper way and after a sounder method. For such talk he laid himself out, and made it his daily business. In the morning he regularly frequented the gymnasia and exercise-grounds; at noon, when the market was full, he was to be found there; for the rest of the day he went wherever the citizens of Athens happened most to be congregated. Socrates thus became "an institution" and a public character; and as such he was caricatured by Aristophanes in a comedy called 'The Clouds,' in which Socrates was represented, miserable and half-starved, keeping a "thinking shop," in which the most absurd speculations were ventilated. This public raillery probably did Socrates no harm, and was not the least resented by him.

But in the unremitting pursuance of his missionary career for the improvement of his fellow-citizens, Socrates made himself many enemies. There are always people who do not wish to be improved, especially after they have got to a certain age, and who resent the attempt to improve them as an impertinence. Again, with all the grace and good-breeding of the manner of Socrates, it was his invariable object to show people that they did not know so much about things as they themselves imagined. And this operation was applied in the most unsparing way to persons who were considered to be quite "authorities" on political and other questions. We can hardly wonder that such a species of practice should have raised up for the practitioner a plentiful crop of unpopularity. Public men found themselves assailed, before crowds of people, with vexing questions which they were unable to answer. They found their prestige impaired, and their minds thrown for the first time into an attitude of self-mistrust. They must in many instances have hated the very sight of Socrates, but there was no escaping him, for he had nothing else to do but always to be in market and forum, and all public places, ready to annoy. The young entertained a different feeling about him. Socrates had a great love for the society of youth, especially of the clever and promising. They afforded him the most hopeful materials to work upon; their minds were plastic, their prejudices less inveterate, their ardour uncooled, and their curiosity undulled by time and custom. Socrates constantly drew around him a band of such young men, over whom, by his versatile originality and many-sided talk, he exercised a great fascination. These constituted the Socratic school, which, by following out the suggestions of their master into various directions, created or commenced all that was best and most valuable in ancient philosophy. Among these, the most eminent were Euclid (not the geometrician) of Megara; Antisthenes, founder of the Cynics; Aristippus of Cyrene; and the lovely-minded Plato. Xenophon, probably when about eighteen years old, became one of the disciples of Socrates, but the bent of his mind was entirely practical, and he contributed nothing to the development of philosophy, and wrote no philosophical book, properly so called. Many other youths of the Socratic following took afterwards to political life, for which the training they had received in reasoning and discussion formed a useful preparation. Some turned out badly enough, and it was made a reproach to Socrates that Alcibiades, who betrayed his country, and Critias, who, as one of the Thirty Tyrants, became her cruel oppressor, had been among his pupils.

The very influence which Socrates exercised over young men became a cause of his being held in suspicion and dislike by the pères de famille of Athens. He was thought to fill the mind of youth with new-fangled ideas, and to teach boys to lose respect for their own fathers, substituting a preposterous independence of spirit for the obedience natural to their age. In the year 399 B.C., when Socrates had for at least thirty years pursued his mission, and when he was more than seventy years of age, the feeling of unpopularity which he had excited found its culmination, owing apparently to the circumstance that he had endeavoured to prevent the son of one Anytus, a rich tradesman and powerful demagogue, from following his father's trade as a leather-seller. The boy appears to have been full of promise, and Socrates wished him to choose a more intellectual career. Anytus, however, was incensed, and took counsel on the matter with others who bore a grudge against Socrates, and among them with Melêtus a poet, and Lycon a rhetorician. Poets and rhetoricians were both among the classes of people whose claims to knowledge of the truth Socrates had constantly impugned, and the two persons above named had probably each suffered under his public refutations. The result of their conference was, that one day there appeared, in regular form, posted up at the office of the King-Archon, one of the chief civil magistrates at Athens, an indictment signed with the names of Melêtus, Anytus, and Lycon, in the following terms:—"Socrates is guilty of crime, first, in not believing in the gods that the city believes in; secondly, in introducing other new gods; thirdly, in corrupting the youth. The penalty due is—death."

The appearance of this indictment, and the appointment of a day for it to be tried, must have caused a great sensation at Athens. But Socrates himself remained apparently unconcerned, talking of all other subjects except his approaching trial; and one of his friends (who afterwards told the story to Xenophon) asked him if he had prepared his defence. To this he replied that his whole previous life had been a preparation, having been spent in studying what was right, and endeavouring to do it. He added that it had occurred to him to think what he should say before his judges, but that he had received the divine intimation to forbear. "Possibly the gods thought it better for him to die now than to continue to live, and no wonder, for hitherto he had lived most happily with a consciousness to himself of progressive moral improvement, and with the esteem and love of his friends. Were he to live on now, he might find his faculties impaired, and then the dignity and pleasure of his life would be gone. Were he to be put to death by his judges, he was confident that by posterity he would be regarded as one who had suffered wrongfully, but had done no wrong to others, having only endeavoured to make all men better."

