"On the contrary, my conversation is with the gods, and with good men, and there is nothing excellent performed 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 families, a kind assistant to servants, a useful associate in the arts of peace, a faithful ally in the labours of war, and the best uniter of all friendships.

"My votaries, too, enjoy a pleasure in everything they either eat or drink, even without having laboured for it, because they wait for the demand of their appetites. Their sleep is sweeter than that of the indolent 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 have the pleasure of being praised by those who are in years, and those who are in years of being honoured by those who are young. They look back with comfort 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. You may believe that he embellished the thoughts with more noble expressions than I do. I heartily wish, my dear Aristippus, that you should make such an improvement 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. SOCRATES' 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?" "Very often," answered the young man. "And do you know," said Socrates, "why they are called so?" "We call a man ungrateful," answered Lamprocles, "who, having received a kindness, does not return the like if occasion offers." "I think, therefore," said Socrates, "ingratitude is a kind of injustice?" "I think so too," answered 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, "ingratitude 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 than 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 the wonders of Nature, 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 anything that all men more dread than to leave them; insomuch that all governments 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 marriage, it is not merely the gratification of the appetite which Nature has so strongly implanted in both sexes for their preservation that we regard; no, that passion can 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 have fine children, and of such a temper and disposition 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 provide for his children things useful 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 tenderness for the welfare and happiness of her babe, her whole time, day and night, is spent in pleasing 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 conduct, what sincere pleasure it would afford them to see their children turn out men of virtue and probity." "Undoubtedly," answered Lamprocles, "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 is much more difficult to support than that of a mother?" "Not of a mother like her," said Lamprocles. Socrates continued, "What strange thing has she done to you? Has she bit you, has she kicked you, as beasts do when they are angry?" "She has a tongue that no mortal can suffer," answered Lamprocles. "And you," replied Socrates, "how many crosses did you give her in your infancy by your continual bawling and importunate 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 injurious 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. You who are fully convinced likewise of the intentions of your 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?" "Not in the 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 believe you ought to have any reverence or respect for any one whatever? 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 contrary," said Lamprocles, "I am very careful to gain the goodwill of all men." "Perhaps you would endeavour to acquire the goodwill of your neighbour, to the end he might do you kind offices, such as giving you fire when you want it, or, when any misfortune befalls you, speedily relieve you?" "Yes, I would." "And if you were travelling with any man, either by sea or land, would you count it a matter of indifference whether you were loved by him or not?" "No, indeed." "Are you then so abandoned, Lamprocles," replied Socrates, "that you would take pains to acquire 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 ingratitude; that she takes no cognisance of such crimes, and that she neglects to punish those who do not return 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 public office, because it is a maxim commonly received amongst us, that a sacrifice, when offered by an impious hand, cannot be acceptable to the gods, nor profitable to the Republic. Nobody can believe, that a person of such a character can be 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 parents, neglect to honour their funerals: and this is particularly examined into in the 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 the 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 show her, for then would you be blamed and abandoned by all the world; 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 others might do you."



