The Memorabilia Part 5

I suppose it may be taken as admitted that self-control is a n.o.ble acquirement for a man. (1) If so, let us turn and consider whether by language like the following he was likely to lead his listeners onwards (2) to the attainment of this virtue. "Sirs," he would say, "if a war came upon us and we wished to choose a man who would best help us to save ourselves and to subdue our enemy, I suppose we should scarcely select one whom we knew to be a slave to his belly, to wine, or l.u.s.t, and p.r.o.ne to succ.u.mb to toil or sleep. Could we expect such an one to save us or to master our foes? Or if one of us were nearing the end of his days, and he wished to discover some one to whom he might entrust his sons for education, his maiden daughters for protection, and his property in general for preservation, would he deem a libertine worthy of such offices? Why, no one would dream of entrusting his flocks and herds, his storehouses and barns, or the superintendence of his works to the tender mercies of an intemperate slave. If a butler or an errand boy with such a character were offered to us we would not take him as a free gift. And if he would not accept an intemperate slave, what pains should the master himself take to avoid that imputation. (3) For with the incontinent man it is not as with the self-seeker and the covetous.

These may at any rate be held to enrich themselves in depriving others.

But the intemperate man cannot claim in like fas.h.i.+on to be a blessing to himself if a curse to his neighbours; nay, the mischief which he may cause to others is nothing by comparison with that which redounds against himself, since it is the height of mischief to ruin--I do not say one's own house and property--but one's own body and one's own soul.

Or to take an example from social intercourse, no one cares for a guest who evidently takes more pleasure in the wine and the viands than in the friends beside him--who stints his comrades of the affection due to them to dote upon a mistress. Does it not come to this, that every honest man is bound to look upon self-restraint as the very corner-stone of virtue: (4) which he should seek to lay down as the basis and foundation of his soul? Without self-restraint who can lay any good lesson to heart or practise it when learnt in any degree worth speaking of? Or, to put it conversely, what slave of pleasure will not suffer degeneracy of soul and body? By Hera, (5) well may every free man pray to be saved from the service of such a slave; and well too may he who is in bondage to such pleasures supplicate Heaven to send him good masters, seeing that is the one hope of salvation left him."

(1) Lit. "a beautiful and brave possession."

(2) {proubibaze}.

(3) Or, "how should the master himself beware lest he fall into that category."

(4) {krepida}. See Pind. "Pyth." iv. 138; ib. vii. 3; ib. fr. 93.

(5) See below, III. x. 9, xi. 5; IV. ii. 9, iv. 8; "Econ." x. 1; "Cyrop." I. iv. 12; Plat. "Phaedr." 230 B. Cf. Shakesp. "by'r Lakin."

Well-tempered words: yet his self-restraint shone forth even more in his acts than in his language. Not only was he master over the pleasures which flow from the body, but of those also which are fed by riches, his belief being that he who receives money from this or that chance donor sets up over himself a master, and binds himself to an abominable slavery.

VI

In this context some discussions with Antiphon the sophist (1) deserve record. Antiphon approaches Socrates in hope of drawing away his a.s.sociates, and in their presence thus accosts him.

(1) {o teratoskopos}, "jealous of Socrates," according to Aristotle ap. Diog. Laert. II. v. 25. See Cobet, "Pros. Xen."

Antiphon. Why, Socrates, I always thought it was expected of students of philosophy to grow in happiness daily; but you seem to have reaped other fruits from your philosophy. At any rate, you exist, I do not say live, in a style such as no slave serving under a master would put up with.

Your meat and your drink are of the cheapest sort, and as to clothes, you cling to one wretched cloak which serves you for summer and winter alike; and so you go the whole year round, without shoes to your feet or a s.h.i.+rt to your back. Then again, you are not for taking or making money, the mere seeking of which is a pleasure, even as the possession of it adds to the sweetness and independence of existence. I do not know whether you follow the common rule of teachers, who try to fas.h.i.+on their pupils in imitation of themselves, (2) and propose to mould the characters of your companions; but if you do you ought to dub yourself professor of the art of wretchedness. (3)

(2) Or, "try to turn out their pupils as copies of themselves."

(3) See Arist. "Clouds," {on o kakodaimon Sokrates kai Khairephon}.

