Chapter II: Introduction (1)

The Dialogue on _The Genius of Socrates_, to follow the familiar Latin title, is in the main a detailed and spirited account of a gallant exploit, the recovery of the Cadmeia, or citadel of Thebes, treacherously taken by the Spartans, with the aid of the Theban oligarchs, two years before. The recovery was effected in the winter of 379-378 B.C. by a party of Theban patriots, returning from exile in Athens, led by Pelopidas. The discussions as to the real meaning of the ‘daemonic Sign’ of Socrates form interludes which fill in the hours of waiting, and serve to relieve the tension of the narrative. It is as though Ulysses were heard discoursing to Menelaus within the Wooden Horse on the personality of Pallas Athene, with Helen prowling around outside. There is nothing strained or dramatic, in any disparaging sense, in speculation thus rubbing shoulders with action. The simplicity and good faith of the speakers, and the attractive personality of Epaminondas, forbid any suspicion of affectation. Thus the Dialogue serves a double purpose: it redeems the character of the leading Thebans, and of Pelopidas in particular, from the habitual disparagement of Xenophon and others; and it redeems the intellectual character of the Boeotians from the reproach against which the most brilliant of Greek poets, himself a son of Thebes, protests, ‘Swine of Boeotia’. For the chief speaker on the Socratic question is Simmias, and Cebes is present, Thebans whose names are for ever associated with the last hours of the Athenian Master; and the story is brightened by glimpses into the home of Epaminondas, and by hallowed memories of the Pythagorean brotherhood.

Early in 382 B.C. the Spartans had dispatched a force against Olynthus, the first division under Eudamidas, the second under his brother Phoebidas. The latter lingered under the walls of Thebes; and, whether led by personal ambition, or receiving secret orders from home, allowed himself to intrigue with the oligarchical leaders, who, though their party was not in power, were strong enough to be represented on the board of Polemarchs by Leontides, another, or the other, being Ismenias. Guided by Leontides, the Spartans, one hot summer day, seized the Cadmeia; Leontides arrested his colleague Ismenias, and caused Archias to be made Polemarch in his place. The popular leaders, some four hundred in number, took refuge in Athens. The Spartans disclaimed the action of Phoebidas, who was fined and superseded; and appropriated its results, strengthening the garrison of the Cadmeia. A commission of judges from the confederate states was appointed by Sparta to try Ismenias on a vague charge of Medizing; he was condemned and executed. Of the two Polemarchs, Archias was a man of pleasure, Leontides one of severe private life, but an unscrupulous party leader. He caused the lives of the refugees in Athens to be attempted, successfully in at least one case, that of Androcleidas. Of the patriots, Pelopidas, who had been formally exiled, was the leading spirit; Epaminondas, who remained at home, held back for good reasons which are stated in the course of the Dialogue (p. 9). One of the most useful confederates was Phyllidas; he had himself, when on a visit to Athens, suggested the enterprise, but he managed to retain the confidence of the party now in possession of Thebes, and held the office of Secretary to the Polemarchs.

These facts are assumed to be familiar to his hearers by Capheisias, brother of Epaminondas, who had himself joined the liberators without any scruples, and later on had been sent to Athens on an embassy. His story of the sequel is told to a mixed company of Athenians and Thebans. It is a perfectly clear one, and needs no comment.

The facts are again told by Plutarch in his _Life of Pelopidas_. The _Lives_ were the work of his later years; and the present Dialogue, with its fuller detail and more varied colouring, is an earlier attempt to draw an historical picture, a work of art which will bear the close inspection of those who love to hear of virtue, or valour, in action.

The events are also narrated by Xenophon, who, from his usual Lacedaemonian and anti-Theban bias, omits all mention of Pelopidas. Thirlwall has preferred to base his account upon Plutarch; Grote follows Xenophon, but with a strong protest against his narrowness.

The conduct of Sparta justifies the allegation made by the Athenians in 416 B.C., ‘that in her political transactions she measured honour by inclination and justice by expediency’ (Thuc. 5, 105). The most scathing verdict upon it is delivered by Xenophon himself, who pauses in his narrative to point the moral, that the fall and degradation of Sparta began from this turning-point:

‘It would be possible to mention many other instances, from Greek and foreign history, proving that the Gods do not fail to notice the authors of impious and wicked deeds; at present I shall only mention the case before us. The Lacedaemonians, who had sworn that they would leave the cities independent, and then seized the Acropolis of Thebes, were punished entirely by those whom they had wronged, having previously been beaten by no man then living. The Theban citizens who had introduced them into the citadel, and who wished the city to be subject to the Lacedaemonians that they themselves might enjoy absolute power, lost their supremacy, which seven exiles were enough to overthrow.’

These remarks are in the spirit of the Greek Tragedians, who love to bring into strong light an act or situation of pride and insolence as the turning-point from prosperity to ruin. Thucydides, as is pointed out by Grote in the masterly pages which end his fifty-sixth chapter, has brought the cynical injustice of the Athenians towards Melos into glaring prominence in order to prepare his readers for the disastrous sequel.

The problem of the true nature of the ‘Divine Sign’ of Socrates is one of great interest and some mystery. The Latin word ‘Genius’, the attendant spirit who makes each of us what he is, in fact, his self, is familiar to us from Horace:

_The Genius, guardian of each child of earth,
Born when we’re born and dying when we die._

(_Epist._ 2, 2, 187.)

