The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates Part 5

said Socrates, "that you can converse so unconcernedly with men of parts and authority, and that you should not have a.s.surance enough to speak to fools? Are you afraid to present yourself before dyers, shoemakers, masons, smiths, labourers, and brokers? for of such are composed the popular a.s.semblies. This is the same thing as to be the most expert in a fencing-school, and to fear the thrust of an unskilful person who never handled a foil. Thus you, though you speak boldly in the presence of the chief men of the Republic, among whom there might perhaps be found some who would despise you, dare not, nevertheless, speak in the presence of an illiterate mult.i.tude, who know nothing of the affairs of state, and who are not capable of despising you, and you fear to be laughed at by them." "Do they not usually," said Charmidas, "laugh at those who speak best?" "So likewise," said Socrates, "do the men of quality with whom you converse every day; and I am surprised that you have eloquence and persuasive sense sufficient to bring these to reason, and that you think not yourself capable even to approach the others. Learn to know yourself better, Charmidas, and take care not to fall into a fault that is almost general; for all men inquire curiously enough into the affairs of others, but they never enter into their own bosoms to examine themselves as they ought.

"Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter, consider yourself with more attention, and let not slip the occasions of serving the Republic, and of rendering it, if possible, more flouris.h.i.+ng than it is.

This will be a blessing, whose influence will descend not only on the other citizens, but on your best friends and yourself."

CHAPTER VIII. SOCRATES' DISPUTE WITH ARISTIPPUS CONCERNING THE GOOD AND BEAUTIFUL.

One day Aristippus proposed a captious question to Socrates, meaning to surprise him; and this by way of revenge, for his having before put him to a stand: but Socrates answered him warily, and as a person who has no other design in his conversations than the improvement of his hearers.

The question which Aristippus asked him was whether he knew in the world any good thing, and if Socrates had answered him that meat, or drink, or riches, or health, or strength, or courage are good things, he would forthwith have shown him that it may happen that they are very bad. He therefore gave him such an answer as he ought; and because he knew very well that when we feel any indisposition we earnestly desire to find a remedy for it, he said to him: "Do you ask me, for example, whether I know anything that is good for a fever?" "No," said Aristippus. "Or for sore eyes?" said Socrates. "Neither." "Do you mean anything that is good against hunger?" "Not in the least," answered Aristippus. "I promise you," said Socrates, "that if you ask me for a good thing that is good for nothing, I know no such thing, nor have anything to do with it."

Aristippus pressed him yet further, and asked him whether he knew any beautiful thing. "I know a great many," said Socrates. "Are they all like one another?" continued Aristippus. "Not in the least," answered Socrates, "for they are very different from one another." "And how is it possible that two beautiful things should be contrary one to the other?"

"This," said Socrates, "is seen every day in men: a beautiful make and disposition of body for running is very different from a beautiful make and disposition for wrestling: the excellence and beauty of a buckler is to cover well him that wears it. On the contrary, the excellence and beauty of a dart is to be light and piercing." "You answer me," said Aristippus, "as you answered me before, when I asked you whether you knew any good thing." "And do you think," replied Socrates, "that the good and the beautiful are different? Know you not that the things that are beautiful are good likewise in the same sense? It would be false to say of virtue that in certain occasions it is beautiful, and in others good.

When we speak of men of honour we join the two qualities, and call them excellent and good. In our bodies beauty and goodness relate always to the same end. In a word, all things that are of any use in the world are esteemed beautiful and good, with regard to the subject for which they are proper." "At this rate you might find beauty in a basket to carry dung," said Aristippus. "Yes, if it be well made for that use," answered Socrates; "and, on the contrary, I would say that a buckler of gold was ugly if it was ill-made." "Would you say," pursued Aristippus, "that the same thing may be beautiful and ugly at once?" "I would say that it might be good and bad. Often what is good for hunger is bad for a fever; and what is good for a fever is very bad for hunger; often what is beautiful to be done in running is ugly to be done in wrestling; and what is beautiful to do in wrestling is ugly in running. For all things are reputed beautiful and good when they are compared with those which they suit or become, as they are esteemed ugly and bad when compared with those they do not become."