Socrates was tried before a dicastery, or jury, consisting of the large number of 557 Athenian citizens. Melêtus appears to have stated the case for the prosecution, and it was left to Socrates to defend himself. In a trial of the kind, and before such a tribunal, the issue was sure to turn on the animus, favourable or otherwise, created by the speeches of the different parties on the minds of the jurymen. They were doubtless all practised in the discharge of their function, which in litigious Athens every one was constantly called on to fulfil. On such occasions they were accustomed to be conciliated by those who pleaded before them, and they would expect as a matter of course to be conciliated by Socrates. But Socrates condescended to nothing of the kind. His 'Apology' or 'Defence' has been reported both by Xenophon and Plato. The latter, as usual, puts into the mouth of his master a speech in more beautiful style and in sublimer strain than that which he really uttered. Xenophon merely gives rough heads of the topics which, he had heard, were used. But the general purport of both accounts is the same. Socrates, without addressing himself to the task of persuading his judges and saving his own life, spoke, as Mr Grote^[3] well says, "for posterity." Instead of submitting explanations of his own conduct, he treated it as something of which he could only speak with a just pride. He gave indeed a distinct denial to the charge that he had shown any want of orthodoxy toward the national religion, as he could call all to witness that he had always joined in the public sacrifices. But with regard to the second count—that he had introduced new gods—he denied that his belief in the divine signal was anything different in kind from the belief that other men had in omens and auguries. He asserted emphatically as a fact the divine communications which he had received, and said that his friends had often benefited by the predictions which he had been able to make to them. And this statement created an unfavourable impression on the jury, for some disbelieved him, and others were offended at his claim to a special inspiration.

Turning now to the third count, that he had corrupted young men, he gave a history of his mode of life, the turning-point of which had been that the oracle of Apollo at Delphi had pronounced him the wisest of men. This avowal caused a fresh expression of disapprobation from the jury; but, according to the account of Plato, Socrates softened the seeming arrogance of the boast, by adding that he himself had wondered why the god should have pronounced him wise, when he was conscious of knowing nothing. He had resolved to test the truth of the oracle by comparing himself with others. Hence he began to question those who had a high reputation, but their answers did not satisfy him. He tried men of all sorts, but invariably found that they had the show of knowledge without the reality. Thus he came to the conclusion that the god called him wisest, because, though knowing no more than other men, he alone was conscious to himself of his own ignorance. Henceforth he considered it his mission to lead other men to know themselves; and as to the youth whom he had gratuitously instructed, so far from corrupting them, he had invariably drawn them on to modesty, manliness, and virtue. "Ay," interrupted Melêtus, "but I have known some whom you persuaded to obey you rather than their parents." "Yes," said Socrates, "about matters of education, for they knew I had specially studied this subject. About health people obey the physician, and not their parents; and in state affairs or war, you choose those who are skilled to be your leaders. Why then, in the most important thing of all, education, should not I be allowed to be an authority, if I am really such? or why should my claiming this be made a ground for thinking me worthy of death?"

From these specimens of the defence of Socrates, any one can see in what a lofty spirit of conscious rectitude it was conceived. On such of the jury as had petty minds, perhaps already full of prejudice against the defendant, and looking at all events to see him humble himself before them, his independent words were sure to fall unfavourably; and yet there was sufficient generosity among the dicasts to make the majority against him a small one. As many as 276 of their number were for acquitting him, while 281 voted that he was guilty of the charges brought against him. Even at this point he might have been saved, for the sentence was not yet passed, and, according to Athenian custom, the condemned person had the privilege of proposing some punishment, in which he would acquiesce, milder than that proposed by the prosecutor. But, as we learn from Plato, Socrates would not even now show any submission to the majority who had condemned him. He said, proudly, that "what he was conscious of having merited was, to be maintained at the public expense as a benefactor to the State; at the solicitation of his friends, however, he would name as a counter-penalty, instead of death, a fine of thirty minæ (£120), which his friends were ready to pay for him." This proposition, or the manner in which it was made, pealed the doom which he had apparently hardly desired to escape. The jury now, by a separate vote, of which we do not know the numbers, sentenced him to suffer death.

For the glowing details of the last days and conversations of Socrates, given truly to the idea if not to the actual fact, we must refer our readers to the 'Phædo' of Plato. Xenophon shortly summarises the matter, saying that "by universal acknowledgment no man ever endured death with greater glory than Socrates. He was obliged to live thirty days after his sentence, for the Delian festival happened to be going on at the time, and the law allowed no one to suffer capital punishment until the sacred deputation which was sent on these occasions to the Isle of Delos should have returned. During that time Socrates was seen by all his friends, living in no other way than at any preceding period, with the same cheerfulness and tranquillity for which he had always been remarkable. What death could have been more noble or more happy than this?"

