•I' 1 irr 1 (!t A TABLE O F T H E DIALOGUES Contained in thefe two Volumes. VOL. L Pgcrg ^^F/>/?Alcibiades, Of Humane Kutiire 167 T})€ Second McMi^QS, Of Prayer.- 0:^0 Theages, OfWifdom,* . , 055 Euryphron, Of Hol'inefs. . 272 -An Ahndgmnt of the Firft A\c\hm^^. oqg An Abndgjnent of the Second Alcibiades. - — :?ii An Abridgment of hity^hton. > . 51^ V O L. IL The Apologv of Socrates. — 9 Cmoi\ of idiat one ought to do. . 51 Phedoii, 0/ the Imniortall'ity of the Sou/. 8 1 Laches, Of Valour ' 184 Protagoras, Againft.thc Soph'ifts. Tlje Rivals, Of Wilofophy, L. .^ - ?26 THE A DISCOURSE CONCERNING PLAT 0 Hat is every Day feen to befal the Nobleft Houfes, whofe Great Names are ufurp'd by obfcureFa- milies, fo that the true Heirs who only have right to bear 'em are in time no longer diftinguifhed, has been the fate of Philofophy. A great number of Arts and Sciences ivhich indeed may be of ule in their places, but are worthy only to be the Slaves of that Science which alone renders our Lives equally good and happy, have feiz'd on this Magnificent Name, and rendered it contemptible in the Eyes of Men. We have now no Idea of a true Philofopher, fince this Auguft Ti- tle is lavifhly beftowed on a fort of cuiious and lazy People, who make it their only bufinels to under- ftand fome of the lecrets of Nature, and fpend the time 6f their Life in making Experiments on the weight of the Air, and the vertues of the Loadftone. This Name has been ftill more degraded in being given to thofe, whofe unfatiable Avarice chains 'em Day and Night to a Furnace •, as if Gold, the greateft quantity of which is not comparable to the leaft Vertue, were the end ofPhilofophy. ' In fine Men are not content with having given it fuch bleT mifhes as theft, but have alfo render'd the Name; I *■ B odious A Difcourje on Plato^ odious in tlirowing it away on thofe Libertines, who by a pretended force d'Efprit, orftrength of Thought which at bottom is no better than Weak- nels and Ignorance, li\-e rather like Beafts than Men, Is it then to be wonder'd at that Philoiophy is mif- taken and negleaed, and that Men no longer pay . her that refpea and veneration, which Ihe formerly excited in their Minds > Af ham'd ot being confoun- ded with the Daughters of the Earth, Ihe is reaf- cended to Heaven, from whence Socrates brought The Athenians heretofore by a publick decree forbad, that the Names of Uiirmodim^ and Arifto- ghon, who had delivered their Countrey from the Tyranny of hippie and Hipparchus, fhouldever be given to Slaves : for they thought it a horrible Indignity by fo (liameful a Communication to blait thole Names that were devoted to the publick Li- berty. Philofophy is another Deliverer, (he tri- umphs over Vices, overtlirows Impiety, and con- founds the AVifdom of the World. 'Tis fomewhat greater than the Arts, and than what Men commonly call the Sciences -, 'tis the love of true AVifdom, the knowledg of Divine and Humane Things, that is to fay ,the Science of God, a Science which teaches us to know the relation which our Souls necelFarily bear to their Creator, ^ and by and in him, to all rational Creatures, and which produces the certain knowledge of all our Duties, towards God, our Neighbours and our Selves. To be truly a Philolbpher is to have Temperance, Juilice and bortitude, to love the Truth, to avoid Scnfual Pleafures, to delpife Riches, to weaken, as ^niucli as may be, the bands that faften the Soul to the Body, to hate and contemn this Body which is always oppofing Wifdom, to renounce all our De- iires, to iear neither the Poveny, nor Shame, nor Reproach we may be exposed to, for the fake of Righteoulhels and Truth ^ to do good to Mankind even our very Enemies ; to have notliing m view, but A Difcourfe on Plato^ bnt how to die well •, and for this end to renounce one's lelf and every thing elfe. This is the Idea the wifeft Heathens had of Philofophy. This being fuppos'd, nothing can be more fit and ufeflil, than to follow the certain, and vifible Pro- grefs which they made in their refearch after thole Truths, and to fee to what degree of knowledge it pleafed God to lead 'em. If we don't make fuch an Examen as this, we can't fpeak of 'em with Judg- ment, and witliout falling into a falfe account of Things, as it has often happen'd, and ftill happens every day to the moft Learned Men. Whenever they fpeak of the Heathens, they tear witnels againft themfelves that they never well read 'em, and that they have only an imperfeft Idea of 'em, for they impute fuch Sentiments to 'em as 'they never had^ ~ and deny 'em others which they had in reality -, which is a great piece of Injuftice : r;ay it feems (if I may fo Ipeak) to diminiih fomewhat from the Mercy and Juftice of God, not to acknowledg all the Teftimonies he was pleafed to give of hiriifelf among the Pagans, in thofe Times that were cor- rupted with the moft abominable Idolatry, in order to reduce 'em to the true Religion. This Negligence is the more blamable ^ in that st Man needs only to read P/ato^ to be perfectly in- form'd of the extent of their Knowledg : For his Writirigs have amaflfed together all the Truths that were fcatter'd up and down in the Works of other Philofophers •, and with the advantage of new Dif coveries of his own, they compofe as it were a Bo- dy of Do6:rine which contains the higheft perfe8:i- on of Knowledg to be found among the Heathens. Let a Man read never fo little of him with atten- tion, and refleft upon wliat he teaches, and hell eafily difcern, that God, to ftop the mouth of In- credulity, was long fince preparing the way for the converfion of the Heathens, which had been fo of- ten predicted by the Prophets ^ for was it not the work of God, and a kind of Preludium of their B 2 Con- A Vifcourje on i?lato^ Converfion, that a Heathen in the moft Idolatrous City in the World, and almoft 400 years before the light of the Gbfpel illuminated the Univerfe, fliould declare and prove a good part of the Truths of the Chriftlan Religion. The Circumftance of the Time is remarkable, for P/iito began to write immediately after the three laft Prophets that were in Ifrae/. So that as foon as the Prophets ceafed among the Jews, God raifes up Philofophers to enlighten the Gentiles •, and di- vers of the Principles of the Gofpel are taught at Athens. Where 'tis prov'd, 7 /'J/ there is but one God^ that we ought to love andjcrve him^ and to endeavour to rejemhle him m Holinefs and Righteoufnefs •, that this God rewards Ihimilhy^ and punijhes Pride. That the true Happinefs of Man confifts in being uTiiied to God., and his only Mifery in being fepara- tedfrom him. That the Soul is mere Darknefs^ unlefs it be illu- minated by God 'j that Men are uncapable even oj fraying wcll^ unlefs God teaches ^em that Prayer.^ which alotje can be tijeful to "em. That there is nothing J olid and fubflantial but Piety ^ that' this' is the Source of Vertues., and that i0 is the gift of God. That 'tis better to die than to Jin. That we ought continually to be learning to die^ and yet to endure life^ in obedience to God. 'Ihat "tis a Crime to hurt our Enemies^ and to re- venge our Je Ives for the Injuries we have received. That ^t/s better to fuffer wrong than to do it. That God is t hefole Canje of Good^and cannot be the Caufe of Evilj which alzmys proceeds only from our TiJ obedience., and the ill ufe we make of our Liberty. That Self love produces that DiJ cord and Dwifion which reign among Men., and is the cauje of their Sins ^ that the love of our Neighbours^ zi^hich proceeds from the love of God iU its Principle., produces that f acred I ^nwn zvhich makes Pamilres^ Republicks., arid Kingdoms happy. That A Difcourfe on Plaeo^ 5 That the World is nothing but Corruption^ that zve ought to fly from it^ ta join our f elves to God^ who alone is our Health and Life •, and that while Kie live in this World we are furrounded by Enemies^ and hive a continual Combate to endure^ which requires on our part a refinance without intermijjion ^ and that we cannot conquer^ unlejs God or his Angels come to our help. That the WO R D framed the World^ and rendered ao>©-. it vijible '^ that the knowledg of the WORD makes m live very happily here be low ^ and that thereby iKie obtain Felicity after Death. That the Soul is immortal.^ that the Dead fhall rife again^ that there fhall be a final Jndg?ne?7t both of the Righteom and of the Wicked.^ ii)hen Men fhall appear only with their Vertues or Vices^ which fhall be the occafwn of their eternal Happinefs or Mifery. - But I forbear to proceed, that I may not repeat that h3re,which.will be found in its full extent elfe- where. Yet I caunot chufe but add^ that Ylato had io great and true an Idea of perfed Righteoufnefs, and was fo throughly acquainted with the corruption of Mankind, that he makesit appear, ^ that if a Man perfectly righteous ihould come upon Earth, he would find lb much oppofition in the World, that he would be imprifon'd, reviled, fcourg'd, and in fine crucified by fuch who, tho they were extremely wicked, would yet pals for righteous Men. Socra-.. tes was the firft proof of this Demoiiftration. For as St. Juftin iays, the Devils feeing this Fhilof©- pher made tlieir Nullity appear by the dilcovery c»f the Truth, arid that he endeavour' d to reclaim Men from giving them religious Worfhip ^ thefe mali- cious Spirits fb order'd.the matter by means of Men who were corrupt and took pleaiure. in Vice, that this righteous Man was put to Death as if he had been an impious Peribn, that liv'd without God la World, and introduc'd new Gods. * In the IL Book of his-Commo3.\veaUh, Tom, 2= B 3 " There ^ A Dlfcottrfe on Plato. There are fome who pretend the abovementioned Padiige oF P/iito is a Prophefy, becaufe the Terms don't agree with the Circumftances oi Socrates^ who was put to death only by a draught of Poyfon, but precilely fute with thofe of the Saviour of the World, who was both fcourged and crucified. But we Ihall not prefume to make a Prophet of our PhiloTopher, from whom Reafon alone, when mov'd by the injuftice of Men, might extort fuch exaggerated Expreihons ^ but Ihall content our felves to enquire what there may be in his Writings con- formable to the defigns of God, who always defif d the Salvation of Men, and often made ule of the Pagans for the execution of his eternal Decrees. We underftand by the Holy Scripture, which is the only Lamp of Truth, that natural Religion was the firft ule Men made of their Reafon ^ that Lull and irregular Paffions having corrupted their Reafon, they abandon'd themlelves to. the facrilegious wor- ftiip of Idols ^ and that God to (top the courfe of this Abomination made himlelf known a lecond time, and gave the Jewilh Law^ which as it re- vived in the minds of Men the Principles of the Law of Nature, foit promis'd a more lacred and perfect Covenant which the Righteous were to expe£t, and which alone was capable of triumphing over Death j and lb alone able to conduct Men to a glorious Im-. mortality, P/c/io. ieems to have been acquainted with the Divine Conduct in this matter, and to endeavour to reclaim the Heathens by the fame means. He endeavours to reeftablifh Natural Religion by oppofing Paganifm which was the corruption of it. He gives a Law which in its principal heads is entirely conformable to the Tradition of the He- brews, and the Precepts oi'Aio/?s and the Prophets ; from whom he has borrowed that which is molt rational and fubftantial in his Works. And he fupports this Law by a great many Prin- ciples more lublime than thofe of natural Religion, and A V'tfcourfe on Plato^ andoftheLawof ill^-r-, and by clear and exprefs Promiles of Ipiritiial and eternal Bleffings, which the Chriltian Religion alone can make Men enjoy, and which Mofes and the Prophets only promilbd under the Veil, and Figures of temporal Enjoyments. So that Fidto is not content to give a Teftimony only to natural Religion, and the Jewiili Law, but alio in fome Ibrt pays Homage to Chriftianity ^ in piercing by a lupernatural Light into a part of thofe Shadows and Figures that cover'd it ^ and in propofing molt of the greateft Motives and glorious Obje£ls, which it has always employ'd to raife Men above themfelves, and to make them Mailers of their Paffions, ^ Ahappyhn?mrtality (fays he) is a grcatVnze fet before i/s^ ami a great Object of Hope^ zvhicb fhould engage m to labour all the t'wie of our Life to acquire Wifdom andVertue, This the reading only of thefe two firft Volumns will compleatly let in its true Light. 'Tis commonly enquif d on this Subje8:, how the Books of Mofes and thofe of the Prophets could come to flatd's knowledg. I will not undertake to prove that there were Greek Tranllations of 'em before that of the Septuagint, 'tis too difficult a- matter to fupport that Suppofition, and 1 mull confels I can find no folid foundation for it. But Fll declare what feems moft probable to me. After the departure of the Ifraelites out o^Egypt^ they almoft always continued their Commerce with the Egyptians. They traded in their Country, tliey fometimes defir'd their afliftance againlt their Ene- mies, and often enter' d into Treaties and Alliances with^bem. By theie means the memory of all that had happen'd to their Nation was eiifiiy preferv'd among thofe People, t The Captivity of King Jehoachaz^ whom Pbaraoh Necbod> carried awcjr Prifoner about the beginning of the42 01ympiadei and X the dwelling of the Prophets Jcrcm'uih and * Vol, 2. f 2 Kings 25. \ Jcr. 45. B 4 'Earjcb 3 A D ifcourfe on P la to. Barach in E^ypt fome years .after with the miferable remainder of the Jews, that the King o^ Babylon had left in Judaa^ could not fuffer the Egyptians to forget thefe tilings. About this time Fythagora^ n2i\Q\V& into Egypt^ from whence he brought thefe Traditions into Greece ^ liis Dilciples communicated them to So^ crates^ who acquainted Vlato with 'em ^ and he, to be more perfemy inftru£led in 'em, went to the lame place where he might fee not only the Grandr Children hut the Children of fuchas had conversed with tlie Fugitives that retired thither with thofe Prophets. And.perhaps 'tis no ill-founded Suppofi- tion, that by his frequent Converfation with- them he learned enough of their Language to read thofe Originals himfelf, of which the Egyptians, wiio were a very curious People, might have Copies. But whether he read 'em, or knew nothing of 'em, but what he learned in Converfatiop, 'tis certain he could draw that Tradition which he calls Sacred from no other Source. For he harmonizes fo well with thofe Originals- in many things, not only in lefpeOiof the Truths themfelves, but moreover in the very manner of his Expreffions, that one would often think he tranflates 'em. From whom, unlefs from the Hebrews, could the Egyptians have a Tra- dition containing fuch wonderful Do£l:rine, and of which never any other People had heard, before the peculiar People of God were inftru8:ed in it ? But 'tis laid there are many Errors intermix'd "with the Writings 6f P/ato •, that in his Explica- tion of the gieateft Truths, he is fiill of Doubts and Uncertainty ^ and 'tis oblerv'd that Socrates conftantly prof efles that he knows nothing : What advantage' can be received from a man that knows nothing but his own Ignorance ? And 'tis fit thefe Objei3:ions fliould have an Anfwer. 'Tis certain Vlaio is not without his Errors •, but when they come to be ftrictly cxamin'd, there ar? to be found in \m fome Traces of ancient Traditi- ons, A T>lfcourJe on Plato-, ons, and Predi8:ions of the Prophets ^ ahd. if thefe Traces are compar'd with the Doclrine of the Holy Scripture, one may difcov*jr the Source of thofe Errors, which by this means become one of the Proofs of the Truth of the Chriftian Religion. For we mult be forced to acknowledg that the Heathens had a dim fight of divers great Trutlis, which be- caufe they were not to be fully unveiled till the coming of the Mefjiah^ were involved in Darkneis t.po, thickto be penetrated by their Eyes. i\nd this was pxedi£led by the Prophets, who all declared that Chrijlfhould be the Light of the World, None but Jefus Chrift was able to difcoverto 'em thofe Myfteries, which were to be kept fecret before his coming. Therefore 'tis no very furprizing thing, that fuch Perfons as attempted to penetrate ^ theie Myfteries, only by tire Light. of their Reaibn, did evaporate into vain Imaginations. And for this jeafon we ought not to pretend to give a clear Expli- cation of the Truths of Religion by the Notions of this Philofopher ^ but on the contrary Oiould explain his Notions by thefe Trutlis, this is the way to dif- play Light every where, and diifipate all Errors. And when his Principles accord well, with thofq Truths, we may with very good advantage make ule of thq proofs he has given of 'em. The Doubts and Uncertainty, of which he is rcy proached, about the mofl: elTential Points, are fo far from fhaking his Principles, that they only give the greater Confirmation to 'em, and one may fay that Certainty and Conviftion fpring fioin thefe very Doubts. For inftance in his FJjo^do/i^ where he is treating of the great Objects of our Hope in the other Life, he infinuates that 'tis a very diffi- cult matter certainly to. know the Truth of thefe things, while we live here, and that how ftrong foever the proofs are, on which we may found an * Such as the Doflrine of the Trinity, the RefarreAlon, the Fall of Man, and the Creadon of the Sauls of IVljCn before theix Bodies, . Ex- lo A T>ifcourfe on Plato." Expe£l:itioR of a happy Eternity, the greatnefs of the Subje8: and the natural Infirmities of Man are inexhaiiftible Springs of Doubts and Uncertainties j for thefe fpring up in multitudes from the itock of corrupt Nature, which oppofes the molt maniteft Truths, and refills the moit evident proofs which Realbn can produce. What was to be done then to diflipate thefe Doubts? The Prophets had fpoken, but their Oracles were yet obfcure, and men might not difcern in their Words the Divine Spirit that animated 'em. It was neceflary that God himlelf Ihould fpeak. Nothing lefs than an exprefs Promile, nothing lefs than a plain Divine Revelation could entirely difperfe the Clouds of Ignorance and Incre- dulity, and convert thefe Doubts into Certainties. This is what * TLito confefles in exprels Terms. For he brings in fome Philofophers that render Ho- mage to God, calling his Promifes the Veijel in which no danger is to be feared^ and the only one in which we can happily accompli fh the Voyage of this Life, on a Sea Jo tempeftiwus and full of Rocks. Thus we fee where his Doubts terminated ^ they lead Men to acknowledg the need they had of a God, to alTure 'em of the reality of the great Blef fings for which they liop'd. And this is accom- plifhed in the Chriftian Religion ^ which as it is the only Religion that has God tor its Teacher, fo has alfo the Promifes of Eternal Happinefs, of which the Prophets fpake, and of which Flato had a glimple ^ and for which the word of this God, by the confeflion e\^en of thefe Pagans, is a molt certain Security. So that, by the acknowledgrrenc of the molt enlighten'd Heathens, there are now no reafon- able Doubts concerning the Truth of the Chriftian Religion ^ that being the only Veflel in which we can never be loft. And this is what the Prophets predifted, that in Jefus Chrift Life and Immorta- lity fhould he iuUy brought to Light, and that he fliould be the defire of Nations. * In his Phoedonv Vol 2. 'Tis A Dlfcourfe on Plaro. 1 1 'Tis not only in thefe principal Point's that Plato ^oubts, but almoft in every thing ^ and his doubts have given occafion to many to make a wrong . judgment of the AcademickPliilofophy^ for it has been imagined that it afferted nothing, but accoun- ted all things equally uncertain, which is a very unjuft Suppofition. Socrates and F/ato were not of the number of thofe Philofophers, whofe fluftua- ting minds kept 'em continually wandering, fo that they had no fix'd and fteady Principles. This was their Principle and Rule •, They taught that men could not of themfelves have any Opinion but what was founded only on Probabilities ^ but that when God enlighten'd 'em, that which was no more than Opmion before now became Science: And this they explain'd by a pretty Comparifbn. Dedalus made two forts of Statues that could walk, with this difference, the one fort had a Spirng which ftop'd 'em when one pleas'd, and the other had none ^ fo that when they were let go, they run along to the end of their Line, and could not be ftop'd. The latter were not of fo great a Price, but the former were very dear. Now Socrates and Plato compar'd Opinion to thefe Statues, that could not be ftop'd •, for Opinion is not ftable, but is fubjeft to change, but when 'tis reftrain'd andfix'dby reafoning drawn from Caufes which the Divine Light difcoyers to us, then Opinion becomes Science, and is fix'd and fteady, like thofe Statues which had that governing Spring added to "'em. So that their meaning was, that Opinion turns only on Probability, which is always like moving Sand, but that Science reftson Certainty, and Truth, which are a firm Foundation. Thus Socrates and PA/ro difputed about every thing, - while they had only Opinions^ but wlien theleO- - pinions after ferious refearches and long labour, were become Science by the Divine Light ^ then they afijrm'd what they knew. Till then all was doubtful and uncertain to 'em. But theie Doubts were more wife and fafethan tiie Arrogance of thofe pofitive i I A Difcourfe on Ptato^ pofitive Philolbphers, thiit rafhly affirm'd e\'ery thing, and always took Opinion for Science. The Third Objection agiiult Socrates •, T/.hit he Quly knew that he knew nothing^ is no more folid than the former-, and is to be anfwefd by the fame Principle : and if 1 am not miftaken, we (hall find in this Ignorance a mat vellous Fund of Knowledg. There are two Ibrts of Ignorance, the one Natu- ral, which is good or evil, according to the good or. ill ufe that is made of it, and, the other Acquired; and always good : for this latter is the Ignorance of thole who after they have learned all that Men can know, are convinced that they know nothing. This was Socrates his Ignorance, it was ^ a learned. Ignorance that knows Jt felf. He had run tljrough -Aftronomy, Geometry, Phyficks, Metaphyficks, Poetry, Polite Learnnig, ^c. and law the vanity of 'em. He even undertakes to prove that all thele Sciences are. either ulelefs. or dangerous, and that nothing but the knowledg of God can make us hap- py, that where this Divine Science is not, tliere can be no Good, and conlequently that there is a fort of Ignorance more ufeful than, the Sciences ; for til is Ignorance fecks not for knowledg in it felf' well knowing it has none, but only in God who is pleas'd to fill its Vacuum. It was for this realbn, Socrates always began his InftrucUons with an Affir- mation that he knew nothing. By this he fignihed that our Souls have no true knowledg of any things any farther than they are enlightned by God. That they fhould always look on that piercing Light, in which alone they can lee Light ^ and that when they turn their Looks another way they neceffarily fall back into Oblcurity, and produce nothing but the Works ofDarknefs. Let the Proud Wife Mtn ot the World appear, and compare themlelves with this Ignorant Man. '^ 'Tis an ExprcfTion of Socrates, which ftntcs two forrs o^ Ignorance, one chat is ii'ncr.int of it felf, and t'ctlier that knows il felf. So A DtfcoUrfe on Phtol tj Bo much for one of the ufes that may be made of P/ato's Writings, which ought to be look'd up- on as fo many Titles belonging to Chriftianity, found long ago among the Pagans, and are fp much the more venerable, in that fo much as i^ found in 'em is faithfully copied from thofe which the Prophets have left us ^ and in that which we find altered , and corrupted, we may however dif cover the Veftiges of thofe Truths which thefe ir- reproachable WitnefTes publifh'd. The fecond ufe that maybe made of 'em, and which is no lels conliderable than the former, is that by this means we may be confirmed in the knowledg of a great many Chriftian Truths which are prov'd in 'em with fuch a Strength and Evi- dence, as no reafonable Man can refilt. Religion only propofes them • for it belongs not to the Majefty of a God to prove the Neceffity, Juftice, and Truth of all he commands. Remakes Men love what he requires, and that is more than to prove it to be reafonable. But a Philofopher, who has no Authority over us any farther than he Perfwades us by his Realbns, is obliged to give roofs of every thing he advances ^ and thus P/ato does, and his Proofs can't chufe but be very agree- able to them that believe, and very ufeful to Un- believers, if they are biit willing to attend a little to 'em for their Inftruftion. - Some Learned and Zealous Perfon, who is well read in Ecc/efiaftkal Hiftory^ will perhaps fay •, if P/iito be fo ufeful, whence come thofe thundering Cenfures, which fome of the Fathers of the Church, and above all, St. Chryfoflom have let fly againlf him > It would be a futiicient Anfwer to this, fhould I only oppofe to it thofe great Praifes, which other Fathers have given him, efpecially St. Aitgiiftin : But is it to be im^agin'd, that that the fame Prin- ciples that charm'd St. Auguftin^ were dilpleafiiig to St. Chryjoftom f* No certainly : The Spirit of God is not divided, and Truth alwavs appears to thole 14 ^ D'tfcQUrfe on Plato; thofe whom God is pleafed to illuminate. I'll therefore endeavour to fliew from whence this dif- ference of their Sentiments proceeded. The Philofophy of Phto was look'd on two dif- ferent ways, which have given occafion to two ve- ry oppolite Opinions concerning it. Chriftian Philofophers look'd upon it as a Doc- trine, which by it's Principles naturally led to th^ Chriftian Religion. And Pagan Philblbphers confidered it as a Doc- trine, which contain d Morals as perfe8: as thofe of Chriftianity, and which might even take place of this holy Religion. In the firft refpe£l it was worthy of all the En- comiums that have been given it by the greateft Doftors of the Church, who came out of his School. And on the fecond Account it defended the great- eft' Anathema. The defeats of this Philofophy could not be too much aggravated, nor could thofe haugh- ty Philofophers that valued themfelves fo much up- on it, be too much abafed ^ for the Wifdom of the Wife, and the Knowledg of the Learned aie no better than Folly, if they lead us not to the know- ledg of Jefus thrift. P/ato himlelf, by his Prin- ciples, would fnrnifh us with Arms, to oppofe thofe of his Admirers, that Ihouldbelbfenfelefs, as to take up mxh his Opinions, and Ihut tlieir Eyes a- gaintt the bright Truths of Religion. But this Difference is now cealed : There are now none of thofe ignorant Perfbns. No Body is fo blind to prefer, or even compare P/ato and So- crates^ 1 will not lay to the Evangelifls or Apoftles, but to tlie meaneft Chriftian. So that there is no danger in fetting a value on thofe Truths which are found in P/aio^ and in rendering tliem all the Ho- nour they deferve. They are not the lefs worthy of our refpe^l, becaufe they proceed from the mouth of a Heathen. Did not God take Balaam from a- mong tlie Gentiles, to communicate his Spirit to him A Difcourfe on Plaf o^ I j him > When we tender homage to the Truths fore- told by that covetous and corrupt Prophet, we don't honour the Prophet, but Him by whom he was in- fpir'd. For as St. Ambrofe fays, ^ "T/s not the de- Jen of him who prophefies^ but the Oracle of him who calls^ and. which the Grace of God reveals^ The greater the Darknefs was that benighted thole Times, the more efteem we ought to have for 'Flato and Socrates^ whom God feems to have cho- fen to be the firft Heraulds of thofe great Truths,and if I may venter to lay it, the fore-runners of St. Prf///, in the molt fuperftitious, and idolatrous City in the World. 