Thus we see that when Socrates said that beautiful houses were the most convenient, he taught plainly enough in what manner we ought to build them, and he reasoned thus: "Ought not he who builds a house to study chiefly how to make it most pleasant and most convenient?" This proposition being granted, he pursued: "Is it not a pleasure to have a house that is cool in summer and warm in winter? And does not this happen in buildings that front towards the south? For the beams of the sun enter into the apartments in winter, and only pa.s.s over the covering in summer. For this reason the houses that front towards the south ought to be very high, that they may receive the sun in winter; and, on the contrary, those that front towards the north ought to be very low, that they may be less exposed to the cold winds of that quarter." In short, he used to say, that he had a very beautiful and very agreeable house, who could live there with ease during all the seasons of the year, and keep there in safety all that he has; but that for painting and other ornaments, there was more trouble in them than pleasure.

He said further that retired places, and such as could be seen from afar, were very proper to erect altars and build temples in; for though we are at a distance from them, yet it is a satisfaction to pray in sight of the holy places, and as they are apart from the haunts of men, innocent souls find more devotion in approaching them.

CHAPTER IX. SOCRATES RETURNS SUITABLE ANSWERS TO A VARIETY OF QUESTIONS PROPOSED TO HIM.

Another time being asked whether courage can be learnt as an art or was a gift of Nature, he answered: "In my opinion, as we see many bodies that are naturally more vigorous than others, and that better endure fatigue, so there are some souls that are naturally more brave, and look dangers in the face with greater resolution. For I see some men, who live under the same laws, who are brought up in the same customs, and who are not all equally valiant. Nevertheless, I believe that education and exercise add much to natural courage. Whence comes it to pa.s.s that the Scythians and the Thracians durst not face the Lacedemonians with pikes and targets; and, on the contrary, that the Lacedemonians would not fight against the Thracians with s.h.i.+elds and darts, nor against the Scythians with bows? I see it to be the same in all other things, and that when some men are better inclined by nature for certain things than other men are, they very much advance and perfect themselves in those things by study and diligence. This shows that they who are most favoured by Nature, as well as those to whom she has been less indulgent, ought to apply themselves a.s.siduously to the things by which they would gain themselves a reputation."

He allowed no difference between knowledge and temperance; and he held that he who knows what is good and embraces it, who knows what is bad and avoids it, is learned and temperate; and when he was asked whether he believed that they who know very well what ought to be done, but do quite otherwise, were learned and temperate? "On the contrary," answered he, "they are very ignorant and very stupid, for, in my opinion, every man who, in the great number of possible things that offer themselves to him, can discern what is most advantageous for him to do, never fails to do it; but all who govern not themselves well and as they ought, are neither learned nor men of good morals."

He said likewise that justice and every other virtue is only a science, because all the actions of justice and of the other virtues are good and honourable; and that all who know the beauty of these actions think nothing more charming; as, on the contrary, they who are ignorant of them cannot perform any one virtuous action, or, if they attempt to do it, are sure to perform it in a wrong manner. So that the persons only who possess this science can do just and good actions; but all just and good actions are done by the means of virtue, therefore justice and virtue is only a science.

He said, moreover, that folly is contrary to knowledge, and yet he did not allow ignorance to be a folly; but that not to know oneself, or to imagine one knows what he does not know, is a weakness next to folly. And he observed that among the vulgar a man is not accused of folly for being mistaken in things that are unknown to most of the world, but for mistaking in things which no man mistakes that knows anything at all; as if any man should think himself so tall as to be obliged to stoop when he came in at the gates of the city; or if he thought himself so strong as to undertake to carry away whole houses on his back, or to do any other thing visibly impossible, the people would say that he had lost his wits, which they do not say of those who commit only some slight extravagances; and as they give the name of love to a violent affection only, so they give the name of folly only to an extraordinary disorder of the mind.

Reflecting on the nature of envy, he said that it is a certain grief of mind, which proceeds, not from the misfortune of friends or good fortune of enemies, but (which is very surprising) only from the prosperity of friends. "For," said he, "those may be truly said to be envious who cannot endure to see their friends happy." But, some wondering whether it were possible for a man to be grieved at the good fortune of his friend, he justified the truth of what he had advanced, by telling them plainly that there are some men so variously affected towards their friends, that, while they are in calamity and distress, they will compa.s.sionate and succour them, but when they are well and in prosperity will fret at and envy them. "But this," he said, "is a fault from which wise and good men are free, and never to be found but in weak and wicked minds."