In many respects the end of Socrates may indeed be regarded as a euthanasia. There was nothing like the shame of a public execution, or the horror of a violent death, to be endured. In privacy, amid a circle of friends and admirers, the cup of hemlock was to be drunk which would painlessly extinguish the vital powers, and that too at a period of life when of themselves they might soon have ceased. Such were the mitigating external circumstances; while inwardly there was "the royal heart of innocence," the high enthusiasm which has enabled so many to meet with cheerfulness a martyr's death, and the philosophic reason which entirely triumphed over the animal instincts, which saw things as a whole, and which counted the loss a gain. When Apollodorus, one of his disciples, said, "I grieve most for this, Socrates, that I see you about to die undeservedly." He answered, stroking the head of his pupil with a smile, "My dearest Apollodorus, would you rather see me die deservedly?" When some of his friends suggested a plan for his escape, at which the Athenians would probably have connived, he said, "I am willing to fly if you can tell me of any country to fly to where death does not await me." Seeing Anytus pass by, he remarked, "This man is elated as if he had done something great and noble in causing my death, because, when I saw him occupying the highest offices in the state, I said that he ought not to bring up his son among the ox-hides. How foolish he is not to know that whichever of us has done what is best and noblest for all time, he is the superior." When his friends asked what he wished done with his body, he said, "You may do with it what you like, provided you do not imagine it to be me."

To modern ideas there may seem to be something wanting in this picture; we might have preferred to see the strong light relieved by shadow, by some touch of nature at the thought of parting from family and friends, by some human misgivings on the threshold of the unknown. But the ancients must be judged by their own standards. The Greek ideal was one of strength, and widely different from the later and deeper Christian ideal of strength made perfect in weakness. Socrates was the noblest of the Greeks, and in almost all respects his life is worthy to be made an example to all time.

Xenophon does not regard the death of his master (so dignified and happy) as in itself a subject of pity and regret. Nor does he even express any strong indignation against the authors of it; he merely expresses wonder that the Athenians could have found Socrates guilty of the charges brought against him. And the ostensible object of his 'Recollections' is to show by an array of facts that Socrates was neither unorthodox, nor impious, nor a corruptor of youth. Xenophon's book looks like an argument addressed to the Athenian people, and it is certainly quite popular and practical in its object and point of view. Hence, while recording the conversations of that philosopher whose conversations introduced a new form and method into philosophy, Xenophon seems to leave the form and method of what was said out of consideration, and to restrict himself to quoting the matter, in order to show that the thoughts were those of a morally good man. Such an undertaking in reference to Socrates was poor and limited; it tells us about Socrates as a man, but obliges us to seek Socrates the philosopher in the imaginative pages of Plato. And the worst is that we are left in doubt—a doubt which can never be removed—how far, in representing the philosophical tenets of Socrates, Plato has attributed to him too much, and Xenophon too little. In bringing Xenophon's 'Memorabilia' to the knowledge of English readers, we must leave philosophical formulæ out of the question, and give shortly such of the recorded sayings as may seem most interesting.

Socrates, it appears, made a point of not departing from conformity with the usual religious ceremonies of his country. He also encouraged others in the use of divination, while he himself relied on the intimations of his dæmon or familiar spirit. He appears to have divided the affairs of life into two classes, one falling under the domain of art and science, about which men might be perfectly certain by the use of their own reason, and on which therefore it would be absurd to consult the gods. The other class consisted of things uncertain in their issue—as, for instance, whether it would be of advantage to make a particular marriage; and on such subjects he advised that the gods should be consulted by means of augury.

He disapproved, according to Xenophon, of the speculations, so common among philosophers, into the nature and origin of the universe. He thought that such inquiries could lead to no certainty, and produced no result. He considered "the proper study of mankind" to be "man." And he professed to limit himself to discoursing on human affairs, considering what was just, what unjust; what was sanity, what insanity; what was courage, what cowardice; what was a state; wherein consisted the character of the true statesman; how men were to be governed; and the like.

With regard to prayer, he made a point of not asking for definite things, not knowing whether they would be good for him. But he prayed the gods to give him what it would be best for him to have, which they alone could know. Owing to his poverty, his sacrifices were small; but he believed that, if offered in a pious spirit, they would be equally accepted by the gods. And he used to say that it was a good maxim, with regard to friends, and guests, and all the relations of life, "perform according to your ability."

When Athens was under the Thirty Tyrants, Critias, an old pupil of Socrates, was one of them. By cruel proscriptions they had put many of the citizens to death, on which Socrates compared them to "herdsmen who, being intrusted with cattle, reduced instead of augmenting the number of their herd." The remark was repeated to Critias, who, being stung by it, and also bearing a grudge against his former master for certain rebukes that he remembered, passed a law that "no one should teach the art of disputation," and sending for Socrates, he required his attention to it. Socrates, on hearing him, put on his usual humble demeanour, and asked to be informed the exact purport of the prohibition—"Was the art of reasoning considered to be an auxiliary to right or to wrong?" On this one of the Tyrants got angry, and said, "In order to prevent all doubt, Socrates, we require you not to discourse with the young at all." Socrates, nothing daunted, asked to be informed more accurately what they meant by "the young." Up to what age was he to consider a man "young"? They said, "up to thirty." He then asked for a definition of "discourse." Might he not inquire the price of a thing, or any person's residence, from a man under thirty? "Yes," said Critias, "but you must now abstain from talking about those shoemakers, carpenters, and smiths that you used to have always in your mouth." "What!" said Socrates, "must I give up speaking of justice and piety and other subjects, to illustrate which I am in the habit of referring to those trades?" "Ay, by Jupiter! you must," said another of the Thirty; "and you must stop speaking of herdsmen too, else you may chance yourself to make the cattle fewer." This conversation shows the coolness of Socrates under the "reign of terror" at Athens.^[4] It shows, too, his unpopularity, and how utterly alienated from him a former pupil had become.