CHAPTER III. SOCRATES RECONCILES CHAEREPHON AND CHAERECRATES, TWO BROTHERS WHO 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 Chaerecrates, 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 extravagant in such men to imagine that a brother does them wrong because they enjoy not his estate? Why say they not likewise, that all the world does them wrong, because they are 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 solitude. Nevertheless, they are not of the same opinion as to the company of their brothers. If they are rich they buy themselves slaves to serve them, they procure 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 up 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 offend him." Chaerecrates 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 in good amity with such a person?" Socrates replied, "Does your brother give offence to all the world as well as to you? Does nobody speak well of him?" "That," said Chaerecrates, "is one of the chief causes of the hatred I bear him, for he is sly enough to please others; but whenever we two happen to meet you would think his sole design were to fall out with me." Socrates replied, "Does not this proceed from what I am going to say? When any man would make use of a horse, and knows not how to govern him, he can expect nothing from him but trouble. Thus, if we know not in what manner to behave ourselves toward 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 respect, 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? No; 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 way, whether, instead of being angry with him, you would not make much of him to bring him to know you? Now, you say that a good brother is a great happiness; you confess that you know how to oblige, and yet you put it not in practice to reconcile yourself with Chaerephon." "I fear I have not skill enough to compass it." "I think," said Socrates, "there will be no need of any extraordinary skill in the matter; and am certain that you have enough to engage him to wish you well, and to have a great value for you." "Pray," cried Chaerecrates, "if you know any art I have to make myself beloved, let me know it immediately, for hitherto I never perceived any such thing." "Answer me," said Socrates. "If you desired that one of your friends should invite you to his feast when he offered a sacrifice, what course would you take?" "I would begin first to invite him to mine." "And if you would engage him 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, who know the common methods of ingratiating yourself, will not be at the pains of practising them. Why do you scruple 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 disposition? Believe me, my friend, you will never, on that account, appear such. On the contrary, I take it to be the part 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 him to prevent you; but I take you to be more fit to manage this matter, and believe you will bring it to pass rather than he." "What 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 honour to begin is reserved to the elder?" "How do you mean?" said Socrates. "Must not a younger brother give the precedency to the older? Must he not rise up when he comes in, give 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 has 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 done 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 the 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 preventing 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? Now, it is certain that God has given us brothers only for our good; and that two brothers are a greater advantage to one another than it can be to either of them to have two hands, two feet, two eyes, and other the like members, which are double in our body, and which Nature has designed as brothers. For the hands cannot at the same time reach two things several fathoms distant from one another; the feet cannot stretch themselves from the end of one fathom to another; the eyes, which seem to discover from so far, cannot, at the same time, see the fore and hind-part of one and the same object; but when two brothers are good friends, no distance of place can hinder them from serving each other."



CHAPTER IV. A DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES CONCERNING FRIENDSHIP.

I remember likewise a discourse which I have heard him make concerning friendship, and that may be of great use to instruct us by what means we ought to procure ourselves friends, and in what manner we should live with them. 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 care," said he, "to buy houses, lands, 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 these, yet how few are solicitous to procure themselves a friend, or, when they 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 the same condition? For then immediately physicians 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; insomuch that if they are desired to name them, they are puzzled immediately, so little are their friends in their thoughts. Nevertheless, there is nothing comparable 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, he puts him in the way of it; if he be assaulted with any danger he immediately flies to his relief. At one time he gives him part of his estate, at another he assists him with the labour of his hands; sometimes he helps him to persuade, sometimes he aids him to compel; in prosperity he 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 his hands, his eyes, his ears, 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, what we have not seen, nor thought, nor heard of, when 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 cultivate that which is instead of a whole estate—I mean Friendship—a soil the most glorious and fertile where we are sure to gather the fairest and best of fruit!"



CHAPTER V. 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. Nay, I am told that Nicias, 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 Antisthenes; "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 give all I am worth." "If it be so," said Socrates, "it would be well that each man should consider how much he can be worth to his friends, and that he should endeavour to render himself as valuable as he can in their regard, to the end they might not abandon him; for when I hear one complain that his friend has betrayed him; another that he, whom he thought faithful, has preferred a small gain to the preservation of his friendship, I reflect on these stories, and ask whether, as we sell a good-for-nothing slave for what we can get for him, we are not likewise tempted to get rid of an ill-friend when we are offered more for him than he is worth? because I do not see men part with their slaves if they be good, nor abandon their friends if they be faithful."



CHAPTER VI. OF THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS.

The following conversation of Socrates with Critobulus may teach us how we ought to try friends, and with whom it is good to contract friendship:—"If we were to choose a friend," said Socrates to him, "what precaution ought we to take? Ought we not to look out for a man who is not given to luxury, to drunkenness, to women, nor to idleness? For with these vices he could never be very useful to his friend nor to himself." "That is certain," answered Critobulus. "Then," said Socrates, "if we found a man that loved to live great, though he had not an estate to support the expense, and who having daily occasion to employ the purses of his friends should show by his actions that whatever you lend him is so much lost, and that if you do not lend him he will take it ill of you, do you not think that such a man would be very improper to make a friend of?" "There is no doubt of it," said Critobulus. "And if we found another," continued Socrates, "who was saving of what he had, but who, on the other hand, was so covetous that it would be quite unfit to have anything to do with him, because he would always be 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 he 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," replied 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 were 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 be outdone in civilities so that it would be of advantage to have to do with him." "But how can we be certain of all this," said Critobulus, "before we have tried him?" "When we would give our judgment of statuaries, we have no regard," replied Socrates, "to what they say of themselves, but consider their 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. Apply 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 Critobulus, "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 supposing 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 prison 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 powerful 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 thus—

'Oh, stay! oh, pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay!'