As to idleness, he said that he had observed that most men were always in action, for they who play at dice, or who serve to make others laugh, are doing something, but in effect they are idle, because they might employ themselves more usefully. To which he added, that no man finds leisure to quit a good employment for an ill one, and that if he did he would deserve the greater blame, in that he wanted not something to do before.

He said likewise that the sceptre makes not the king, and that princes and governors are not they whom chance or the choice of the people has raised to those dignities, nor those who have established themselves in them by fraud or force, but they who know how to command; for if it were allowed that it is the duty of a prince to command, as it is the duty of a subject to obey, he showed in consequence of it that in a s.h.i.+p, where there are several persons, the honour of commanding it is given to him who is most capable of it, and that all obey him, without excepting even the owner of the vessel; that likewise in husbandry, he to whom the land belongs obeys his own servants, if they understand agriculture better than himself; that thus the sick obey the physicians, and they who learn exercises, their masters; nay, that even women are masters of the men in working with the needle, because they understand it better than they; in short, that in all things which require care and industry men govern themselves when they think they are capable of doing so; otherwise, they leave themselves to the conduct of such as they judge to have more capacity, and take care to have them near at hand for that purpose. And if any man made him this objection, that a tyrant is at liberty not to believe the best advices, he answered, "Why do you say he is at liberty not to do so, seeing he will bear the smart of it? for every man who shuts his ears to good counsel commits a fault, and this fault is always attended with some damage." And if it were said that a tyrant is permitted to put to death the men of the best parts and understanding in his State, he replied again, "Do you think he is not punished in losing his chief supports, or that he will be quit for a slight punishment? Is to govern in this manner the way to preserve himself? or rather, is it not the certain means to hasten his own ruin?"

Being asked what was the best study for man to apply himself to, he answered, "To do well;" and being asked farther whether good fortune was the effect of study, "On the contrary," said he, "I think good fortune and study to be two opposite things; for what I call good fortune is, when a man meets with what is necessary for him, without the trouble of seeking it; but when he meets with any good success after a tedious search and labour, it is an effect of study. This is what I call to do well; and I think that all who take delight in this study are for the most part successful, and gain the esteem of men, and the affection of the Deity. Such are they as have rendered themselves excellent in economy, in physic, and in politics; but he who knows not any one thing perfectly is neither useful to men, nor beloved by the G.o.ds."

CHAPTER X. SOCRATES, IN CONVERSATION WITH SEVERAL ARTIFICERS, A PAINTER, A STATUARY, AND AN ARMOURER, SHOWETH HIS SKILL AND GOOD TASTE IN THE FINER ARTS.

As Socrates studied to be useful in all his conversations, so he never happened to be in company even with tradesmen but he always said something that might be of service to them. Going once into the shop of the painter Parrhasius, he entertained himself with him in the following manner:--

"Is not painting," said he, "a representation of all we see? For with a few colours you represent on a canvas mountains and caverns, light and obscurity; you cause to be observed the difference between soft things and hard, between things smooth and rough; you give youth and old age to bodies; and when you would represent a perfect beauty, it being impossible to find a body but what has some defect, your way is to regard several, and taking what is beautiful from each of them, you make one that is accomplished in all its parts." "We do so," said Parrhasius.