'Twas the Do8:rine of thefe Philofophers that had produced and cheriflied thole Sparks of knowledg, which this great Apoftle found in the Hearts of fome of the Athenians^ concern- ing the Refurre8:ion of the Dead, and the Immor- talit} of the Soul. What refpe£l we have for this DoSlrine will turn to the Glory of the Chriftian Religion : For if the Conformity of a part of Flato's Opinions, with what is revealed to us in the Gofpel, has fo raifed this Philofopher's Name, that he is called the di- vine Phi/o/opher : What Efteem and Veneration do they deferve, whofe Minds and Hearts are fill'd with all the Truths of Chriftianity, and who are fed with the Celeftial Do8:rine, which our Lord Jefus Cnrift learned of God the Father, and came himl^; f to teach us? This Conformity of P/ato^ with the .Do8:rines of the Gofpel, laft Year engag'd a Learned and Pi- ous Ecclefiafdque, to give a Irnall Extra£l of it, which was very well received by the Publick. This Extra8:, which was made in the Pallace, and under the Eye of one of the beft and moft learned Atch-Billio^^s God has given his Church, is a great Llogium on the Doftrine of this Philofopher. What greater Appprobation can it have than that * Non confitentis meritum, fed vocantis oraculum eft rcve- law Dei Gracia. S. Ambr, lib, 6. Epifl. 37. gf A Dtfcourfe on Platd.^ of a Prelate, who fo ftrongly adheres to the word of Truth, and is fo diligent in inftrufting the People in it himfelf, as well as in caufing others to inltru£l: 'em. Another great Advantage to be gained out of TLitos Writings, is that a Man may form his Judg- ment by 'em i and acquire that juftnefs of Mind, and accuracy of realbning, which are neceffary in all conditions of Life, in order to difccrn Truth from Error, that he "may take the right fide in all Afl'airs that occur. For the Philolbphy oi' Socrutes is the foLirce of good Senfe, as ^ Hcrjce himfelf acknowledges. There is no Book in the World that teaches, fo well as this, the Art of confuting Sophilts, who by their jDoyfonous Maxims, labour to corrupt the Minds of Men, and to deflroy Truth and good Senfe. As there will always be fuch liripoltors to be found, this Art will always be of very great ufe, and there's no Man teaches it like FLito. There is nothing more compleat than his Logick, which in- fallibly gains its Point in every thing it undertakes ^ and 'tis impolTible for a Man to defend himfelf from the force of it. It may be compaf d to the Sun, which when it rifes, fcarce makes us feel its Heat, but gradually encreales it, fo that at length it be- comes to hot to be endur'd. I fhall not fpeak of the Charms of his Dialogues^ which are unexpreflible : There are no Satyrs or Comedies that come near 'em. We can no where find fuch fharpnels of Wit, fo rhany Graces, and decent turns of Thought, .nor fo much variety either of Conceptions or Exprelfions : Nor were Ironies ever fo finely manag'd ^ lb that 'tis not fo much an Entertainment of Reading as an Inchant- ment. In the Life o^ FA/to I have fufliciently ex- posed to view the advantages of Dialogue above- all other ways of treating a Subjeel. I fhall here only add that that which contributes moft to render * Iti Arte Pcetic. ^.916 It A t>ifcourfe on Plato.^ i ^ it fe) agreeable and ufeful, is that Truth comes gradu- ally out of the Bowels of the Difpute ^ Juft as when Figures are unrolled we fee the Perfons reprefented rife up by degrees, till at laft they appear in their full Proportion : ind tliere is nothing more agree- able to the Mind tlian the fpriiiging up of Truth af- ter this nianner, the infenfible progrcfs of which eveii leaves the Soul time to be before hand with it, and to forefee its appearance. Now a Truth which our Minds have as it w^ere divined, pleafes us m_uch more than that which has been formally prov'd to us, which moft commonly only irritates and makes us unealy. Thefe Dialogues have been the admiration of all Ages : In the Reign of Trdjan they were ftill lb much efteemed at Rome^ that they occafion'd the in- troducing of a Cuftom which was received with great applaufe •, they us'd to chufe the fineft of thele Dialogues, and make their Children learn them by Heart, that fo they m/ight at their Feafts recite 'ern at Table, with thofe different Tones and Geftures that were fuitable to the Manners and Chara£4ers of the different Perfons whom Flato brings in fpeaking. 'Tis true this Cuftom lafted not long ^ but that which put an end to it was ho lefs honourable than that which introduced it. For the Philofophers that condemn'd and abolilhed it, did fo only becaufe they accounted Flato too fublime to be fo ufed, and be- caufe they could not endure that Dialogues fo feri- ous and folid fhould ferve for a Divertifement at Table, and be heard amidft the Merriment, Noif e and Tumult of a Feaft. And this Sentiment of theirs was liipported by the Authority of FLito himfelf ^ who in his Banquet, being to fpeak of the End of Man, of the Sovereign Good and other Theological Matters, does not pulh on his Demonftratiote very far •, he does not, according to his ordinary Cuftom, imjtate a vigorous Wreftlef, who never lets go his Hold, and who locks his Adverfafy fo clofely that he can't efcape him •, but he foftens his Proofs and C make^ 8 A Difcourje on Plato^ makes 'cm pleafant, and attrafts his Auditors by tile infiiiuatioii of tables and Examples, which feem to bt; contrived not lb much to convince as to div n 'em. For no Queltions ought to be ftaited at Tal is but fuch as may move the Soul after an agreeable and uf..tul manner, and fuch as every one may eafiiy und^iltand, and thofe ought to be baniih'd (to ufe the Words o^Democritus) that are thorny, and out of which 'tis difficult to extricate one's felf The Dif- coaile at Table ought to be for every one, like the Wine, and fuch as propofe there abttra6led and dit&uk Queltions, exile thence this kind oi' Com- munity, and renew the Feaft of the Fox and the Crane. If I had only confider'd the Eloquence, j:he Strength and Harmony of thefe Writings, 1 contels I fhould never have had the courage to tranflate 'em ^ in doing which, either through my own defe8:, or that of the Language in which 1 write, I have had the uneafi- nels of hnding my felf unable to preferve a multi- tude of Beauties and Elegancies that render thefe Dialogues Mafter-pieces, not to be equall'd. But I confider d, that leeing tliey contain'd Matters of fo great Importance and NecelTity, it would be a great piece ot Folly, to be fo fuperftitious about Terms, as to deprive Mankind of fo great an Advantage. And by good hap, that which is the moft ufetul can't be hurt by my Tranflation. It prefervTS the Art of Logick, and all the Truth which Socrates proves by that means, and that's enough. Thole Beauties which confilt only in Exprefhon are not fo neceQary, and we may eafiiy forego "em, provided we e.ijoy others ^ and not do like a certain Writer of the laft Age, who after he had made very good Rette«rtions on Socrates^ and had acknowledged him to be cm adm'irahk pdtter/i in all great ^tal'it'ies^ amufes and perplexes himlelf with Trouble, that a Soul fo lovely had met with a Body fo deform'd, and dilagreeable to its Beauty. Which is as if a Souldier in reading the great A6;ions of Cefar or Alexander A DifcoUrfe on Plato, i ^ Alexanier inftead of making advantage of his read- ing, and learning the Art of War, ihould diftrefs and affli£l his Mind, becauie one was bald, and t'other inclin'd his Head on one fide. . But it may be I have lefs reafon to fear how it will go with my Tranflation, than how Socrates himfelf will efcape. Our Aga fo much refembles that wherein this Philofopher livM, that in all ap- pearance, if this wife Man now finds Ibme intelli- gent Judges who will do him Juftlce, he'll find a greater number of Perfons extreamly prejudic'd, who will be fure to condemn him. In an Age wherein nothing is efteem'd but Riches ^ wherein that Slavery, which leads to Wealth, is prefefd to Liberty, and Men chufe rather to ncurilh the Vi- ces of others by their Flatteries, than to augment their own Vertues by their Labour. The Tempe- rance, Frugality, Fortitude, Juftice and Liberty of Socrates will be laugh'd at ^ and this will be hui the accomplifliment of what he predi8:ed. ^ If my Fel- iovo-Citizens (fays he) have not been ahle to endnr: my Maxims^ 7nitch lefs will they be tolerable to Strangers. The greateft part will not give themfelves fo much trouble as to read himJ t They will much fooner read the Milefian Tables^ as St. Jerome fays, that is fuch Pieces as corrupt the Heart and Mind, than Dialogues which infpire nothing but Wifdom^ And among thofe that will read hnn, many will do it only out of Curiofity, for in our Time we may make the faine Complaint that was made here- tofore by Taurm the Philofophf^r, an ancient Com- mentator on Vlato. One asks for Flaio''s Dialogue of the Banquet^ to liave the pleaiiire of feeing the Exceffes of Alcib'uides. Another for his Fkedr//s^ becaufe 'tis a Treatile of Criticifm, and the Ora- tion of Lyjias is examin'd in it •, and others defire . '^ Apology 69. 7 Multoq-, pars major eft Milefias FaHulJS tevolvencium, quam Platonis Llbros, St. Jerome in the Preface fij hls}illBoo^onl{mh, C 2 thofe" A Vifcotirfe on Plato.' thofc Dialogues which have the greateft Reputation, and arc accounted the belt Pen'd.only tor a trivolous Pleafure^ and not one of all thele thinks ot" em- belliihing his Mind by reading ot thefe Books, lb as to become more Modelt, Temperate, Juft, Pa- tient, and Fious. But thole who will prove the leaft favourable to Socriitcs., are a fort of Men who highly value them- ielves upon their rehn'd Wit ^ and a great many of thole who are taken with the Pomp and Gay appear- ances of tlic World. The former not having Eyes piercing enough to difcoVer the lecret Light of thole hidden Beauties that adorn thele Dialogues, will count Socrjtes a Dull and Languid Author, becaufe he has no Witti- ciihis, nor Gentile Turns. An oblcure Perfon who never d'td any thing worthy to be read, fliall call in qucltion the Reputation of Socrate^^ a Perlbn who has been an honour to Humane Nacure by the Ex- cellency of" h;s llnderitanding ^ and Ihall prefer him- leli 10 him, trampling under his feet * the Tefii- monies which all' the learned Men of Antiquity^ arid iiH Gieecc have renJred /;/;;/, that for good Senje^ IVir^ Fieajantne/s^ Suhtilty^ Strength^ Variety and Abundance^ he excelled all that ever ^^^^^ appeared in the World. A Man mull have a great Stock of good Opinion of him ielf, to appeal trom fo Iblemn a Judgment, and to make his appeal to himfelftoo. The latter are commoiily corrupted by reading fri- volous Books, which are wholly. Composed for Dftentation, and as Mojttagne fays, can't perceive Richi-j unlefs they wake a pompoits Shovo^ and fo have a dijguft for e^'ery thing that is Plain and Sim- ple ^ being perfuaded that what is Natural and Faly, is a Kin to Dulnefs and Stupidity. Thele will think it bdow 'em to attend to a rhilolopher who enter- tains'ein only with Inch Dilcourles as they countVul- gjrand Triviai,who is Icarce ever to be tound out of Shops ^ who' talks only ot' Husband-men, Smiths, f C'lctro in liis 3d Bock of Oratory. Mafons, A Vtfcourfe on Plato. 2 1 Mafons, Carpenrers, Shoemakers, and Taylors, and is eternally hammering on tne lame Subjects, and reprefentlng the fame Images. There are not wanting good Reafons to prove to 'em, that as a Man lometimes is thought plump and in good Cafe, when he is only fwelPd. and bloated-^ fo that which is frequently taken for Accuracy of Judgment, is the Effeft of fome Diftemper, and not at all the mark of a nice and fine Reliiii. The higheft and moll fublime Conceptions are often hid under a form that appears Vile and Contemptible. Are not the molt Celeftial Truths proposed to u6 1I1 the Gofpel under Popular Images and Modes of Ex- prelhon, like thofe us'd by Socrates ? That which creeps on the Earth, is no leis capable than that which is rais'd to the Heavens, of ferving for a Re- prefentation to let the greateft Secrets,both of Nature and Grace into our Underftanding. Nay, many times the molt Simple and Common Ideas are the molt proper to imprefs Truth on the Minds of Men,for be- sides that thefe are more proportionate to us, they do not Tranlport us out of our felves as the molt Mag- nificent Ideas do. If none but great and dazling Images could ftrike us, God would not have falf d to have conitantly employ 'd 'em, and fince 'tis no more difficult for him to change Men than to illuminate 'em, he would have been i'o far tiom making his Spirit ftoop to the Manners and Cuitoras of thofe whom he infpired ^ that on the contrary he would have transform'd their Manners and Cuftoms, to iiib- je£t 'em in fome fort to his Spirit, and yet he did not do thus. ^Vhen he infpires J^amc\ he leaves. him to fpeak like a Man Educated in a Royal. Court, he ufes only Great an^i Magnificent Ideas •, and when he infpiies a Shepherd, luch a one. as A77ios^ he leaves him to explain himfelf by Rich Terms as were molt familiar to him. ^ but the Truth is eeery where equally fublim.e, and a§ it receives no accelTion to its Lultre by the Majelry of Figures, lb rieitheJ: ' ^oes it lofe any thing of its Glory by rhelr Simpli- C 3 city 21 A Difcourfe on Plato.' city. Socraics was lb well peiTuaded, that this Sim- plicity was alone capable to move and corre8: the Minds of" Men, that when Crit'ia^^ the moft Cruel of theTliirty Tyrants, commanded him to let all the Artificers alone, and talk no more of 'em, he anfwer'd •, "^ / ;;////? then let- all thofe Conjequences a- Icne too^ loh'ich I draw jrom ^eni^ and mufl J peak no mcre^ e'lihcr of liolinejs or JujVice^ or any other Du- ties that become a Good Man. But perhaps our Cenfors will have lefs deference for the Authority of Realbns, that for that of Ex- amples : 'Tis therefore necefTary to give them an Account of what pafs'd in the Time of Socrates himlelf ^ and to Ihew 'em the Characters, both of his Friends and Enemies. On the one fide were the moil flupid and moft corrupt among the People, Ibme of whom, through ignorance, laugh'd at his Morality, and the manner of his Behaviour : Others through the Corruption of their Elearts, could not endure his Generous Li- berty. ' On the other fide, Perfons of the greateft Ho- nour, and of chief Note in the Commonwealth^ Fericles^ Nicia^^ Xenophon^ Apollodorus^ Cr'iton^ Crilobulf/s^ Efchtnus^ Antifihenes^ Stc. Thefe found infinite Charms in his Converfation. Who is it that is ignorant of AlcihiaJes ? No Man had more Wit, or a truer guft of things •, he was one of the belt made, Bravelt, moit Gallant, moft Magnificent, moft Ambitious, and Niceft Men in the World -, he was at the Head of the Athenians, he comman- ded their Armies, he had won feveral Battles,he had glitter'd in the Courts of Kings, and had not been rudely treated by Qiieens. According to the Maxims of the World, there's nothing more Bright and II- luftrious than fuch a Man as this. Yet this fame Alcibiades amidft all this Glory and Pomp, is fofat- from being oflended at So.rates his way and man- ner of Deportment, which were lb oppofite to his own, that he no looner became acquainted with him, ♦ Xinoph, in the 1 ft Book of tlic Memorable filings of Socrattj. A T>lfcour[e on Plato^ but he was (truck with fuch a fenfe of his Merit, and the folid Gracefuhiefs of his Converiation, that he knew not how to leave him •, he was enchanted with his Difcourfes, which he prefer d to the molt excellent Mulick •, "^ heconfeifes, that a Man could neither hear him Ipeak, nor even hear others repeat what he had faid, without being tranfpoitei. The Force and Truth of his Words dicvv Tears from him, and made him even leap for Joy. He com- par'd him to certain Statues of Satyrs and SUenes^ which were made to open and (hut ; to look on the out-fide of 'em, nothing was moie vgly ; but when they were open'd, all the Deities were founa in 'em together. He hardly lov'd or refpefted any one be- fides him, and he never met with him, but he took oil- trom his own Head the Crown, which he, ac- cording to the Cultom, wore on days of Ceremony, and put it on the Head of Socrates. Therefore there is no medium^ we muit judge of Socrates either as the worlt andmeaneft of the Athe- nians did, or like Terkles and Alcibmdes •, we may- take our Choice. All thefe Contradictions which I have forefeen, and which indeed may make thefe Dialogues be- come to the greateft part of Readers t like thefe exquijite Dainties that were formerly fct on Tombs^ have not difcourag'd me, but only convinc'd me that a bare Tranflation, tliough never fo exa8: and faithful, would not make a llifficient impreiTion on the Minds of fome Men, if it were not liipported by fomething, that might prevent all thefe Incon- veniencies, or at leaft a good part of 'em •, and I could think but of two v^^ays to fucceed in this. The firlt was, to place an Argument at the Head of every Dialogue, to explain the Subje8: of it, to. unfold the Art and Method cf it, and to take par- ticular notice of every thing in it of tlie greateft ini- * In the Dialogue of the Banquet. t Quafi appoficiones Epularum circumpofics Sepulchro, EC' cUfiiJiic. 50, 18. C 4 portance. ^4 ^ Difcourfe on Plato.' pbriance. The T^rguments of Marfdius Yicinus do not go 10 the Matter of Fa6t^ befides, they are too attracted, and are abundantly more difficult to be underltood than the Dialogues themfelves. And thofe of IV Scrres are too wide and indefinite thev never well i^x the State of the aueltion, or the aualjty of tlie Proofs ^ nor do they ever explain ei- ther ^Liio% Defign, or his Addrefs. Now an Argu- ment ought to be a faithful Guide always to attend the Reader, to conduft him where-ever he poes and always to let him into the right Path. ' The fecond way was to make Remarks to elucidate the principal Difficulties,to render the hidden Beau- ties dikernable, to explain th^Tiain of Reafoning and the Solidity of th'^ Principles and Proofs and to iielp to dilcover what is falle, from that vvhich is true, Marfiln^ Yidm^s did not fo mucli as think of this • De Serres on this Account is more uleful than he- for by his Marginal Notes he at leaft hinders you' Irom loflng the Thread of Flato's Reafoning, and makes you comprehend the Train and Progrels of his rroots: Butyecheabandons you in the ereateft dif faculties. In the Time o? Max'wms Tynus, that is in the lecondAge, it was Aery earneftly ddired, that fome one would undertake to elucidate thole obfcure and knotty PalTages of ?hito; above all in what relpefts ills Opinions in Theology, and many Philolbphers labour d in this Work, as may be i^tn in his Life- but with fo little fuccefs, that iiiRead of relolving the JJitticulties, they have increaled 'em. They have fcarce afhiled me once or twice in the Ten Dia- logues which I have Tranflated^ and thev would have very often led me into Miftakes if 1 would have followed 'em. ^ Thecaufe.of their Errors was, that they did not draw from the true Fountain, and had a mind to ex- plain Fhto by AnJJor/^s Principles, which are very difterent from thole of P/aia. The latter ls.^lo{i ■ *" ■ ' commoiilv A Iplfcourje on ipiato. 2 j commonly conformable to found Theology, or may ])Q very ealily reduc'd to it by his own Principles well explained: But 'tis ocherwife with liis Difciple, and where P/a/o may be once correded by Ariflotle^ Ar i ft or /e may be corre8:eda bundled times by P/ato. I don't prefume fo much on my own Ability, as to think I have filled up all the Devoirs of a good Interpreter ; without doubt lome Difficulties will yet be found in that which I have Tranllated, but perhaps all of 'em ought not to be imputed to me. pbfcurities ordinarily aiiie trom three Caules, from the Sublimity of tiie SubjeO:, from the Igonrance of the Interpreter, and from the Incapacity or Un- attention of the iveader. It will be realonable for the Reader to accufe me of lome of 'em ^ but let him alfb lometimes accule,either the Subjeft or him- felf : If this C'oiidu8: be oblerved, I may venture to hope for the Diminution of theie Difficulties. At the end of the firft Volume the Reader will find an Abridgment of Three Dialogues, which are alfo entirely Tranllated in the lame Volume. That which l|as given occaiion to this Repetition, is as follows i I had a veiy great deiire to publiih P/aio in French, but I made this Refie6lion ^ that P-hilo- fophy, as P/ato himfelf fpmevvhere lays, requires Free Men who are Mailers of their Time i and who, provided they find the Truth, don't enquire whether the Difcourfes that lead to it, are long or lliort : But nothing in our Time is more rarely tound, than thefe Free Men. Some are fo opprels'd with Care and Bufinefs., that they are fcarce ever at their own difpofal •, and others are fo continually agitated and ffiuffled by a Thoufand Paiiions, that they are always in A£lion, without doing any tiring, and reiemb'le fo many fugitive Slaves. Therefore to Accomodate P/dto to the Occupa- tions of the former^ and the leltiefs Humour of the latter, I thought inch Abric'^mejits might be made, as would be of very great life ^ and I made fom^, in which I preferved, the bell I could, the Spirit of Socrates ^6 J Di/courfe on 'Phtol Socrates and his Method, fo that none of his Prin- cipal Strokes might be loii From hence I liippos'd two conliderable Advantages might be drawn. Firft, That by this means P/jto might be read in a Weeks time, and then, that the Truths he teaches, would be more deeply hx'd in the Mind-, becaufe the Proofs being more contra£led, would make a more lively Impreflion. I was farther confirm 'd in this Thought by obferving the effeft thele Abridgments produced on all that heard 'em read •, every one was mov'd by 'em, and could not chufe but feel the force of 'em. But it mull be confefs'd to the Glory of F/cito^ and perhaps fomewhat to my Shame too, that when I was on the point of committing 'em to the Prefs, and was willing to review 'em by the Original, I was my felf difgufted with my Work, and found in the Original fo many Elegancies which I had not been able to preferve ; that I was afraid I Ihould make it fullain too great a lofs in not publifhing it entire, for nothing can be taken from it, that is not worthy to be admired. And to think tliere are any Vacuities and ufelefs parts in his Writings, is but ta deceive oiies felf There is a great deal of diffe- rence between a Man's quitting his SubjeQ:, and founding it to the bottom. P/ato always goes back to firft Principles, and examines every Subje8: on all its different fides-, he maintains that this is the only way to make fure Demonftrations -, and he is every where fuch an Enemy to longDifcourfes, that is, liich as are ufelels, that he looks upon 'em as the Rock on which Truth is Iplit, and as the Cha- fa£l:er, not of a Philofopher, but of a Sophift. This obliged me to alter my Refolution : However, in Obedience to fome Peuions of very great Merit, who defired thefe Abridgments of me, I have pub- Hlhed three, that the Publick may draw fome pro- ht from 'em, or at Icaft may make a Judgment of 'em. I A Dlfcourfe on Pla.toJ I might here have a fair occafion to anfwer the Inveftives that have been made againft P/ato in our Time : But fince they come only from fuch Perfons as never read fo much as one of his Dialogues ^ per- liaps they'll change their Sentinrients when once they have read him.' Befides, 'tis wafting of ones Time to defend F/ato •, for he fulficiently defends himfelf i and that may be faid of him with yet more Juftice, which the greateft of the Latin Hifto- rians faid of Gz/^, equally ridiculing the Praifes Ci- cero had given him, and the Satyrs- Ce/ar had made on him. ^ None could ever alignment the Glory of this Great Man by his Praifes^ ncr dimmijh it by his Satyrs, ^ Cujus GlorisE neque profuic quifquam Iau:Iando, nee vitupe- rando quifqaam nocuic. TitfU Livius, ^7 THE i8 THE LIFE of PLATO, WITH All Account of the Principal of his Opinions in Philofophy. Go D was pleas'd to endow the tirft Man with true AVildom-, but the Pjffions loon communicated to him their Mortal Poyfon, and precipitated him into a Ibte of Rebellion againlt his Maker, and ib made him lofe all the advantages of his Origin. 