"You say true," continued Critobulus; "but did not they say as much to the others, to stop them too?" "Not at all," said Socrates, "they enchanted with 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 enchant 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-shaped, and of a robust constitution." "But do you know no other charms?" "No," answered Socrates; "but I have indeed heard it said, that Pericles knew a great many, by means of which he charmed the Republic, 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 Critobulus, "that to gain the friendship of the great, we must render ourselves capable to perform great actions."

"And could you think 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 have 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 consequence?" "I confess I have not," answered Critobulus; "nevertheless, since it is impossible for a man of no worth whatever to have 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 friendship 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 man." "This is a misfortune," 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. Now, when I revolve these considerations in my mind, I know not where to go in search of friends; for it is impossible, 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 dissolute? No, for persons of such a character will mutually expose themselves to hatred and contempt; to hatred, because of the hurtful effects of their vices; to contempt, on account of the deformity of them. Neither, on the other hand, 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 me most, my dear Socrates, is to see men of merit and virtue harassing one another, and endeavouring, to the utmost of their power, to crush and ruin their antagonists, when, in different interests, both are contending for the most lucrative posts of the Republic. I am quite at a loss to account for such a conduct on the principles of friendship; 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, Nature 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 thing 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 motive 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 war. When they are pinched with hunger or thirst, they endure them with 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, then reason, or self-government, lays hold on the reins, checks the impetuosity of the passion, keeps it within due bounds, and will not allow them to transgress the great rule of their duty. They enjoy what is lawfully their own, and are so far from usurping the 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 consider what belongs to their friends as things in their own possession. From hence you see that the virtuous do not only not oppose, but that they aid one another in the employments of the Republic; for they who seek for honours and great offices, only to have an opportunity of enriching themselves, and exercising a cruel tyranny, or to live an easy and effeminate life, are certainly very wicked and unjust, nor can they ever hope to live in friendship with any man.

"But why should he who desires not any authority, but only the better to defend himself from the wicked, 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 affairs? If, in the tournaments and other games, the most strong were permitted to enter into a league against the weaker, they would infallibly be victors in all the courses, and win all the prizes; 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 pleases, to do good to the Republic, is it not more advantageous, when we concern ourselves in the government, to make friendship with men of honour and probity, who are generally, too, the most knowing and capable, and to have them for our associates than to make them our adversaries? For it is manifest, that 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. Now, 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 hardly 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. You stand in need of this address when you would contract a friendship with any one. Hide not, then, the secrets of your 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 who were agreeable to me, I believe that, by 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 whose persons are not only comely and genteel, but whose minds are replenished and adorned with all virtue." Socrates replied: "But my method forbids to use violence, and I am of opinion that all men fled from the wretch Scylla, because she detained them by force: whereas 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 that 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," continued Socrates, "that because you set a great value on his merit you have much affection for his person, will you not take it amiss?" "Not at all," said Critobulus; "for I am sensible we have a great kindness for those who bear us goodwill." "I may, then," said Socrates, "speak in that manner to those whom you desire to love: but will you likewise give me leave to advance that your greatest pleasure is to have good friends, that you take great care of them, that you behold their good actions with as much joy as if you yourself had performed them, and 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 friends in benefits, and 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 me leave," said Critobulus, "as if you might not say of me whatever you please?" "No, indeed," answered Socrates, "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 their 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 I ought not to tell lies in your praise." "You are then so far only my friend," replied Critobulus, "that if I have any good qualities to make myself be esteemed, you will assist me; if not, you will invent nothing in my behalf." "And 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 the 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 general, or a great politician, and if you, by that character which I should 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 he 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 ashamed," answered Critobulus, "to contradict you: for no good nor solid objection can be brought against so rational an assertion."