"Can you represent likewise," said Socrates, "what is most charming and most lovely in the person, I mean the inclination?" "How think you,"

answered Parrhasius, "we can paint what cannot be expressed by any proportion, nor with any colour, and that has nothing in common with any of those things you mentioned, and which the pencil can imitate; in a word, a thing that cannot be seen?" "Do not the very looks of men,"

replied Socrates, "confess either hatred or friends.h.i.+p?" "In my opinion they do," said Parrhasius. "You can then make hatred and friends.h.i.+p appear in the eyes?" "I own we can." "Do you think likewise," continued Socrates, "that they who concern themselves either in the adversity or prosperity of friends, keep the same look with those who are wholly unconcerned for either?" "By no means," said he, "for during the prosperity of our friends, our looks are gay and full of joy, but in their adversity we look cloudy and dejected." "This, then, may be painted likewise?" "It may." "Besides," said Socrates, "magnificence, generosity, meanness of mind, cowardice, modesty, prudence, insolence, rusticity, all appear in the looks of a man, whether sitting or standing." "You say true." "And cannot the pencil imitate all this likewise?" "It may." "And in which do you take most pleasure," said Socrates, "in regarding the picture of a man whose external appearance discovereth a good natural disposition, and bespeaks an honest man, or of one who wears in his face the marks of a vicious inclination?" "There is no comparison between them," said Parrhasius.

Another time, talking with c.l.i.to the sculptor, he said to him, "I wonder not that you make so great a difference between the statue of a man who is running a race and that of one who stands his ground to wait for his antagonist with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to play a prize at all sorts of defence; but what ravishes the beholders is, that your statues seem to be alive. I would fain know by what art you imprint upon them this wonderful vivacity?" c.l.i.to, surprised at this question, stood considering what to answer, when Socrates went on:--"Perhaps you take great care to make them resemble the living persons, and this is the reason that they seem to live likewise." "It is so," said c.l.i.to. "You must then," replied Socrates, "observe very exactly in the different postures of the body what are the natural dispositions of all the parts, for when some of them stoop down, the others raise themselves up; when some are contracted, the others stretch themselves out; when some are stiff with straining, others relax themselves; and when you imitate all this, you make your statues approach very near the life." "You say true," said c.l.i.to. "Is it not true likewise," replied Socrates, "that it is a great satisfaction to beholders to see all the pa.s.sions of a man who is in action well expressed? Thus, in the statue of a gladiator who is fighting, you must imitate the sternness of look with which he threatens his enemy; on the contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of gaiety and content." "There is no doubt of what you say." "We may then conclude," said Socrates, "that it is the part of an excellent statuary to express the various affections and pa.s.sions of the soul, by representing such-and-such motions and postures of the body as are commonly exerted in real life whenever the mind is so-and-so affected."

Another time, Socrates being in the shop of Pistias the armourer, who showed him some corselets that were very well made: "I admire," said Socrates to him, "the invention of these arms that cover the body in the places where it has most need of being defended, and nevertheless are no hindrance to the motions of the hands and arms; but tell me why you sell the suits of armour you make dearer than the other workmen of the city, since they are not stronger nor of better-tempered or more valuable metal?" "I sell them dearer than others," answered Pistias, "because they are better made than theirs." "In what does this make consist?"

said Socrates, "in the weight, or in the largeness of the arms? And yet you make them not all of the same weight nor of the same size, but to fit every man." "They must be fit," said Pistias, "otherwise they would be of no use." "But do you not know," replied Socrates, "that some bodies are well-shaped and others not?" "I know it well." "How, then,"

continued Socrates, "can you make a well-shaped suit of armour for an ill- shaped body?" "It will be sufficient if they are fit for him," answered Pistias; "for what is fit is well made." "You are of opinion, then,"

added Socrates, "that one cannot judge whether a thing be well made, considering it merely in itself, but in regard to the person who is to use it; as if you said that a buckler is well made for him whom it fits, and in like manner of a suit of clothes and any other thing whatsoever.

But I think there is another convenience in having a suit of armour well made." "What do you take that to be?" said Pistias. "I think," answered Socrates, "a suit of armour that is well made does not load the bearer so much as one ill made, even though it weigh as much. For ill-made arms, by pressing too much upon the shoulders, or hanging c.u.mbrous on some other part, become almost insupportable, and greatly incommode the person that weareth them. But those arms which, as they ought, distribute an equal weight to all the parts of the body, that join upon the neck, the shoulders, the breast, the back, and the hips, may be said to be glued to the body, and to weigh nothing at all." "For this," said Pistias, "I value the arms I make. It is true that some choose rather to part with their money for arms that are gilt and finely carved, but if with all this they fit not easy upon them, I think they buy a rich inconveniency."