Perhaps the most often quoted conversation of Socrates is that which he held with a young man named Aristodemus, who affected to despise religious observance. Having obtained from him the admission that he reverenced the genius of creative artists, Socrates asked him how he could avoid reverencing the intelligent design so copiously exhibited in the framework of man—in the adaptation of the organs to the different objects of sense—in the admirable defence provided by means of the eyelids and eyelashes for the eye—in the arrangement; of the incisor and molar teeth—in the maternal instinct, and all the instincts of self-preservation which keep our species from destruction. He asked if all this, as well as all the orderly mechanism of the heavens, could be the work of chance? Aristodemus replied that he could not see any directors of the universe. To which Socrates retorted, "Why, you cannot see your own soul, the director of your body, and you might as well say that all your own actions are the result of chance." Aristodemus now shifted his ground, and said, "I do not ignore the divine power, but I think it too grand to need my worship." "The grander it is," said Socrates, "surely the more it should be honoured by you, if it condescends to take care of you." Aristodemus said that the difficulty with him was to believe that the gods took any thought for men. On which Socrates, to prove the divine Providence, pointed out the highly-favoured position occupied by man among the animals—the privileges of reason; the warnings sent to nations and individuals by omens and auguries; and the analogy between the mind ruling over and directing the body, and the universal intelligence which must be conceived as pervading all things and directing their movements. In fine, he recommended Aristodemus to make practical trial of the habit of worship, and of consulting the gods by divination.

Such was the natural theology of Socrates, as recorded by Xenophon. In it we find the argument from final causes, just as it is used by Paley; and an analogical representation of God as bearing the same relation to the world which the individual soul does to the body. And the conclusion of the whole matter is made to be a recommendation to practical piety.

Xenophon says that "it is due to Socrates not to omit the conversation which he had with Antiphon," a Sophist or professional lecturer of the day. This man had taunted Socrates on his bare feet and scant clothing—the same in winter as in summer,—on his spare diet, and on the general wretchedness of his mode of life. "If Philosophy," he proceeded, "be your mistress, you get from her a worse maintenance than any slave would put up with from his master. It is all because you will not take money—money that cheers the recipient, and enables him to live in a more pleasant and gentlemanlike way. You really set your pupils a bad example in this; you are teaching them to live as miserably as yourself, and you are acting as if your instructions had no value, else why should you give them for nothing?" To this Socrates replied, that doubtless Antiphon would not relish his mode of life, but that for himself it had the charm of independence; that, as he was paid by no one, he owed no service to any; that his plain diet gave him as much pleasure as their luxuries gave to others; that he was, in bodily condition, always ready for anything; that above all he had the happy consciousness of always growing better himself, and of seeing friends about him who were constantly improved in their moral natures; that to want nothing was to be like the gods, and that his aim was, in this point, to make some approach to the divine perfection. With regard to taking money for his instructions, he said that there were two things, either of which to sell was prostitution—namely, personal beauty and wisdom. "Those who sell their wisdom for money to any that will buy, men call 'Sophists,' or, as it were, a sort of male demi-monde; whereas whoso, by imparting knowledge to another whom he sees well qualified to learn, binds that other to himself as a friend, does what is befitting to a good citizen and a gentleman. Some men," continued Socrates, "have a fancy for a fine horse, or a dog, or a bird; what I fancy and take delight in is friends of a superior kind. If I know anything, I teach it to them; I send them to any one by whom I think they may be improved. In common with them, I turn over and explore the treasures of the wise men of old which have been left written in books, and if we find anything good we pick it out, and we think it a great gain if we can be beneficial to one another." This pleasing picture of the Socratic circle of friends may be taken as a set-off against what has been said above of the annoying character of the sage's public disputations. Xenophon tells us that when Socrates found any man really wishing to learn, he desisted from vexing him with difficulties, and did his best to assist his inquiries. We may note also the severe retort upon the taunts of Antiphon, in the way in which the Sophists are, as if incidentally, characterised.

