The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates. Xenophon

he was invited to a feast, he easily avoided eating and drinking to excess, which many find very difficult to do in those occasions.  But he advised those who had no government of themselves never to taste of things that tempt a man to eat when he is no longer hungry, and that excite him to drink when his thirst is already quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomach, causes the headache, and puts the soul into disorder.  And he said, between jest and earnest, that he believed it was with such meats as those that Circe changed men into swine, and that Ulysses avoided that transformation by the counsel of Mercury, and because he had temperance enough to abstain from tasting them.

      As to love, his advice was to avoid carefully the company of beautiful persons, saying it was very difficult to be near them and escape being taken in the snare; and, having been told that Critobulus had given a kiss to the son of Alcibiades, who was a very handsome youth, he held this discourse to Xenophon, in the presence of Critobulus himself.

      “Tell me, Xenophon, what opinion have you hitherto had of Critobulus?  Have you placed him in the rank of the temperate and judicious; or with the debauched and imprudent?”  “I have always looked upon him,” answered Xenophon, “to be a very virtuous and prudent man.”  “Change your opinion,” replied Socrates, “and believe him more rash than if he threw himself on the points of naked swords or leapt into the fire.”  “And what have you seen him do,” said Xenophon, “that gives you reason to speak thus of him?”  “Why, he had the rashness,” answered Socrates, “to kiss the son of Alcibiades, who is so beautiful and charming.”  “And is this all?” said Xenophon; “for my part, I think I could also willingly expose myself to the same danger that he did.”  “Wretch, that you are!” replied Socrates.  “Do you consider what happens to you after you have kissed a beautiful face?  Do you not lose your liberty?  Do you not become a slave?  Do you not engage yourself in a vast expense to procure a sinful pleasure?  Do you not find yourself in an incapacity of doing what is good, and that you subject yourself to the necessity of employing your whole time and person in the pursuit of what you would despise, if your reason were not corrupted?”  “Good God!” cried Xenophon, “this is ascribing a wonderful power to a kiss forsooth.”  “And are you surprised at it?” answered Socrates.  “Are there not some small animals whose bite is so venomous that it causes insufferable pain, and even the loss of the senses?”  “I know it very well,” said Xenophon, “but these animals leave a poison behind them when they sting.”  “And do you think, you fool,” added Socrates, “that kisses of love are not venomous, because you perceive not the poison?  Know that a beautiful person is a more dangerous animal than scorpions, because these cannot wound unless they touch us; but beauty strikes at a distance: from what place soever we can but behold her, she darts her venom upon us, and overthrows our judgment.  And perhaps for this reason the Loves are represented with bows and arrows, because a beautiful face wounds us from afar.  I advise you, therefore, Xenophon, when you chance to see a beauty to fly from it, without looking behind you.  And for you, Critobulus, I think it convenient that you should enjoin yourself a year’s absence, which will not be too long a time to heal you of your wound.”

      As for such as have not strength enough to resist the power of love, he thought that they ought to consider and use it as an action to which the soul would never consent, were it not for the necessity of the body; and which, though it be necessary, ought, nevertheless, to give us no inquietude.  As for himself, his continence was known to all men, and it was more easy for him to avoid courting the most celebrated beauties, than it is for others to get away from disagreeable objects.

      Thus we see what was his way of life in eating, drinking, and in the affair of love.  He believed, however, that he tasted of those pleasures no less than they who give themselves much trouble to enjoy them; but that he had not, like them, so frequent occasions for sorrow and repentance.

      Chapter IV.  Socrates Proveth the Existence of a Deity

      If there be any who believe what some have written by conjecture, that Socrates was indeed excellent in exciting men to virtue, but that he did not push them forward to make any great progress in it, let such reflect a little on what he said, not only when he endeavoured to refute those that boasted they knew all things, but likewise in his familiar conversations, and let them judge afterwards if he was incapable to advance his friends in the paths of virtue.

      I will, in the first place, relate a conference which he had with Aristodemus, surnamed the Little, touching the Deity, for he had heard that he never sacrificed to the gods; that he never addressed himself to them in prayer; that he never consulted the oracles, and even laughed at those that practised these things, he took him to talk in this manner:—

      “Tell me, Aristodemus, are there any persons whom you value on account of their merit?”  He answered, “Yes, certainly.”  “Tell me their names,” added Socrates.  Aristodemus replied: “For epic poetry I admire Homer as the most excellent; for dithyrambics, Melanippides; Sophocles for tragedy; Polycletes for statuary; and Zeuxis for painting.”  “Which artists,” said Socrates, “do you think to be most worthy of your esteem and admiration: they who make images without soul and motion, or they who make animals that move of their own accord, and are endowed with understanding?”  “No doubt the last,” replied Aristodemus, “provided they make them not by chance, but with judgment and prudence.”  Socrates went on: “As there are some things which we cannot say why they were made, and others which are apparently good and useful, tell me, my friend, whether of the two you rather take to be the work of prudence than of hazard.”  “It is reasonable,” said Aristodemus, “to believe that the things which are good and useful are the workmanship of reason and judgment.”  “Do not you think then,” replied Socrates, “that the first Former of mankind designed their advantage when he gave them the several senses by which objects are apprehended; eyes for things visible, and ears for sounds?  Of what advantage would agreeable scents have been to us if nostrils suited to their reception had not been given?  And for the pleasures of the taste, how could we ever have enjoyed these, if the tongue had not been fitted to discern and relish them?  Further, does it not appear to you wisely provided that since the eye is of a delicate make, it is guarded with the eyelid drawn back when the eye is used, and covering it in sleep?  How well does the hair at the extremity of the eyelid keep out dust, and the eyebrow, by its prominency, prevent the sweat of the forehead from running into the eye to its hurt.  How wisely is the ear formed to receive all sorts of sounds, and not to be filled with any to the exclusion of others.  Are not the fore teeth of all animals fitted to cut off proper portions of food, and their grinders to reduce it to a convenient smallness?  The mouth, by which we take in the food we like, is fitly placed just beneath the nose and eyes, the judges of its goodness; and what is offensive and disagreeable to our senses is, for that reason, placed at a proper distance from them.  In short, these things being disposed in such order, and with so much care, can you hesitate one moment to determine whether it be an effect of providence or of chance?”  “I doubt not of it in the least,” replied Aristodemus, “and the more I fix my thoughts on the contemplation of these things the more I am persuaded that all this is the masterpiece of a great workman, who bears an extreme love to men.”  “What say you,” continued Socrates, “to this, that he gives all animals a desire to engender and propagate their kind; that he inspires the mothers with tenderness and affection to bring up their young; and that, from the very hour of their birth, he infuses into them this great love of life and this mighty aversion to death?”  “I say,” replied Aristodemus, “that it is an effect of his great care for their preservation.”  “This is not all,” said Socrates, “answer me yet farther; perhaps you would rather interrogate me.  You are not, I persuade myself, ignorant that you are endowed with understanding; do you then think that there is not elsewhere an intelligent being?  Particularly, if you consider that your body is only a little earth taken from that great mass which you behold.  The moist that composes you is only a small drop of that immense heap of water that makes the sea; in a word, your body contains only a small part of all the elements, which are elsewhere in great quantity.  There is nothing then but your understanding alone, which, by a wonderful piece of good fortune, must have come to you from I know not whence, if there were none in another place; and can it then be said that all this universe and all these so vast and numerous bodies have been disposed in so much