Thus challenged, Socrates replied: One thing to me is certain, Antiphon; you have conceived so vivid an idea of my life of misery that for yourself you would choose death sooner than live as I do. Suppose now we turn and consider what it is you find so hard in my life. Is it that he who takes payment must as a matter of contract finish the work for which he is paid, whereas I, who do not take it, lie under no constraint to discourse except with whom I choose? Do you despise my dietary on the ground that the food which I eat is less wholesome and less stengthening than yours, or that the articles of my consumption are so scarce and so much costlier to procure than yours? Or have the fruits of your marketing a flavour denied to mine? Do you not know the sharper the appet.i.te the less the need of sauces, the keener the thirst the less the desire for out-of-the-way drinks? And as to raiment, clothes, you know, are changed on account of cold or else of heat. People only wear boots and shoes in order not to gall their feet and be prevented walking.

Now I ask you, have you ever noticed that I keep more within doors than others on account of the cold? Have you ever seen me battling with any one for shade on account of the heat? Do you not know that even a weakling by nature may, by dint of exercise and practice, come to outdo a giant who neglects his body? He will beat him in the particular point of training, and bear the strain more easily. But you apparently will not have it that I, who am for ever training myself to endure this, that, and the other thing which may befall the body, can brave all hards.h.i.+ps more easily than yourself for instance, who perhaps are not so practised. And to escape slavery to the belly or to sleep or lechery, can you suggest more effective means than the possession of some powerful attraction, some counter-charm which shall gladden not only in the using, but by the hope enkindled of its lasting usefulness? And yet this you do know; joy is not to him who feels that he is doing well in nothing--it belongs to one who is persuaded that things are progressing with him, be it tillage or the working of a vessel, (4) or any of the thousand and one things on which a man may chance to be employed. To him it is given to rejoice as he reflects, "I am doing well." But is the pleasured derived from all these put together half as joyous as the consciousness of becoming better oneself, of acquiring better and better friends? That, for my part, is the belief I continue to cherish.

(4) "The business of a s.h.i.+powner or skipper."

Again, if it be a question of helping one's friends or country, which of the two will have the larger leisure to devote to these objects--he who leads the life which I lead to-day, or he who lives in the style which you deem so fortunate? Which of the two will adopt a soldier's life more easily--the man who cannot get on without expensive living, or he to whom whatever comes to hand suffices? Which will be the readier to capitulate and cry "mercy" in a siege--the man of elaborate wants, or he who can get along happily with the readiest things to hand? You, Antiphon, would seem to suggest that happiness consists of luxury and extravagance; I hold a different creed. To have no wants at all is, to my mind, an attribute of G.o.dhead; (5) to have as few wants as possible the nearest approach to G.o.dhead; and as that which is divine is mightiest, so that is next mightiest which comes closest to the divine.

(5) Cf. Aristot. "Eth. N." x. viii. 1.

Returning to the charge at another time, this same Antiphon engaged Socrates in conversation thus.

Ant. Socrates, for my part, I believe you to be a good and upright man; but for your wisdom I cannot say much. I fancy you would hardly dispute the verdict yourself, since, as I remark, you do not ask a money payment for your society; and yet if it were your cloak now, or your house, or any other of your possessions, you would set some value upon it, and never dream, I will not say of parting with it gratis, but of exchanging it for less than its worth. A plain proof, to my mind, that if you thought your society worth anything, you would ask for it not less than its equivalent in gold. (6) Hence the conclusion to which I have come, as already stated: good and upright you may be, since you do not cheat people from pure selfishness; but wise you cannot be, since your knowledge is not worth a cent.

(6) Or rather "money," lit. "silver."

To this onslaught Socrates: Antiphon, it is a tenet which we cling to that beauty and wisdom have this in common, that there is a fair way and a foul way in which to dispose of them. The vendor of beauty purchases an evil name, but supposing the same person have discerned a soul of beauty in his lover and makes that man his friend, we regard his choice as sensible. (7) So is it with wisdom; he who sells it for money to the first bidder we name a sophist, (8) as though one should say a man who prost.i.tutes his wisdom; but if the same man, discerning the n.o.ble nature of another, shall teach that other every good thing, and make him his friend, of such a one we say he does that which it is the duty of every good citizen of gentle soul to do. In accordance with this theory, I too, Antiphon, having my tastes, even as another finds pleasure in his horse and his hounds, (9) and another in his fighting c.o.c.ks, so I too take my pleasure in good friends; and if I have any good thing myself I teach it them, or I commend them to others by whom I think they will be helped forwards on the path of virtue. The treasures also of the wise of old, written and bequeathed in their books, (10) I unfold and peruse in common with my friends. If our eye light upon any good thing we cull it eagerly, and regard it as great gain if we may but grow in friends.h.i.+p with one another.

(7) Add "and a sign of modesty," {sophrona nomizomen}.