Some of the conversations of Socrates, as they are related in the 'Memorabilia' appear less calculated to be successful in producing the impression they aimed at. With regard to some of these, it is impossible to help suspecting that they have been eked out by Xenophon, and spoilt in the process. A notable instance of this kind occurs in a long conversation between Socrates and his associate Aristippus, afterwards the famous leader of the school of pleasure. Socrates observing in this young man a too great tendency to self-indulgence, set himself to counteract this tendency, and he did so by establishing the incompatibility of a soft and self-indulgent life with the career of a statesman and the government of others. Aristippus replied that he had not the faintest desire to govern any. Socrates then asked, whether it was happiest to be governed or to govern? Aristippus said that he meant to avoid both the one and the other; and that, in order to prevent being placed in either position, he proposed to himself to be a cosmopolite, and to travel about from state to state. Now on this announcement of the views of Aristippus we can have no doubt that the Socrates of Plato would have made an effective attack, in some way or other, by wit and raillery—perhaps by drawing a ridiculous picture of the cosmopolite mode of life. But the Socrates of Xenophon does nothing of the kind. He maintains a rather pedantic earnestness, and lectures away on the superior happiness of higher aims. He quotes Hesiod and Epicharmus to prove that virtue and exertion are good things, and finally gives at full length the allegory of Prodicus, known as "the choice of Hercules." Hercules, when a young man, met two females at a cross road—one called Vice, meretricious in dress and form; the other called Virtue, beautiful, dignified, and noble. Each made offers and promises to induce him to accompany her. These offers and promises were the descriptions, from a moral point of view, of a virtuous and vicious life respectively. Such was the sermon, borrowed from one of the Sophists, which Xenophon represents Socrates as having preached on this occasion. Nothing could have been less qualified to produce an impression on a man of the world like Aristippus. And we may be sure, if the real Socrates was at all like what Plato has led us to imagine him, that he never spoke exactly as here represented. Several dialogues, occupying the middle part of the 'Memorabilia,' are of the same "goody" character, and entirely devoid of the racy cleverness and biting wit which Socrates was in the habit of using. Colonel Mure indeed suspects that Xenophon has "made his master the mouthpiece for his own conceptions." At all events, if he has given us actual recollections or traditions of Socrates, he has served up many of them in such a way as to deprive them entirely of the Socratic flavour. There would be no interest in dwelling over such discourses as that in which the Xenophontic philosopher recommends two brothers to be good friends with each other; or those in which he dilates on the advantages and duties of friendship. Such matter as this is moral and well-intentioned enough, but it would not have required the "dæmon" of Socrates, or his own demonlike ability, to reveal it to the world.

Another set of anecdotes has a faintly superior interest, in which Socrates is represented as advising his friends in their practical difficulties. One of them is in straits because his lands have been occupied by the enemy, and he can get no revenue from them, while he has a large household of slaves to support. Socrates advises him to make the slaves weave clothes for sale; and the experiment is successful. A second friend is reduced to beggary by war, and Socrates recommends him to become some rich man's steward. A third has plenty of means at his disposal, but is troubled by the so-called sycophants, or informers, bringing vexatious suits in order to extort money from him. Socrates tells him to retain the services of a clever poor man, who acts as his solicitor, and defeats the sycophants with their own weapons. We speak of a faint interest attaching to these stories; and it consists merely in this, that they exhibit Socrates as constituting himself adviser-general to his friends in matters of all descriptions.

One group of dialogues in the 'Memorabilia' is concerned with political or military topics. Socrates is represented in these as giving advice to young aspirants for offices of command in the state or the army. In some of these we observe a suspicious affinity to certain favourite speculations of Xenophon's on the improvement of cavalry, and on measures to be taken for the revival of the Athenian power. In others we find vague platitudes inflicted on the listener, such as that "it is the duty of a general to render those under him happy." In one there is a glaring piece of sophistry—so glaring, and so opposed to the ordinary doctrines of Socrates, that it is worth quotation. There is no rule which the sage is oftener represented as enforcing in all forms, than that no man should undertake to perform or superintend any business of which he has not competent special knowlege. This maxim was entirely of a piece with what we know from elsewhere of the Socratic doctrine, that virtue itself is knowledge, and life an art. Now, in the fourth chapter of the third book of the 'Memorabilia,' one Nichomachides is represented as coming disgusted from the election of office-bearers, and complaining to Socrates that the Athenians were capricious as ever—that after long military service, with credit, in all the lower grades of command, and after receiving many wounds in action, his claims had now been set aside, and another man, who had hardly seen any service, and who knew nothing except how to make money, had been chosen general. Socrates, however, did not give the least sympathy to the complainant. He took the opposite side, and declared that he who is a good man of business has capacities for managing anything, whether it be a family, a city, or an army. In vain did Nichomachides argue that when it came to fighting, the good man of business might find himself at a loss. "Not at all," said Socrates; "he will see exactly what is to be aimed at, and take the proper means accordingly." The paradox here is so great that we can hardly help believing that the conversation actually took place, though Xenophon is not subtle enough to point out, or perhaps to see, its bearing. On the one hand, we observe Socrates giving way to the love of contradiction, which is apt to be engendered in those who are accustomed to be looked up to. It is like Dr Johnson "sitting upon" one of his admirers. Again, Nichomachides may have been a very stupid man, and really unfit for command, which would give a justification to the line taken against him. Still further, it may be said that it was part of the Socratic method, as revealed by Plato, though not by Xenophon, to see different sides to every truth. In one sense it is true that special experience is required for every department; but it is also true that general ability is available in whatever sphere it be applied.