The conception is thoroughly Greek, and may be paralleled abundantly from Plato as well as from Plutarch himself and contemporary writers. But it is really misapplied here, and is in fact a mistranslation, since the word used by Plato and Xenophon as well as by Plutarch is invariably not the daemon, but the neuter adjective, ‘the daemonic sc. Sign’. The passages of Plato and Xenophon are collected in the late James Riddell’s edition of the _Apology_ of Plato.[20] It is to be observed that in all the genuine works of Plato the operation of the Sign is negative and deterrent, in Xenophon it is sometimes positive and hortatory. The reader should consult the articles on Socrates by Professor Henry Jackson in the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_. Professor Jackson is inclined to think that the evidence points to some abnormal condition of the sense of hearing, and there are expressions in this Dialogue of Plutarch which seem to bear out such a view. Apuleius’ treatise _On the God of Socrates_ (which St. Augustine tells us that he would have entitled _On the daemon of Socrates_ if he had dared) tells us much which is of interest about the daemons, but not very much about Socrates. He contributes, however, the pertinent remark that the Sign, according to Socrates himself, was not ‘a voice’, but ‘a sort of voice’.

There is no indication of the date of composition of this Dialogue.

Not many points of topography arise. The Cadmeia stood on a low hill or plateau rising from north to south on the eastern side of the Dirce stream and reaching a height of some 200 feet, now occupied by the modern town. The market-place was north-east of this, near the river Ismenus. Of the seven famous gates the returning exiles may probably have entered by the Electran, the one assailed by Capaneus in Aeschylus’ story (_Seven against Thebes_, 423).

A DIALOGUE HELD AT ATHENS

[Sidenote: 573] CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE RETURN OF THE THEBAN EXILES, 379 B.C.

SPEAKERS

CAPHEISIAS, a Theban (brother of Epaminondas), who tells the story
of the return.
TIMOTHEUS., Athenian
ARCHIDAMUS., Athenian
THE SONS OF ARCHINUS., Athenian
LYSITHEIDES., Athenian
OTHER FRIENDS.

I. _Archidamus._ I once heard a painter, Capheisias, say a [Sidenote: B] striking thing about the different people who come to view pictures, which he put as a simile. Spectators with no technical knowledge, he said, are like those who greet a large company in the mass; others, who possess fine taste and a love of art, resemble those who have a personal word for all comers. The former get only a general view of the works before them, which is never accurate; the latter discuss each piece critically and in detail, and no point of execution, good or bad, escapes inspection and remark. Now I think that it is just the same with the [Sidenote: C] actions of real life. Duller minds are satisfied if they learn from history the summary account of what occurred and its outcome; lovers of what is honourable and beautiful take keener delight in hearing all particulars of the performances inspired by that great Art Virtue. To the actual result, Fortune has much to say; but he who dwells on causes and particulars sees Virtue at odds with circumstance, acts of rational daring done in the face of danger, and calculation meeting opportunity and passion. Take it that we belong to the second class. Begin at the beginning of the enterprise, and give us all the incidents and [Sidenote: D] all the speeches which were no doubt delivered in your presence; and believe that I would not have hesitated to go to Thebes on purpose to hear the story, but that the Athenians are already beginning to think me too much of a Boeotian.

_Capheisias._ Indeed, Archidamus, since you are so kind as to press for the whole story, it would be my duty to make it, as Pindar[21] says, ‘a call before all business’ to come here to tell it; but as we are brought here on an embassy, and have nothing to do until we receive the answers of the people, I feel that any reluctance or embarrassment on my part towards so kind and good a friend might well wake up the old reproach against the Boeotians that they hate discussion. It was already fading [Sidenote: E] away, thanks to your Socrates; but our own care for Lysis,[22] of blessed memory, showed us true enthusiasts. But see whom we have present: is it convenient to them to listen to so long a story and to so many speeches? The narrative is not a short one, since you yourself bid me include the speeches.

_Archidamus._ You do not know these friends, Capheisias? No, but you should; sons of good fathers who were good friends to your people. This is Lysitheides, nephew of Thrasybulus; [Sidenote: F] this is Timotheus, Conon’s son; these are the sons of Archinus; the others are all of our brotherhood; so your story finds a friendly and congenial audience.

_Capheisias._ That is well. But what should you think a good point for me to start from, in view of what you know already?

_Archidamus._ We know fairly well, Capheisias, how things were at Thebes before the return of the exiles. We had heard at Athens how Archias and Leontides persuaded Phoebidas to [Sidenote: 576] seize the Cadmeia during a truce; how they expelled some of the citizens and terrorized others, and seized office for themselves in defiance of law. We were the personal hosts here of Melon and Pelopidas, and constantly in their company so long as they were in exile. Again, we had heard how the Lacedaemonians fined Phoebidas for seizing the Cadmeia, removed him from the command against Olynthus, and then replaced him at Thebes by Lysanoridas and two others, and kept a stronger garrison than before in the Citadel. We were aware, too, how Ismenias met an unworthy death, since, immediately after his trial, Gorgidas wrote the whole account in a letter to the [Sidenote: B] exiles here. Thus it remains for you to tell us about the actual return of our friends and the capture of the tyrants.