(8) {sophistas}. See Grote, "H. G." viii. 482 foll.; "Hunting," xi.

foll.

(9) Cf. Plat. "Lys." 211 E.

(10) Cf. "Symp." iv. 27.

As I listened to this talk I could not but reflect that he, the master, was a person to be envied, and that we, his hearers, were being led by him to beauty and n.o.bility of soul.

Again on some occasion the same Antiphon asked Socrates how he expected to make politicians of others when, even if he had the knowledge, he did not engage in politics himself.

Socrates replied: I will put to you a question, Antiphon: Which were the more statesmanlike proceeding, to practise politics myself single-handed, or to devote myself to making as many others as possible fit to engage in that pursuit?

VII

Let us here turn and consider whether by deterring his a.s.sociates from quackery and false seeming he did not directly stimulate them to the pursuit of virtue. (1) He used often to say there was no better road to renown than the one by which a man became good at that wherein he desired to be reputed good. (2) The truth of the concept he enforced as follows: "Let us reflect on what a man would be driven to do who wanted to be thought a good flute player, without really being so. He would be forced to imitate the good flute player in the externals of his art, would he not? and first or all, seeing that these artists always have a splendid equipment, (3) and travel about with a long train of attendants, he must have the same; in the next place, they can command the plaudits of a mult.i.tude, he therefore must pack a conclave of clackers. But one thing is clear: nothing must induce him to give a performance, or he will be exposed at once, and find himself a laughing-stock not only as a sorry sort of flute player, but as a wretched imposter. And now he has a host of expenses to meet; and not one advantage to be reaped; and worse than all his evil reputation. What is left him but to lead a life stale and unprofitable, the scorn and mockery of men? Let us try another case. Suppose a man wished to be thought a good general or a good pilot, though he were really nothing of the sort, let us picture to our minds how it will fare with him. Of two misfortunes one: either with a strong desire to be thought proficient in these matters, he will fail to get others to agree with him, which will be bad enough; or he will succeed, with worse result; since it stands to reason that anyone appointed to work a vessel or lead an army without the requisite knowledge will speedily ruin a number of people whom he least desires to hurt, and will make but a sorry exit from the stage himself." Thus first by one instance and then another would he demonstrate the unprofitableness of trying to appear rich, or courageous, or strong, without really being the thing pretended. "You are sure sooner or later to have commands laid upon you beyond your power to execute, and failing just where you are credited with capacity, the world will give you no commiseration." "I call that man a cheat, and a great cheat too," he would say, "who gets money or goods out of some one by persuasion, and defrauds him; but of all imposters he surely is the biggest who can delude people into thinking that he is fit to lead the state, when all the while he is a worthless creature." (4)

(1) {apotrepon proutrepen}. See K. Joel, op. cit. p. 450 foll.

(2) Cf. "Cyrop." I. vi. 22.

(3) Or, "furniture of the finest," like Arion's in Herod. i. 24.

Schneid. cf. Demosth. 565. 6.

(4) Here follows the sentence ({emoi men oun edokei kai tou alazoneuesthai apotrepein tous sunontas toiade dialegomenos}), which, for the sake of convenience, I have attached to the first sentence of Bk. II. ch. i. ({edokei de moi... ponou.}) I believe that the commentators are right in bracketing both one and the other as editorial interpolations.

BOOK II

I

Now, if the effect of such discourses was, as I imagine, to deter his hearers from the paths of quackery and false-seeming, (1) so I am sure that language like the following was calculated to stimulate his followers to practise self-control and endurance: self-control in the matters of eating, drinking, sleeping, and the cravings of l.u.s.t; endurance of cold and heat and toil and pain. He had noticed the undue licence which one of his acquaintances allowed himself in all such matters. (2) Accordingly he thus addressed him:

(1) This sentence in the Greek concludes Bk. I. There is something wrong or very awkward in the text here.

(2) Cf. Grote, "Plato," III. x.x.xviii. p. 530.

Tell me, Aristippus (Socrates said), supposing you had two children entrusted to you to educate, one of them must be brought up with an apt.i.tude for government, and the other without the faintest propensity to rule--how would you educate them? What do you say? Shall we begin our inquiry from the beginning, as it were, with the bare elements of food and nutriment?

Ar. Yes, food to begin with, by all means, being a first principle, (3) without which there is no man living but would perish.

(3) Aristippus plays upon the word {arkhe}.

Soc. Well, then, we may expect, may we not, that a desire to grasp food at certain seasons will exhibit itself in both the children?

Ar. It is to be expected.