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 sc.r.a.pe 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 a.s.sured 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 G.o.ds 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 p.r.o.nouncing 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 const.i.tution." "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 hara.s.sing 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 n.o.blest 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 compa.s.sion of their miseries, they relieve one another in their necessities, and they are grateful for the a.s.sistances 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 pa.s.sion, 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 pa.s.sion 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 a.s.sist 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 a.s.sociates 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 a.s.sociates 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 a.s.sist 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 pa.s.sed 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 surpa.s.s 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 a.s.sist 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 a.s.sertion."

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 a.s.sist 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; n.o.body 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 a.s.sist 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 pa.s.s 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, ca.s.socks, 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 ca.s.socks. What makes Menon live so comfortably? His cloak manufacture. And are not most of the inhabitants of Megara in good circ.u.mstances 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 a.s.sist 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 s.e.x, 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 a.s.sured they will receive it with joy and pleasure." "Good G.o.d! 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 inc.u.mbent 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."