3"''^ ^jTy/'Tis from this Fountain hisPofterity have deriv'd all tlnt^sefs ^^^^^ Errors. Being unhappily taught what Good of Phiiofo- thsy had loft, by tlie Evils they fulier'd, they made fhas, their belt Efforts to repair their lois. But fince Man in a ftate of Perfection had not ftrength enough to keep that Happinefs he enjoy'd •, how fliould he be able when in a ftate of Corruption, to put himfelf in polfeliion of that true Good, of which Sin had deprived him ? No, 'tis not to be expecK-d from hun, that he fhould condu8; us back to ©ur former Feli- city. This is the work of God and not of Man. All the wife Pagans may in this refpe61: be com- pared to drunken Men, who while they have a mind to return Home, knock at every Door, and take eve- ry Houfe for their own. Some remains of Reaion liill gave 'em a difcovery of what they ought to feek-, and an inexhaultible Source of Blindnels and Corruption, ftill hinder'd 'em from finding it, or if they found it from embracing it. Socrutes was the firlt of 'cm, who was eminently diftinguifli'd from others by a clearer and purer Light (which perhaps W4S Ihe Life of ?ht6. 19 was the Reward of his Modefty and Humility) and acquir'd a more fublime and certain knowledg of the Duties of Man, of the Nature of God, of the Law of Nature, and of Juftice. Therefore P/ato fays of him, that he added Fire to Fire, thereby fignifying, that by amaffing together thofe degrc;es of Light, which he found fcattef d up and down ; and giving 'em a new Luftre by his luminous and fruitful Mind, he fpread Light far and near, and rais'd a great Flame out of that, which before his time, was but a num- ber of litrle Sparks almoft buried under the Afhes : But this lublime knowledg of his, was not without a mixtur -^ of many Errors ^ fothat to gain advantage by his Doftrine, which has been preferv'd and im- prov'd by F/ato^ care muft be taken to feparate the Truths which it pleas'd God to diiftver to him,from the Falflioods and lUufions, in which he himfelf in- volved 'em. This we may moft certainly do, fince we have the true meafure of Truth in our Hands, which is the Word of God. All he fays, that is conformable to this, is undoubtedly true ^ and may moreover ferve to prove the Truths of the Chriftian Religion ^ and whatever is oppofite to it, is the fruit of Fallhood and Error. And the Do6lrine of P/ato it felf has this advantage, that fuch an Examen as we plead for is one of his principal Rules, and his firft Principle •, for he maintains, that nothing ought ever to be received in any Science, but what agrees with ^ Eternal Truth, and with the Oracles of God. P/ato founded the Old Academy on the Opinions of Pythagoras^ thofe of Heraclitus^ and thofe of Socrates^ and by adding to the difcoveries of thefe great Men that Light which he had acquifd in his Travels, and had derived from the fame Springs, he eftablifh'd a SeQ: of Philofophers much more perfeB: than thofe that had appear' d in the World before him. However, I Ihall not look back fo far as thole * By this Eternal Truth Flato means an ancient Tradition, which he pretends the firft Men received from God, and tranfmic- ted to their Poflerity. PhilofO' JO The Life of fhto. Philoibphers I have mention'd, whofe Opinions may be le;;n in Diogenes Lucrtius. Ill fay but a Word of them by the way, and confining my felf only to what relates to 'P/ato. I fliall firit give an Account of his Life •, yfter this I fhall explain his Do8:rine, and examin it with refpecl to Morality, Religion, Policy, Phyficks and Logick. I fliall as much as in me lies, difcover the Source, both of the Truths and Errors he teaches : I fliall fpeak of his way of treating the Subjefts on which he infills : From thence I Ihall proceed to make a Judgment of his Stile •, I ihall fpeak of -his Principal Interpreters, and in fine (hall give a Tranflation of fome of his Dialogues ^ the Method and Subje£l:s of which I (hall explain •, and here I fliall remark whatever I think may be ftilj^f ufe to us. 'Tis with fuch a difpofition of Mind as this, that we (hould read the Works of the Heathens •, for thofe who are too much enamour'd of 'em, and take up with them, never find enough Truth in 'em to give 'em Satis- faction and Righteoufnefs enough to tbrtifie 'em a- gainft Vice, but continue to want the true Food of Souls, and remain indigent of folid Vertue. This Method I fpeak of, is taught us by a ^ Learned Father of the Church, and was followed by him- felf, as he informs us in the t Letter he wrote to Pope Damafus -, in which, after he had applied to this purpofe, the t Law God gave his People, con- cerning a ftrange Woman, when taken Captive in War, who was not to be married to an Ifraelite, till he had caus'd her to change her Clothes, to be purified, and to have her Nails and her Hair cut ^ he adds. || " We do the fame when zee read the Hea- " then Fh'ilofophers {who to us are that ftrange Wo- * Sc. Jerome. f Letter 145. % Dent. Chap. ar. II Itaque & nos facerc folcmus quando I'hilofophos legiinuf, gujndoinmanusnoflras libri veniunc fjpicntiic fxcularis ; fiquid ioeis utile reperimiis, ad noftrum dogma convertimus, fi quid ve- ro fiipcrfiuum, de Idolis, de amore, ile cura f^cularium rcrura, hxc rjdimuf, his Calvieium inducimus, hxc in unguium morcm fciio acuriffimo refecamus. The Life of Plato: *^' man) and when the Books of the Wifdom of this " World fall into our hands. If we Jin d any thing " in \m that is profitable^ we make ufeof it by re- " f erring it to our own Principles ^ and when we " find any thing ufelefs andfuperfluoui^ a^ when they " treat of Idols^ of Love^ and of the Care ofEarth- " ly andFerifhable things^ this we pare away. Thefe " are the Clothes which we take from this flrange " Woman ^ thefe ere the Nails and Hair we cut off " with afharp lnj\ru7ne?2t. B7 this means we reftore to the good Philofophy and found Theology of the Ancient Hebrews^ what the Greeks have ItoUen from 'em, for they are en- tich'd only with their Spoils. Flato delceiided from a Brother of Solon^ and confequendy was of the Family of Codrus King of Athens^ and thus his Genealogy may he Trac'd to Keptune by Neleus King of Fylos^ from whom Codrus defcended in the Fifth Generation : So that in refpe£l of his Birth, his Nobility was as great as any the Pride of any Man can flatter themlelves withaL Arifton having efpous'd his Coufin Ger- man FeriHione^ ^ 'tis pretended that Apollo appear'd to him in a Dream, and forbad him to approach his Wife, becauie fhe was with Child by Him. Ari- fton obey'd ^ and now look'd upon Ferittione no more as his Wife, but as a Goddefs, till fhe was deliver'd of P/jr^,on the Day of Apollo's t Nativity, as the Delians affirm. Flutarch makes a Reflexion upon this, which deierves not to be forgot. He lays. Thole that have made Apollo Flato\ Father, have done that God no diOionour in attributing to him the Produftion of a Man, who is the Phylician of Souls j and labours to cure 'em of the moft violent Paffions, and moft dangerous Diftempers. And St. Jerome * Thefe Suppofitions were ufu;l in rhofe "times, for inftance, there was foon after this, a Woman of the Kingdom of Pontus, who perfuaded a muMtude ot People that flie was with Child by Apollo, and was brought to Bed of a Son, whowasnam'd Silems^ whom Lyfandcr was wilhng to make ufe of to carry on the Defign he had laid to make himlelt King of Sparta, j The 7 th of FfK fome- 3^ 7 he Life of Plato^ fomewhere obferves. That thofe Philofophers who firftgave out this Fable, did not believe that he whom they look'd upon as the Prince of Wiidom, could be born ot" any other than a Virgin. P/jto vjds born the firll Year of the Eighty eighth. Olympiade, that is 426 Years before the Nativity of Jefm Chnft. He was at firft calfd Arifioclcs^ af- ter the Name of his Grand-Farher : His Wreftling- Mafter call'd him YIdtL\ from his broad Iquare Shoulders ^ and he continued ever after to bear this Name. In his Infancy as he was one Day fleeping under a Myrtle Tree, 'tis faid a Swarm of Bees fettled upon his Lips, which was taken as an Omep to fignifie that his Style would be extreamly fweet. He began liis Studies under a Grammarian call'd Dio- nyJi//\\ made his Exercifes under Ariflon of Argos^ learn'd Mulick of Dr.ico the Athenian ^ and under Aletclli/s of Agr'igentum^ he apply'd himfelf to Painting and Poely ^ he even made fome Tragedies which he burnt when he was 20 Years of Age, after he had heard Socrates. . To this Philofopher he en- tirely adher'd •, and having a marvellous Inclina- tion to Vertue, made S^o good a Proficiency by the Difcourfes of this Righteous Man, that at 25: Years of Age he gave fuch proofs of his extraordinary Wifdom, as made it appear that he was already ca- pable of Governing a State. The Lacedemonians had then made themfelves Mailers of Athens^ and Lyf.mder eftablifhed there the Government of ;o, who at firit Kul'd with fbme kind of Mildneis, but foon alier made ufe of a Ty- rannical Power. At this Juntlure PLno gave a very conliderable Inftance of the freedom of his Soul, and Ihew'd he could not truckle to make his Court to a Tyrant. Lyfandcr^ who made all Itoop to him, and had rendefd himfelf formidable by his Cruelties, kept fome Poets about him, who made it their bufi- nels to celebrate his Glory, and flatter his \'anity. Antmachiis and J\'icerati/s were of this Number ^ they made \'erfes in Praife of Lyfander^ by way of Emuht- The Life of Phto. ij lation; he being made Judge of their Perfor- mance, gave the Prize to Niceratus. Antmachm overborn with this Difgrace, fupprefled his Poem. "^lato v^rho lov'd him for his fine Poetry, endeavour'd to encourage him, and without fearing Lyfander's Refentment, told him, that he was not fo much to be blam'd as his Judge ^ for (faid he) Ignorance is as bad a Diftemper in the Eyes of the Mind, as blindnels in thofe of the Body. P/^/^'s Merit which now began to be much taken notice of, induced the Minifters of Tyranny to make the greateft efforts they could to draw him to their Party, and to engage him to concern himfelf in the Government. Nothing was proposed to him but what was fuitable to his Age, and agreeable to his Maxims. Indeed all his Ambition lay in a defire of making the Knowledge he had acquired, lervicea- ble to his Countrey ^ and he was fo f iar perlijaded by the Promifes of thofe Thirty Tyrants, that he did not defpair of inducing 'em at length to abandon their Arbitrary Methods •, and Govern the City with all the Wifdom and Moderation of goodMagiftrates. While he employ'd his Thoughts to this purpole Night and Day, and was infearch of themoft pro- per means to make this Defign fuccefsful, he care- fully oblerv'd all their Steps : But foon perceiv'd that the Milchief grew worfe and worfe •, and that the Spirit of Tyranny was too deeply rooted, to leave him any hope of being able to deftroy it. "^ Thefe Thirty Tyrants filled the whole City with Murders and Profcriptions ^ and while he had a fhare in the Publick Affairs, it came to this Pointy that he muft either be a Confederate in their Crimes, or a Victim to their Fury. The prelTure of this Mis- fortune, which none but God himfelf could redrefs ^ gave a check tohis Ambition, and made him willing to wait for more favourable Times. Fortune foon appear'd willing to fecond his good Intentions ^ for the I'hirty Tyrants were expell'dj * See Xenophon's Hiftory of Greece. Ub.^, D ani 2 4 T^l^^ -^^A ^f Flato. and the Form of the Government quite changed. This gave a little Revival to VLnds Hopes, when ahiioit extinguiilied. But it was not long before he perceived that this new form of Government was no betrer than the iormer ^ and that the State every day received new AVounds. Nay Socrates himlelf was facrific'd upon this Revolution. The Laws were trampled under foot, Order and Dilciplinc were no more regarded, and all Authority was in the Hands of the People, who were always more formidable than any Tyrants could be. It was impoflible to redVify this Dilbrder, lor a Man that fliould under- take it had need of good Friends •, and in fo great a Conf ulion, the Fidelity of old Friends becomes as fuipcG:jd as that of" new ones is dangerous. Fliiio knew not what to determine under thefe Circumftances. He had no expectation of help from the neighbouring Cities, where Confufion reigned no lefs than it did at Athens. In an Age wherein Philolbphy was advanc'd to its higheft perfection, Injuftice v;as carried to the kift extremity, which is the ordiiiary cfFecl- of that Contempt of Truth which Men Ibmetimes maniiift, when it (hines upon 'em with the greateft evidence. This Inundation of In- juftice and Violence augmented the love which Flato bore ro Philolophy ; He-cait himfelf into its Arms as into a fafe Pore, fully convinced that the Welfare of Cities and of particular Perions depend on it ^ and that it is impollible to be happy v^ithout it. At this time he heard the Dilcourfes of Qratylus who taught the Philolbphy oi' tier acinus^ and Hcnnogencs who taught that of Varmenides. Fie afterward went to Mega)-a to lee Euclid, who founded the JMegarick Sect. From Megara he pafs'd to Cyrenc to perfeO: himfelf in the Mathematicks under Thcodorus^ who was the greatelt Mathematician of his Time. He then vifited h'.aypt^ and conversed a long time with the Fgyptian Prieils, who taught him a great part of their Traditions, and made him acquainted with the Books o^MoJh^ and thole of the Prophets. While The Life of Plato. 5 5 ' While he was at Memphis there arriv'd a Lacede- monian who was fent by Agefilam to defire the Prieit Connuphk to explain a certain Infcription which was found on a Copper Plate in the Tomb of Alcmene. This Prieft after he had fpent three days in looking over all forts of Figures and Chara8:ers, anfwer'd, ^ that the Letters of this Plate were liich as were ufed in ^i^//?/, inthetime of P/^r^f/zi, ^vdX Hercules had carried them into Greece^ and that they con- tain'd an Admonition which God gave the Greeks to live in Peace ^ by inftituting Sports in honour of the Mufes, by the liudy of Philolbphy, and other parts of Learning, and by difputing one againit another with Reafbns, and Words of jultice, with a dc^fign only to know the Truth and to follow the Ditlaces ■of it. 'Tis probable this Prieft was not able to read the Infcription, but wifely made ufe of fo favourable an occafion to appeafe the Grecian Wars, which was infinitely better than if he had read it- This Stratagem of G//w////;/^wasfoonferviceabIe to Vlato for a like delign ^ for when he was upon his return with Sbmnia-y^ and on the Coaft of GvvV/, he met fome Men that came from Uclos-^ who en- treated him to explain a very terrible Prediftion which they had received from the Oracle of Apollo . The Purport of it was, that the Miferies under which the Greeks labouf d lliould not ceale, till they had doubled the Cubical Alt:ar which was in his Temple. They told him they had attempted to put this Order in execution, but that when they had doubled each fide of the Altar, inftead of making it ' double as they hop'd to have done, and as the God requif d, they made it eight fold ^ which made 'em J fear the continuation of their Calamities. FLno calling to mind what the Egyptian Prieft had done, told 'em, that God did but mock the Greeks for their Contempt of Sciences ^ and by reproaching ''em of their Igngrance and Stupidity, exhorted 'em feriouily to apply themfelves to the ftudy of Geo- metry^ which alone would make 'em able to find D 2 two' J 6 The Life of ?hto. two proportional Lines to douUe a Cubical Body by equally augmenting all its Dimenfions. ALd added, that it they had a mind to coned liieir Wor':, it was but to addicfs themlelves to Euioxus or heli- con •, but that God had no defign at all to have his Altar doubled, and that the only Jiing he requir'd by the Oracle was, that they Diould lay down their Arms to converle with che Muies, and moderate their PaiTions by the Study of Letters, and Sciences •, in rendering mutual Love and Service, inftead of hating and deftroying one another. He went after this into ltal)\ where he heard 'Ph'iloiaus and Eury- r/^, who were Pythagorean Philofophers. From 'thence he pafs'd into Sici/y to fee the Wonders of that liland : By this time he had arrived to forty Years of Age. This Voyage, which w-as purely the effeft of his Curiofity, laid the firii: foundations of the Liberty of Syracufe ^ and made way for thofe great things tliat were put in Execution by lyion^ ^ the Brorher-in-Law and Favourite o^DoinyJius the Elder. There was at that time a Young Man who was Sft Plu- naturally Contagious and Magnanimous ^ but ha- tarch in the ving had a Servile Education under a Tynin'-^ and tiff of Di- |3gij^g accuftom'd to the Submiflions and Slavery of a Cringing and Timerous Courtier, and which is yet moie pernicious, brought up in Luxury, Opulence, and Lazinefs, would have fuffer'd tliofe precious Seeds of Vertue to die in his Soul, had not P/dto reviv'd them by his Difcourf;s. He had no fooner heard the Precepts of this Philofopher, but his Mind was fo inttam'd with the love of Vertue, that he deiifd nothing fo much as to embrace and fol- low it. And perceiving with what facility Plito had chang'd his Mind, he believed he might pro- duce the fame effed upon that of 'D'wnyfius too, and could not reft till he had engaged this Prince to have a Conference with him. E)it)nyfius^ who then * For he was the Son of /JipfarmSt wliofe Daughter Dionyfins had married. €njoy'd The Life of Plato.. 37; enjoy'da great deal of Leifure, confented to this En- terview. Their Difcourfe was wholly on Vertue,and they prefently fell into a Difpute about ihe Nature of .true Fortitude : F/ato prov'd that this could by- no means be attributed to Tyrants, who are fo far from being Valiant and Brave, that they are more Weak and Timorous than Slaves. They afterwards came to fpeak of Utility, and of Juliice. F/dto fliew'd that nothing could be properly laid to be ufeful, but that which is Hoiieft and Juft-, and made it appear, that the Life of Juit Men was happy amidft the greateft Adverlity ^ and that of the Llnjuft miferable in the very bofom of Proiperity. T)ronyfij(s who found himfelf convinc'd by his own Experience, could no longer hold the Difcourfe, but with a pretence of making a Jeft of his Morals, told film his u'lfcoiirjes Javoiird of Oil Age-^ to which PLiio replied, that dps favoured of Tyranny. This Prince not accuftom'd to hear ftch odious Truths, ask'd him vjry importunately for what he came into Sicily ? Flaio aniwefd that, he came thither to feek a good Man. And by thy Speech^ replied Dionylius, it feems thou hajl not yet found one. In another Conference wliich was no lels fmart than the former, the Tyrant to intimate to Flato^ that he ought to conduct himfelf with more Cau- tion before him, and not to ufe 16 provoking a Li- berty of Speech, mention'd thefe two Verfes to him, -^ In every Tyranfs Court He a meer Slave becomes^ who enters free. T/ato return'd him thefe two Lines, changing th? latter thus, — — — I^ every Tyranfs Court Who enters^'free^ fhall ne're become a Slave. to fignifie that a True Philofopher can never lofe. * Thefe are two Lines of Sophocles. D 3 lus 8 7he Life of Plato. his Liberty. Dion fearing the Prince's Difpleafure hereupon would have lome fatal efteft, ask'd a Difmilhon tor P/.//^, that lu might take the advan- tage of a Vellel that was to carry back Poliiides the Lacedemonian Amba(iador.73/ the Athenians finding him without defence might come and ravage Sicily^ and revenge themfelves for the Lofles they had fuftained under Nicioi' •, or elie with a defign to expel him, and to take his place himlelf in the Throne. This Calumny, which was plaufible enough to furprize a Tyrant, did not how- ever produce half the effect they expe£ted from it. Only D/0/2 became a Vifthn to the Anger ofDionyJi- /-/i-, who caus'd him to be put on board a VefTel in his Prefence ^ and (hamefully banifhed him. At the fame time it was reported at Syracufe^ that he had alfo put Plato to deaths but this Story had no foundation ^ for D'wnyfim on the contrary re- doubled his CarefTes towards him, either becaufe he believed, that he had been firft deluded by the Ar- tifices of Dion^ or elfe becaufe indeed he himfelf could not tell how to live without feeing and hear- hig him. The Love he had for PLito augmented every day, and advanced to that excels, that he became as jea- lous of him, as of a Miftrefs, and us'd his utmoft Efforts, to oblige him to prefer his Friendlhip to that of jywn: But, as Plato laid, he took a wrong Courfe to obtain this Preference ^ for he endeavoured to acquire it only by demonllrarions of an ambitious and tyrannical Love, inftead of meriting it, if that had been polTible, by a conformity of Manners, in making an Improvement of his Maxims, and uniting himfelf to him by the bonds of Vcrtue. His Ti- mou;ouliiefs The Life ©/"Plato. 4j mouroufnefs rather than his III humour hinder'd him from taking this method : for tho he paffionately lov'd F/ciio^ he fcarce dar'd to fee him bur by fiealth, for fear of irritathig fuch as were difpleas'd with this Intimacy between 'em y fo that he always fluc- tuated between delire, and fear, and thereby render'd all P /Clio's Exhortations ufelels to him, and .remained a Slave to his Vices. However becaufe he tear'd he would leave Sici/y without his permiffion, he order d him to lodge in the Caftle, on pretence to do him honour, but in reality to fecure his Perfon. There he endeavour'd to gain his Heart by the moft magni- ficent Offers he could think of He fliew'd him his Treafures, and told him all that he defir'd of him was to become Mafter of his Forces, and of all his Power, provided he would love him more than Dw/2. few Philofophers would have refilled fuch powerful Temptations, But PLno^ who could make Vertue give place to Vice in his Soul, conftantly told him, that he would love him as much as Dio;?^ when once he was as truly vertuous as He. This threw the Tyrant into an horrible Rage ^ he threaten'd him with Death, and the next moment beg'd pardon for all his Violence. P/dio would have found his Prifon more tolerable, if he iiad been the ObjeO: of his Ha- tred 'j for he was every day oblig'd to ufe new Ma- nagement to make the Obligations of Hofpitality a- gree with the Interefts of Philofophy. In fine, he had the good Fortune to be delivered from this Cap- tivity. For a War broke out, which forc'd D'wnyfi- 7/s to fend him back into Greece. At his departure he would have loaded him with Prefents, which r/(//^ refus'd, contenting himfelf with the Promife he made him of recalling I^/Y;//,when the War (hould be once ended. When he was ready to embark Diony' fins faid to him. Plato, i^hcn thou art 'in the Aca- demy with ihy Phikfophers thou voilt fpeak i/i of me, God forbid (reply'd rlato) that itr fhould have fo much time to lofe in the Academy ra to talk of Dio- hyfius. The disinteielTednels of Plato appear'd on miany 44 ^^^ ^{/^ ^/ Plato^ many occafions, as his Rivals themfelves could not chiife but grant, l^'wnyfius having a mind to make Prefents to the Philofophers of his Court, and p-it- ting It to their choice what to have, Anjhppus de- fir'd Money, and Vlato ask'd only for Books •, upon which Ari/iipp us being rallied for his Avarice, made anfvver, P/ato loves Books^ and 1 love Money. As he returned into Greece he pafs'd by Olytnpia to fee the Games ^ and there gave marks of a Modefty not much differing from deep Humility, and f iicli as deferve to be lemark'd. He happen'd to lodge with fome Strangers of confidcrable Note^ He cat with 'em, pals'd whole Days in their Company, liv'd af- ter a molt fimple and ordinary manner, without ever Ipeaking a word to 'em either of Soc rales or the A- cademy ^ and without letting them know any thing more of himlelf than tliat his Nam^ was Plato. Thefe Strangers were extremely pleas'd that thjy had found a Man of fo fwcet and Ibciable a Tem- per ; but becaule he fpoke only of very common Matters, they never thought he was that Philcib- pher, whofe Name was io well known. The Games being ended, they went with him to Athens^ where he furnilhed 'em with Lodgings j they were no fooner come thither, but they entreat- ed him to cany 'em to fee that great Man, who bore the lame Name with him, and was the Difci- ple of Socrates. Plato told 'em fmiling, that him- lelf was the Man. Thefe Strangers were furpriz'd, that they had fo long poifefs'd To great a Perfon a- mong 'em without knowing him •, and could not fufficiently admire that he had liv'd with 'cm after fo plain and fimple a manner, and that hehadfliown that by the fweetnefs of his Manners alone, without rhe help of his Wit and Eloquence, he could gain the fricndfhip of all Perfons with whom he con- vers'd. Some time after this, he gave the People "^ Plays, for which \}'wn furnifhed the Habits, and was at * They were TrJgcdics. all The Life of Plato. 