CHAPTER VII. 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 by his good counsels; if they laboured under poverty he did all he could to relieve them, teaching all men that they ought mutually to assist one another in necessity. I will set down some examples of his behaviour in these occasions.

Meeting Aristarchus, who looked very dejected, he said to him, "I see, Aristarchus, that something troubles you, but impart the cause of your grief to your friends, 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 has 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 maintain 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 to 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 who are at your house?" "There is no comparison between them," said Aristarchus. "Is it not then a shameful thing," replied Socrates, "that Ceramon should grow rich by means of those whom you acknowledge to be of less value, and that you should grow poor and be reduced to straits, though 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 Ceramon keeps follow some trades, but the persons I have with me have had a liberal education and follow none." "May not he," replied 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 women, cassocks, coats, and other the like manufactures, things very useful?" "Without doubt." "And do not the persons 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 rich? Do not you observe how wealthy Nausicides is become, what numerous herds he is master of, and what vast 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 how doth Demeas, of the village of Colyttus, get his livelihood? By making cassocks. What makes Menon live so comfortably? His cloak manufacture. And are not most of the inhabitants of Megara in good circumstances 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, they have with them some barbarians whom they have bought, and compel to work what brings them in gain; I, for my part, keep only ladies and gentlemen at my house, persons who are free, and some of them my own relations. Now would you have me to set them to work?" "And because they are 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 happy than those who employ themselves in any of those manufactures we have mentioned, or in whatever 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? Why did your ladies learn what you say they know. Did they believe them to be useless things, and had they resolved never to put them in practice? Or, on the contrary, was it with design to employ themselves in those matters, and to get something 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 reasonable 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 discontented on their account. And it is to be feared that the discontent will increase on both sides, and that the sense of past favours will wear off; but when you 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 complacency they will not fail to have more love for you. The remembrance of your kindnesses will be more grateful to them, and the obligations they have to you will be the greater. In a word, you will be kinder relations and better friends. Indeed, 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 proposed! 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. Aristarchus 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 satisfaction. The ladies loved him as their protector, and he considered them as persons who were very useful and necessary to him.

To conclude, some time afterwards Aristarchus 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 when beasts could speak, according to the fable, the sheep said to her master, 'You are a strange man; we yield you wool, lambs, and cheeses, and yet you give us nothing but what we can get upon the 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 keeping 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 protector, and that you watch over them for their safety with as much care as a faithful and courageous dog watcheth over a herd committed to his charge. Tell them that because of you no man dares hurt them, and that it is by your means that they live at ease and in safety."



CHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES PERSUADES EUTHERUS TO ABANDON HIS FORMER WAY OF LIVING, AND TO BETAKE HIMSELF TO SOME MORE USEFUL AND HONOURABLE EMPLOYMENT.

Another time, meeting with Eutherus, one of his old friends, whom he had not seen for a great while before, he inquired of him from whence he came? "At present," answered Eutherus, "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 the frontiers, and my father having left me 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. "Nevertheless," 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 anything." "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, "the magistrates in republics, and all that are in employments, are not, therefore, reputed slaves; on the contrary, they are esteemed honourable." "Be that as it will," said Eutherus, "I can never think of entering into any office where I might be liable to blame, for I would 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 censure 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, therefore, 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."



CHAPTER IX. IN WHAT MANNER SOCRATES TAUGHT HIS FRIEND CRITO TO RID HIMSELF OF SOME INFORMERS, WHO TOOK THE ADVANTAGE OF HIS EASY TEMPER.