Socrates was not always allowed to take the aggressive side in discussion. He was sometimes cross-questioned after his own fashion, and put upon his mettle. Aristippus, who had very little reverence in his composition, is reported to have attacked him with the inquiry, "whether he knew anything good?" in order that, if he mentioned anything usually considered good, such as health, strength, &c., Aristippus might refute him by proving that it was sometimes an evil. But Socrates parried the question, asking in return, "Good for what? Do you mean good for a fever?" "No," said Aristippus, "I do not." " Good for sore eyes?" "No." "Good for hunger?" "No, not that." "Well, then," said Socrates, "if you mean to ask me whether I know anything good which is not good for anything in particular, I neither know such, nor do I wish to know it." The tables are thus cleverly turned, and Socrates obtains a dialectical victory by silencing his opponent. In doing so, he commits himself to the position that "good" is a relative idea, and that he has no conception of any absolute good. An antagonist worthy to encounter him would have followed him up into this position, and would have asked, "If goods are manifold and relative, how do you account for their common name?" And to this Socrates would have had to give an answer which would have revealed to us his exact opinion on the nature of universal terms.

Aristippus, however, relinquishing this point, took up another, and asked Socrates "if he knew anything beautiful?" He replied, "Yes, many things." On which it was asked "whether these were all alike?" and Socrates said, "On the contrary, very unlike." "Then how can they be all beautiful?" To this Socrates replied by giving a theory of the Beautiful, which identified it with the relative good, or, in other words, the Useful. "What!" said Aristippus, "can a dung-basket be beautiful?" "Of course it can," said Socrates; "and a golden shield can be very ugly, if the one be well fitted for its proper use, and the other not." Pursuing this theme, he applied his doctrine to beauty in architecture, asserting that it simply consisted in the adaptation of buildings to the use for which they were intended. Thus he said that paintings and frescoes on the walls of houses often detracted from the comfort, and therefore from the beauty, of those houses, by necessitating the building of the walls in a particular way, by which the sun was too much excluded. We have here the first statement, crudely made, of that relative theory of beauty which was adopted in modern times by Alison, Jeffrey, and others. We cannot tell how far it embodied the real opinion of Socrates, because when great men discuss things with their pupils, we cannot be sure how far they open their whole mind. And we know it to have been the object of Socrates rather to awaken inquiry than to give results. That his hints took root and germinated in the minds of others, we may see abundantly from the luxuriant and varied thought of Plato.

Other theories of Socrates given in the 'Memorabilia' might seem to require qualification. As, for instance, that Temperance and all the other virtues are identical with Wisdom. This ignores all distinction between the intellect and the will of man, and is opposed to acknowledged facts. In arguing with Hippias, who, like Aristippus, tried to confute him with questions, Socrates laid it down that Justice consists in obeying the laws. This position, by itself, would hardly be maintained, for it would amount to what in modern times has been called "Hobbism," which makes the legislator a creator of right and wrong. But Socrates modifies the theory by saying that in addition to the laws of the state there are "unwritten laws" which are in force among all mankind, or which, if not recognised, bring their own punishment. As an instance he mentions the rule that parents must not marry their children, for which he gives the apparently insufficient sanction that such marriages would imply a too great disparity of age. Another instance of an unwritten law here given is, that "men must do good to those who have done good to them." In the doctrine that justice consists in obeying the laws, Socrates doubtless had an important meaning in view—namely, he wished to protest against the too great individualism of his times, and to assert that the first duty of man is to consider himself as a social being, bound up with his fellow-men in a great organism, of which the laws of his country are the expression. But to follow out such questions, and to attempt to fix more definitely the position of Socrates in the history of philosophy, would be beyond the scope of this chapter, and indeed it would be undertaking more than the whole 'Memorabilia' of Xenophon would furnish data for.

We have already given the chief features of that book. It is not necessary to go minutely into the conversations of Socrates with Parrhasius the painter, and Clito the sculptor. The teacher seems to have been a little carried away by the lust of giving advice, when he lectured these artists on choosing beautiful subjects, and on making their figures express the emotions of the mind. In talking with a corslet-maker, he appears to have aimed at getting a logical definition of what was meant by a corslet "fitting well." The story of his visit to Theodota, a beautiful courtesan, is perhaps best told of all the tales in the 'Memorabilia,' and if we make certain allowances for the manners and ideas of the age, it gives most idea of the Socratic grace and versatile politeness. Socrates evidently tried to draw on this lady, in the course of talk, to some degree of moral elevation, but she did not understand him, so he gradually and gracefully backed out of the interview. Socrates was of far too catholic a spirit to consider any class or phase of society excluded from the scope of his mission. But he was not a man to throw pearls before swine; he adapted himself to the atmosphere in which he found himself, but always endeavoured indirectly to purify and improve it, and if much could not be done in this way, to do a little.