45 all the Charge : IPlato being willing to' let him have this Honour, that his Magnificence might acquire him a yet greater Intereft in the Good- Will of the Athenians. It is not known whether Dion made a long ilay at Athens ^ this only is certain, that Flato forgot nothing that might induce him to moderate his Kefentment, and not to attempt any thing a- gainlt Dionyjh^. He reprelented to him, that the In-'uitice chat had been done him, and the ill Con- duct of that Prince, were not a lawful occafion of taking up Arms againft him ^ That he ought to re- duce him by keaion, or to wait for fome Change of Foitune •, that he could not have recourfe to force, tvictiout doing hjiilelf a very gieat injury ;, and bringing endre ruin upon Sicily befides. And to dii^ poie nim the becter to leliih chefe Maxims, he en- deavouiLL ro make him pleafant and gay by inno- cent Divertifements ^ and above all, by tlie Conver- fation of his Nephew Vfeufippus^ which was very agreeable, and this fucceeded for fome time. After hionyfms had ended the War, he fear'd the Treatment he had given VLito^ would give him dif- credit among the Philofophers and make him pals for their Enemy, therefore he fent for the moft Learn- ed Men of Italy ^ and held Affemblies in his Pallace, where he ftrove by a foolifh Ambition to lurpals 'em all in Eloquence, and depth of Knowledge, and impertinently uttefdwhathe had retained of Flato''s Difcourfes : But thefe having place only in his Me- mory, without reaching his Heart, the Source was foon exhaulfed. He then became fenfible of what he had loft, in not making a better improvement of that Treaflire of Wifdom, and in not retaining it with him. So that he began to long for Plato a- gain with extream impatience •, which he lignified to him by frequent Xetters. Plato excus'd himfelf on account of his Age, and of the failure of Dio- nyfms in not performing any thing that he had pro- mifed. In fine, Diony/ius not able to bear his Refu- fal any longer, oblig'd Archyta^ to write to him, and 46 7 he Life of Plato, and to engage his Word, that he might come in laf'ety, and that Dio/7yJiies would perform liis Pro- mile to him. At the fame time he ient a Galldy with fome of his Friends, of which number Archl donus the Philofopher was one •, they aflur'd Vlato of D'wny flics his vehement Love to Philofophy, and preiented the following Letter from him. Whdt I dejire with the grecJtejl: ardor is^ that thou wouLlf} fufjcr thy f elf to be perfitaded to come fpeedi- ly into Sicily, i mil do for Dion whatever thoic Jhalt defire ^ for 1 am perfnaded thou wilt defire no- thing hilt what is Jiifl^ to whieh I will ahvays very readily fuhnit : But if thou refufe to come^ I de- clare to thee^ that 1 will never do any thing that fh all be agreeable to thee^ either in the Affairs of I)\o\\ or in any thing elfe zoherein thy Interejl is concern- ed^ &:c. This Letter, which favour'd more of a Tyrant than of a Philofopher, would have had an effect contrary to his wiihes, if \}ion had not added his Solicitations, and Encreaties, conjuring l^lato not to abandon him ^ and if all the Philofophers of //^//^' and Suily had not written to him, that if he refus'd to come, he would render 'em all fufpeOied in the mind of Dionyfufs^ who would certainly imagine, that he had infinuated them into his favour, only that they might betray him. And it was this that determined Flato to go the third time into Sici/y^ when he was Seventy Years of Age. His Arri\ al rais'd the hopes of all the People, who fiattef d themfeh es that hi's Wifdom would at la ft llibdue the Tyranny they were under ^ and Dio- nyfws expreis'd, on this occafion, a Joy not to be defcrib'd by Words. He orderYl him to Lodge in the Apartment of the Gardens, and had fuch C^on- fidence in him, that he allow'd him accefs to his Perfon at all times without benig fearch'd. l^lato immediately uied all the Addrels he had to know if he had a truedelire of becoming Vertuous., He ^ tells 7he Life of Plato. 47 ^ tells us himfelf after what manner he made "the Tryal of it ^ but he foon perceived, that he was called thither only out of Vanity, and to deprive Dw/2 of the Society of a faithful Friend. When he would have proposed the recalling of this Exile, he was fo tar from accommodating his Affairs, that he entirely ruin'd 'em. Idionyju/s Ibrbad his Inten- dants to fend Dion his Revenues, on pretence that all his Eftate belonged to his Son Uipparmus^ who was his Nephew ^ to wiiom by coniequence he was the Natural Guardian, flato highly provok'd by this A£l of Injuftice, defir'd leave to be gone. D'lo- ny fills promifed to order him a VeflTel, but put it off from one Day to another, and after he had thus a- mus'd him for a confiderable time, he one Day told him, That if he would continue with him one Tear longer^ he would fend Dion all his Eftate^ provided he would place it in Peloponeius or ai Athens, that he Jloouldonly enjoy the Revenue of it^ and that he jhould not have power to take away the Principal^ without the confent oj Plato and his friends, For^ laid he, I cannot truft him^ but a?n jealous he would employ this Money againjl me. Plato accepted this offer, but Dionyfus deceived him again ^ for after the Seafon fit for his Embarking was paft, he laid he would reftore but one half of Dion'^s Eftate, and would reierve the other half for his Son: And fome time after he caus'd all he had to bepublickly fold, at any Rate, and without fpeaking a word of it to Vlato •, who at length wearied with his Diiiimu- lation and Lyes, and convinced that Philofophy was too weak and tender a thing to oppole to the rigour of a Tyrant, thought of nothing elle but how to quit Sicily, But it was impoihble for him to go with- out PermiiTion, and a very difficult thing to obtain leave, new Obftacles being every day rais'd againft it. hwny fills continued ftill in publick to fhew him all manner of relpeft, and continually multiplied his Careifes.But at laft Tlato having warmly efpous'd * In his VII. Letter, Tom. 3 . the 48 The Life of PlatoJ the Interefts of Theodotus and Heraciides^ who were wrongfully accus'd of caufing Troops to be Levy'd, their milundeilhnding openly broke out. Dionyfius order'd Flato to leave the Apartment of the Gardens, on pretence that the Ladies of the Court were to make ^ Sacrifice there, which was to continue ten Days •, and appointed him a Lodging without the Caftle in themidft of his Guards, that fo (as it was fuppos'd) the Soldiers, who had been long incenfed againlt him, becaule he was for having 'em disband- ed, or their Pay diminiOied, might facrifice him to their RL-fenLment. Some Atiienians warn'd Flnto of his danger, and Flato inftantly gave advice of it to ArchytM^ who was at Tarentum. Archytas imme- diatjly difpatch'd away a Galley with 50 Oars, and . wrote to Dionyjius to put him in mind, that he had promised Plato^ that he fliould be entirely fecure ^ and that he could neither detain him, nor luiFer any Indignities to be offer'd him, without an open Viola- tion of his own Word, of which he defir'd both him, and all Men of Honefty and Honour to be Guarantees. Thisawaken'd that remainder of fhame which was in the Tyrant's Mind, fo that he at laft permitted ?laio to return into Greece. Thus much for the occafion of P/c/to's third Voy- age ^ for which his Enemies have made fo many Ef forts to decry him •, as if he return'd into Sici/y only for the fake of the delicious Table 'Dionyfuis kept ^ and to immerfe himfelf in all the Pleafures that reign'd in this Prince's Court. Diogenes^ who had a great deal of Wit, but a very fatyrical Genius -, and who could not fee the great State P/ato liv'd in without Em^, was the firft who thought good to throw this Reproach on him. For feeing him one day eat nothing but Olives at a great Feaft, he faid to him ;, ^/2ce the Love of Dainties made yoic go into Sicily, liohy do you defpife ''e?nfo ?nuch here f* I ajfure you Diogenes, replied Plato, I for the moft part eat nothing but Olives when I was in Sicily .* IVhat need had you then to go to Syracufe, fays Diogenes? JVas it The Life of Plato. 4P it at a time when Axticsi produced no Olives ? Never was any Calumny more ill founded than this j therefore an -^ Ancient Philofopher fpeaking of the Advantages of an active Life, made nodiffi- Gulty of commending "Blato for this Voyage of his, of the true Motive of which he gives us an account. For he lays, it was for one of his Friends^ who was deprived of his Eft ate and banijhed^ that Plato had the Courage to go and face a very formidable Tyrant^ and to expoje himfelf to his Hatred^ and all the dan- gers with which that threatened hifn. In the Letter which Flato wrote to Dion's Friends foon after this Voyage, he takes notice in exprefs Terms, That the j-^^ ^ fplendid Tables of Italy and Sicily extre??iely dif- pleas'd him ^ and that he could not without Uorrcr look on the Cuflom thefe 'People had of filling thenh f elves voith Wme and Meat twice a day^ and of aban- doning the mf elves to all manner of Debauchery. When a Man (fays he) h.vi been accuftomed to thefe Ex- cefjes from his Touth^ "tk hardly pojfible for him ever to be reclaimed (how goodfoevtr his natural Difpofi- tion may other wife be) fo/M to become temperate and wife : How ?nuch lefs may he pretend to other Virtues ? He afterwards adds •, My Life zvould be infuppcrtable to ??ie^ if Iwere fuch a Slave to thofe Fajjions. As ]^lato pafs'd through Feloponnefus he foundD/^/? at the Olympick Games, and gave him an account of all the Proceedings of Dwnyfras. Dion more touched with the Injuries Plato had received, and with the Rifque he had run, than with all the AQs of Injuftice that had been offer'd to himfelf^ fwore he would attempt to be reveng'd. Plato did all he could to divert him from this Thought,but when he faw all his endeavours were in vain, he preditSled to him what Miferies he was going to occaiion, and de- clared to him, that he mull not expert either Affiftance or Advice from him •, and lince he had had the Ho- nour to eat at the Table of Dionyfius^ to lodge in his Pallace, and to participate of the fame Sacrifices • Maxim, Tyr,ch, 5. E with JO 7he Life of Plato. with him ^ he fhould always remember the Obliga- tions to which this engagYi him : And that on the other hand, to anim^ the Iriendihip he had for JV 5: Guardians or Confervators of the Laws, who fhould have the difpofition of Peace and War, in conjunftion with the Senate and People. That Criminal Matters (liould be judged by thefe 3 J Confervators of the Laws, to whom there might be joined for Commilfaries, the moft aged and moft honeft of thofe Senators, that had laid down their Cliarge : That the Kings i]iouldnot aflift at thefe Judicial A£l:s ^ becaufe being "^ Priefts they could not, without defiling themleives, and derogating from their Charafter, condemn any one to Death, Exile, or Imprifonment. He alfo particularly en- joyn'd 'em to drive out the Barl)arians from all the Places they poilefs'd in Sialy^ and to resftablifh the ancient Inhabitants in their room. ^lato furviv'd D'lon but 5: or 6 years, which time he fpent in the Academy, not being willing in any manner to intermeddle with the Government, becaufe he law the Manners of the Citizens were very much deprav'd. The Cyrenians fent Deputies to him, to entreat him to go and give 'em Laws, which* he re- fufed, telling 'em, they were too fond of Riches -, and that he did not believe it pojjible^ that fo rich a People could be fubjetl to the Laws. The Thebans made the fame Requeft to him, and he gave 'em the like Refufal •, becaufe^ he faid, he perceiv'd they were too great Enemies to Equality. But He fent * The Royalty joined with the Priefthood. E 2 his 51 T/;e Life of Plato.' his Difciples into thofe places,where the People were in a dilpofition to conform themfelves to his Maxims. FhiowdS naturally an Enemy to Pride and Oflen- tation ^ and Ibught tor nothing but Truth, Simplici- ty, and Juftice. His Behaviour was courteous and fweet, temper'd with Gravity. He was never feen to laugh immoderately, nor to be extremely angry. One m.ay judge ot the Mildnefs of his Temper by the courfe he took for the Reformation of his Nephew Tfeuj!ppm\ who was excefhvely debauch'd. When his Parents had turn'd him out of Doors, he rook him to his Houfe, and entertain'd him as if he had never heard a word of his Debauches : His Friends amaz'd and Ihock'd at a procedure that feem'd to them to carry lb much infenlibility in it, blam'd him for not labouring to reform his Nephew, and fave him from utter mine. He told 'em he was labour- ing more eiieclually than they imagined •, in letting him fee by his manner of Living, what an infinite difference there is between Vice and Vertue, and be- tween honourable and bale things. And indeed this Method fucceeded lb well, that it infpir'd Ffeujip- p//s with a very great refpeft fbr him, and a violent defireto imitate him, and to devote himfelf to the Hudy of Philofophy, in which he afterwards made a very great progrefs. His way of Ipeaking was fo agreeable and infinu- ating, that he never faif d to make an Impreijion on thole that heard him, One day as he was walking a little way out of the City, with Ibme of his Dil- ciples and Friends, He met Thjioihy the Athenian General returning from the Army in the greatcii height of his Fortune, and at a time when the Athe- nians knew not how fufficiently to honour his merit, while they gave iiim the greateft Teftimonies how much they admired and reipeded him. The Gene- ral making a (lop, would needs hear his Dilcourfes, . in ivliich he iniiii-.d, neither on Taxes, nor the equip- ping of Fleets, nor the fubfilbnce of Troops, but on VeriLic, and the Don:dnion aMan ought to have over his 7he Life 0/ Plato.' 53 his Paffions •, whereby he only aim'd at the Explica- tion of the Nature of the Chief Good. Ti?nothy ftruck with the Truth and Elegancy of his Maxims, cry'd out, 0 happy Life^ 0 true felicity ! by which words he fignihed, he was convinced that all the Glory and Honour he enjoy'd were nothing in comparif on of the Happinefs of a Philofopher, and that without the ftudy of Wifdom no lolid Good was attainable. As Temperance is accounted the firfl: Vertuevof a Philofopher, fo 'tis faid of PLito^ that he was al- ways very grave and fober, and always liv'd a fingle Life ', but there is reafon to doubt whether his Celi- bacy was the EfFe£l of his Sobriety and Chaftity ; for there are yet in being fome Verfes which he made on a certain Mifs of Colophon^ nam'd Archeandj]}!^ whom he lov'd, tho flie was grown old. 1 have (fays he) zoith me Archeanaffa the Alifs ^ Love ft ill lies in amhujh in ]}£rWr inkles. Hozio unhappy were you: that were exposed to her Glances in her Youth ! a- midfl liohat Yhwies have not you liv'd ? He alfo lov'd another, calfd Xantippe. He requefled her Favours in very preffing Term.s, and with thofe fine Realbns . which are fince become the^ common places of thofe lafc'roioj/s Morals^ which now reign on one of our Theaters, from wdience they infenfibly glide into our Cities and Houfes, viz. That Beauty is a Flower which very Jpeedily withers ; that if Pe;fbns don't make hafte to love^ they lofe their Touth to ?jo pur- pofe^ and that old Age comes fwiftly towards //j, to raviJJ) our plea/ant Days^ and all our Delights from USc 'Tis true, 'tis faid to excufe P/^//y?, that thefe Verfes are not his, but composed by Ti;"//?//)/?/^^, who imputed 'em to him to degrade him, and to revenge himfelf on him for his Railleries. But there is not much got by this Apology, if it be true that he had yet more Criminal Paihons, and that he J ov'd Dion^ Pha'drus^ Alexis^ Agathon^ and After. In the V?r- '*" M. Difp'saux in his Sacyr ^ainft Wom^n. ; ' E 3 fes 5 4- Tfc^ Life of Plato. fes he made on 'em he exprefTes himfelf in fuch Terms as the heat of a poetick Fancy alone could not in- fpire. He writes thus to Dio/7^ Thou make ft my Soul love thee even to Volly. He lays to After, that he could wijh himfelf to be the Sky^ that he might be full of Eyes to look on him ^ and exprefTes himfelf after a yet more licentious manner, when he fpeaks to Agathon. 'Tis true, after all, thefe V^erfes may be fuppofititious •, bur if they are really his, there is ground to believe they were only the Faults of lijs Youth, which are the lefs furprizing, becaufe com- mitted in an Age, wherein all Greece was tainted with horrible Enormities. Socrates and his Philo fophy foon drew him out of this miferable State, by making him comprehend the horrid Evil of thofe brutal Paffions. He was not content to be cured of 'em himfelf, but alfo labour'd to m.ake others par- take of the fame advantage, and to furnifh 'em with Remedies againft this mortal Poyfbn : for he vehe- mently oppofes them in all his Writings, and parti- cularly in his firft Book of Laws, where he con- demns the Government of hacedemonia^ and that of Crete^ becaufe of their publick Exercifes, ^ which producd and fomented thofe abominable blames in Wo- men tozmrds Women ^ and in Men towards Men^ by a perverfwn of their natural ufe. And he calls this deteftable and infamous Crime •, one of the mojl au- dacious and execrable Sins^ which Intemperance could caufe to be committed againft God. In the third Book of his Common-wealth, after he had prov'd that there is no Pleafure more furious than that which is caufed by irregular Love, and that it is inf^parable from Infolence and Intempe- rance : He adds ^ t But true Love confifts in loving that which is decent and becoming^ and in loving ac- cording to all the Laws of Temperance and Mufick, Llato ufes this Word to fignify the perfe£l: Accord with Reafon and Harmony, which refults from all the Virtues, Nothing that is violent and furious^ * Tern. 2. t Tom. ?. or The Life of ]?\zto. 5j or that approaches htempera/ice ami Diforder ought to be tolerated^ and confeciuently no Man ought to pro- pofe to hwifelf any Criminal F leaf ure. Therefore a Law Jhoiild be made^ permitting Men to love young Feople^ provided they love "em as a Father loves his Son ^ and that they have no other end but to incite V-% to every thing that is honourable and co?nely •, and that they never give the leaft fufpicion of any vici- ous thought^ cr criminal defre. And that if they make a default .herein^ they be lool^d on as infamous perfons^ laho have renounctd all Honour and Virnie, Flato deferves to be highly commended for having lov'd his Brothers with an extream tenderneis j for as 'tis faid of Pollux^ that he would not Ije a God alone,, but chofe rather to be a Semi-Deity together with his Brother, and to (hare with him in a mortal State, that fo he miglit make him partake of his Immortality;, Plato in like manner was willing to communicate to his Brothers the Glory which him- felf only was capable of acquiring by his Works. In his Books of a Common-wealth he afcribes foms very confiderable parts to Adimantus and Glaucon •, and he makes Antiphon^ the youngeft of 'em all, fpeak in his Parmenides^ whereby he has render'd 'em all three as immortal as himfelE He never employed his Wit to revenge the perfo- nal Injuries he receiv'd, but to revenge thole that were ofFer'd his Friends, or the Trurh. It can't be Ihown that he faid one Word of Timon^ who had often attacked liim. And he anfwei'd Diogenes his Witticifms only in a jefting way, without ever Ipeak- ing of him in his Writings. Plato one day having made a great Treat for the Friends of Vionyfius ^ Diogenes came into the Hall where the Feait was kept, and his Feet being very dirty,' chofe to vvalk upon the fineft Purple Carpets, faying, 7 tramp' e PlatoV pride undt r my l^'eet. Pla- to fmiling made this ileply ^ Thou irampleji ?ry Pride under thy Feet loith greater pride of thy czvn, E 4 Dioge- 56 The Life of Vhto. T>irgeres once requefted fome Bottles of Wine of Tlcito^ who fent him three dozens. When Dioge/re^ met him the next day ^ ^ays he, When one asks you; how many tiioicc tv:o makes^ mjicaA of anfwer'ingfour^ you anfiKtr tzGenty. Thus under the Colour of re- turning him thanks, he reproach'd him with being too prolix in his Dialogues. Tldto having defin'd Man to be aT zoo-leg' d An- mmal lathout JVings-^ Diogenes got a Cock, cut off his Wings, and carried him to Plato^ School, tel- ling his Scholars, that zi\is the Man their Mafter talk'd. of. This Jell made him change his Defi- nition. Diogenes being reproach'd of continual Begging; whereas Tlato never ask'd for any thing, anfvver'd thus. The only difference hetvoeen Plato and me^ is^ that I beg aloud ^ and he zi'hifprrs ivhen he begs. As Diogenes one day continued abroad in a very great Snow mixt with Hail, and abundance of Peo- ple that faw him were pitying him ^ fays Plato, If you have any Camp ajfon for him^ look on him no lon- ger : thereby to reproach him, that what he did was not from any vertuous Principle, but out of Olten- tation and vain Glory. It being hisperfwafion, that Men were not born for rhemlelves, but for their Country, for their Re- lations and Friends ^ he was far from authorizing the opinion of thofe who believ'd that Philofophy had a right of annihilating fuch effential Obligati- ons ; and taught that the Life of a.Philofopher is the Life of a Man entirely devoted to the publick ^ who endeavours to become better, only that he may be the more ufefiil ^ and that he fhuns the hurry of Bufinefs tten only when his Country refufes his Service, or when he is incapable of ferving his Country to good purpofe. And his own Pra£fife was futable to this through the whole Courfe of his Life. For 'tis re- ported that he did not lb m^uch as excufe himfelf trom tearing- of Arms, and that hebehav'd himfelf bravely at the Battel of Tanagra^ that of Corinth^ ■ ' ' ' and The Life of Plato. j7 and that of De/izm^ where he obtain'd a confidera- ble Vidory ^ but it is not known on what occafion -, for this Battel of De/ii/m is not to be confounded with that which was fought before in the fame place -, in which Socrates was engaged, and fav'd the Life of Alcibtades, in the firft Year of the LXXXIX Olym- piade^ 'Plato being then but five or fix years old. And he ferv'd his Friends with as little concern for his own Life •, for he not only did all we have faid before for 'Dion^ but alfo defended Chdbria^ the A- thenian General when impleaded at the Bar ^ and when his Accufer Crobyhis^ to put him out of coun- tenance, faid to* him, Thou cojnefl hither to defend others^ little thinking that Socrates /?/> Voyfon is rea- dy fcr thee. He made this return ^ When ??iy Coun- try jorme7'ly had occafion for niy Lije^ I readily ex- pos d it J but there" s no danger now before 7ne to put me into a Confternation^ . and to make ine defc7't my Friend. He would fay there was nothing more unworthy of a Wife Man, and which ought to trouble him more than to have allow'd more time for unneceflary trifling and ufelefs things than they deferv'd. Therefore he - omitted no occafion of reproving fuch as he law were vainly pufF'd up on tlie account of tliofe Qualities of which they rather ought to have been aiham'd. An.d to this purpofe 'tis laid the fame Anniceris of Cyrene of whom we have fpoken betore, who was a confiderable Perfon both for his Birtli, and for his Ingenuity ^ but valued himfelf above all for being the belt Charioteer in the World, having a knack to guide a Chariot above thofe of the beft reputation in that Art, had a mind to Ihew his Dexterity in his Prefence. A Chariot was brought for tiiis purpofe into a Clofe belonging to the Academy, where he made feveral Turns with that exaftnefs, that the Wheels always ran in the fame Track, and conitant" ly defcrib'd the fame Line. All the Speftators were charm'd and extoird 7l;7>v/(:rr/5 to tlie Sivies by their Prailes; ButP/j/^ferioufly b]^.