II. _Capheisias._ Well then, Archidamus, during those days, all of us who were concerned in the movement were accustomed to meet for conference when necessary in the house of Simmias, who was recovering from a wound in the leg; ostensibly passing the time in philosophical talk, into which, as a blind, we often drew Archias and Leontides, men not altogether strangers to [Sidenote: C] such discussion. For Simmias had spent much time abroad, and wandered among men of other lands, and had shortly before this returned to Thebes full of all sorts of stories and outlandish accounts. These stories Archias used to enjoy when he chanced to have leisure, taking his seat with the young men, and liking us to pass the time in talk rather than attend to their proceedings. On the day upon which the exiles were to reach the walls at dusk, a man came in from here, sent by Pherenicus, known to none of our party except Charon; he proceeded to explain that the younger exiles, twelve in number, had taken hounds to hunt the Cithaeron country, intending to reach Thebes towards evening. He had been sent, he said, in advance [Sidenote: D] to tell us this, and to find out who was to provide the house for their concealment on arrival, so that they might have notice and go straight to it. While we were puzzling it over, Charon agreed to provide his own house. So the man settled to return to the exiles as fast as he could.

III. Here the prophet Theocritus pressed my hand hard, and looking at Charon, who was walking in front, said: ‘This man is no philosopher, Capheisias; he has received no extraordinary training, as Epaminondas your brother has; yet you see how he is naturally drawn by the laws towards the nobler [Sidenote: E] course, volunteering to encounter the greatest danger for our country’s sake. Whereas Epaminondas, who claims to have been trained to virtue above all Boeotians, is dull and spiritless;[23] what better opportunity than this will he ever have to bring into play his fine gifts and training?’ I said: ‘Not so fast, [Sidenote: F] Theocritus the eager! We are carrying out what we ourselves resolved; but Epaminondas, failing to persuade us to drop the plan, as he thinks would be best, naturally resists when invited to a course of action which he dislikes and disapproves. Suppose a physician undertook to cure a disease without the use of knife or fire: you would not be using him fairly, to my thinking, if you compelled him to cut or burn.[24] Very well; my brother, as you know, will not have any citizen die without a trial, yet is eager to work with those who wish to free the city from internal bloodshed and slaughter. As, however, he fails to convince the majority, and as we have embarked on this course, he bids you let him stand out, clear and guiltless of murder, and free to watch opportunities; when justice and expediency [Sidenote: 577] meet, he will strike in. He feels that, work once begun, there will be no limitations; perhaps Pherenicus and Pelopidas will turn their attack against the greatest criminals, but Eumolpidas and Samidas, men of fire and passion, when night puts power in their hands, will not sheathe their swords before they have filled the city with murder from end to end, and dispatched many of our leading men.

IV. While I was thus conversing with Theocritus, Galaxidorus kept trying to check us;[25] Archias was near, and Lysanoridas the Spartan, both walking quickly from the Cadmeia, [Sidenote: B] apparently towards the same point as ourselves. So we broke off; Archias called Theocritus, and drew him towards Lysanoridas; then he talked a long time with them apart, having changed his direction a little towards the Amphion. Thus we were in an agony: had some hint or information reached them, upon which they were questioning Theocritus? In the meanwhile Phyllidas, whom you know, Archidamus, and who was at that time acting as clerk to Archias and the Polemarchs, and knew of the expected arrival of the exiles,[26] being privy to our scheme, pressed my hand as it was his way to do, and went on with bantering talk for every one’s benefit, about the gymnasia and the wrestling; then, having drawn me some distance from the others, he began to ask me about the exiles, and whether [Sidenote: C] they were keeping to their day. When I said that they were, he continued: ‘Then I have done right in preparing for to-day the party at which I mean to entertain Archias, and to deliver him into their hand in his cups.’ ‘Better than right, Phyllidas!’ I said; ‘and do you try to collect all or as many as you can of our enemies to the same place.’ ‘That is not easy;’ said he, ‘indeed, it is impossible; for Archias, expecting that a certain lady of high rank will come there to meet him, does not wish Leontides to be present. We must therefore mark [Sidenote: D] them down to separate houses. If Archias and Leontides are once captured, I think that the others will take themselves off, or else will remain quiet, glad to close with any offer of safety.’ ‘We will do so,’ I said, ‘but what can Theocritus have to talk about with these people?’ ‘I cannot answer clearly or from knowledge,’ said Phyllidas, ‘but I heard portents mentioned and prophecies disastrous to Sparta.’ [27][Meanwhile Theocritus rejoined us, and] Pheidolaus of Haliartus came up and said, ‘Simmias wants you to wait hereabouts a little. He is closeted with Leontides, interceding for Amphitheus to get his sentence of death commuted, if possible, to exile.’

