11.
I propose to go through the story of his virtue again, and to summarize it, in order that the praise of it may be more easily remembered.
Agesilaus reverenced holy places even when they belonged to an enemy, thinking that he ought to make allies of the gods no less in hostile than in friendly countries.
To suppliants of the gods, even if his foes, he did no violence, believing it unreasonable to call robbers of temples sacrilegious and yet to consider those who dragged suppliants from altars pious men.
[2]
My hero never failed to dwell on his opinion that the gods have pleasure in righteous deeds no less than in holy temples.
In the hour of success he was not puffed up with pride, but gave thanks to the gods. He offered more sacrifices when confident than prayers when in doubt.
He was wont to look cheerful when in fear, and to be humble when successful.
[3]
Of his friends he welcomed most heartily not the most powerful, but the most devoted.
He hated not the man who defended himself when injured, but such as showed no gratitude for a favour.
He rejoiced to see the avaricious poor and to enrich the upright, desiring to render right more profitable than wrong.
[4]
It was his habit to associate with all sorts and conditions of men, but to be intimate with the good.
Whenever he heard men praise or blame others, he thought that he gained as much insight into the character of the critics as of the persons they criticized.
If friends proved deceivers he forebore to blame their victims, but he heaped reproaches on those who let an enemy deceive them; and he pronounced deception clever or wicked according as it was practised on the suspicious or the confiding.
[5]
The praise of those who were prepared to censure faults they disapproved was pleasing to him, and he never resented candour, but avoided dissimulation like a snare.
Slanderers he hated more than thieves, deeming loss of friends graver than loss of money.
[6]
The mistakes of private persons he judged leniently, because few interests suffer by their incompetence; but the errors of rulers he treated as serious, since they lead to many troubles.
Kingship, he held, demands not indolence, but manly virtue.
[7]
He would not allow a statue of himself to be set up, though many wanted to give him one, but on memorials of his mind he laboured unceasingly, thinking the one to be the sculptor’s work, the other his own, the one appropriate to the rich, the other to the good.
[8]
In the use of money he was not only just but generous, thinking that a just man may be content to leave other men’s money alone, but the generous man is required also to spend his own in the service of others.
He was ever god-fearing, believing that they who are living life well are not yet happy, but only they who have died gloriously are blessed.
[9]
He held it a greater calamity to neglect that which is good knowingly than in ignorance.
No fame attracted him unless he did the right work to achieve it.
He seemed to me one of the few men who count virtue not a task to be endured but a comfort to be enjoyed. At any rate praise gave him more pleasure than money.
Courage, as he displayed it, was joined with prudence rather than boldness, and wisdom he cultivated more by action than in words.
[10]
Very gentle with friends, he was very formidable to enemies; and while he resisted fatigue obstinately, he yielded most readily to a comrade, though fair deeds appealed more to his heart than fair faces.
To moderation in times of prosperity he added confidence in the midst of danger.
[11]
His urbanity found its habitual expression not in jokes but in his manner; and when on his dignity, he was never arrogant, but always reasonable; at least, if he showed his contempt for the haughty, he was humbler than the average man. For he prided himself on the simplicity of his own dress and the splendid equipment of his army, on a strict limitation of his own needs and a boundless generosity to his friends.
[12]
Added to this, he was the bitterest of adversaries, but the mildest of conquerors; wary with enemies, but very compliant to friends.
While ever ensuring security to his own side, he ever made it his business to bring to nought the designs of his enemy.
[13]
By his relatives he was described as “devoted to his family,” by his intimates as “an unfailing friend,” by those who served him as “unforgetful,” by the oppressed as “a champion,” by his comrades in danger as “a saviour second to the gods.”
In one respect, I think, he was unique.
[14]
He proved that, though the bodily strength decays, the vigour of good men’s souls is ageless. At any rate, he never wearied in the pursuit of great and noble glory so long as his body could support the vigour of his soul.
[15]
What man’s youth, then, did not seem weaker than his old age? For who in his prime was so formidable to his foes as Agesilaus at the very limit of human life? Whose removal brought such welcome relief to the enemy as the death of Agesilaus, despite his years? Who gave such confidence to allies as Agesilaus, though now on the threshold of death? What young man was more regretted by his friends than Agesilaus, though he died full of years?
[16]
So complete was the record of his service to his fatherland that it did not end even when he died: he was still a bountiful benefactor of the state when he was brought home to be laid in his eternal resting-place, and, having raised up monuments of his virtue throughout the world, was buried with royal ceremony in his own land.
Koroneia, Boeotia — Xenophon was exiled from Athens, most likely because he fought under the Spartan king Agesilaus II against Athens at Koroneia.