^'dhim. telling hii*i 58 The Life of ?hto. it Wis net poflTible but that he who had fpent fo much time in fo vain and inconfiderable a matter, muft needs ha\-e negle8:ed other things that were ve^ ry neceiraty and important •, and that a Mind entire- ly taken up with iiich Trities could not be capable of applying it felf to any thing valuable, and truly worthy ©f admiration. He wji ib free from the vice of Flattery, and the bafe and fervile fubmiflions of the Orators of that Age, who made themfelves Mailers of the People only by a mean and cringing Complaifance, and by conforming themlelves to their PafTions •, that he was compared to Epcm/inond.u^ aud Agefilaus ^ who tho they travell'd to many Cities, and convers'd with Men whofecourfe of Lite and Manners w^ere very different,yet wherever they were, ftill retain'd, in their Habit, in their Difcourfe, and in all their Behaviour, what was worthy of themlelves, and futable to their Character. For Vlato was the fame Man at Syracufe that he was in the Academy, the fame with l^iony- fills as with Dion : A certain fign that the Maxims of his Philofophy, which were full of Force and Vertuehad penetrated his Soul, like a deep Tin£lure, which nothing can either eftace or tarnilh.' During his laft ftay in Siciiy^ Dionyfius having a mind to Regale all Perfons of chief Note in his Coiwt, and all his Philofophers, Plato and Anftippits were invited among the reft. In the midft ot the Feaft the Tyrant ordef d Purple Robes to be brought and given to all the Company, defiring to fee 'em dance. Plato refus'd the Robe that was prefented him, laying, it would too much dafi? him out of Coun- tenance to feehimfelf appareWdlike a Woman. Art- ftippus made no fuch Scruple, but took the Robe and fell a dancing, faying, a very wife Woman would never he difrefpdiedfrr her dancing. Fldto has been accufed of three things, firft that his Humour was too Satyrical, which render' d his Writings more piquant than the Strokes of ancient Comedy., and the more unworthy of a Man of Ho- nour, ^< The Life of Plato. jp nour, in that he did not fpare his beft Friends ^ for inftance when in his Fhcedon he is fpeaking oiCleom- brotm and Ariftippus^ he fays, they ^ were nor pre/em at the Death ^Socrates, hecaufe they were at iEgina. The fecond thing with which Vkto is reproached, is an envious and jealous Difpofition, which made him uncapable of enduring an Equal or Partner in any thing whatfoever •, and engag'd him tacitely to contradiS Xenophon^ without ever giving one word of Commendation to tlie Vertue of that Great Man, notwithftanding his extraordinary Merit. The third thing objetled againft him, is that ma- ny of his Difciples were pofleued with a Spirit of Tyranny-, Euphraiis for Inftance who was at the Court of Perdicca^' King of MacedofitcL, had as much Authority as that Prince himielf, and would not fuf fer him to entertain any but Geometricians and Phi- lofophers at his Table •, Vv^hich provok'd Panne n'wn to kill him after the Death of Ferdicc^'j -, and Cz/- /ippus who" kill'd Dion to make himleli King of Sy- racuje \ and Evagon ofLa?TipJacus who liiving lent Money to his Countrey, upon the Citradel, that was given him for his Security, would have employ'd this Fort againft it to f jbjecl it to himfelf ; and TymeusofCyzic//s^ who having made a frej diftribu- tion of Corn among the People, would have abus'd the Favour and Authority which that procur'd him, to make himfelf their Tyrant : And in fine Chocron of Telle ne^ who having cruelly brought his Countrey in- to liibje^fion, drove away the belt Citizens, and gave their Eftates and Wives to his Slaves. Lefs examine the hrft ot'thefe Reproaches. ^^^^^^o^}^T'^f\!^(i is perhaps the only Perfon who was, ever accufed o{ ^]^, '^Jt ■* two Faults diretfly oppolite, and which are deiiruc- f o^rfe o] tive of each other. Aiheneus has accused him of be- being uo ing too Satyrical, and odiers have blam'd him fovS^tpi^^'-- being too mild, and for having taught a very confide- rable time without dilpleafing any one •, by which he would infinuate that his Doftrine was not good, cr * See FUto rhm^L ac ti;? beginning. that 6o The Life of Plato. that his method was bad, fince nobody either in hearing or reading him had felt that trouble which naturally ariles irom the Senfe of one's having been vicious. But without troubling my I'elf to confute or reconcile thele Contradi£lions, I fhall only lay, that Athtvicus was himfelf" in an ill humour, when he caft this Reproach upon Flato : And I Ihall make ule of the fame words againlt him, which this Phi- lofopher us'd againft Any t us who accus'd him of ha- ving been guilty of Calumny. "^ He knows not what it IS to calumniate^ for 'if he did^ he would not accuje 7ne of that Vice. And indeed Plato did no ways flander Themijiocles^ Pericles^^ind Thucydides^ when he made ufe of them as Inftances to prove, that Vertue could not be attain'd, merely by Inftrudion ^ fince thefe Men had not made their Children learn it. As for that word he Ipoke againft Anftippus and Cleomhrotus^ befides that the turn of it is very fine, it muft be afcribed to tliat Love and Gratitude Plato retained towards Socrates^ which m.ade him highly relent it, tliat his two Friends had nor atten- ded their Mailer at his Death, becaufe they were at JEg'ina ^ which by the manner of his Speech one would take to have been at a hundred Leagues di- ftance, the indeed it was near the Gates of Athens. And as occafion ofiers,we Ihall hereafter examine all the other Satyrical Touches Atheneus charges on him, Not that I pretend to crofs Plato's Name out of the number of Satyrical Writers : For on the con- trary I am perfwaded that never any Man had a finer knack at Raillery •, that the moft refin'd Satyr is to • be learned in his Works, and that none can teach it better tlian he. He may be compafd to Arifto- phanes himfelf But it will be no difficult mat- ter to make it appear, that as he never threw his Darts againft any but Men of profligate Lives, who by abufing their Character, corrupted Youth, and ruinjd Religion: He is lb far from defeiving Re- proaches on this account, that he defen'es to be highly ^ In Menoa. prais'd. IheLifeof Plato. 6i prais'd. Wife Men, as a Learned ^ Father of the Church obierves, ought not to give foft and flatter- ing Touches •, but on the contrary to give Wounds and Pains to thofe who are fallen into great Faults, and cannot be otherwife excited to Repentance and the praftife of Vertue. Thofe Difcourfes which in- Itead of carrying pungency and Reproof in 'em, are only calculated to footh and pleafe, are not becom- ing a Wife Man, fince Solomon himfelf fays, The Words of the Wife are as Goads. Befides does not ' every one know that Laughter is the juft Recom- pence of Ignorance when accompanied with Pride and Vanity. The fecond Accufation has no more Juftice in it Pkto not than the firft, for 'tis chiefly founded on this, thsLtpfi^y ^ff«- Xenophon and Flato wrote on the fame Subjefts.y^^"-^ ^^'^' For each of 'em made an Apology for Socrates^ each °^lly°^ made his Banquet and Treatifes of Morality and Policy. If to make Books on the fame Subjefts on which others have treated were always a fign of an envious and jealous Mind ^ rhis Reproach would ra- ther fall on Xenophon^ who did not write of the E- ducation of Cyriis^ till after he had feen the two firft Books of P/aro's Common-wealth. And it would be no very e^Ty matter entirely to juftify Xenophon from this fpirit of Envy, when one reads the Fragment of a Letter which he wrote to Ef chines^ in which he extreamly inveighs againft Plato^ and charges him with having corrupted the Philofophy of Socrates^ by intermixing that of Pj- thagoras^ and makes the end of his going into Sicily to be the Enjoyment of the Delicacies o[^ Dionyfius his Table. To thefe Inveclives of his Plato makes no anfwer, nor fpeaks one Word of Xenophon ^ in ''■ Sx..Jirome on that Paflage of the XII Chap, of E^c/?/. the Words oj the Wife are as Goads. Siraul & hoc nocandum eft, quod dicancur verba fapientium pungere, non palpare, nee molli manu attrahere lafciviam, federrantibus Sctardispajnitentix dolores, & vulnus infigere. Si cujus igirur fermo non pungic, fed obleftacic- nem facii audientibus, ifte non eft fermo fapientis, verbi quippe fapientium ut ftimuli. which 6i The Life of Plato.^ which his Modefty can fcarce be enough commend- ed ^ and perhaps this Silence was the chief thing rhat incenled Xcnnphon. For the greateft Indignity one can otter a Writer is (not to lay fome ill thing of him, but) to fay notliing at all to him. 'Tis true, P/<7/j in one place writes, that Cyrus was a good General, but that he never had a good Education j by which Ibme pretend he d^fign'd to deny Xeno- phons Treitile of the Education of Cyrus •, but this being made only to give ths Idea of a great Prince, and not to pafs for a true Hiftory, Xenophon could rot be offended at a thing which he believed as well as Flcito. In fine, that which yet more difcovers with what Spirit Xenophon was animated againft him, is the frightful D^fcription he makes of Menon^ in the 1 1 th Book of his Retreat ^ where he accufes liim of having betrayed Clearcus^ and of having been the Cauf^ of his Death. Mdnon^s Misfortune proceedjd fiom the Intimacy of his Friendfhip with FLito^ who liad prailed him, and infcribed his Name on the Dialogue he composed, concerning Vertue ^ for his precended Treachery is not at all well prov- ed, and he v/as fufficiently juftitied from it by his Death. Not that I preteni to accufe Xenophon of Calumny and Impolture : thefe Vices are not to be found in a Man of Sobriety and Religion •, but the Hatred or Jealouly he conceived againft Plato^ dif pos'd him infenfibly to receive all Reports, that were made againft I'lich as were engaged in ftri8: FriendOiip with him. However if Menon had been as bad as Xenophon defcribes him to have been, fince his V^illany was not known till after his Death, it can't be charg'd on Flato as a Crime, that he had Ipcken in his Fraife. Some moreover fupport this Accufation, in fay- ing, that Vlato^ who fpeaks of almoft all the Philo- phers that preceded him, and refutes their Senti- ments, fpeaks not one word of Democtvtus^ tho ii:e- quent Occafions prefented of faying Ibmething of him. This is alfo built on the Teftimony of Arif- toxenesj 7he Life of Plato; 6} toxenes^ who in his hiftorical Commentaries, wrote that ilato would have burnt all the Books of l^emo- critiis which he could heap together, if he had not been prevented by Amyclas and Clynias^ two Pytha- gorean Philofophers, who reprefented to him, that it would fignify nothing to burn 'em, fince they were in the hands of a great many other Men. And this is counted more than enough to make it believed that ^lato hated Democritus^ and was jealous of his great Reputation. For my part I conf efs this Fable of Ariftoxenes f^ems to me to be very ill invented : A Man who has a mind to commit his Rivafs Books to the Flames, does not feek for Witneffes to fuch an A6tion. Befides this filence of his of which they fpeak fo much, feems a very doubtful Bufinels. If the Glory of Democritus had touch'd JPlato fo fenfi- bly, why did he not take the advantage of fo many occalions, that were fairly ofFef d him to di- minifh it, or to call fome blot on it, by writing a- gainft him, and deftroying fome one or other of his Principles ? An Author is feldom Mailer of that Re- fentment with which the Glory of a Competitor infpires him. Tis a very difficult matter to come to a certain determination of things that depend on a thoufand Circumftances, of which we are wholly ignorant ^ but that which appears to me molt pro- bable is as follows. 'Tis affirm'd, that 'Democrittfs never went to Athens^ or if he went thither that he was always unknown, and never difcover'd himfelf fo much as to Socrates, "Tis moreover very ^vell known, that when Hippocrates^ who was now much advanced in years, went to Abdera to confer with IDejnocritf/s about the Folly that was imputed to him ; this Philofopher was not yet known in Greece^ nor had his Works been brought thither. If they had been publifhed, they would have fav'd Hippo- crates the trouble of this Voyage ^ for they would have difcover'd the great Wildom of their Author, and the Stupidity and Ignorance of the People, who founded this Accufation of Folly only on thofe Sen- timents, 64 T/;e Life of Plato.^ timents, which this Philofopher explain'd in his Writings : Now the Death of Democntus was not longbetbre that of ?l(ito. In a word, I don't think any Paffiige of Antiquity will make it appear, that the Writings of the former were known at Athens^ during the Life of the latter. Nay I am of opini- on, that there are not wanting fome Proofs among the Ancients, that (hew they did not begin to make a noife in the World, till after the Birth o^ Epicurus. Whence we may conclude, that ?liito was fo tar from hating Democritus^ that he never knew him, nor e\^er law any of his Books. It would not be fo ealy to juftify Phto's proce- dure towards Efch'mes^ if that with which he is re- proached were true. 'Tis laid he was fo jealous of the Reputation and Credit which Ef chines had acquired in the Court of Sicily •, that he made it his bufinefs to feek his ruine by his Infinuations to 'Dionyfius 5 and that he pufli'd this malicious and envious Hu- mour fo far, that he attributes thofe Difcourfes to Criton^ which are pretended to have been held by Efc}nncs^\\}^ Socrates inPrifon^ but this being fup- ported only by the Teftlmony of one Idomeneus^ one of Anjlotle\ Schollars, 'tis more juft to guide our Judgment by Flatos Vertue, than to fuffer our felves to be prejudic'd againlt him by mere Calumnies. Would Xenophon have forgotten a Circumitance that might have done lb much honour to EJchines^ and covef d Fhito with lb much (hame ^ And have we not in Plutarch the Dilcourle which F/ato made to lywnyfws^ to engage him to bekind to £/^/;/;7^j-,and to give him fome Marks of his Eiteem? Nothing is more oppolite to that Magnanimity, for which Plato has been commended, tiian this Spirit of Envy. Let us lee how he himielf fpeaks of the Envious, in the ^ %th Book of Laws. While the Envious Man thinks to exalt hunfelj above others by ]^etratTi- on and Calumny-^ he wanders out of the Path oj true Vertue^ and balks the Courage oj his Competitors^ * Tom, 2- whe/i TheLifeofPhtol 'Ci^'hen they fee the mf elves treated, with Jo much Inju- flice ^ -and as he by this means extinguijhes all that noble Emulation which the whole City appeared to have in this glorious Contention of Vert ue^ he difpirits it^ and diminifhes its Rejolution and Vigour^ as much as in him lies^ and renders it lefs ardent in the purfuit of Glory. Can one accufe a Philofopher of Emy, who fcarce names hitnfelf in his own Works, and who attributes all his own Inventions and Notions to his Matter ? * The third Accufation is ftill worfe founded than the two former. The Condition of a Philofo- pher would be very deplorable ^ if he were to an- fwer for all the Aftions of his Difciples. None of their faults can be juftly charg'd on him, but thofe which they committed in purlUance of his Opinions. The Inftance of" Dion only may be fufficient to ac- quit Plato of the charge of a Tyrannical Spirit. What could any one have done more than Dion did to induce Dionyfius the Elder and his Son after him to govern juftly, that they might lirmly eftablifh their Dominion ? and when he had taken up a refo- lution to expel the lacrer, could any one more vi- goroufly oppofe this defign than Vlato did ? Befides, 'tis a great piece of Injuftice to make Calippus pals for one of Flatds Diiciples, contrary to what this Philofopher himfelf fays in his yth Letter, in which he allures us that it was not by the ftudy of Philo- fophy that Calippus acquir'd Dion's friendfhip •, but as it ufually happens by civil Converfation, he having gone often in his Company to the Theater, to Sacri- fices and other religious Rites ^ and they being both addi£led to the fame kinds of Pleafure. There is not only injuftice in this Accufation, but alfo either a great deal of Ignorance or a great deal of Difingenuity. Could Atheneus^ who had read and colle8:ed fo much, be ignorant after what Manner Xenophon defends Socrates againft his Ene- * the faults of jp/flto's Difciples ought not to be thrown up- on hini, •F mics 6& 7hc Life of Plato. mies who charg'd him with all the Violences and Injuries of Gr/V/^j- and Alcibiades^ laying the guilt of 'cin upon him, on pretence that they had been his Dif- ciples > and if he knew this,ought not he to have made ule of the fame Maxims to juftify Flato ? As there is fome Juftice in imputing to Mafters the Mifcarriages of their Scholars, when they become guilty of 'em by following their Opinions and Principles ^ fo on the other fide 'tis juft to afcribc to 'em their great and noble Anions, ' when they are the fruit of their Precepts. F hit arch therefore is more juft than Athe- iieus^ when he places to Fhitds Account, all the great things his Difciples had done. His Words are remarkable and entirely overthrow all the Criticifin of this Cenfor. "^ Flato (fays he) haA. left fine Aif- courfes of Laws^ and the Government of States ^ but he had imprefi fill finer on the hearts of his Difciples* Theje curious dif courfes engaged Dion to reftore Sici- ly its ancient Liberty ^ and Python and his Brother Heraclides to deliver Thxsicefrom Tyranny by billing Coty s. Chabr ias and Phoci on, tho/e two Great Athe- nian Captains^ came out of the fame School. Plato gave Laws to the Arcadians by his Difciple Ariftony- mus, to the Elians by Phormion, to ihofe of Pyrrah by Nemedemus, to the Cnidians by Eudoxus, and to tho/e ^/Stagira by Ariftotle. K'ay^ the Rules of go- verning well which Alexander defir'd of Xenocrates, zoere only Plato'j Precepts. And he that kindled that Princess Courage^ and per/waded him to make war with the King of Perfia, zms Delius the Ephefian^ an intimate friend of this Thilofopher. Atheneus carried his Malignity and Envy yet far- ther •, for he writes, that Flatd% Timcus^ his Gor- gias^ and his other Dialogues of the like kind, in which he treats of the Mathematicks, and of Na- tural Philofbphy, are not fo much to be admir'd, as 'tis commonly faid they are : for he lays the fame things are to be found elfewhere, as well explained, if not better ; and he affures the World, that T)ieo- ^ In his Treat ife againft CQUUi the Epicurean, pompus The Life of Plato. ^^ fompus of Ch'io writes, that the greateft part of his Dialogues were falfe and ufeleis, becaufe feme of 'em were taken from Ariftippus^ others from An- tifthenes^ and others from Bryfon. He adds, that when one expeUs in his Writings the Morals and Wifdom of a Fhilofopher^ one finds nothing but Ban- quets^ and Difcourjes about Love^ which have d great deal of Indecency^ and very little Chafiity in V/;/, which he composed to the great undervaluing of the Judgment oj hk Readers. I will not now fay the Judgment of Theopompm ought to be fufpe8:ed, becaule the Ancients have ac- cus'd him of Malice and Calumny ^ and therefore Flutarch fays of him, 'tis fafer to believe him when he praifes, than when he accufes any one. Let P/j- to's Dialogues be taken as much as he pleafes from Ariftippus^ Bryfon and Antifthenes^ lince their Works are not now extant, the Teftimony of Theo- pompus^ contrary to Atheneus his Intention, proves that thefevery Dialogues which he has fo much con- demn'd are now the belt, and moll confiderable Work on thofe Matters, that is to be found among the Ancients. And if Atheneus pafTes a Judgment on 'em only of his own head •, I'll venture to fay, 'tis not the firft Fault this Author has committed, who is more to be commended for his vaft Learning, and great Collections which were the produ6l of a prodigious Reading, than for his Accuracy and Wifdom in hist critical Reflections, and for tiie Solidity of his Judg- ment. Is a Man well qualified to judg of Vlato'^ Writings, when he dares to write, that he can't fee what advantage can be drawn from the Immortality of the Soul, lince after its feperation from the Body^ it has no more any Remembrance or Senfation ? As to v/hat he fays ot the indecent Difcourfes Vlato has made of Love to the great undervaluing of the Judgment of his Readers •, his aim was to decry the Dialogue of the Banquet •, but by this he dilgra- ces himfelf more than he does that Dialogue. For F :2 befideS) 68 7be Life of Vhto. befides that he difcovers the Corruption of his Heart •, he makes it appear that he was ignorant of thr beauty and dcfign of that Dialogue^ the end of wliich is only to difengage us from the Love of Earthly Beauties, and to raife us to the Love of the Soveraign Beauty which is God himfelf No one I believe will hefitate in his choice between the Judg- ment of AtheneKs^ and that of Oi'igcn^ who in his Excellent Preface on the Song of Songs, fpeaks of Tlaids BiUjquct in thefe Terms. Divers Lciuned ferfons among the Greeks^ who were de/irous to pe- net rate into Truths have written Dialogues about Love^ to J})ow that "'tis this only that can raife our Souls from Earth to Heaven^ ami that 'tis only by the help of this^ that true felicity is attainable. The ^uefiions that are flarted at Table on this Subje^^ are made byperfons notfo greedy of Dainties^ as cu- rious to occajion fine Difcourfes* Nay fome of 'em have taught inWriting^ the Ways and Arts of produ- cing or augmenting this Love in the Soul. But Men cf carnal Inclinations perverting thefe Arts have em- plofdthem tofatisfy their Lujh^ and abused 'em to promote an injamous Converfation. Therefore it is not to be wonder' d at.^ if imth us among iicho?n there are fo many mere ignorant perfons^ as there are ?Norc illiterate^ a Treatife of hove has fome danger at- tending it -^fince among the Greeks.^ zvho arefo Learn- ed and JVi/e^ there have yet fome been found^ who have Jiiifaken thefe Dialogues^ and interpreted 'em in afcnfe quite different from that in which they zure xioiitten^ and zvho^ taking occajion from zvhat is faid in 'em of Love^ have fallen into a Snare.^ whether they truly found in the/e Writings any thing that incited 'em to Sin ^ or zvhether the Corruption of their Hearts hinder d 'em from underfianding 'em. This Apology ftrikes at Athene m\ whom Origen without doubt had in his Eye ^ when we publifh Tlato^ Phedrjs we fhall examine whether that Cen- lijre paft on it by Dicearc/zs., Arijlotle's Difciple, in affirming (as Diogenes Laertii/s reports) that the Queftioii The Life of Plato. 6^ Queftion handled in this Dialogue is Puerile, and the Character of it Extravagant, ought to be received ^ and whether Cicero had reafon to. embrace the Sen- timent of this Critick, and to tax P/aio with having given too much Authority to Love. Let us then without Hopping at what has been written againft F/atOj endeavour to know him by his own Works. Before the Age in which Pythagcms liv'd, Mora- lity was treated on only in Sentences and Enigmas : Therefore Solomon fays, a Wife Man will "^ under- ftcmd the words of the IViJe^ and their darkfayings. Fherecydes^ and his Difciple Fythngorns^ who had brought Treafures of Knowledg with them when they return'd from their Travels, from Babylon^ E- gypt and Ferfui^ were the firft that open'd a door to good literature among the Greeks. It was from them, and efpecially from Pythagoras^ that the firft Beams of Truth fhin'd out in Greece. Morality was then confiderably improved, yet it confifted on- ly of Precepts wrap'd up in Obfcurity. The Me- thod of Reafoning and Demonftrating was not yet in ufe. This dry way (if I may fo term it) of handling Morality, was occafion'd by the Applica■^ tion of Men's Minds then only to the knowledg of Numbers, Natural Philofopliy, and Ailronomy., So- crates was the firft, who upon the Reflexion he made, that that which happens without us, does, not nearly concern us ^ and that the ftudy of it is, more curious than ufeful, applied himielf more: particularly to the ftudy of Morality, and handled it more methodically in his Difcourfes, F/nto his Dilciple being convinced of how great Importance; it was to preierve to Mankind fo precious a Tiea- fure attempted to write of it. And that he might do this to the greater advantage, and mi glit the bet- ter retain the Air of him who had revived this Sci- ence, prefer'd the way of writing in Dialogues, to. all other Methods of treating a Subjeft : fbr befides, * Pfov. 1.6, Fa that 70 The Life of Plato .