V. ‘The very man!’ said Theocritus. ‘You might [Sidenote: E] have come on purpose, for I was longing to hear what the discoveries were, and about the general appearance of the tomb of Alcmena in your country when it was opened, if you were really present yourself when Agesilaus sent and removed the remains to Sparta.’ Pheidolaus answered: ‘I was not present; and vexed and indignant I was with my citizens for leaving me out. However, no vestige of a body was found, only a bracelet of brass, not a large one, and two earthenware jars containing [Sidenote: F] earth which had become solid as stone. Above the tomb lay a brass plate, with many letters wonderful for their great antiquity; they afforded no intelligible sense, though they came out clear to the eye when the brass was washed. The characters were of a peculiar and barbaric type, most closely resembling the Egyptian; and Agesilaus accordingly, as they said, sent copies to the king of Egypt, asking him to show them to the priests, on the chance of their understanding them. However, Simmias may, perhaps, have something to tell you about all this, as he was at that time in Egypt, and philosophy [Sidenote: 578] brought him much into the society of the priests. But the people of Haliartus believe that the great scarcity of crops and the advance of the lake were not accidental, but were an angry visitation because they allowed the tomb to be dug open.’ After a short pause Theocritus went on: ‘Nor yet are the Lacedaemonians themselves clear of the wrath of heaven, as is shown by the portents about which Lysanoridas was lately conferring with us. He is now off to Haliartus to fill in the [Sidenote: B] tomb again and to offer libations to Alcmena and Aleus, of course in accordance with some oracle, not knowing who Aleus was. When he comes back from there he intends to investigate the tomb of Dirce, which is unknown to the Thebans, except those who have acted as Hipparchs. The outgoing magistrate takes his successor in office, with no one else present, and shows it him at night; they perform certain fireless rites over the tomb, carefully obliterate all traces, and go off under cover of darkness by separate ways. And much chance, I think, they will have of finding it, Pheidolaus! For most of those who have served legally as Hipparchs are now in exile; I might say all, except [Sidenote: C] Gorgidas and Plato, whom they fear too much to examine. But the present magistrates receive the spear and the seal in the Cadmeia, and know absolutely nothing.’

VI. While Theocritus was saying this, Leontides was going out with his friends. We entered, and began to pay our compliments to Simmias, who was sitting on the couch, having been unsuccessful in his petition, I think, for he seemed wrapped in thought and much annoyed. Looking hard at us all, ‘Hercules!’ [Sidenote: D] he said, ‘what savage barbarous manners! How right, and more than right, old Thales was, when he came home from a long absence abroad, and his friends asked what was his rarest discovery, “An aged tyrant”, he said! For every one, even if he have not been personally wronged, is disgusted at mere oppression, and harshness, and so is an enemy to lawless irresponsible dynasties. Well, the God will see to this, perhaps; now, Capheisias, about your newcomer, do you know who he is?’ ‘I do not know’, said I, ‘whom you mean.’ ‘Yet Leontides tells us’, he said, ‘that a man has been seen by the tomb of Lysis, rising to go when night was done. His retinue and [Sidenote: E] equipment were stately. He had bivouacked there on a rough bed, for piles of agnus castus and tamarisk were visible, and also remains of burnt sacrifices and libations of milk. At dawn he asked those who met him whether he should find the sons of Polymnis in the country.’ ‘But who can the stranger be?’ I said; ‘from what you tell us it must be some uncommon person, one in no private station.’

VII. ‘Certainly not’, said Pheidolaus. ‘However, when he comes we will see to his reception. Now, as to those characters, Simmias, about which we were puzzling just now. If you know more than we do, tell us; for it is said that the Egyptian priests have made out the letters on the plate which Agesilaus [Sidenote: F] took from us when he opened the tomb of Alcmena.’ Simmias remembered at once. ‘I know nothing of that plate, Pheidolaus;’ he said, ‘but Agenoridas the Spartan brought a number of characters from Agesilaus to Memphis, to Chonuphis the prophet, with whom Plato and I and Hellopion of Peparethus were staying to enjoy Philosophy together. He had been sent by the king, who desired Chonuphis, if he could make anything out of the inscription, to interpret and return it quickly. After spending three days in retirement, reading up characters from all countries in ancient books, he wrote his answer to the king. [Sidenote: 579] He explained to us that this inscription directs the holding of a competition in honour of the Muses. The characters belonged to the system of the reign of Proteus, the one learnt by Hercules the son of Amphitryon. The God therein directs and charges the Greeks to observe a time of peace and leisure, spending it in continuous philosophical debate, with the help of the Muses and of Reason, for the decision of points relating to Justice, all arms being laid aside. We thought at the time that what Chonuphis said was good, and we thought so still more when, in our journey from Egypt round Caria, we met certain Delians [Sidenote: B] who begged Plato, as a geometrician, to solve the problem propounded in a mysterious oracle of the God. The oracle was this: “The Delians and the other Greeks shall have respite from their present ills when they have doubled the altar at Delos.” The Delians were unable to guess the meaning, and, moreover, had brought themselves into a ludicrous difficulty about the construction of the altar. They had doubled each of the four sides,[28] and so unconsciously produced a solid figure eight times greater than the original, in ignorance of the factor which must be applied to the side, in order to double the solid. [Sidenote: C] So they appealed to Plato for help in the difficulty. Plato, remembering the Egyptian, said that the God was rallying the Greeks on their neglect of liberal studies, mocking our ignorance, and commanding us to take up geometry in real earnest; that it required no slight or dim-sighted intellect, but a first-rate training in linear geometry, to find two mean proportionals, the only method by which a solid in the form of a cube can be doubled, if all its dimensions are to be increased uniformly. Eudoxus of Cnidos, he said, or Helicon of Cyzicus, would work this out for them.[29] However, in his opinion, the God did not desire this; he was enjoining all the Greeks to cease from war [Sidenote: D] and trouble and devote themselves to the Muses, to soften their passions by discussions and Mathematics, and to associate profitably with one another.’