Translated by E. C. Marchant
This collection of Socratic dialogues represents Xenophon’s principal defence of Socrates, offering examples of Socrates’ conversations and activities along with occasional commentary from Xenophon. The
Memorabilia
contains 39 chapters broken into four books; opening with a direct defence of Socrates, with the rest of Book I consisting of an account of Socrates’ piety and self-control. Books II and III are devoted to demonstrating how Socrates benefitted his family, friends and various Athenians that came to him for advice. Book IV turns to a more detailed account of how Socrates educated one particular student, Euthydemus, including an early example of the Argument from Design (the Teleological Argument).
Xenophon devotes the rest of the
Memorabilia
to identifying how Socrates benefited his friends and a wide range of other Athenians. The collection consists of episodes, mostly short and none more than a few pages in length, in which Socrates engages with a variety of persons, both named and unnamed companions, rival teachers, famous and less famous Athenians. A few of the interlocutors appear several times. Typically Xenophon introduces the reason why he is writing about a particular conversation and he occasionally interjects a remark into the narrative, or as it reaches its conclusion.
Xenophon’s portrayal of Socrates was influential in antiquity, helping us to understand how various schools of ancient thought made use of the teachings of Socratic thought. The self-control of Xenophon’s Socrates is in keeping with his role of inspiring ancient cynicism, which was traditionally said to be founded by Socrates’ follower Antisthenes. It is clear that the Stoics made considerable use of Xenophon’s version of the argument from design and their account of natural law also owed something to Socrates, if not only to Xenophon’s Socrates.
Roman marble bust of Socrates, 1st century, most likely a copy of a lost bronze statue made by Lysippos
CONTENTS
BOOK I.
1.
I have often wondered by what arguments those who drew up the indictment against Socrates could persuade the Athenians that his life was forfeit to the state. The indictment against him was to this effect: Socrates is guilty of rejecting the gods acknowledged by the state and of bringing in strange deities: he is also guilty of corrupting the youth.
[2]
First then, that he rejected the gods acknowledged by the state — what evidence did they produce of that? He offered sacrifices constantly, and made no secret of it, now in his home, now at the altars of the state temples, and he made use of divination with as little secrecy. Indeed it had become notorious that Socrates claimed to be guided by ‘the deity:’ it was out of this claim, I think, that the charge of bringing in strange deities arose.
[3]
He was no more bringing in anything strange than are other believers in divination, who rely on augury, oracles, coincidences and sacrifices. For these men’s belief is not that the birds or the folk met by accident know what profits the inquirer, but that they are the instruments by which the gods make this known; and that was Socrates’ belief too.
[4]
Only, whereas most men say that the birds or the folk they meet dissuade or encourage them, Socrates said what he meant: for he said that the deity gave him a sign. Many of his companions were counselled by him to do this or not to do that in accordance with the warnings of the deity: and those who followed his advice prospered, and those who rejected it had cause for regret.
[5]
And yet who would not admit that he wished to appear neither a knave nor a fool to his companions? but he would have been thought both, had he proved to be mistaken when he alleged that his counsel was in accordance with divine revelation. Obviously, then, he would not have given the counsel if he had not been confident that what he said would come true. And who could have inspired him with that confidence but a god? And since he had confidence in the gods, how can he have disbelieved in the existence of the gods?
[6]
Another way he had of dealing with intimate friends was this: if there was no room for doubt, he advised them to act as they thought best; but if the consequences could not be foreseen, he sent them to the oracle to inquire whether the thing ought to be done.
[7]
Those who intended to control a house or a city, he said, needed the help of divination. For the craft of carpenter, smith, farmer or ruler, and the theory of such crafts, and arithmetic and economics and generalship might be learned and mastered by the application of human powers;
[8]
but the deepest secrets of these matters the gods reserved to themselves; they were dark to men. You may plant a field well; but you know not who shall gather the fruits: you may build a house well; but you know not who shall dwell in it: able to command, you cannot know whether it is profitable to command: versed in statecraft, you know not whether it is profitable to guide the state: though, for your delight, you marry a pretty woman, you cannot tell whether she will bring you sorrow: though you form a party among men mighty in the state, you know not whether they will cause you to be driven from the state.
[9]
If any man thinks that these matters are wholly within the grasp of the human mind and nothing in them is beyond our reason, that man, he said, is irrational. But it is no less irrational to seek the guidance of heaven in matters which men are permitted by the gods to decide for themselves by study: to ask, for instance, Is it better to get an experienced coachman to drive my carriage or a man without experience? Is it better to get an experienced seaman to steer my ship or a man without experience? So too with what we may know by reckoning, measurement or weighing. To put such questions to the gods seemed to his mind profane. In short, what the gods have granted us to do by help of learning, we must learn; what is hidden from mortals we should try to find out from the gods by divination: for to him that is in their grace the gods grant a sign.
[10]