A somewhat fuller picture of Socrates discharging this last-named function is given by Xenophon in the 'Banquet,' an imaginary dialogue,^[5] which represents the philosopher at a gay Athenian supper-party. The incidents related are as follows:—A beautiful youth, named Autolycus, had gained the victory in the pancratium, or contest of wrestling and boxing at the public games. Callias, a wealthy Athenian, a friend of the boy's father, and having a great regard for himself, gave a supper in his honour. Meeting Socrates and some of his followers, he invited them to come, saying that "his party would he much more brilliant if the rooms were graced with the presence of men of culture and refinement, instead of being filled with generals and cavalry officers, and political place-hunters."

When they were seated, the dazzling beauty of Autolycus became a "cynosure" to the eyes of all the guests. They were like men impressed by a superior presence. They gazed on him in a sort of awe, and proceeded with their supper in silence. This mood was interrupted by a knocking at the door, and Philippus, a professional buffoon, requested entrance. He was told to join the feast, and attempted some jokes, which at first met with no response, till his comic expressions of grief at finding that "laughter had gone out of fashion, and that his occupation was gone," set some of the guests a-laughing.

Presently a "nautch" was introduced. A man of Syracuse brought in a girl who played on the flute, and a boy and girl who danced. After having some music, the host suggested that perfumes should be handed round. Socrates opposed this, saying that "the only odour which a man ought to relish was the smell of the oil used in the gymnasia." To which the father of Autolycus said, "That's all very well for young men, Socrates, but what are old fellows, like you and me, who no longer frequent the gymnasia, to scent ourselves with?" "With the odours of honour and virtue," said Socrates. Whereon it was asked "where such odours could be procured?" And an incipient discussion arose, which was presently dropped, "whether virtue could be learned from others?"

They then witnessed some feats of the dancing-girl, who threw up and caught twelve hoops to the sound of music, and afterwards threw somersaults through a hoop stuck round with swords. This wonderful exhibition caused Socrates to remark, that "the talent of women is not at all inferior to that of men, though they are weaker in bodily strength. So that any one who had a wife might confidently instruct her in whatever he wished her to know." This observation caused Antisthenes to put it to Socrates, "Why, if he thought so, did he not educate Xanthippe,^[6] instead of leaving her the most notoriously ill-conditioned wife in existence?" To which Socrates replied, that "as those who wish to excel in riding often choose restive horses, because if they can ride these they will easily manage any others; so he, wishing to converse and associate with mankind, had chosen to have a wife of this kind, knowing that if he could bear her society, he would be able to get on with any one else in the world."

Then the boy danced, and was admired by all; and Socrates excited much amusement by telling the Syracusan that he should like to learn dancing from him. When the company laughed, he gravely informed them that "he was sure the exercise would do him a great deal of good; it called out all the powers of the body, and might be conveniently practised in private, which would just suit him."

Philippus, the jester, now gave a comic parody of the boy's dancing, and when exhausted with his exertions, called for some wine, which Callias commanded to be handed round; and Socrates gave his theory of the way in which they ought to drink—"not in huge quantities at once, which would be like a deluge of rain beating down the plants, but in small cups repeated frequently, which like gentle dew would refresh their spirits." And this mode of potation was made the order of the night.

There was more music; but Socrates urged that they ought not to be entirely dependent for their amusement on these children, but should by conversation entertain each other. The question now arose, "What each of the party most prided himself on?"

Callias prided himself on making others better.

Niceratus, on knowing all Homer by heart.

Critobulus, on his beauty.

Antisthenes, on his wealth.

Charmides, on his poverty.

Socrates, on his powers as a go-between.

Lycon, on his son Autolycus.

Autolycus, on his father Lycon.

Hermogenes, on the merit and power of his friends.

Then they had to justify their boasts, and it turned out that Callias was proud of making others better, because he did so by giving them money, so as to render them less necessitous, and less tempted to do wrong. Niceratus was proud of his knowledge of Homer, as being an encyclopædia of wisdom. For present purposes he wished to apply his knowledge by asking for an onion, which Homer said was the proper accompaniment of drink. Critobulus prided himself on his beauty, on account of the influence it had over others. Charmides, on his poverty, for he had not half the trouble since he had lost his estates. Antisthenes, on his wealth, for it consisted in having little, but wanting less. Hermogenes, on his friends, because these were the gods who took such care of him, as to intimate by dreams and auguries what he ought to do and what avoid. Socrates, on his skill as a go-between, which consisted in making people acceptable to others, and on a larger scale pleasing to the State. And this he effected by improving their minds. All these different claims and assertions led to various repartees. And, amongst other things, Socrates disputed the pre-eminence in point of beauty with Critobulus. The beauty of anything consisting in its adaptability to its proper function, Socrates argued that his own prominent eyes, which could look to the sides, must be handsomer than those of Critobulus. His broad nostrils, more adapted for smelling, must be handsomer than a delicate nose. His huge mouth, which could contain large morsels, must bear off the palm. A ballot-box was handed round among the guests to decide this rivalry, but every vote, as might be expected, was given in favour of Critobulus.