VIII. While Simmias was speaking, our father Polymnis came in upon us. He sat down by Simmias and said: ‘Epaminondas invites you and all present, if you have no more pressing engagement, to wait hereabouts; he wants to introduce to you the stranger, a man noble himself, and brought here by a noble and generous errand. He comes from the Pythagoreans of [Sidenote: E] Italy, to pour offerings on the tomb of old Lysis, in accordance, as he says, with certain dreams and clear visions. He brings a large sum in gold, thinking that Epaminondas ought to be reimbursed for the care of Lysis in his old age, and on this he insists most keenly, though we neither ask nor wish assistance for our poverty.’ Simmias was pleased: ‘A really wonderful man,’ he said, ‘and worthy of Philosophy; but what is the reason that he has not come straight to us?’ ‘He passed the night, I think,’ said he, ‘near the tomb of Lysis; Epaminondas [Sidenote: F] was to take him on to the Ismenus to bathe, and then they will come on to us here. Before he met us, he had made his night’s lodging near the tomb, intending to take up the remains and convey them to Italy, unless prevented by some divine warning in the night.’ Having said this, my father was silent.

IX. Then Galaxidorus spoke: ‘Hercules! how hard it is to find a man quite free from vanity and superstition! Some are caught by these weaknesses against their will, owing to want of experience or of strength. Others, in order to appear singular and to be taken for friends of the Gods, bring the divine into all they do, making dreams and portents and such stuff a pretext for anything that enters their head. Now, to men in public [Sidenote: 580] stations, who are compelled to adapt their lives to a self-willed and petulant multitude, this may have its advantage; superstition is a bit wherewith to check a populace, and direct it to what is expedient. But to Philosophy such posturing is unbecoming in itself, and, moreover, it contradicts her professions; she undertakes to teach all that is good and expedient by the reason, and then, as though in despite of reason, goes back upon the Gods and away from the first principles of action; and, dishonouring demonstration, in which her own excellence is supposed to lie, turns to prophecies and visions seen in dreams, [Sidenote: B] things in which the weakest often have as great success as the strongest. This, I think, Simmias, is why your Socrates embraced a system of intellectual training which bore a more philosophical stamp, choosing that simple artless type as being liberal and most friendly to truth; and casting to the winds for the sophists, as a mere smoke from Philosophy, all pretentious nonsense.’ Theocritus broke in: ‘What, Galaxidorus, and has Meletus persuaded even you too that Socrates despised [Sidenote: C] what was divine, for that was the charge which he actually brought before the Athenians?’ ‘What was divine—no;’ he said, ‘but he received Philosophy from Pythagoras and Empedocles full of visions and myths and superstitions, and deeply dipped in mysteries; and trained her to look at facts, and be sensible, and pursue truth in soberness of reason.’

X. ‘Granted;’ said Theocritus, ‘but as to the Divine Sign of Socrates, good friend, are we to call it a falsity or what? To me, nothing recorded about Pythagoras seems to go so far towards the prophetic and divine. For, in plain words, as Homer has drawn Athena to Odysseus

_In all his toils a presence and a stay_,[30]

even so, apparently, did the spirit attach to Socrates, from the first, a sort of vision to go before and guide his steps in life, which alone

_Passing before him shed a light around_[31]

[Sidenote: D] in matters of uncertainty, too hard for the wit of man to solve; upon these the spirit used often to converse with him, adding a divine touch to his own resolutions. For more, and more important, instances you must ask Simmias and the other companions of Socrates. But I was myself present, having come to stay with Euthyphron the prophet, when Socrates, as you remember, Simmias, was going up to the Symbolum and the house of Andocides, asking some question as he walked and playfully cross-examining Euthyphron. Suddenly he stopped and closed his lips tightly[32] and was wrapt in thought for some time. Then he turned back and took the way through the [Sidenote: E] Trunkmakers’ Street, and tried to recall those of our friends who were already in advance, saying that the Sign was upon him. Most of them turned in a body, amongst whom was I, keeping close to Euthyphron. But some young members of the party, no doubt to put the Sign of Socrates to the test, held on, and drew into their number Charillus the flute-player, who had come to Athens with myself, staying with Cebes. Now as they were going through the street of the Statuaries near the Law Courts, they were met by a whole herd of swine loaded with mud and hustling one another by press of numbers. There was no [Sidenote: F] getting out of the way; on they charged, upsetting some, bespattering others. At any rate, Charillus came home with his clothes full of mud and his legs too, so that we always laugh when we remember Socrates and his Sign, and wonder that this divine presence of his should never fail him or forget.’