One day Crito, happening to meet Socrates, complained to him that it was very difficult for a man who would keep what he had to live in 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 in 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 with all my heart," said Crito, "but that I fear that in the end he, too, would turn against me." "Why so?" said Socrates; "is it not better to serve a man like you, and to receive favours from him, than to have him for an enemy? You 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 the management of affairs; but withal very poor and in a low condition, for he was not of that sordid disposition to take all he could get, by what means soever, but he was a lover of justice and of honest men, and abhorred to make rich, or to raise himself by informing and backbiting; for he held that nothing was more base than that wretched practice of those miscreants called sycophants or informers. Crito cast an eye upon him, and as often as they brought him any corn, or wine, or oil, or any other thing from his country-houses, he sent him some of it; when he offered sacrifices he invited him to the feasts, and showed him many civilities of the 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 that they had a great number of enemies. This encouraged him to take them to task, and he prosecuted one of them for a crime which would have subjected him to a corporal punishment, or at least to a pecuniary mulct. This fellow, who knew his case to be bad, and that he could not justify himself, employed all sorts of stratagems to get rid of Archedemus, who nevertheless would not quit his hold till the 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, the other shepherds are glad to bring their flocks 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 them. He, for his part, was glad to oblige Crito; and it was observed at length that not only Crito lived undisturbed, but all his friends likewise; and if any one reproached Archedemus that self-interest had made him his master's creature, and to adore him and be so faithful and zealous in his service he would answer him thus:—"Which of the two do you think most dishonourable—to do services to men of quality from whom 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, that bad men may be our friends?" From thenceforward Crito contracted a strict friendship with Archedemus, and all his friends had likewise a great respect for him.



CHAPTER X. SOCRATES ADVISES DIODORUS 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 one 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 Hermogenes. You very well know he is not ungrateful, 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." "Excuse 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 to Hermogenes, and for a small gratification obliged him to be his friend; after which Hermogenes took particular care to please Diodorus, and sought all opportunities of serving him and of giving him content.



BOOK III.

CHAPTER I. OF THE QUALIFICATIONS OF A GENERAL.

Let us now see how Socrates was serviceable to those who were desirous to qualify themselves for employments of trust and honour, 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 the army:—

"It were a scandalous thing," said Socrates to him, "for a man who aims to be chief over others, to neglect to learn how to command, when so fair an opportunity 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 the whole fortune of the Republic 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 pretend to it, ought to be severely punished." By these reasons he persuaded this young man to get himself instructed.

After the youth had imagined that he had acquired some knowledge of the art, he returned to pay Socrates a visit, who, jesting him, addressed the company that were present in this manner:—"Do not you think, gentlemen, that as Homer, when speaking of Agamemnon, gives him the surname of venerable, we 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 instrument, though he never toucheth it; and as he who is knowing in the art of physic is a physician, though he never practise; so this young man, having learned to command is become a general, though not a man of us should ever give our voice to make him so. On the contrary, it is in vain for him 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 physic 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 commanding 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 that," 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 together; 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; he must be liberal and covetous; he must be wary, and yet enterprising. I confess that he ought to know likewise how 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 foundations 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?" "Indeed," replied the young man, "he did not teach me what you mention; and, I suppose, we must learn of ourselves to discern the good soldiers from the bad." "If you please," 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 action of great peril, ought he not to send the most ambitious, because they are the men who, out of a desire of glory, rush into the midst of dangers? And as for them, you would not be much troubled to know 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 the 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 Agamemnon the pastor of the people? "Is it not," said he, "because as a shepherd 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 provisions, and to bring to a happy issue the design that made them take arms, which is to overcome their enemies, and to live more happily afterwards? And why does the same poet praise Agamemnon likewise for being—

'At once a gracious prince and generous warrior'?

For is it not true, that to gain a prince the character of being generous and a warrior too, it is not sufficient to be brave in his own person, and to fight with intrepidity; but he must likewise animate the whole army, and be the 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 happiness be seen in all places of his dominions. For kings are not chosen to take care of themselves only, but to render happy the people who choose them. 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 themselves. A general, therefore, ought to prepare the way of good fortune to those 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 anything of him but to render his subjects happy.



