lus.* Since this statement occurs in a passage in which that vile practice, then too common in Athens, was made the subject of conversation, it has seemed to some to have a meaning more serious than the natural import of the words, and that in the answer which he is said to have given to Charmides, we have the confession of Socrates himself, that he had been guilty of the foul deed. But such persons, if they would read without prejudice the whole book in which the conversation occurs, might see that the plan and object of the whole discussion, which Xenophon has thus recorded, are discrepant and utterly at variance with the interpretation. Nay, if they would consider only the reply of Socrates to the declaration of Charmides, or a very few words which immediately precede the passage, they would find enough to convince them how foreign from the truth is the charge which they have unadvisedly endeavored to sustain by this testimony. Surely if elsewhere, most clearly in the whole discussion which forms the subject of this book, has Xenophon presented to us Socrates, in deep earnest, with an open profession of his purpose, and most studiously representing to his companions the unworthiness and meanness of the crime of which they were discoursing, and dissuasively warning them of the first spark of lust, that he might invite them to the enjoyment of pleasures nobler and worthier of men, and pleasures too which yet are to be derived from an intimacy with men and even young men ; to wit, from the chaste union and intermarriage of souls, from the delights of friendship, than which nothing can be more grateful to an ingenuous spirit, and from the forming, encouraging, and exciting youth, on whom nature has freely bestowed her gifts, to every honorable and glorious action, thus binding these youthful disciples, by the perpetual bond of a thankful remembrance, to all the offices of gratitude, and securing to themselves a return of kindness from all good men and from the commonwealth. These golden precepts and warnings, this wise man, conspicuous not less for prudence and courtesy of manners, than for integrity and chastity, proposed to his hearers, with no stern countenance, or sad and supercilious moroseness, which Socrates never put on, and which would have been most unfitting the time and place of this discourse; and he most plainly saw, withal, that men may be offended by such a course, and alienated from true virtue with a certain disgust and dread, but are

Xenoph. Conv. p. 698. ed. Leunclav.

not used thus to be reclaimed from their vices and recalled to the love and practice of it. And as in his other conversations we have found, as Cicero says, *Socrates to have been pleasant and witty, of mirthful speech, and in his whole discourse a feigner, of that class which the Greeks term ironical," so especially do we apprehend this convivial discourse, that it might gain a readier hearing from his fellow banqueters, to be sprinkled over with well meant hilarity, and exquisite irony.†

10. The strength of character of Socrates is displayed in the wonderful constancy, with which, overcoming the greatest obstacles, he pursued the plan he had adopted, both of life and doctrine.

This careful avoidance of voluptuous indulgences, which we have shown to have been so conspicuous in Socrates, proves beyond question or doubt his eminent strength and greatness of mind. Yet, we think his possession of this energy and greatness more amply displayed in his steadfast adherence through the whole course of his life, to his peculiar scheme of doctrine and of life. We are all of us inclined to select good and generous plans of action, but when the hour of their execution comes, if any serious hindrance stands in our way, our energy becomes weakened by indecision and our activity rendered useless by reluctance. Nothing seems to us more easy than the consummation of the scheme we have chosen, and the more splendid we persuade ourselves are more easy; we are deceived by their specious and plausible magnificence; we impose upon ourselves by a false anticipation of the renown which their achievement will bestow; our eyes are dazzled by their splendor; we behold them already accomplished, and hear already the voices of men celebrating our praises; when from this ecstasy of vision and of hope, we betake ourselves to the laborious working out of our plans, we are suddenly overwhelmed with impediments, our mind is vexed, our resoluteness begins to waver, we omit, neglect, lay aside what we had conceived with such cheerful ease, and entered on with so glad promise, and abandon forever and forget our purpose. How

* De Officiis, I. 30.

We may refer, among other instances occurring in the same conversation, especially to the boast of Socrates, p. 695, "that he had great confidence in the skill of a pander, which art," he says, "if he were willing to exercise it, would bring him much money."

alien and remote from those who are destined to do great deeds, the inconstant, and faltering will should be, the nature of the thing itself declares to us. For will any one call that glorious, which can be attained in the ordinary sluggishness of human action, without severe toil and intense activity of all our energies? Nay, but that we justly deem most glorious, which we have brought to a happy issue, having overcome great difficulties, resisted the mightiest force of trouble and of obstacles, and despised the insinuated claims of great advantage. But that a great scheme may be well carried, and brought to a successful accomplishment, what steadfastness and strength of mind are needed! This very steadfastness and strength, this stable and changeless perseverance gave its dignity and priceless worth to the character of Socrates. From the moment in which he had persuaded himself that the highest happiness of men lay in the knowledge and practice of virtue, he yielded up his noble powers to the sublime and inspiring purpose of diffusing among his fellow men that virtue and that happiness, with an effort never to be suspended, and a laborious devotion that should know no weariness. That the reader may now readily perceive how great was the constancy of Socrates we will show in a brief sketch, how many and how great were the obstacles he encountered by reason of the times in which he lived.