^ that it is the moft diverting manner of writing, in that it as it were expofes a Scene, in which all the Ac- tors are feen to perform their parts j one may fay it is heft fitted to attain the end, which is to per- fwade and inftruQ, that it is animated with the moft Life, and hath all the force of contrary Opinions, wherein the two Parties defend themlelves as much as they will, or can, and confequently the Viftory obtain'd by one over the other can be no longer con- tefted, at leaft when the Dialogue is made by a Man of great fenfe, and who makes it his only bu- finefs to enquire after Truth. Before F/ato's time this manner of writing was very little known in the World : None had praftifed it but Ze/20 of E/ea^ and Alcxamenes of Tcos ^ but the Politenefs, Ele- gancy and Beauty which Flato gave to this way of Difcourle, occafioned the Glory of this Invention to be afcrfbed to him, fo that he has been look'd upon in all Ages as the firft that ever made Dia- logues. There are two forts of Truth, that which is al- ready known, and that which is yet unknown to us, and after which we are fearching. This difference conftitutes two principal Charafters of FLito's Dia- logues. Thofe of 'em that treat on known Truths, are called, ^ Explicatory^ or Inftru^ive Dialogues ; and thofe that handle fuch Truths as are yet unknown, but enquired after, are called t Inquifitive Dialogues. Fach of thefe two kinds is divided into divers Spe- cies, according to the Subjeft of which they treat, or the manner of treating of it. For the Inftruftive Dialogues, either have Speculation for their End, and then they are divided into % Yhyfical^ and \ Lo- gical^ or Acfion, and then they are divided into ^ Po- litick and t ]\\cral ^ and the Inquifitive Dialogues are deftin'd, either to ^ Exocife ox'^Contcfl. Thole that are made for Exercife are again of two forts ^ ij] fome of 'em Socrates exerciles the Mind after fucl\ The Life o/PIatoi 71 iuch a manner, that he caules all forts of Truths to be produced in it, which 'tis capable of finding out it felf when well alTifted. Therefore he calls him- felf the Midwife ofMinds^ jocofely alluding to the Employment of his Mother, who was a Midwife ^ and thele Dialogues are called "^Obfietrical Dialogues, Or elfe he exercifes it only in making it found, and jull perceive the Truths in which he is willing to in- ftruo: it ^ and thefe are called t Dialogues of Efay. In fine, thofe that are deftin'dto conteft, are alio of two forts 5 the one kind are fram'd to accufe certain Perlbns, and to expofe certain Vices, and are there- fore called Dialogues of i^ Demonftration^ cr of Ac- cufation, Thefe are properly fatyrical Dialogues, made for the Reader's Diverfion •, exciting in his Mind at the fame time, a juft Contempt of thofe whole Vices are difcovef d to him ^ and others are calculated to refute and overthrow Errors, and are therefore call'd || Jichverting Dialogues. And this is the divilion that has given a third Title to thefe Dialogues ^ for they have three. The firft is the name of the principal Perfon. The fecond is takenr from the Subjeft, and the third is what I have been juft mentioning, and expreffes the Method and Turn of the Dialogue, and of what kind it is. 'Tis only the firft of thefe at moft which is Ylato's^ the laft of 'em was impos'd by the Platonick Philofophers, and is very ancient, as we fee by Diogenes Laertius^ who knows only this and the firft. The fecond is al- together modern. It was given by fome that were but little acquainted with the Do8:rine of this Phi- lofopher, and were often miftaken. Forlnftance, at the head of Gorgia^^ they place this Title, Gorgias of Rhet crick ^ whereas the Ancients cite it only under the name of ^ Gorgia^ Suhverfive. And; Ms fo far from being true, that Gorgia^ was made to teach Rhetorick^ that on the contrary the defign of it is to expofe and overthrow the ill Principle, F 4 by yt Ihe Life of PlatoJ by which the Orators were conduSled, who then go- verned all the Cities of Greece •, and 'tis a Dialogue purely moral •, but this Subject lliall be treated more at length in the Argument which Ihall be placed at the head of every Dialogue. Having explained the Titles of thefe Dialogues, 'tis necdtiil to lay fomething of the dilierent diviii- on which th^, Ancients have made of 'em\ Some have put 'em into Fours, being of opinion that PA/z^had refpe8:to the Tetralogies ot tiie Arxient Tragical Poets, who composed tour pieces on oi ^e and the lame Sul^eQ; for the lour great Fealts of the Athe- nians-, but Icaift imagine that a great Philoiopher fhould have fo frivolous a Realon. Others have di- vided 'em into Tluees ^ and "tis certain that in his Works there are three Dialogues lound that properly make but one and the fame Trcaiifc. as his The^te- tt/s^ the Sophift^ and the Politician, in the firft Socrates examines and retutes various Dehnitions of Science. In the fecond he eltablilries diversDefiniti- pns of the Sophift, which lene to Ihew the Art of dividing and defuiing, and at the lame time otmaking the Sophiits ridiculous. kvA, in tlierhird he defines a Politician or Statelinan, and there is nothing want- ing in this Treatife, becaufe the Statelinan can't be well qualified without being tin£lur'd with Philofo- phy. The ten Books of a Commonwealth, which are look'd upon as only one Dialogue, are yet appa- rently one and the lame Trtatife with his Ti??idcus^ Athmticm-^ or Critias. In the firft, that is in the long Converfation about a Common -wealth, S^rr^r^j- gives the Idea of a perfeft Siate. In T:m and 'tis for this, leafon P/^ito forbids Innovations in Worfhip, and 7)omtflic\ makes this Law, Thcit no private per/on Jhoiildhave chappds either a Chuppe/ or Altar in his Houfe^ but isohen he T^i^ir^^ /a^j- a?}iindto offer Sacrifices he jjiuft go into the pub- ■'^' " '"' lick Temples • he is to put his Vi^ims and Offerings into the Hands of the Priefts and Priejiefjes^ to whofe Care the/acred Altars are committed^ there he muft make hislPrayersjvhere thofe that coj?ieto nccrfhip may join with hint, tor it does not belong to every Man to confe crate Altars ^ but "tis the zvork of a very enlightened Mind. To cure Men of Superftition and Idolatry W'hich then reigned {6 much in the World, Plato forgets nothing that might induce 'em to render God a rati- onal Worfhip. For tliis purpofe he endeavours to raife^heir Minds in giving them an Idea of God, whicnmiglit in fome fort agree with his Effence, Avhich mortal Eyes can't fee but very imperfeftly. The Itrokes with which he forms this Idea are fcar- ter'd up, and down in all his Works. The principal of The Life of PlatoJ pt of 'em which I have coUefted are thefe that follow. God is one^ eternal^ immutable^ incomprehenfihlc Being. He created, and difposM all things by his Wif- ij^i^^,. q^,^ dom-^ he maintains and prefcrves^ all things by his is. Providence ^ he is in all places^ and^ no place can contain him. He is all things^ and yet ne. is none of thofe things zvhich are by him^ and have received their being from him. for he is greater than Ef- fence itfelf: he fees all things^ knows all things^ and penetrates the mofl fecret thoughts-^ he fills the Ca- pacity of the Deeps^ and the Immenfity of the Hea- vens \ all Knowledge Good^ Vertue^ i-^ight^ Life are only in him^ and are Himfelf. He is at the fame time infinitely Good and infinitely Jiijh He loves men with afingular AfieUion ^ and created "em only to render ^em happy : But as he is Holincfs and Jujiice it felf he makes none happy but thofe who refemhle him in Righteoufnefs and Holinejs : And picnifijcs thofe who have corrupted the f acred Charader he had imprefs'd on ''em by creating "em after his own Image. He fays, none but God can cure all the Infirmiries of Men. He teaches' that God nor only hates Liars, and Lus^pirpt. perjur'd perfons, but alfo fuch as fvvear vainly and 7 '^"^ ^'^°' unnecelfarily, and who debafe and profane the Majef^-^^ Mofl, ty of his Name, by ufing it raflily on all occafions, oj God' ' whereas it ought to be mentioned with all poffible San8:ity and Purity of Mind. The generality of Philofopheis were divided a- bout the Nature of the Chief Good : Some made it confiit in the knowledg of Arts and Sciences, others in Pleafures, and others in Authority and Power. Plato oppofes all thefe Errors •, and ihews that the Supreme Good is not to be found in the Sciences -, feing thefe and Vices often appear together in the fame Perfons, and 'tis very common for Men to a- bufe 'em : He proves that Power can't render a Man happy without Juttice ^ and fhews that which Men i^^^f ^^tx- call Pleafures, namely lenfual Delights., are by no'^'*'" ^''■■• '" ' - . . . ■. means p2 The Life of Plato^ means of the nature of that Pleafure which can give us the Supreme Happinefs : For they are the Confe- » quence of Humane Weaknefs and Infirmity •, and may be called the Daughters of Sorrow : they are always hatching but never exift. 'Tis therefore a ridiculous thing to make the chief Good confift in that which has no EfTence of it felf, but only fprings from our Miferies and Neceflities. He more^ over proves it by other Reafons no lefs folid, which may be feen in their proper place. He does not content himfelf to fhew wherein the In bis chief Good is not to be found ^ he alfo teaches Pliiieb. where it is ^ and the force of his reafoning is pre- ^'^'^^^ « *«- cifely this : The Chief Good muft be perfeft, felf- Sv !« exiitent, felf fuificient, the firft and laft end of all thisShbje^. things •, and the only fcope of all Mankind in ge- And in tbe neral. Knowledg or Pleafure are the only things Y y'"^i in which one can with any fhadow of Reafon make pHblick, ^' }^^ Chief Good confift ^ but it can neither be found in Knowledg without Pleafure, nor in Pleafure without Knowledg : It muft therefore of neceffity confift in that which unites thefe two things toge- ther, and pofTefTes 'em in the higheft degree, and that is God. In tbe VI Nay, fays he, That Knowledg and Truth of ^'"Kf- 1^^ which God is the Caufe can't be the Chief Good, for Torrl 2 ' ^^-'^y ^^^'^ infinitely lefs beautiful and lefs per fed than Godj vohofe Image they do hut very imperfetlly repre- fent'^ tii Light ps but a very imperfett reprejentatiord' of the Sun. So that the Supreme Good^ being greater^ more augull and more perfeU: than Truth and Knonj- ledg^ can be no other than God him/elf. Therefore Pl)cdon! it is not to be found but in God who is the fole Treafure and perfe6:ion of Liglit-, and the Author of true and Iblid Pleafures. Whence he infers that while we are on Earth, we can't acquire this Chief Good but after an imperfe£l manner •, and fliall not enjoy it fully till after Death-, becaufe we can't till then know clearly what we knew only obfcurely during this Life : And this is one of his proofs fot tlie 7heLifeof Plato^ pj the Immortality of the Soul •, namely becaufe it is capable of A6:ion and Knowledg after Death. But 'tis not enough for a Philofopher to point out the Supreme Good, unlefs he alfo (hew the way of obtaining it ^ and this is what P/aro does with marvellous Solidity. For he proves that, to be Happy, we mull be linited to God ^ that in order to be united to him, we muft refemble him in Holinels and Righteoufnefs ^ that to obtain thefe Gifts at his hand we muft ask 'em in Prayer, and tliat our Prayers ought to be animated with Love^ which he calls the in bkBm^ Sureft and moft Effe9;ual Courfe Men can take to quec. lead 'em to Happinefs : for a blelTed Immortality is the fruit of Love. Therefore a Learned Interpre- ^'^ximm ter of Plato highly commends Socrates for having '^^^^ known, that to raife our Souls to the Enjoyment of God, we muft take Reafon and Love for our Guides. Reafon teaches us the right way, and hinders us from wandering out of it, and Love by its fweet Perfwafions and infinuating Graces, makes us find all things eafy, and foftens the Labour and Toil, which is infeperable from the Confli£ts we muft go through. He (hews, there is nothing more natural to Man- /« hu kind than Love. They naturally love every thing Phedr. that is fair and beautiful, becaufe their Souls are de- riv'd fromthe very Source of Beauty. But every thing that in fome fort refembles this Primitive Beauty moves 'em more or lefs, according as their Souls are more or lefs ftriftly united to their Bodies. So that thofe whofe Souls are moft difingaged in every Beauty adore tliat Sovereign Beauty whofe com- pleat Idea they have, and for which indeed they were born. And this Adoration produces in 'em Temperance, Fortitude, Wifdom, and all other Ver- tues. But thofe who fink down and wallow in Mat- ter i and no longer preferve any Idea of the Sove- reign Beauty, run furioufly after imperfe£l and tran- fitory Beauties ^ and without Fear or Wit plunge themfelv^s into all forts of Filthinefs and Impurity. 94 T/;e Life of PlatoJ I can't here Hand to remark on each SubjeQ the great Truths which are taught by this Philofopher, and defer\'e our Attention : What I propos'd to my felf was only to relate a few of 'em •, to give fome Idea of 'em, and hereby to excite the Curiofity of the Reader : The reft will be more advantageoufly fecn in their Source. VMongii' After he has with wonderful Accuracy eftablifh- lateiali the ed all that relates to Religious Worfliip ^ he in like Civil Am- manner provides for what concerns civil Matters* ens oj ije. ^^ creates Magiftrates, propofes Laws, and forgets nothing that may augment, and fecure the welfare of the Common-wealth ^ for he is not content only ■ to regulate Marriages, Divorces, the Education of Children, Wills, Guardian Ihips, War, Peace, and other principal Matters ^ but defcends into a fur- prizing Particularity. And as we may obferve that God has not left lb much as one part of the Uni- verfe without imprinting on it the Characters of his God-head, that Men might by no means be ignorant of it ^ fo Phiio has not left any part of humane Life, whether private or publick, without a Regulation by fome Precept or Law, to prevent the Commifli- on of Faults and Injuries in it. xith Boo]^ He determines wliat ought to be done with any of Laws, thing one finds, which another has loft. He fays. Toe Dm of ^f ^^^' J^^^^^^'^ fi^^^ ^^ Treqfuj'e he icould not touch pch as find ^^-t ^^^^ he had conf lilted the Diviners^ and they had aTreafure. afjiired hwi he Wight appropriate it to himfelf. This' Treafiire (lays he) ha^ fo?ne Ox>oner ^ zbe niiifl therefore wait till this Owner ^ or his Heirs come to demand it -^ for we ought to obey the Law which fays^ Thou fhalt not take away that which thou haft not laid dozvn^ and that other Law which is not lefs ancient. Thou fhalt not take ano- ther Man'^s Goods. This Treafure in our Coffers is not fo valuable as tl)e Trogrefs we inakc in Vcrtue and Jitfice •, when i^e have the Courage to dcfpife it. Befdes^ ij we appropriate it to our own ufe^ "tis a Spring ofCurfes to our Fdmiliesi Becaufe The Life of ?hto. 95 Becaufe Injuftice reigns chiefly in Trade •, he is Trade. unmindful of nothing that may prevent it ^ and goes fo far as to forbid the Seller "^ to make two Woris^ andfaljly to commend what he is about to fell. To prevent the Manners of Foreigners from cor- Ttavel/hg. rupting thofe of his Citizens, and that when thefe are corrupted the Laws may not be render'd ufelels by 'em, he does not permit every one to travel indif- ferently 5 but is for having the State make choice of thofe to whom this Liberty fhall be granted. They mult be above 40 Years of Age ^ they mull be Men of Sobriety and Wifdom, and capable of remarking what is good in other Commonwealths ^ and they muft make a faithful report of Things at their re- turn -J that the Laws that are received may be aug- mented or corrected by their Memoirs, and the Go- vernment by this means be brought to greater per- feftion. Men rejoice when they are happy, and think The Origin themfelves happy when they rejoice. Hence it is ofFea(is, that they have fuch a propenfion to Pleafure. God '^^^^{; ^^^ compaflionately accommodates himfelf to this fo^'^M^^^- natural Inclination, and extracting Good out of Evil makes ufe of it as a very proper means to confirm Men in what is Good ^ and that they might never lofe fight of the Religion which he eftablifhed. So that to hinder 'em from throwing themfelves into thofe ExcelTesto which Nature when abandon'd to it felf carries them, he was pleafed to inftitute Feafts for his People by Mofes^ and order'd him to regulate every thing to be obferv'd in 'em. Traditi- on had preferv'd fome remembrance of thefe Inftitu- tions, for fome Veftiges of 'em are found in Plato^ who attributes 'em to the Egyptians in his lid Book of L^/wj-, where he complains of the too great Li- berty that was allow'd the Poets in all the Cities of * Solomon condemn'd the fame abufe in the Buyer who flights xvhat he is buying, and after he has got it, boafts as if he had out- witted the Seller. It is naught, it is naught (faith the Buyer J but rohm hi is gone his W4y then he boafls. Prov. 20. 14. " Greece^ 9^ Tom. 2. The are which the anrimt E- gyptia'is tooj^ to pre- vent all forts oj No- velties, 7he Life of Plato; f Greece^ to keep young People under the Condu£^ of very pernicious Maxims by their Verfes. He affirms thac it was otherwiie in E^ypt^ where there were ery wife Laws to hinder this Corruption. " The ancient Egyptians (fays he) knew that Cliildren ought to be early accuitom'd to fuch Geftures, Looks and Motions, as are honeft and decent -, and that they fhould not be fufter'd, either to hear or learn any other Verfes, or Songs, but fuch as were fit to inlpire 'em with Vertue. Therefore^ they took care to regulate the Dances and Songs that belonged to their Feafts and Sacrifices. Nay, they pulh'd this Matter yet farther ^ for they never fuffer'd any Painters or Statuaries to inno- vate any thing in their Art, to invent any new Subje8:s, or any new Habits. And hence it is (fays he) that in refpe6l of what concerns thefe Arts and Mufick, you fhall find no Work through- out all Egypt that has been made for ten thoufand Years paft, which is form'd any otherwife than thofe pieces whicli are made at prefent. They are all alike, they are neither fairer, nor more de- form'd. The Art remains ftill the lame, the Rules of it the fame. And there is nothing more ad- mirable, or more worthy of a good Law-giver, and of a wife Adminiftrator of Governments than to have regulated and fixed all thefe Matters that have a regard to Pleafure, and particularly that which refpeQs Mufick : And to do this is the Work, either of God himfelf, or of fome divine Man. So that all their Dances, all their Poefy, all their Songs were fanQified ^ and not the leaft thing was futref d which did not anfwer the de- fign of the eftabliflfd Religion, and which was not worthy of the Feafts that were celebrated by 'em. This indeed is a very remarkable Traditi- on i and P/iito does not fail to make a very good Im- provement of it ^ for he purfues the famie defign ; and inltitutes Feafts for his People, that during the time of their Relaxation from Labour, they might render The Life of Plato." 97 lender homage to God, and teftify their Gratitude to him for all the benefits they received from his Divine Hand. He fufFers nothing to be afted at tiiefe Feafts, but what was Sacred or Innocent. He K^rbids all fuch Poetry and Mufick as might be inju- rious to the Honour of God, or dangerous to the Manners of Men ^ and only receives liich as might tend to rectify and inftmft the Minds of the Peo- ple. The Ancient Hebrews ufed only Lyrick Poelie, which in linging the Praifes of God, and thofe of^' ^"''-/^'^ Vertuous Men, railes the Courage, and excites De- cult ^ m-' votion. And this was alfo the only kind of Poefie bmvs. in ufe among the firft Greeks, as appears by a Paf lage of Vlutarch in his Treatife of Mulick. The The Posfe Ancient Greeks (lays he) were unacquainted with the "/ ^^* ^^^^ Mufick of the Theatre^ they employ' d. this Art only ^^"^^* in honouring the Gods^ and in inflrulling of Touth ^ for there were then no Theatres in their Cities^ Mufick was referv'd for the Temples where the Gods were honoured in Songs^ and where theP?-aifes of vertuo7/s Men were fung. While PA7/(? authorizes this Lyrick Poelie, he alfo receives other Poems which were already eftablifhed, and which it was impolTible to extirpate and deftroy : But we ihall lee wliat precautious he takes to purge and to difcharge 'em of that Poyfon which render' d 'em fo dangerous. The Greeks being extreamly addi£led to the plea- fure of Mulick, this inordinate Paffion had made 'em receive all the Works of Poets and Muficians, which had at laft fo altef d and transform'd the An- cient Poefie and Mufick, that inftead of that Wif Vii Boo^ dom. Gravity and Sanctity that reign'd in the Plea- ^ ^^^^ fures of their Anceftors, nothing was found in theirs qc Vfca/ but Folly, Effeminacy, and Impiety. Plato there- importance fore feeks to re-eftablifh this Ancient Purity, and «> is to re- is for a perpetual prohibition of any alteration m^^j^" ^^^ Mufick. It is not to be imagin'd (fays he) what a f/,/^/^^. weight and force there is in Plays and other Plea- funs of thi fures jeither for the Support or RmnofDifciplineandpofk. H hai^^^ 98 The Life of Plato; Latos. If Alterations be fuffer'd cont'inally to he 7ncide in ^em ^ and young people be continually ac- cuftom^d to new Fleafures^ every day to have neta Vieces^ new Ornaments^ and Dances ^ and to efteem none but thofe who can furnijh this unlimited Varte- Tbt ptmici' ty^ there can be nothing more pernicious to a State^ oks confe- j},^ fjjj^ infenfibh changes the Manners of young Vil^Gud P^^P^^ 5 /^ ^^^^ ^^^y ^^^ ^^ longer endure any thing Mn havt that is Ancient ^ and only value Kovelties •, and this for Nottl' opens a Door to all tbe moji dangerotis Errors both in ^'^'' refpe[l of Foliticks^ and Religion. Thefe Alterations are dangerous in every thing-, but efpecially inMufick, becaufe all Mufick being an Imitation, that only ought to be fuiFefd, which imitates what is good and ufeful •, the other being rather a Plague than a Play, which he explams af- ter a fenfible manner by this Example, which ap- pears to me to deferve our attention. Tom. a.Tfcr jjr ^^^ fhouldjee (fays he) at our Sacrifices^ after talis to il- ^^-'^ Vi^ims were confumed in the Fire^ a Man ap- luftfat( the proach the Altars^ and extravagantly utter Bla/phe- horror ff ;^;>j. a/id Impieties ^ Jhould we not think all his Fa- pemcms ^^y^ would look upon this as a great Misfortune^ and a very fatal Omen ? That which is done in our Time in the publick Shows and Plays^ is not much different from this, for' after the Magiftrates have Sacrificed^ we fee divers Choirs of Mufick come^ and in the view of ourTemples and Altars they utter moji exe- crable things againfi: thefe very Altars^ contradiU the principles of Religion by their Impious Maxi^ns^ and affecl the Souls of their Auditors by their inde- cent Exprejfions^ lafcivious Dances^ and their effemi- nate and voluptuous Tunes. Ought not this then to be abolifi)ed^ and the Poets obliged to fubmit ta TrAs puffjge other Rules? Andfince all Foots are not capable of is talifn out knowing what is truly excellent and good ^ ought we Bo ^y u\ ^^^ ^^ w^//(t choice of fuch loloo in their hnitations Kcpub! ^^^^ follow the Idea of Beauty and Decency <" T}:at young people may receive improvement by every things a 7 being in a very advantageous place ^ and that all which The Life of Plato. ^^ tohkb Rrlkes their Eyes and Ears arifing from a good funiy that is from a SubjeH which is excellent in it J elf ^ may be like a good Air which having pafsd through wholjbme Tlaces^ carries health along with ity and may tnfenjibly accuftom them to love and imi- tate thofe Difcourfes^ and conform all the AUions of their JJv^s to them. To this purpofe he makes the following Law. Tbt Vii het none he fo infolent as toftng any thing he fides Boo^ of our Sacred Hymns^ or to alter and vary the received ^^^^ ^J^* Dances any more than our other Laws^ And if any j^lncts, one dif obey this Statute^ let the Confervators of the Laws^ together with the Friefts and Frieftejfes take cognizance of it, jfom* 2. A To this Law he added another; Let no Poet inp^^f^'^l^ his Imitations^ depart from any of the Maxims which potticd the City has received as good and jufl ^ nor let him tmitAtim, frefume tofhew hisCompofitions to any private Man j^igfg ^ till they hoDe been Jeen^ and approved by fudges eftabii(hed eftabliJFd for that purpofe^ and by the Confervators f 0 i^k^ of if the Laws, ''*• In the II Book of the Republick, he had made judges ap^ the fame Law for thofe Poets who compos'd the pointed ta Fables that were taught to Children: He was forW^' "// liaving Judges to approve the Good and reje£t the '^''*'"' EviL He ufes the fame Precautions about Comedies and ow^/iVi Tragedies, as he does about Songs, Dances, and dil judged ne» other Imitations. He thinks Comedies neceflary to "lffry,artd make Men know what is ridiculous, and to expofe ^^h ,i Vices that are reprefented in 'em. For (fays he) one uwu can't know what is comely and ferioiis^ unlefs one knows what is indecent and ridiculous^ And to ac- peire Prudence and Wifdom^ we mufl know their * VUto took this too from the Tradition of the Ancient He- bf CNf Sjfor they had Judges appointed to try all new Pieces which were made either in Profc or Vcrfe, and thefe received only fuch as were conformable to Religion, and rcjcfted the reft. They alfo prohibited thefingingof Hymns and Songs by any other than chccommooiiudrccciTcd TuDcs. Et{^\t* prefurat, EvMgel. XII H 2 contraries, lOO The Life of Plato^ contfiiries. Not that any Man who has any tin^ure of Vert lie can equally do what is good and ev'il^ de- cent and indecent^ hut it's needful he fhould know thefe things jor fear he fhould through ignorance fall into what is ridiculous^ andjhoulddo or fay any thing unbecoming him. But we'll make ufe only of Slaves or Mercenary Strangers to make tbefe Imita- tions^ and. all free Men and Women fhall be forbii- den to be concerned in 'em., or to learn 'em. T^^frfiVj tIj- for Tragical Foets (fays he) V)ho boaft of imita- id. ^'^"^ ^^^^ great andferious AS ions ^ when any of 'em come into our City^ and ask if we are willing to receive ^em among />tf, and fee their Tragedies., what anfwer fhall we make thefe Divine Men ? Methinks we ought to make 'em this