CHAPTER III. ON THE BUSINESS OF 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 office? I cannot think it was that you might march first at the head of the troops, for the horse-archers are to march before you. Nor can I believe it was to make yourself be known, 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 they are, to the end that if the Republic 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 their ranks, what good could you expect from such cavalry? What service would you be able to do the State?" "You 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 likewise 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." "No 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: "You ought also to make them exercise, sometimes here, sometimes there, and particularly in places like those where the enemy generally is, that they may be good horsemen in all sorts of countries; for when 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 willingly submit to the prescriptions of the best physicians; at sea, to the most I 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 conduct of our lives. No excellent knowledge can be attained without the use of speech; the best method to instruct is by discourse, and they who are thoroughly versed in the sciences speak with the applause of all the world. But have you observed," continued he, "that in all sorts of occasions the Athenians distinguish themselves above all the Greeks, and that no Republic can show such youths as that of Athens? For example: 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 honour is what 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 persuaded that this would be a means to acquire them glory and renown?" "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." "Your advice is good," said he, "and I will immediately follow it."



CHAPTER IV. 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, who was coining from the assembly where they had chosen the magistrates, asked him, "of whom they had made choice to command the army?" Nicomachides answered: "Alas! the Athenians would not chose me; me! who have spent all my life in arms, and have gone through 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 anything remarkable, 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 Nicomachides, "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, he always gained the prize?" "There is a wide difference," answered Nicomachides, "between commanding an army and giving orders concerning a comedy." "But," said Socrates, "though Antisthenes understands not music, nor the laws of the stage, yet he found out those who were skilful in both, and by their means succeeded extremely well." "And when he is at the head of the army," continued Nicomachides, "I suppose you will have him to find out too some to give orders, and some to fight 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?" "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 them, 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 economist would make a good general." "Come, then," said Socrates, "let us examine wherein consists the duty of the one and of the other, and 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 he is fit for? Must he not punish 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 them upon occasion? Ought they 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 be 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 whatever might be the cause of his defeat. Thus, when he sees his army well provided with all things, and in a condition that seems to promise a good success, he will give his enemies battle; but when he wants anything he 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 family and that of a State the sole difference is that of a greater or lesser number; for as to all besides there is much conformity between 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 contrary, they who fail in this point commit great faults both 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 ATHENIANS 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 hope that when you command the army the Republic 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 more numerous than the Athenians?" "I know it." "Nor are they either braver or stronger?" "True, they are not." "Do you believe that 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 nothing of this among us." "But the Boeotians," replied Socrates, "are wonderfully ambitions and obliging; and these are the qualities that naturally push men on to expose themselves for the sake of glory and of their country." "The 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 Tolmides at Lebadia, where we lost a thousand men, and after another misfortune that happened to Hippocrates before Delium, the 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 their 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 such a condition, for fear makes a people more careful, more obedient, and more submissive. Whereas a too great security is attended with carelessness, 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 disorder; but when they apprehend that they shall be attacked by pirates, or that a tempest is hanging over their head, they not only do whatever they are commanded, but even observe a profound silence, waiting the 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 the 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 themselves masters of an estate, which is in the possession of others, we need only tell them that it is descended to them from their forefathers, and they will immediately 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 represent 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 arbitrators on account of their virtue." "You are in the right," said Socrates; "but I would have them be put in mind likewise of the birth and nourishment of Erictheus, 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 people of Peloponnesus, and, in short, of all the other wars that were in the days of Theseus, in which 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 Macedonia, and who had inherited a potent empire from their fathers, together with formidable forces, and who were already renowned for many great exploits. Sometimes you must 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 they have been chosen by several people 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 surprised to see the Republic so much fallen off from what it was." "In my opinion," replied Socrates, "she has behaved herself 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 length degenerate."

"What course must they take now," said Pericles, "to regain the lustre of their ancient virtue?" "They 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? When 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 prejudice 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 much ignorance and malice, and such animosities, and so many different parties among private persons. And I much fear that this mischief will get such a head that at length there will be no remedy against it, and that the Republic will sink under the weight of its misfortunes."

"Fear it not," said Socrates, "and do not believe 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 those 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," continued 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 employments upon them can give an account where they have learnt the exercises of which they are become masters? Our misfortunes in war, then, I very much apprehend, must be owing in a great measure to the bad education of our generals.