The doctrine which Socrates proclaimed to the dwellers in Athens was new, and a strange one to every ear. Not even the Philosophers, before him, though they had been used to dispute among themselves about a universe of subjects far above the reach of human intellect, had ever directed their investigations to the condition of man and the wants of his nature, and as the result of such an investigation, taught as they should have done, what man should aim at, and what shun, and by what means he might become the sure partaker of a sure blessedness. Socrates therefore was the first who unfolded in the assemblies and daily intercourse of men this divine philosophy, the purpose of which is the regulation of morals, and so the inward perfection of the soul. Superstition ingrafted into their minds in the freshness and tenderness of infancy strengthened and confirmed by the evil arts of the sophists, and invested by the authority of ages, with a certain august and reverend majesty, had struck deep its roots among the people; and when we remember how tenaciously those opinions are defended, which we have as it were drawn in with our mother's milk, and have been accustomed to SECOND SERIES, VOL. 1. NO. 1.

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cherish and sustain in mature years, we can conceive how hardly this unheard of doctrine of Socrates might gain a welcome among the inhabitants of Athens. A notable perverseness of opinion respecting all that pertained to the worship of the gods was to be rooted from their minds, before the good seed which he would sow there could blossom and bring its fruits to ripeness; and the experience of all ages shows how slowly and with what resistance, this sublime philosophy of reformation finds access to the minds of men through the thick darkness of superstitious opinions.

Another kind of obstacle was found in the universal levity and corruption of morals of the age. In the licentious mode of living which then prevailed, if a teacher of morals, wise, ingenious and sagacious, should dare to insist on a purer way, what expectation could he entertain, that himself should derive any profit from his instructions? Whom more would abandoned and voluptuous men, given to every lust, shrink from and dread, than him who directed them to put a restraint upon their passions, and exhorted them to make wisdom their counsellor and return to a healthful course and sounder principle of life? Socrates therefore could not expect from such men, who like brute beasts were prone to every lust, rather than disposed to follow the precepts of a well regulated life, that they would readily listen to his severer discipline. Rather was it probable that they would do and devise every thing to seduce those who might seem willing to become his disciples, from any tendency to virtue. No slight obstacle is overcome, when the might of such a torrent is resisted and stayed.

Finally, the pernicious arts of the sophists with which they sought to entangle the people and especially the young, to bring upon Socrates by every species of calumny, the suspicion, contempt, and hatred of his fellow citizens, are by no means to be omitted in recounting the obstacles which obstructed the career of this most noble philosopher. Which yet had not the power, accumulated and mighty as they were, to turn him aside, for a moment, from the steadiness of his purpose.

11. The greatness of Socrates shines out most brightly in his noble endurance of an unjust death.

This wonderful steadiness of purpose shone with the brightest light, in the closing period of his life. That he was com

pelled to suffer death unjustly many of his contemporaries among the Athenians acknowledged, and posterity have unanimously affirmed. But no one was more firmly convinced than Socrates himself, of the cruel wrong of the fate that awaited him.* Yet, although he might, by entreaties or a tearful defence, have gained the favor of his judges, or by aid of his friends, have found means of escape and safety in flight,† scorning such evasions, he preferred to endure cheerfully whatever the magistrate should decree, and submit to his will without resistance or reluctance, be that will what it might. With a quiet composure therefore and joy, he suffered the sad sentence, and in that act, gave ample testimony to his fellow citizens and to posterity, of a steadfast and great soul.

The more I contemplate the constancy with which our Philosopher chose to abide by his principles in his life and in his death, the more I feel myself filled with admiration of the excellence and eminence of the man. Nor do I see that I can more fitly close these pages, than in the words, with which Xenophon has concluded his Memorabilia of Socrates. "To me indeed, since Socrates was such a man as I have related, (to wit, so religious that he would do nothing without the asking counsel of the gods, so just that he would harm no man in the slightest thing, but render every assistance to all who sought it of him, so temperate that he never preferred pleasure to goodness, so sagacious that he seldom erred in discriminating the better and the worse, and needed no man's assistance in making this judgment; in fine who excelled all in the art of aptly and acutely expressing his own thoughts, of exploring the sentiments of others, of convincing the erring, and inspiring men with virtue and honor;) he has seemed the best and happiest of men. If any think otherwise, let them contrast his morals with those of others, and thus judge."

• Mem. Socr. IV. 8, 9.

† Mem. Socr. IV. 4, 4. cf. Diog. II. 24. Cic. Tusc. Quaest. I. 29.