return, friends., we are em- ■ploy'd in Tragedies as well ms you., and we make the bej} and finefi we can., for our Policy is only an imi- tation of the moj} refin'd and excellent way of living ; this is the tj'ue fort of Tragedy with which we are acquainted. So if you are Foets., we pretend to the fame things and declare our f elves your Rivals in that ]\'oble Imitation which can be perfeHed only by the Law. Therefore do not hope to be fo eafily per- mitted to build Theatres in our public k F laces., and Thofe Potts ^^ introduce Skilful A&ors that fhall extend their vho in their Voices beyond ours., and tell our Wives and Children., \*ntings and all the people on the fame Sub^eUs., things di- eontradiilj ye^ly oppofite to oiir Inflrudions. We muji be quite Waxlm ^''ft'^^^f^ rf common Senfe., he fere we can give yoic condtmned. p^^milfion to Aff., till the eftablijhed fudges have de- termined lohether what you fay is good and ufeful., and whether it ought to he 7nade pub lick or not. There- fore., lou tender Darlings of the f oft Mufes., put your Compofnions into the hands of the Judges., who will compare them with ours -., and if what you fay is bet- ter than what we fay., we'll give you leave to Aff^ otherwfe it can't pojjibly be done., and therefore 'tis in vain to expctt it. Plato has treated this bufinels of Plays and Shows thorciig'iily, becaufe 'tis a very important matter in relation The Life of Plato. loi. relation to States j all he fays of it is admirable, and deferves to be carefully recoUefted. What I have xecited is fufficient to give a juft Idea of it : Wife Men may make on it vvhat Rette8:ions they think fit : My fcope has-been only to (how that P/ato after the Example of Mo/es^ would permit only f jch Divertifements as were decent, and tended to fupport Religion, or at leaftwere not contrary to it. They who are for advancing farther, and for parti- cularly exaipining the conformity the Laws ofP/ato have in mgny things, with thofe that were given the Peopleof God,, will ftill better difcover this Refem- blancej which rmd^ C/emep^s Alexandrinus fay, that Mofes aflilted Vlato in making his Laws; and that 'Plato was only Mofes fpeaking the Attick Language. Not but that jbme Laws are to be found mPLito ve- ry remote from the Spirit of jII^x, and very contra- ly to Equity: but the number of 'em is but fmaU. The Emperour Marcus Aurelufs had reafon to fay, That tuch a Commonwealth as Plato's ^ not to be expeSed in this World. Not but that there had already been one which was Itill better, and more wifely conftituted ^ and when Antoninm faid this there was one infinitely more perfe£):, of which tlie former was but a fhadow ^ but it was the work of God 5 and none but God can put this Idea into A£t, becaufe 'tis only he that can change the Hearts of Men : of which we hav^ a very evidenc Proof A great Emperour had a rnind to eftablilh Flato's Re- publick in his Territories, to which purpofe he em- ploy'd divers Philofophers whofe Knowledg was ve- ry extenfive^ and their Eloquence very perfvvafive ; but all his Efforts were in vain, he could never gain his end fo much as to eftablilh it in one fingle Vil- lage-, whereas the Chriftian Religion was eitablifli- ed by the Miniftry of illiterate Men, and that in fpite of the Emperours themfelves. As for Phyficks in which alfo Metaphyficks are ph^ftc^. comprehended ^ Flato in the firft place acknowledges that fince we are but Men, we miift not hope per- H 5 f^^iy loi The Life of Plato; fe£tly to gain the knowledgof Nature, and that all a Philofopher can do is to find out Probabilities 4 pure and limple Truths being only known to God, who alone can difcover 'em to Men. After this ac- knowledgment he divides Nature into two part$. Spirit which a£ts, and Matter upon which h a£fe. He calls the Spirit which a€fe, a Being eternal, infinite, very good, immutable, which hath neither beginning nor end, but is always the lame, and he calls Matter, a Mafs without form and void, which is always ready to be produced, and never exifts, jnTimtw, His Words are remarkable. Firjl (fays he) allthefe Tom. g. things ought to be well diftinguijhed^ arid we mufl well efidblijh what it is that always exifts and it never frodtic'd-^ and what it is that never exifts^ and ii al' ways producing. The firft is not conceived but by the Underftanding ajjijied by Reafon. This we dijcern Atatttr bow to be always one and the fame. And the other is only knoTvn, opinable^ that is known by Opinion ajjijied by the Sen' timent divejied of Reafon •, f«/7/V^ we fee to be always producing^ and dying without ever exijiing. There- Why cMUid fore he gives Matter the Name of Other ^ becaufe of pihcr aad the continual Changes it undergoes : He alfo gives it Ncccrtity. the Nameof AVcf^//, bepaufe it only follows the order and determination of the Spirit which governs it. He alfo fometimes calls Matter Eternal^ which - has given occafion to fome to accufe him of believ- ing it to have been with God from all Eternity, But a Philofopher who in fo many places maintains the unity of God could not fall into Ibgrofs anEnor : If Matter were Eternal, it mull then be God, and fo there would be two Gods, contrary to what he . had laid down. When therefore Plato calls Matter ^EtemU E^^^^^'^ he would not be underftood as if it vifibly fubfifted from all Eternity, but that it fubfifted intel- ligibly in the eternal Idea of God •, and in this re- fpe£l the World is fometimes faid to be Eternal. Let us fee the very Terms Plato ufes, which will leave US no room to doubt what his Thoughts were, The Pattern 7he Life offhtol loj Patter;! of the World (fays he) is from all Eternity ^ j^ hUXxm - ani the World^ this vijible World is from the begin- us, torn, a! ning of Time^ and will always thus fubjift alone ^ Plato could not think Matter to be Eternal : feeing he affirms the Soul to be older than the Body •, for if the Soul is older than the Body, the Body muft needs have been created, and confequently can't be Eternal. And for this realbn he calls God the Father or Crtotor, and Former of the World. By the Qua- ^-^^ ^•"■''^ lity of Creator he fignifies that he made the World ^''f'.''^ "^ out of Nothing, and by that of Former he iigni- "^ "^^ fies, that God after he had created it, gave it its Form and orderly Difpofition. Plato derived this Idea froifl the Tradition of the Hebrews, of which the Greeks had fome knowledg long before him^ as appears from Uefwd's fpeaking of the Birth of the Ghaos. Perhaps alfo he had read thefe Words in in the Prophely ofl/aiah^ God him/elf that formed (;fjap.Af,\%^ the Earth and made it^ he hath eflablijhed it. Of tMs created Matter God formed the World, by ieparatmgand difpofing the Elements, which having fimple qualities of themfelves, form by their diffe- rent Union, and various Figures an infinite number of compounded Qualities : for Matter is divifible to Infinity. The Univerfe muft neceffarily comprehend all fen- fible things •, from whence Plato draws three Conle- quences : Thfe firft is that it can be but one : For there can be nothing beyond All. The fecond is that it is of a Spherical Figure •, becaufebefides that that is themoft p«rfe6tof all Figures, 'tis the only one that can agree to a Being that comprehends any thing. And the third is that it can have no end but only by the Will of \\\ixi vvho form'd it •, for fince the Change of all Beings can never proceed but from that which is without 'em, and fince there is nothing out of the World, there is by confequence nothing that can de- ftroy it but God in whom alone theWorld is contained. Seeing the two firft Qualities of the World are to he vifible and palpable •, and fince there is nothing H 4 vifible 1 04 7f^ Life of Plato, vifible without Fire, nor folid without Earth, Tlata fays God at firft created Earth and Fire. In which one may difcern Tome Veftiges oi thofe words in Genejis^ In the beginning God created the Heavens and tfje Earth. For by the Heavens here moft In- terpreters underftand the Empyrean Heaven, and not the Firn:iament. It was very difficult, or rather impoflible that two, things fo contrary fhould be long united. There- In Timeos, £q^q Qq^ contriv'd a way to hold them together by: Torp. 3. ^ Medium^ which partaking of the Nature of theni' both, (houldmake one JVho/e of them together with it felf But if one Medium is fufficient to join; plain Points and Numbers, two are neceflary to join folid Numbers. For Example ^ the Numbers Six and Twenty four, which are alike plain Numbers, may-, be united by one fole Medium^ which is Twelve; that is to fay Twelve is the proporuonal Number: ^ or Mean between Six andTv^renty four j in like man«v ner between Nine and Sixteen, the . proportional !^^^umbe^ is Twelve. :, The Numbers Eighteen and Fifty four are alik^ folid Numbers, which cannot be united by one Me-r Sum •, that is, one cannot find one fole proportio- nal Number or Mean to 'em : So that there's need of two ^ as Twenty four and Thirty fix j for Fif- ty four is to Thirty fix as Thirty fix is to Twenty^ four, and as Twenry four is to Eighteen. ; x,. \h\ 'Tis the fame with plain and folid Dimenfions^ If the WoiJd could have been plain, one Mediunf, would have been fufficient for it ^ but being rounds it has need of two to unite it. And 'tis for this^ reafon that Tlato fays God put Air and Watei;, between Fire and Earth ^ for the fame proportio^r that is between Water and Earth is between Air ani :' Fire ^ this Proportional Bond, is the Divine Bon^c that renders the World fo folid, that it can nevef have an end but only by the Will of liim who i^ the Author of it ^ on the contrary, the Alturation and Age of its Parts, ferve to fuppoit and renew it. . ' But The Life of ?htol 105 •? But though the World in this State was folid, yet it ftill wanted perfe£lion, for no Body is perfe8: wi±out Intelligence. Therefore God, who defign'd theUniverfeihould be as perfect as it qouldbe, gave it a Spirit, which P/^^ calls the Soul of the World, which governs in it, and preferves Harmony in it, iTjaugre the difcord of the Elements. He fays this Soul, was created before the World ; and perhaps he imagin'd this fromra mifconftru£lion of thole words In G^;?>/j'« A?i(i the Spirit of God mowd upon the (^(evfythe waters. ,''T)$ true, he alfo calls this Soul . ptoportion, and Symmetry •, which might indu^g one to f^ppofe that he means nothing elfe by it, but the jufi Tempet^ment of the Elements thenifelves : But the definition he gives of the Souly will not, fuffer his words to be taken in this fenf^j for he fays 'tis a Subft^nce that partici- pates of the indivifible Subftance, a Compofition of the fame and the other _i that is, of the firft Matter, and the; llniverfal Spirit 5 and hereby he would (hew that Matter was a Medium that contained an Immor- tal, Immaterial, and confequently Indivilible Spirit ^ and, an Animal and Corporeal Spirit •, juft like our Bodies, which are compos'd of three things, of the fame^ :0f the other ^ and of Subflance^ which he ex- plains, by very obl'cure Examples taken from Num- bers^i and Mufick, . And herein Tktos Error con- fifted, /hamely in giving the World a Soul like ours^ aj?d ilill . more perfect. Therefore he calls the World. God, but a God that ii created anddifjoluhle. So th?t^.he was fo far however from confounding Naturg with God himlelf, that he has thoroughly diftingyiftied them, for he calls God alone the ef- ficient Qaufe^. or Vower '^2ivA he calls Nature the Q)i{[equent^ which obeys the frfl Caufe for the crea- tion of Beings-^ And fubjefts it entirely to the Go- J"'-'" Phi- vernment of that firft Caiife. tlato did not content l^b-Tora.?. himfelf in giving the World a Soul, he alfo gives one to the Heavens and to the Stars. And perhaps this falfe Idea of his, was occafion'd by his mif under- io6 The Life of ?Utol underftanding of fome Paflages of the Prophets, for inftance, that which God fays in Ifaiah, 1 have chgf. 45, commanded all the Heft of the Heavens, Or it may 12. ' be, this Language of Plato's is only Poetical ^ and being Homer's Scholar and Rival, he was willing to animate every thing like his Mafter, who infpu-es Life into the moft infenfible Bemgs, infomuch that he gives a Soul to a Spear. And the Holy Prophets Ibmetimes fpeak after the lame manner. ^^dZ -^^^ ^^^ ^^S^ Philofopheis before Plato, had Vaddbt^ taught that Motion, and confequently that Trnig mc» was Eternal ; and it was on this Principle that De* wrtfW/^ founded his Arguments when hemaintain'd that all could not be aeated, and thence infer'd the Eternity of the World, Flato was the foft whdi bv a Beam of Truth, difcover'd through this thick Darknefs, that Thn6 and Motion had a begmnbg as well as thellniverfe. For it bemg impoflible that Matter fbould be of it felf, as one muft be forc'd to acknowledge, neither is it zxj more polTible for Motion either to exift of it fclf, or to be a Qiia^ lity affix'd to Matter, which then would never relfc Motion therefore muft proceed from without, sind was imprinted on Matter by the iame Spirit that created it. Flato was fo deeply fenlible of this Truth, that he made ufe of it to diffipate the Errors of that fenfelefs Philofophy which had reign'd to hisTime : Now he lays, when God had created the Worl^ and communicated to it the Motion that was^ moff ^,. ^.^ fuitable-. He voas extremely pleafed to fee his meus Tom, ^^'^^ move^ live, and almoft refemhle the Immortal J, * * Gods them/elves, (And for this reafon P/^/f? calls it God.) And he would have rendered it more conform- Triable to his eternal Idea^ but that it was impoffible to communicate Eternity to a created Bein^, there*' fore he took this expedient to create as it were a^ moving Image of Eternity^ And in difpofing thgt Heavens he made this Image of Eternity^ which iA permanent in Being only •, This Image which goes o/f* by Nu?;ibers^ that is to fay ^ Time^ which did not /ub- The Life of Plato! 107^ j^Ji before the Creation of the World. Time not be- ing capable of fubfifting tut with Motion, whereas Eternity fubfifts alone bV it felf, without bemg ei- ther Old or Young t, and 'tis only of this that one can properly fay it ;> •, tiie Terms of paft, prefent, and future, cannot agree to it, becaufe they are fluid parts of Time, whofe property it is to be al- ways juft producing, but never exifting. We dojft prcelve (continues he) that we very un- , .. fitly attribute to the Eternal Being thefe parts of *^* I'^^J^ Time,andt^e Terms IT WAS and IT SHALL BE, & ^^f forvoefay of this true Beings It was, is, and is to *«At thet' come, mt we ought always to fay ^ It is-, for this ^''^^^^*^' only agrees to it according to trueReqfon. It was,and it Ihall be ought never to be f aid but of that which is produced in Time : Thefe are but Motions^ that which always isy and is always the fame^ without any Change^ tarit be called either Old or toung at any time^ mr receive any oj the Modes which Birth or FroduClion affixes to things that are moveable^ and theObjetls of Senfe ♦, thefe are the farts of Time Vihich imitates Eternity^ and proceeds by Number end Meafure^ Sec. fo that Time was created with the Heavens^ that as they were producd together^ fo they might end together^ if ever they come to be dijfolved. This Truth is confirmed by the Writings of the Saints, who teach that Time and Motion had a be- ginning, and muft have an end. The Beauty of this Difcovery, and the Strength of this proof^ which may be called a DemOnlfiation, did not hin- der Arifiotle from contradiQin^ his Mafter in this pomt, and from maintaining his Enor by the fol- lowmg Argument, which has nothing of Solidity in AtlrtotieV it. Jfit be altogether impojjible (fays he) that there is^ very fubtUe or can be imagined a Time without dprefent Inftant ^ ^^^M" ^ and if it be true^ as it cannot be denied^ that the pre- "^Sngliit ''* fent Inftant is a fort of Medium which has a be- the i^hap, ginning and end^ a beginning of the Future^ and an "/ bis phj^ end of the Faft, Time mujl necefjarily be from ^//■/^'^^/* Eternity^ io8 The Life of ?hto: Eternity^ becaufe the mofl remote Time one can take^ is in fome prejent In ft ant -^ for in Time one can only take the frefent Inftant : fo that feeing the prefent Inftant is a beginning and end^ Time mujt needs have been from all Eternity ^ no perfon being able to ajjign a Time which has not been preceded oy T/W, and fo ad infinitum. And if Time is eternal^ Mo- tion mufl befotoo, fince Time is only a Faffion of Motion. This is the Language of a Philofopher, fo blind . . that he could not conceive that the World was crea- wS"!f«t^^^> and that before the Creation there was neither thtr Time Time nor Motion, but Eternity, m which nothing nor Motion, ran from the prefent to the pad, but all was prefent and ftable; God alone being before Time, in when; there is no fucceflive Courfe either of Time or Motion. Before we purfue this Matter we mull explain matvii' what Plato m.eans, when he fays God created the Id's Idas World according to that Eternal Pattern which he ^'^^' had conceived in himfelf As an able WorKms^n has in his Head the whole difpofition and form oiP his Work before he begins it^ fo that he woiks accord- ing to his Idea after fuch a manner that what he performs is (if I may fo fay) only the Copy of that Original which he has imagined ; the whole Work that fubfifts being a mere Imitation : After the like manner, God in creating the World only executed that eternal Idea he had conceived of it -, for the World and all that it contains exifted intelligibly in nt Origin ^^^^ before it exifted really in Nature, This is the of thofe meaning oi' Plato's Ideas which the Pythagoreans and jJcoj, \iQ had taken out of the Hiftory of the Hebrews -, where we fee God gives Mofes the Models of all thofe Works he would have him make : But it ought to be remember'd that thefe Ideas are univerfal and not particular ^ that is they comprehend the Species, as Man^ and not the Individuals, as Alexander : And it muft farther be minded that they are not a Being feparate from God, but are in God^ This is the Im,^ Immaterial and Eternal Original upon which every thing was made, and indeed is nothing but the Divine Knowledg, the firft Caufe of all created Beings-.., for thofe Ideas are in God his Notions, which are eternal and perfeft of themfelves, and as Alcinoits iays, lie a with reference to God m the Eternal Intel- ligence^ and with refpeU to m^ it is the fir ji Intelli- gible •, in reference to Matter it U Meafure^ in refe- rence to the Vniverfe "'tis the Exemplar^ and in refpe^ to it felfit is EJjence, If Arijiotle had rightly un- Ariftotfc flood this Doftrine, he would not have oppos'd it, mcHved nor have given fo rafh a decifion as he has done, thife U(as affirming that to eftablifh thefe Ideas as the Exem- ^ ^ff^""' plars of fenfible things, is to/peak to no purpofe^ ^"^irmGod, to amufe ones f elf in imagining Poetick Metaphors, Eufehit^ was better acquainted with the excellency /«!Pr«par. of it, for he fays' in exprefs Terms, that this Doc-^^J°^*^ ' trine which teaches that there is an Intelligence ^' which has taken all things from Incorporeal Ideas, which are their Patterns, was conceived by Vlato with a great deal of Realbn, and by very juft and neceflary Confequences. When God was pleas'd to create Time, he created the Sun and Moon, whole Courle is the meafure of Days, Nights, Months, Years and Sea- fons, and gave motion to the other Celeftial Spheres. He afterward proceeded to the creation of Animals, without which the World could not be perfe£l ^ and of thefe he was pleas'd to make as many Species as the World had parts •, that is, Celeftial, Aerial, Aquatile, and Terreftial. And God created the Demons (or Angels) thofe thiCrmlm Inferiour Intelligences, to whom he gave order to ofA'igds, create three other Ibrts of Animals, becaufe if he had created 'em himfelf they would have been Im- mortal ^ for all that proceeds immediately from God, muft neceflarily be Immortal in its Nature : So that thefe Intelligences created Man, that is they formed the Humane Body, God having referved to himfelf the right of giving it a Soul, which he made of tio JheLife of Plato,' of the lame Nature with that of the World, only he made it lefs perfect. For (fays he) it was not juft that Man who was but a part of thellniverfe fhould be niore perfe6l than the Univerfe it felf, pr fopcr- feO:. Thefe were F/atp's Thoughts on the creation of Man, and 'tis not difficult to know the Source of this Opinion, in which there is fuch a Mixture of Truth and Error-, for it fprings from a mifinterpteta- tion of the Words ofMofes, After God had created the Heavens, the Earth, the Stars, and theCeleftial Intelligences, that is, the Angels, he fays, Let ut make Man after our own Image, Upon this the -E- gyptians, and Pythagoreans not underftanding the Myftery hid under the Plural Number, thought God fpoke to the Intelligences he had created, and faid to them, l^t m now make Man after our Image ; you in forming that part of him which mufi be mortal^ and I in creating that which fhall he of an immortal Nature, The Air He maintains as a moft certain Truth, that as ^^^ ^iS ^^^^^ ^^ ^" infinite number of Good Angels in the idt Anils'.' Heavens (that is in the Air) fo there is alfo a multi- In hii loth tudeof Evil Ones, that feek nothing elfe but how to Boo^ of do mifchief to Mankind, Seeing we are agreed ^^^\ (%5 ^^) ^^^^ ^^-'^ * -^'^ isfilPd with good and bad '"" " Genii^ which are entirely oppofite to each other^ t this occafions an Immortal Comb at e^ and requires a continual Attention on our part : The Gods and the Good Angels are ready to help «f, for we are their FoJfefTion. Flato adds that God at once created the Souls of all Mankind, who were to live in all Ages of the * Eufebius amazM and furpriz^d at the Beauty of tYns PaflDigc, fhcvvs that Plato could not have it but out of the Book of fih, vvlio many Ages before him rclacei that the Devil appcarM before God with the Good Angels. + A very furprizing Truth to be found in the Writings of a Pagan, and the fame which is ad* mirably cxplain'd by St. Ftf*/, when he fays, Eph.tf. la. For rpi tvrefilt not againjl Fltffj and Blood, but agalnft PnitcipalitieSi againfl Pomrs, againfl the Ruttrs of the Parl^ntfi of tbif iVorld, aganfi SpiritHgiWiet^ednefsinUgh PUc(s, -■ - World, Tom. 2. The Life of PlatoJ ill World, and that he Attributed them into all the Cileftial Spheres, teaching them the Nature of all things, and giving them his Eternal Laws which he calls Deftiny^ and to which he alfo gives the name Hi^njvhi of NeceOity^ and fometimes that of fortune-^ not^<< Ne- that any tmng is fortuitous, but only to denote, that j^^ this Ddftiny brings to pals an infinite Number of tilings, which are unforefeen by us, and which are commonly imputed to Chance, altho their Caufe is defign^ and fixed. The Poets underftood this, when they call'd Deftiny, that which has been once . Jfdid. In which they feem to have had feme know- 2S?inl^ ledg of what D^u/i fays in the 6$thFfa/m. Goifiwat. hathfpoken once^ that is to fay, he has fpoken with an immutable Word •, for Deftiny is nothing butW^5tD(/?i« tiiat Law which flows from the Will of God. "-^ ^' From this Creation of Souls before their Bodies, . .. Vlato draws his Opinion of Keminifcence, For if f,;JJJ" the Soul exifted before the Body, it muft have had in it all Notions, and by conlequence all that we learn through the Courfe of our Life, is only the remembrance of what we had forgotten. For to learn is nothing elfe but to recover the knowledg we had before we came into the World, and which the Paflions of the Body made us forget. However Vlato in his Menon feems not to be en- tirely convinc'd of the truth of this Opinion o^Re- min'ijcence •, but to perceive that it might be realb- nably objefted, that God aftually illuminates the Soul, and that by the Light he communicates to it he renders it capable of Seeing and Learning that which it never faw, or knew before. And this in all Appearance is the reafon, that he does not eftablifh it as an abfolute Certainty, but only makes ufe of it to (hew that we ought not to defpair of Learning that of which we are ignorant. From the Union of the Body and Soul refultthe^'^^^^'"/ Paflions and Senfations. When the Soul is Miftrefs, JJ;/"^"^*' Ihe leads a Life of Temperance and Juftice, and when (he leaves the Body, (he returns to the Star to which Ill 7he Life of ?hiol which fhe was formerly afligned •, but when fhe be- comes a Slave, and plunges her felf into all forts of Corruption ^ (he futiers a Punifhment tenfold more than all her Pollutions and Impurities, and after a thoufand years has the Liberty to chufe what kind* of Life ihe likes belt : if (he ftillchufes to live ir- regularly, (he goes to animate Beafts, that is, fhe becomes from day to day more and more vile and vitious, which continues till at laft (he comes to ac- knowledg the Empire of Reafon ^ and follows this Guide which is given to her^ and fo by purging her felf from all the Filth of the Elements, returns to her firft State. ^ , . Moreover from the fame Source P/ato draws the ^l^^/|/*£*. Origin of the falfe Opinions, Errors, and all the nions, Er^ Follies of Men, as alfo of their Knowledg and Wif- rors, Know- dom. When the Soul is as it were delug'd