XI. Then Galaxidorus said: ‘Do you think then, Theocritus, that the Sign of Socrates possessed a special and extraordinary power, not that some fragment of the ready wit which we all share determined him by an empiric process, turning the scale of his reasoning in cases which were uncertain and incalculable? For as a single weight does not by itself incline the balance, but, if added to one scale when the weights are even, sinks the whole of that one on its own side, so [Sidenote: 581] a cry, or any such feather-weight sign, will fit[33] a mind already weighted, and draw it into action; and when two trains of thought are in conflict, it reinforces one, and solves the difficulty by removing the equality, so that there is a movement and an inclination.’ My father broke in: ‘Well, but I have myself heard, Galaxidorus, from a certain Megarian, who had it from Terpsion, that the Sign of Socrates was a sneeze, proceeding either from himself or from other persons; if some one else sneezed on his [Sidenote: B] right, whether behind or in front, it encouraged him to the action; if on the left, it warned him off it. Of his own sneezings there was one kind which confirmed his purpose when he was still intending to act; another stopped him when he was already acting and checked his impulse. The wonder to me is that if he made use of a sneeze he did not so call it to his companions, but was in the habit of saying that what checked or commanded him was a Divine Sign. For that would be like vanity and idle boasting, not like truth and simplicity, in which lay, as we suppose, his greatness and his superiority to men in general, to be disturbed by a sound from outside or a casual sneeze, and so be diverted from acting, and give up what he had resolved. [Sidenote: C] Now the impulses of Socrates, on the other hand, show firmness and intensity in every direction, as though issuing from a right and powerful judgement and principle. Thus for a man to remain in voluntary poverty all his life, when he might have had plenty, and the givers would have been pleased and thankful, and never to swerve from Philosophy in the face of all those hindrances; and at last, when the zeal and ingenuity of his friends had made his way easy to safety and retreat, not to be bent by their entreaties, nor yield to the near approach of [Sidenote: D] death—all this is not like a man whose judgement might be changed by random voices or sneezings; it is like one led to what is noble by some greater and more sovereign authority. I hear also that he foretold to some of his friends the disaster which befell the power of Athens in Sicily. At a still earlier time, Pyrilampes, the son of Antiphon, when taken prisoner in the pursuit near Delium, after having received from us a javelin wound, as soon as he had heard from those who had arrived from Athens to arrange the truce that Socrates had returned home in safety by The Gullies[34] with Alcibiades and Laches, often called upon him by name, and often on friends and comrades of [Sidenote: E] his own who had fled with him by way of Parnes, and been slain by our cavalry; they had disobeyed the Sign of Socrates, he said, in turning from the battle by a different way instead of following his lead. This, I think, Simmias too must have heard.’ ‘Often,’ said Simmias, ‘and from many persons. For there was no little noise at Athens about the Sign of Socrates in consequence.’

XII. ‘Well, then, Simmias,’ said Pheidolaus, ‘are we to allow Galaxidorus in his jesting way to bring down this great fact of divination to sneezings and cries, which plenty of common [Sidenote: F] ignorant persons apply to trifles in mere sport, whereas, when grave dangers overtake them, or more serious business, we may quote Euripides:[35]

_These follies have a truce when steel is near_‘?

Galaxidorus said: ‘I am quite ready to listen to Simmias on this subject, Pheidolaus, if he has himself heard Socrates speak about it, and to join you in believing; but as for all that you and Polymnis have mentioned, it is not hard to refute it. For as in medicine a throb or a pimple is a small matter, but is the indication of what is not small; and as to a pilot the cry of a bird from the open sea, or the scudding of a thin film of cloud, [Sidenote: 582] signifies wind and rougher seas, so to a prophetic soul a sneeze or a voice is nothing great in itself, but is the sign of a great conjuncture. There is no art in which it is thought contemptible to forecast great things by small, many things through few. Suppose a man ignorant of the meaning of letters were to see a few insignificant-looking characters, and to refuse to believe that one who knew grammar could, by their help, repeat the story of great wars between old-world peoples, and foundings of cities, and what kings did or suffered, and then were to say [Sidenote: B] that a voice, or something like a voice, revealed and repeated each of these things to that historian, a pleasant laugh would come over your face, my friend, at the ignorance of that man. Now, consider, may it not be so with us? In our ignorance of the meaning of different things by which the prophetic art hits the coming event, are we simple enough to rebel if a man of intellect uses them to reveal something not yet evident, and says, moreover, that a Divine Sign, not a sneeze or a voice, directs him to the facts? For now I turn to you, Polymnis, who wonder that Socrates, a man who did so very much to make Philosophy human by simplicity and absence of cant, should [Sidenote: C] have named his Sign, not a sneeze or a voice, but, in full tragic phrase, his Divine Sign. I, on the contrary, should be surprised if a man so excellent in Dialectic and mastery of terms had said that the sneeze and not the Divine Sign gave him the intimation. As if a man were to say that he had been wounded “by the javelin”, not “by the thrower with his javelin”, or, again, that the weight had been measured “by the balance”, not “by the weigher with his balance”. For the work is not the work of the tool but of the owner of the tool which he uses for the work; and the Sign is a kind of tool used by the signifying power. But, as I said, if Simmias should have anything to tell us we must listen, for his knowledge is more exact.’