Socrates went on:--"But since the body is not always in the same posture, but sometimes bends, and sometimes raises itself straight, how can arms that are very fit be convenient and easy?" "They never can," said Pistias. "Your opinion therefore is," said Socrates, "that the best arms are not those that are most fit, and fit closest to the body, but those that do not incommode the person that wears them." "You, too, are of the same opinion," replied Pistias, "and you understand the matter aright."

CHAPTER XI. DISCOURSE OF SOCRATES WITH THEODOTA, AN ATHENIAN LADY, OF NO GOOD CHARACTER; WHEREIN HE ENDEAVOURETH, IN THE MOST ARTFUL AND ENGAGING MANNER, TO WIN HER OVER FROM THE CRIMINAL PLEASURES TO WHICH SHE WAS ADDICTED UNTO THE SUBLIMER AND MORE INNOCENT DELIGHTS OF PHILOSOPHY AND VIRTUE.

There was at Athens a very beautiful lady called Theodota, who had the character of a loose dame. Some person was speaking of her in presence of Socrates, and saying that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world; that all the painters went to see her, to draw her picture, and that they were very well received at her house. "I think," said Socrates, "we ought to go see her too, for we shall be better able to judge of her beauty after we have seen her ourselves than upon the bare relation of others." The person who began the discourse encouraged the matter, and that very moment they all went to Theodota's house. They found her with a painter who was drawing her picture; and having considered her at leisure when the painter had done, Socrates began thus:--"Do you think that we are more obliged to Theodota for having afforded us the sight of her beauty than she is to us for coming to see her? If all the advantage be on her side, it must be owned that she is obliged to us; if it be on ours, it must be confessed that we are so to her." Some of the company saying there was reason to think so, Socrates continued in these words:--"Has she not already had the advantage of receiving the praises we have given her? But it will be yet a much greater to her when we make known her merit in all the companies we come into; but as for ourselves, what do we carry from hence except a desire to enjoy the things we have seen? We go hence with souls full of love and uneasiness; and from this time forward we must obey Theodota in all she pleases to enjoin us." "If it be so," said Theodota, "I must return you many thanks for your coming hither." Meanwhile Socrates took notice that she was magnificently apparelled, and that her mother appeared likewise like a woman of condition. He saw a great number of women attendants elegantly dressed, and that the whole house was richly furnished. He took occasion from hence to inform himself of her circ.u.mstances in the world, and to ask her whether she had an estate in land or houses in the city, or slaves, whose labour supplied the expenses of her family. "I have nothing," answered she, "of all this; my friends are my revenue. I subsist by their liberality."

Upon which Socrates remarked that "friends.h.i.+p was one of the greatest blessings in life, for that a good friend could stand one in stead of all possessions whatever." And he advised Theodota to try all her art to procure to herself some lovers and friends that might render her happy.

The lady asking Socrates whether there were any artifices to be used for that purpose, he answered, "there were," and proceeded to mention several:--"Some for attracting the regard of the men, some for insinuating into their hearts; others for securing their affections and managing their pa.s.sions." Whereupon Theodota, whose soul then lay open to any impression, mistaking the virtuous design of Socrates in the whole of this discourse for an intention of another sort, cried out in raptures, "Ah! Socrates, why will not you help me to friends?" "I will," replied Socrates, "if you can persuade me to do so." "And what means must I use to persuade you?" "You must invent the means," said Socrates, "if you want me to serve you." "Then come to see me often,"

added Theodota. Socrates laughed at the simplicity of the woman, and in raillery said to her, "I have not leisure enough to come and see you; I have both public and private affairs which take up too much of my time.

Besides, I have mistresses who will not suffer me to be from them neither day nor night, and who against myself make use of the very charms and sorceries that I have taught them." "And have you any knowledge in those things, too?" said she. "Why do Apollodorus and Antisthenes," answered Socrates, "never leave me? why do Cebes and Simmias forsake Thebes for my company? This they would not do if I were not master of some charm."

"Lend it me," said Theodota, "that I may employ it against you, and charm you to come to me." "No," said Socrates, "but I will charm you, and make you come to me." "I will," said Theodota, "if you will promise to make me welcome." "I promise you I will," answered Socrates, "provided there be n.o.body with me whom I love better than you."