In the mean time the Syracusan became irritated that the attention of the company had been drawn off from his troupe, and he began to attack Socrates with some quotations from the 'Clouds' of Aristophanes, calling him "the Thinker," and asking him, "How many fleas'^[7] feet distant he was?" which some of the others were for resenting as an insult. But Socrates good-humouredly passed the matter over with some light badinage. He turned the subject by himself favouring the company with a song; after which the dancing girl performed some feats on a potter's wheel. On which Socrates made a remark something like Dr Johnson's—"Very wonderful—would it were impossible!" And he added, that after all, "almost everything was wonderful, if people did but consider it. For instance, why did the wick of the lamp give light, and not the brass? Why did oil increase flame, and water put it out? In order, however, not again to disturb hilarity by too much grave conversation, he would suggest that the dancers, instead of contorting their bodies, should perform something graceful and beautiful, like the pictures of the Graces, the Hours, and the Nymphs."

The exhibitor, pleased with this suggestion, went out to prepare; and Socrates, having the coast clear for a while, gave a discourse on love, distinguishing the heavenly from the earthly Venus, the latter inspiring mankind with love for the body, the former with the love of the soul and of noble actions. This distinction was copiously illustrated with instances, and the discourse ended with an address to Autolycus, exhorting him to nobility of life, and to prepare himself for serving his country. When it was concluded, the actors entered, and performed a ballet, representing the loves of Bacchus and Ariadne. The guests now retired to their homes; but Autolycus, who was in training, set out to take a walk, in which he was accompanied by the host, his father, and Socrates.

And here we must take leave of the great Athenian sage, on whom, though he left no writing of his own, so many volumes have been and will be written. In another imaginary dialogue, that on "Household Economy," Xenophon introduces him, but only to make him a mouthpiece, so we may be content to treat that work merely with reference to the matter of its contents. Xenophon's representation of his master is considered to be inadequate; and yet we shall have failed to do justice even to that representation, if we have not led our readers to conceive of Socrates as of a very remarkable, wise, and lovable being.

1. The army system of Athens, like that of modern Prussia, required every citizen to be trained as a soldier, and to serve in time of need. The enrolment was between the ages of eighteen and fifty-eight. Socrates must have been about forty-six years old at the battle of Delium.
2. Diogenes Laertius, Athenæus, and Plutarch, all state that Socrates was married twice. At the time of his death he had one grown-up son, Lamprocles, and two infants. The 'Memorabilia' mentions a conversation with Lamprocles, who complained of his mother's temper, while Socrates good-naturedly urged that it was of no consequence. But who was the mother of Lamprocles? Diogenes says that the two wives were Myrto (granddaughter of Aristides) and Xanthippe, but that it is doubtful which was the first wife. Evidently the first wife, the mother of Lamprocles, was the scold. Plato in the 'Phædo' definitely mentions Xanthippe as coming to the condemned cell of Socrates. This would make her the second wife. Equally definitely Xenophon, in the 'Banquet' (see below, p. 118), mentions Xanthippe as married to Socrates, and as famous for her bad temper, twenty years before. This would probably make her the first wife. Between these two authorities the issue must lie. On the whole, in a matter of the kind it seems more likely that Plato made a slip. Xanthippe's name was perhaps so familiar as being the wife of Socrates, that Plato forgot the second marriage with Myrto when introducing the wife in the death scene, at which he was not himself present. Poor Xanthippe's tongue had probably been "stopped with dust" ere that scene occurred. The attempts to "rehabilitate" her come to this, that Socrates could not have been a very comfortable husband.
3. History of Greece, vol. viii. p. 654.
4. Xenophon tells us in another place that Socrates did not pay the slightest attention to the order of the Tyrants.
5. We call this dialogue imaginary, from internal evidence. The event which was supposed to have given rise to the supper took place B.C. 420. Antisthenes would have been a very young man in 420, but he is represented in the dialogue as a man of mature opinions and decided cynical mode of life. Socrates, also, is described as quite an old man. Thus chronology is confused. The introduction, which is abrupt, speaks of "occurrences at which I was present." But Xenophon, when intending to mention himself, always does so in the third person—"Xenophon did this or that." He would have been about 11 years old in 420 B.C. On the whole, the 'Banquet' must be taken as a fancy sketch, based on something which really occurred. It was perhaps the first attempt at a dramatic picture, with Socrates for chief figure, and may have suggested to Plato the form of his inimitable dialogues, to which, though clever in its way, it is far inferior.
6. See above, page 90, note.
7. One of the absurdities attributed to Socrates in the 'Clouds' of Aristophanes (v. 145-199) is, that he undertook to demonstrate how many of its own feet a flea had leapt, in jumping from the eyebrow of a disciple on to his own head. He is represented as having solved the problem by catching the flea and plunging one of its feet into melted wax, by which means he got a measure of the feet, and then was able to divide the total distance by the size obtained!