XIII. Then Theocritus said: ‘Yes, but first let us see [Sidenote: D] who these persons are who are coming in; or, rather, it is surely Epaminondas bringing the stranger to us.’ We looked towards the doors, and saw Epaminondas leading the way, then Ismenidorus, Bacchylidas, and Melissus the flute-player, all of them our friends and confederates; then the stranger followed, a man of much nobility of mien, but with a gentle and kindly character apparent beneath it, and dressed in a grave fashion. He took his seat by Simmias, my brother next to me, and the rest as they found places. Then, when there was silence, Simmias called on my brother: ‘Well, Epaminondas, how are we to address our friend? Who and what is he, and [Sidenote: E] whence? That is the usual formula for beginning an introduction and an acquaintance.’[36] Epaminondas replied: ‘Theanor is his name, Simmias, and his family is of Crotona, where he belongs to the local school of Philosophy and does no discredit to the great fame of Pythagoras; he has just taken the long journey from Italy here, to confirm noble doctrines by noble acts.’ The stranger broke in: ‘Indeed, Epaminondas, you are now hindering the noblest of all actions. For if to confer a benefit on friends be noble, it is no shame to receive [Sidenote: F] one from them. A favour needs one to receive, no less than one to bestow it; both must join to ensure a noble result. It is like a ball well delivered; to allow it to drop idle to the ground is to shame it. Now what mark is there for a ball, so agreeable for the thrower to hit and so distressing to miss, as a man at whom one aims a favour when he well deserves it? But in the one case the mark stands still, and he who misses has himself to thank; in the other, he who excuses himself and swerves aside does a wrong to the favour which never reaches its goal. You have yourself heard fully from me the reasons of my voyage here; but I should like to go through the story [Sidenote: 583] as fully to those now present, and let them be judges between us.

‘When the Pythagoreans had been overpowered by faction in the different cities, and their brotherhoods expelled, and when the party of Cylon had piled up a fire round a house in Metapontum in which those still settled there were holding a meeting, and had dispatched all those in the place except Philolaus and Lysis, who were still young, and were strong enough and active enough to push through the fire, Philolaus escaped thence to Lucania and joined in safety the rest of our friends, who were by this time rallying and holding their own against the Cylonians. Where Lysis was, no one knew for a long time; however, Gorgias of Leontini, sailing back from [Sidenote: B] Greece to Sicily, brought certain news to Arcesus and his friends that he had met Lysis, who was staying near Thebes. Arcesus longed to see the man, and was eager to sail straight off himself; but being quite disabled by age and infirmity, gave orders to bring Lysis alive to Italy if possible, or his remains if he should have died. Then came wars, revolutions, and periods of tyranny which made it impossible for the friends to perform the task in his lifetime. But when the spirit of Lysis, now dead, had shown us clearly of his end, and well informed persons told us of all the care and entertainment which he had [Sidenote: C] received from your family, Polymnis; how richly his age had been cared for in a poor house, and how he had been adopted as father to your sons before his blessed end came, I was sent out, a young man and alone, to represent many of my elders who have money and wish to offer it to those who have not, in return for favour and friendship richly bestowed. Lysis lies where you have honourably laid him; yet the honour of that tomb is greater when recompense is made for it to friends by friends dear and close.’

XIV. While the stranger was speaking thus, my father wept a long while over the memory of Lysis, but my brother [Sidenote: D] with his usual gentle smile said to me: ‘What is it to be, Capheisias? Are we to surrender poverty to riches, and to say nothing?’ ‘No! no!’ said I, ‘the dear “good nurse of young manhood”[37]—to her rescue! it is your turn to speak.’ ‘See, father;’ he said, ‘that was the only side on which I used to fear that our house might be captured by money. I mean through Capheisias and his person, which needs beautiful clothes that he may make a brave show before all his admiring friends, and needs food of the best, and plenty of it, that he may have strength for the gymnasia and wrestling matches. Now that he does not betray poverty, or throw off our ancestral poverty like a coat of paint, but, boy though he is, goes proudly [Sidenote: E] in thrift, and is content with what we have, to what possible use could we put money? Shall we plate our armour, say, with gold, and make the shield gay with purple and gold together, as Nicias of Athens did?[38] Shall we buy you, father, a Milesian cloak, or a dress with a purple border for mother? You know, we are not likely to spend the present on our table, or to feast ourselves more sumptuously, as having admitted a guest of such importance as wealth.’ ‘Away with it, boy!’ said my father, ‘never may I see our life new-modelled like that!’ [Sidenote: F] ‘No,’ my brother went on, ‘nor will we sit idle at home and guard our wealth; that would be a “boonless boon”[39] indeed, and a getting with no honour to it.’ ‘Of course’, said our father. ‘You know,’ Epaminondas went on, ‘when Jason, the Thessalian Tagus, lately sent a large sum of money here to us and begged us to take it, he thought me something of a boor when I answered that he was making the first move in wrong and robbery, when a lover of monarchy like himself tempted with money a private citizen of a free self-governed state. From you, Sir, I accept your generous intention, and admire it [Sidenote: 584] more than I can say; it is beautiful and philosophical too; but you are bringing medicines to friends who are not sick! Suppose that you had heard that we were attacked in war, and had sailed with arms and ammunition to help us, and on arrival had found that all was friendliness and peace; you would not think it necessary to hand over the stores and leave them where they were not needed. Even so, you have come to be our ally against poverty, thinking that we were pinched by her, but there is none so easy to be endured as she, our dear fellow-lodger. [Sidenote: B] So no need for money or arms against her who vexes us not. Take back this message to your brotherhood: that they themselves use their wealth most nobly, but that there are friends here who make noble use of poverty: and that, as to the entertainment of Lysis and his burial, Lysis has paid the score in full for himself, not least by teaching us not to fret at poverty.’