CHAPTER XII. OF THE NECESSITY OF EXERCISE TO HEALTH AND STRENGTH OF BODY.

Among others who frequented Socrates, there was a young man whose name was Epigenes, and who was very awkward in his person and behaviour, and had contracted an ill habit of body, having never learnt nor used any exercise. Socrates reproached him for it, and told him that it was unworthy of any man to be so negligent of himself. Epigenes slightly answered that he was under no obligation to do better. "You are no less obliged to it," replied Socrates, "than they who train themselves up for the Olympic Games. For do you believe that to fight for one's life against the enemies of the Republic, which we are all obliged to do when the Athenians please to command us, is a less important occasion than to contend with antagonists for a prize? How many men are there who, for want of strength, perish in fights; or have recourse to dishonourable means to seek their safety? Some are taken prisoners, and remain in slavery all the rest of their days, or are forced to pay so great a ransom, as makes them live poor and miserable ever afterwards: others are ill thought of, and their weakness is imputed to cowardice. And do you value so little all these misfortunes, which constantly attend an ill habit of body, and do they seem to you so slight? In my opinion, there are no fatigues in the exercises but what are more easy and more agreeable. But perhaps you despise the advantages of a good disposition of body: nevertheless, they are considerable; for men in that condition enjoy a perfect health, they are robust and active, they come off from combats with honour, they escape from dangers, they succour their friends, they render great services to their country. For these reasons they are well received wherever they come, they are in good reputation with all men, they attain to the highest offices, they live the more honourably and the more at ease, and they leave their posterity the most n.o.ble examples. If, therefore, you do not practise the military exercises in public, you ought not to neglect the doing so in private, but to apply yourself to them with all possible diligence.

"To have the body active and healthy can be hurtful to you in no occasions: and since we cannot do anything without the body, it is certain that a good const.i.tution will be of great advantage to us in all our undertakings. Even in study, where there seems to be least need of it, we know many persons who could never make any great progress for want of health. Forgetfulness, melancholy, loss of appet.i.te, and folly, are the diseases that generally proceed from the indisposition of the body; and these diseases sometimes seize the mind with so great violence, that they wipe out even the least remembrance of what we knew before. But in health we have nothing like this to fear, and consequently there is no toil which a judicious man would not willingly undergo to avoid all these misfortunes. And, indeed, it is shameful for a man to grow old before he has tried his own strength, and seen to what degree of dexterity and perfection he can attain, which he can never know if he give himself over for useless; because dexterity and strength come not of themselves, but by practice and exercise."

CHAPTER XIII. SEVERAL APOPHTHEGMS OF SOCRATES.

A certain man being vexed that he had saluted one who did not return his civility, Socrates said to him, "It is ridiculous in you to be unconcerned when you meet a sick man in the way, and to be vexed for having met a rude fellow."

2. Another was saying that he had lost his appet.i.te and could eat nothing. Socrates, having heard it, told him he could teach him a remedy for that. The man asking what it was, "Fast," said he, "for some time, and I will warrant you will be in better health, spend less money, and eat with more satisfaction afterwards."

3. Another complained that the water which came into the cistern was warm, and nevertheless he was forced to drink it. "You ought to be glad of it," said Socrates, "for it is a bath ready for you, whenever you have a mind to bathe yourself." "It is too cold to bathe in," replied the other. "Do your servants," said Socrates, "find any inconvenience in drinking it, or in bathing in it?" "No, but I wonder how they can suffer it." "Is it," continued Socrates, "warmer to drink than that of the temple of AEsculapius?" "It is not near so warm." "You see, then," said Socrates, "that you are harder to please than your own servants, or even than the sick themselves."

4. A master having beaten his servant most cruelly, Socrates asked him why he was so angry with him. The master answered, "Because he is a drunkard, a lazy fellow who loves money, and is always idle." "Suppose he be so," said Socrates: "but be your own judge, and tell me, which of you two deserves rather to be punished for those faults?"

5. Another made a difficulty of undertaking a journey to Olympia. "What is the reason," said Socrates to him, "that you are so much afraid of walking, you, who walk up and down about your house almost all day long?