XV. Theanor broke in: ‘Then, if it is ignoble to fret at poverty, is it not eccentric to fear and shun wealth?’ ‘Eccentric it is if it is rejected on no rational grounds, but in order to pose or because of insipid taste or affectation of some kind.’ ‘But what rational grounds’, he said, ‘could bar the getting of wealth by good and honest means, Epaminondas? Or rather—and surrender more gently than you did to the Thessalian in [Sidenote: C] answering our questions about these matters—tell me whether you think that the giving of money may sometimes be right, but the receiving never; or that givers and receivers alike are in all cases wrong?’ ‘No, no!’ said Epaminondas, ‘I hold that, as with everything else, so with wealth; there is a giving and a getting which are ugly, and a giving and a getting which are fine.’ ‘Then,’ said Theanor, ‘when a man gives readily and heartily what he owes, is not that beautiful?’ He assented. ‘But when one receives what another beautifully gives, is not the taking beautiful? Or could there be a fairer taking of [Sidenote: D] money than when it comes from one who gives fairly?’ ‘There could not’, he said. ‘Then of two friends, Epaminondas,’ said he, ‘if one is to give, it looks as if the other must take. For in battles one must swerve away from a marksman in the enemy’s ranks; in the conflict of benefits it is not fair to avoid or thrust aside the friend who nobly gives. For, if poverty is no affliction, yet wealth, on its side, is not a thing to be flouted and refused like that.’ ‘It is not,’ said Epaminondas, ‘but there is a case where the gift which may be nobly offered remains more honoured and more noble if it is refused. Look at it with us in this way: you will allow that there are many desires, and desires of many things; some inborn, as we call them, which grow up about the body and are directed towards its necessary pleasures; others adventitious, grounded on mere fancies, but [Sidenote: E] gaining strength and power by time and use, where there is vicious education, and often dragging down the soul more forcibly than do those which are necessary. Now, by habits and training, men have before now succeeded in drawing off and subjecting to reason, in great measure, the innate affections. But the whole force of discipline, my friend, must be brought to bear against those which are adventitious and extraordinary; we must work them out, and hack them off, and use restraints and checks to school them to reason. For if thirst and hunger are forced out by rational resistance in the matter of food and [Sidenote: F] drink, far easier surely is it to stunt, and in the end to annihilate, love of wealth and love of glory by refusing and prohibiting the things at which they aim. Do you not agree?’ The stranger assented. ‘Then, do you see a distinction’, Epaminondas went on, ‘between training and the intended result of the training? Thus the result of athletic exercise would be the contest against a competitor for the crown; training would be the preparation of the body for this contest of the gymnasia. So with virtue, do you allow that there are two things, the result and the training?’ The stranger assented. ‘Now then,’ Epaminondas resumed, ‘tell me first with respect to temperance; do you take abstinence from base and lawless pleasures [Sidenote: 585] to be a training, or rather a result and a proof of training?’ ‘A result and a proof’, he said. ‘But it is a training or study in temperance—is it not?—which still draws all of you on when you go to the gymnasia and have stirred up your desires for food, as though they were wild beasts, and then stand for a long time over bright tables with a variety of dishes, and at last pass the good cheer for your servants to enjoy, offering to your own now chastened appetites only what is plain and simple, since abstinence from pleasures in things allowed is a training for the soul against pleasures which are forbidden?’ ‘No doubt’, he said. ‘Then there is, friend, a way of training ourselves for [Sidenote: B] justice against the love of wealth and money; I do not mean never to enter our neighbour’s premises by night and steal his goods, and never to take his clothes at the bath; nor yet if a man does not betray country and friends for money is he training himself against covetousness (since here, perhaps, the law comes in and fear, to hinder greediness from doing acts of wrong). No, the man who often and voluntarily sets himself aloof from gains which are just and are allowed by law is training and habituating himself in advance to keep his distance from every gain which is unrighteous and forbidden. For as, when it encounters great pleasures which are also strange and hurtful, the mind cannot avoid a flutter unless it has often despised [Sidenote: C] permitted enjoyments, so to pass by vicious gains and great advancement when they come within reach is not easy, unless from a great way off the love of gain has been fettered and chastened; whereas, if it has been brought up to gain, and there has been no check on its license, it makes a riotous growth towards all iniquity, and only with the greatest effort is it withheld from grasping an advantage. But if a man does not surrender himself to the favours of friends or to the bounties of kings, but has said no even to an inheritance which Fortune offers, and has put far off that love of wealth which springs up to meet a treasure as it comes into sight, he finds that covetousness rises up against him no longer, nor tempts him to what is wrong, nor disturbs his understanding. He is gentle, and possesses himself for noble uses; he has great thoughts and [Sidenote: D] shares with his soul the noblest secrets. We, Capheisias and I, are lovers of such men, dear Simmias, and we entreat the stranger to allow us so to train ourselves in poverty that we may reach virtue such as that.’