by the ledg and Xorrent of Matter, it can no longer diftinguifh Truth ; and is like a Man going with his head down, and his heels up, to whom all Objefts are inverted. When (he moderates the Courfe of this Torrent, fo that what is the/ajne is neither furmounted nor obfcur'd by the Milts of what he calls the other : then (he fees all things as they are ^ and being for- ^ tified by Study and Experience penetrates their Cau- fes, and by thofe means arrives at true Knowledg, and perfect Health, as much as 'tis polTible in this Life. Ficito afterwards defcends to the Confideration of ' all the parts of a humane Body, to (hew with what exa£tnefs they anfwer the defign of Providence. And the Defcription he makes of it is fo fine, that hongimts calls it divine. ' . The Excellency of this Defcription does not confilt mch^skiWd ^" ^^^ ^^"^^ ^^ ^^^ Anatoynkk Difcoveries : for on in Anatomy. ^^^ Contrary Plato feems to have been lefs skilfd in Anatomy than his Predeceifors ^ but it confilts in the Elegancy of his ExprelTions, in the jult Relation he finds between all the parts of the feody of Man, and in the Reafons he gives of their diiferent ufe. One Theljfeof Platd. iij .One of the great Faults of which he has been re-pj^^^^. . ^^ proach'd, was, for having faid, . tliat Drink pafles^,<<,^^^^ through the Lungs. Plutarch has made an exprefs Treatife to juftify liim in this by the Authority ojf the Poets and that of Phylicians. That of the Poets is too .weak ; for when a Poet fpeaks of watering the Lungs for drinking^ he conforms himfelf to the vulgar Opinion and Language : And that of Phyfici- ans is not ftrong. enough to make an Error pafs for Truth. But indeed Plutarch is miftaken when he affirms this to have been ':he Sentiment o^Flato^ and o^ Hippocrates too -^ for neither one nor t'other ever- fell into this Error. On. the contrary Hippocrates lays, that Drink does hot pafs through the Lungs, but goes into the Stomach, and thence runs into the Bowels V He only afferts that a Imall infenfible part of it ilides into the Afpera Arterid^ only to help tp cool the Air which goes into the Lungs •, and this likew'ife is wiiatPA/ro means-, nor could he have any- other Thought, feeing he otten in the lame Trea- tife teaclies, that the Stomach isrpade to receive all that we eat and drink •, ana that the natural Heat after it has mix'd, diflolv'dand divided the Meat and Drink, fends the Liquor into the Veins, which car- ry it to the Heart, and from, thence into all the Bo- dy by the Pipes that proceed trom that part. And the diftribution of" this l^iquor of the Chyle which pafles from the Stomach into the Veins he calls Irrigation, So that 'tis but a fmall infenfible part of what we drink that goes into the Lungs-, as Hip- focrates and after him Galen have juftitied by Ex- perience. Vlato afterwards treats of the wonderfiil tilings to„r be obferv'd in the Sight aijd Hearing, which are i^ix^J^hgT moli perfeQ: Senfes. And in explaining the admi- that htioni Table Conltru8:ion of the Eyes, he difco vers the ^c f''f -Si^'^t Califfes of Waking and Sleep, and defcends even to f'^^ ^^T^-- that of Dreams which may be faid to be Material, ^ufel^loth^ For hfe liiys they that are. in a deep Sleep have either h<5 DreamSj or very Ihort ones •, becaufe all their i Senftj 1 1 4 7he Life of Plato. Sejifes are at reft : but they who are but half ailecp^ if one may fo fpeak, do not tail of liaving Dreams ^ becaule their Senles being Itill in motion, preferve the V'eftiges of thofe things that have mov'd 'em, and imprint 'em on the Imagination. rt trut vft H^ ^^y^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^y^^ ^^^^ taught us Philofophy, ok bi Eyes, which is tiie greateft favour Men can receive trom the hand of God : and he is fo well p^rlwaded tliat they are given us only tor this end •, that he makes no difficulty of affirming, that if a Man, wiio does not ufe 'em to this purpofe, becomes bUiid, he has no reafon to complain, becaufc his Eyes having been always ulelels to him, he has no lols in loling 'em. Tom. 3. J^^ truth (fays he) God htujorm^d our Eyes^ only to conteniphite the Works of his Provide/ice, and to fee the regular Motion of the Heiwens which Jo con ft ant ly obey the Spirit that guides Vw, that Jo we might ac- cuftom our J elves to love that zdvch is Comely and Regular : and that we might learn to regulate all the Motions of our Souls, zvhich are of the fame Kature with that Divine Intelligence^ but are diforderd by cur Paljions. •n .. r. He iavs the fame of the Voice and of the Heariner • oj the Voict that the 1 ongue and the bars are given us particu- ard oj the fitly that We might declare and hear the Wonders to murki. be remark'd in the Works of God ^ and that Mufick was invented only to furnifli us, if we may ib fay, with Rule and Harmony. For bccaufe is has a won- derful relation to all the Motions of our Souls, he fays, ll'^ife Men make ufe of it, not as ^tis now us^d Tom. 5. for foolijh nay pernicious Mirth -, but to calm and mo- derate the Fa/fons, and to cor r ell the horrible Dif- ar is which they occafwn. ThijjYiriJti' He fays the Heart is the Source of the Veins, and 0* oj the the Fountain of the Blood which runs from thence Htart and ^y^j.|^ ^ xz.^\dL Courle Into all the other parts ^ and Tom? 2. ^'^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^" '^ ^°^^ guarded on all Sides ^ that ^o wheii theCholer comes to be intlam'd, when Keafon gives it notice that it is threaten'd with fome Milchicf from without by external Qufes, or from within The Life of Plato. ' 1 1 y within by the Diforder or Tumult of the Paflions ^ it may fpeedily wam the whole Body of what paflTes, and dilpofe it to obey its Orders, to prevent the Danger impending. Ap7d becaufe God knew that the -unex^eUed fig\n of any terrible things and the tnot'wn of the Choler would make the Heart beat violently^ he contriv''d a yery^ ufeful Remedy jcr this fcrt of hifia- mation ^ and fut the 'Lungs under it^ the fubjiance of which being f oft and not furnijh'd with much Bloody and having little holes within it like aSpurige^Jerves as a Fillow to the Hearty incefantly refrefhes it with the Air and Moijlure which it attraUs^ and moderates that violent Heat which would otherwife confume it. In the lower Ventricle where the Nourifhment is Vn Funcii- made, are the Spleen and Liver ^ the Spleen is a o^s of the hollow and foft Subftance, and confequently very ^^!^"^ '^"^ proper to perform thole Funftions which it has xJJJ^'^^ pleas'd God to affign it. For he thought fit, that It ftiould be (not the Kitchen^ as 'tis exprels'd in a corrupt Copy, but) the Spunge to wipe and^o^^^^^^t cleanfe the Intefti'nes -, and to take off all the filth^^^A^ ''^1^ ' which gathers about the Liver in time of Sicknefs ^ ^Kitchen and this fwells and puffs it up \ as it on the contra7yfor iKucc- flags^ and returns to its for?ner jtate when the Bodyyeiovy a. is cleans' d. ^f''"^^' As for the Liver he lays it was deftined to a ufe Tom. ^; which deferves to be related for its fingularity : He tells us that becaufe God knew that v/hen the Spirit was buly in diftributing the Aliment in this lower part of the Belly, it would be but little concern'd In what palTed in the upper Region, and in the Seat j <)f Reafbn, whofe Orders it would never hear ^ he to provide againft this Inconvenience, made the Li- yer of a hard Subftance, having a mixture of Sweet- nefs and Bitternefs ^ and of a fmooth and even Super- ficies like a Looking-Glafs. When the Soul would '. ^dvertife this Animal Spirit of what palTes, fhe by ineans of the Thoughts, imprints on this Superficies the Image of all things of which Ihe would give it information, and by thefe Images gives it eithet I 2 Joy 1 1 6 17;e Life of Plato. Toy or Sorrow. When the Soul does not a6l upon this part, but leaves it at.relt, as during the time of Sleep, thofe Gods who iorm'd the Body, or the great God himrdt' imprints on this fmooth Superfi- cies the Images of fuch things as mult come to pals , and theie Images being carried to the Imagination produce Divination or Prophefy, the Seat of which the Ancients for this reafon plac'd in the Liver ^ but This (fays he) never happens unlefs it he vchen that inhisjmx' p^j^.^ of the Soul is not in a condition to obey the Spi- us. Tom.;. ''^. -, , f •; • r r^ i i ^- it/ ^ nt^ KDicb ougbt to guide it ^ jor ijod hat joined rro- phefy zcith Madnejs ^ and ^tts eafy to convince any one of this Trulh^ uho confiders that no per/on pro- phefies truly but when he is out of his Senfes^ that is when God^ or Sleeps or fome Dijeafe deprive him of the ufe of Reafon •, and hecaufe "'tis only by Reafon that Men can judge of things^ therefore Prophets never ^' under 1} and zchat t bey fee -, and we are there- fore obliged to have recourfe to Interpreters^ who not being tranf ported loithPaJfon are capable of explaining what the Prophets havefeen^ by Reajonings founded on Experience. But all this Conltruclion of the Liver looks more like one of Pytl^gora^ his Enig- mas, than a Phyfical Explication •, and feems much lefs proper to prove that prophefy comes from God, than to difcover that it is the effe£l of fome Va- pours of the lower Ventricle which darken and ftain the Imagination. He endeavours to (hew that God knowing Man would be intemperate in Eating and Drinking, and that nothing would be more capable of defti oying him before he advanced to ripenefs of Age, he made uiiy the ^^ it were a Labyrinth of Bowels in the lower Ven- Bsreds tricle, that by their turnings and windings the Food f;^"^-^^"'^- might be hinder'd from paifm^ off too foon i for if Tom. ^. ° r o * TMs is one of Pitto's Errors, who abfurdly confounHs Pro« phets divinely infpir^d uich falfc Fropl et , aod thereby gave oc- cjfion rothc Erroi of the Mo tm{ls. T: ue Frophets did notfpeak by Exrafy, hu: faw and underllood wh«c they dcclar'd, and were t'crelorc call'd Saxs. the 7he Life 0/ Plato. 1 17 tlie Bowels were all ftreight, the Food would be continually paffing j and Men by this means ren- der'd infatiable would think of nothing elfe but eat- ipg, which would make 'em uncapable ot applying themlelves to Learning and Philolbphy, and would fpeedilyoccafion their Deaths the natural Heat not being fufficient to digcft fo much Food, beiides that it would want time to do it. After this he explains the nature, and produ£lion oftheFlefti, Blood, Bones, Mufcles, Sinews, Brain, Marrow, and all the other parts of which our Bo- dies aie compos'd •, he calls the Blood the food of the Yiejh^ and fays the whol^ Body is encompafs'd with Flelh, like fo much foft Wool, laid dole together, which ferves to fortify it againft the Injuries of tiie Air, and all other Accidents, as falls, ^c. In fpeaking of the ConftruQion of the Head, lie Tne cofh fays 'tis both the moft beautiful, and weakeft of all ^Z'*'^""' '^ the parts of the Body. That God indeed could have ^om''^* given Man a Head much better fortified with Bones, ' Sinews and Flefh, which would have extremely pro- long'd his Life, as well as made him lead it more commodioufly •, but becaufe it was not poffible that a part coA^er'd over with a very hard Bone, a great ijiany Sinews, and very thick Flefli, fliould have a very quick Senfe ^ and the Head was to be the Seat of Senfe, Reafon and Prudence ^ God having well weigh'd the advantages of a very Itrcng and robuft but ill-contriv'd Body, that is heavy and uncapable ofSenle -and Prud.ence, againft thofe of a Body more, feeble but more elegant, that is to fay, lively and lightfome, he prefer'd this to the other, and chofe to give us a Ihort rather than a long Life ^ for the Spirit was not created for the^ Body, but the Body for th- Spirit. He goes on to fpeak of Sanguification, Nutrition, Refpiration, Tranlpjration, natural Heac, th^ dimi- nution, and augmentation of the Body, which leads him to fpeak of Old Age, Difeaies and Deatli, which happens, tc/.v/? ;/;^ Al/chi/te is njrr/t oiit^ and ihie I 5 Strings.-. 1 1 8 The Life of PlatoJ *Stri/igs thi/t hold it together grow Jldck^ and give the Soitl liberty to fly out of her Frijon with extreme Plejfure. As for Difeafes he explains theCaufes of them by the lame Principles which Hippocrates had eftablifh'd Tcm- 5. before him. For he fays Man being a Compound of the four Elements, Fire, Air, Earth, and Water, or which is the fame thing. Cold, Hot, Moift, and Dry ^ the juft Proportion and even Temperament of thefe 4 dualities preferve Union and Peace, from whence Health refults ^ and on the contrary their unequal ' mixture which proceeds from Excefs, Defe£l, or the Change of the Situation of fome or other of 'em, pro- duces Diforder and Divifion, the only fource ofDif eafcs. For then that which was Cold becomes Hot, that which was Dry, Moift ^ and that which was Hea- vy Light, and the Blood being corrupted by this Alteration, as well as the Spirits, and overcharg'd with Acid, or Salt Particles, inftead of producing New to nourifli the Flefli, breeds nothing brrt Choler Flegm, and Water, which generate divers forts of Fevers and other Diftempers. 7it Difeafes From thefe Difeafes of the Body fpring thofe of i^ the Soul, the Soul which Plato d'mdQS into two forts, that of Folly^ and that of Ignorance or Stupidity. Ignorance is properly the Soul's forgetfulnefs : and when great Pleafure or exceffive Sorrows take away Knowledg from the Soul, fo that (he is not in a condition to underftand'any thing, this is Folly. For example, a Man whole Temper inclines him to Love, is always mad while the rage of this Paflion lafts ^ he is therefore call'd a profligate Perfon, or a Debauchee, as if he willingly plung'd himfelf into this Dilbrder ^ !,' But he ought to be call'd a Fool, and look'd upon * as aDifeasd Perfon ^ for according to Socrates no Man is vitious but againft his will. This Man is ^^ carried away by his Conititution, and the ill Educati- on he has had. And the fame may be faid of all other lorts of Senfiialiry, Sorrow The Life of Plato. 119 Sorrow likewife proceeds from the Intemperature j-f^, ^^^^ ^f of the Body, for it is caused by an acrimonious Flegm, sorrow. and Bilious Humors which dilperfe themfelves through the Body, and not finding vent obfcure the Soul with their Vapours, difturb her motion, and bring grievous Diftempers upon her, but different according to the Parts on whicli they fix. To this Intemperature of the Body he joins the ^'^^ ^<'^^ Intemperature of whole Cities, which by the per- f^J^'^^/'^^,- nicious Example of their corrupt Manners, and the tils. wicked Difcourfe which they fuffer both in publick and in privai^, and in fine by the little Care they take to have young People well educated, frequently precipitate us into all thefe Mifchiefs. Thus our Corruption comes properly from two Caufes that are ablblucly involuntary j which render us vjlcktd a- gainft our Wills •, And inftead of accufing us, there is realbn only to accufe our Parents and Teachers. What P/ato fays of the ill Education of Yourh, and the fatal Examples which whole Cities give ^."'f ^^^ them, is but too True, but what he adds, that our p£^'"' "•' Corruption is involuntary on our own part ought not that vve are to be taken in a ftri£l Literal Senfe. For as Arijht/e wicked a- has very well obferv'd, 'tis a great Error to fay we ^'.^'jj ^"^ are only virions againll our Wills. Sound Philolo- ^^ 1/2'^. phy and Religion teach us, that God has given Men [iood. a Liberty of chofing between Good and Evil, and that all vertuous or vicious Aftions are purely volun- tary. If it were not lb it would be unreafonable to blame Vice or commend Vertue, nor could anyreafon be affigned for the Eftablilhment of Rewards and Pu- nishments, tor none can be jullly praifed or difpraifed only for what he did whether he would or no. How then did Flato underftand this Notion 0^ Socrdfes^io embrace it as he did > without doubt he underfcood (and 'tis what Ariftotle did not comprehend) thatGod. has given men all that Light that is neceilary to dire8: 'em to obey the Law of Nature which he has engrav'd in their hearts^and to inform 'em of certain fundamen- tal Truths,which enlighten the Univerfelike fo many I 4 1 urchs;s 3 I ip The Life of Plato. ' Torches ^ but Men have defpifed thefe Helps •, and by this voluntary Contempc, are jultly tallen into Blindneis which hinders 'em from diftinguilhing Truth from Error, or at leaft from obeying it^ and thus all the vitious Aftions of Men are at the lame time voluntary and involuntary •, voluntary m their Origin and Source^ for 'tis their own Choice that they have thrown off the Yoke of Vertue and Kighte- , oulhefs •, aud involuntary often in the execution; for in fpite of theRemorfe of their Confciences, they are led away by the miferable propenlioii of their Hearts, which induces 'em to conamit.the fvil which they would not do. They are the Slaves of Sin which rules over 'em, and to the S€r\'ice of which they have engag'd their Liberty. • F/iito comes next to (liew the Remedies that are fortheDif' ^^ be applied againft thefe two forts of Difeafes of tafes cj the the Soul and Body -, and firft eftablifhes this Incon- '5'w(. tellable Maxime ^ that whatlbsver is Good is Beau- tiful ^ that Goodnefs confifts in proportion and rriea- fure ^ and that if this be true in all fenfible things, 'tis much more fo in the Union of the Soul and Body : For from their juft proportion fpting Health and Vertue •, as Dileafes and Vices are produc'd by the contrary .- If the Soul be too ftrong for the Body, (he weakens it, wears it out, and very often caules fuch Maladies as baffle the Art of Phylicians. On the other fide if the Body is ftronger than the. Soul ^ becaufe it takes care only of it felf^ it grows, and fortifies it felf daily, and leaves the Soul in an Ob- livion, and as it were in a Lethargy, which brings on her a Stupidity and Ignorance which fhe cannot diffipate. Therefore to preferve the health of both parts, they both of 'em ought to be equally exercifedl He that applies himfelf to Study ought not to de- fpife the txercifes of the Body •, and he who makes Bodily Fxercifes his principal bulinefs, ought not to negle And M7;jt ^flz'i: perhaps it would be no ill-tounded Opinion that oceaiion to this Idea came into the head of Fythiigorus^ upon tde Opinion ^vhat happened in his time to King Nebuchad/iczzjr^ tmtfycho'fis- ^^^ ^'^^ ^'^^ ^"^^ tum'd out among. the Beafts, ' and for feven Years grazed like an Ox. A Philofopher who explain'd his E)o£lrine only by Enigmatick Exprefhons could not but be taken with this Idea, which naturally informs us^ that Vice degrades us from our Dignity, and transforms us into Beafts, more or lefs Savage, according as we are more or lefs vitious •, and. a certain fign, that this was the fenfe of this Metempfychofis, is, that the Pythagorean Philofophers conceiv'd itjulf after this nranner^ ^nd proy'd that Man inhis ElFence is^ inferior Ihe Life of ?hto. tij Menot to God, and Angels, and fuperiorto Animals, Plaits, and other Terrefttlal and Mortal Natures : and that as that Man who Ihould flatter hinifelf that he ^"'^c'.:ld become a God, or an Angel, would be inh : eiy miftaken, not underftanding the Limits of Nature; hethatOiould think he (hould become a Bealt tor his Wickednefs, or a Plant becaufe of his heavy and fluggiih Temper, would likewife be deceived, be^>?g ignorant of the cjentia/fcrmof the ^^^^^^^ Sc..^. which am never alter-, hut being and continuing ^^ ^^^^^^_ aivodys Man, h fad to become a God cr a ^Brute by f^j gj Py. Ven ue or Vice, alt hough by 'Nature it cannot be eithet thagoras. the one cr the other, and therefore is fo only by re- Je7nhlance. tj r Moreover Pythagoras might take this Idea trom the -ncient Hebreivs, who gave Men fuch Names as w.re defcripciVe of -he'ir Nature, calling them Wolves, Dogs, Swine, Repents, "Filhes, e;'.% as they remark'd in ^em fuch \ices as rendered 'em ver>^ like thole Animals. Therefore the firft Man that was cele-^ brated lor Piety, and oegan to call on the Name ot the Lord was calf d Enos, that is to fay, a True Man -, as A there had been no true Man before him, "^ be- cauie ther j was no pious Man. This is all, the Myf tery ot Pythagoras his Meiernpfychciis •, which has been turn'd into a Moniter '^i^ ^ ^^'^ V^^-^'^'il Explica- tion of it. Plato underftood it in part, bu ■ he akefd it in conne£ling it with an Error into which be iell, about rhe Return of Souls into this Life after a cer- tain Ipace of time. As I take it, he conceived that a Soul came divers times to animate the fame Body, thus it VV3S rather a Refurreftion feveral times, re- peated, then a M .tempfychofis. But of this Matter we (hall treat moie largely in its place. Some of Plato's Interpreters have laid that in tlie wh.f^ce E- Creation of Man, God ordef d the Interior Denies vii cmts, to make the Body, that fo, becaufe all Evil was lo 'tf:f'J}K proceed from Matter, he might not be charg'd with .^ j-^^^f^ J * I fiippoft the Author -neani i>i that Gmtration > for etbtrmfe'tU evident, thut Abel was a pom wan. ' it. 126 ihe Life of ?hto^ it, and that it might not be faid, that Evil came from God himfelf. But this expedient would have been very uielefs, for if Evil were a quality adherent to Matter, God having created this, the other muft needs have come from him ^ though the Body had been created by inferior Deities ^ which is impious and very remote from P/j/^'s Thoughts. When this t*hilofopher fays Evils could not be banifh'd from Nature, and tliat they arofe from Necelfity, that is from Matter -^ he had no defign to fignifiy that Mat- ter was Evil of it felf ^ but he meant to (hew, that as it is always oppofite to the Nature of God^ it caufes all the Paflions and all the Miferies of Men ^ who by how much the more they approach it by fo much the more diftant they remove from God. For Matter does not only corrupt thofe who immerfe themfelves in it, but alfo fuch as look on it ^ becaufe every thing that inclines or turns it felf towards it, neceflarily turns away from God, aud leaves Light for Darknefs , which is a Principle confirm'd ecjually by Religion and Experience, fo that 'tis unnecellary toi bring Proofs to fupport it. It will be fufficient to tnkisTheX' cite here Flatos own words. It is wipojjible my Tm'i ^^''^'^ Theodore, that Evils Jhoiddbe entirely expeVi huyncuic Society. For "tis neceffary there Jhould be always fometning oppofite to Good, let it muji not be thought that Evil can ever approach the Dfity\ 'tis only annexed to jiicrtalNatiires-^ and is always about the Earth which we inhabit^ becaufe it fprings only fro)n KeceJJity. Tloerefcre we fhould endeavour tg fly from hence as fwift Jy as we can. N'ow to fly away is to labour to unite our f elves to God^ as much as pojjtble ^ and we can^t be united to him^ but by IVifdom^ Right eoufnefs and Holinefs. Evil does In this Book of a Republick^ he fliews that Evil irm^u"^ does not fpring from Matter, but from M otion, which jrm / at' j^j.-jjgg jj. ^Q ^j-g ^j.^ Confufion and Difbrder. The World (lays he) had all good things from its Makfr^ but from the External Habitude^ which it had before it had all that is Evil^ imcked and vitious in Nature^ and The Life of Phtol xtf imi communicates it to Animals. So that by his Account, Evil is properly only a Return to the firft Diforder, an Irregularity, a Diflocation, and Dif- obedience, and confequently fubfifts not by it felf j whereas Good fubfifts independantly of the things that poflefs it-, for it fubfifts in God, who is the Au- thor of all Good , and is Goodnefs it felf But whence comes this Motion that leads to Diforder > It proceeds not from Matter, feeing that is without quality. It comes according to Plato from the rafh and diforder'd Spirit which heated and anim"ated the firft Matter, before God by framing the World, had render'd it capable of Order and Harmony by an Underftanding. By this we are to underftand, that Evil is a pri- vation of Order and Harmony, which proves triie in all forts ofEvil, and above all in thofe of the Soul, that is in Vices which are the only proper Evils. When a man dilbbeys the Law, one can't lay his Difobedience is a Being which exifts and fprings from the Law, but 'tis an Alienation from what the Law commands. The Law is Holy and the Com- mandment is Juft and Good, but Concupilcence has produc'd Sin. When a Son loves not his Father who has done him nothing but Good, one can't fay this Averfion proceeds from the Father ^ on the contra- ry, 'tis only a Refulal of Love and Submiflion which he owes him, and which the Law of Nature teaches him. Juft fo the Evils of the Soul, are not a fault of Nature ^ but a fault of the Will, which being free ules its liberty to rejeO: that which is Good. So that Vices are only voluntary Averfions which alienate us from right Reafon, in which alone Or- der, and Harmony confift ^ and confequently, as the Pythagoreans and Platonifts knew very well there is Evil does no neceflity of eftablifhing a Principle of Evil, whe-'^^"^ ''^'/^ "/ ther we make it fpring from Matter, or derive it '^^*^-^' from without •, we need only one principle of Good which truely exifts, and this is God. By his EfTence he is feparated from Rational Subftances but he com- ii8 7he Life of Plato.^ communicates and unites him-^elf to them by.Riea- What Geoi, fon: to obey thisReafon is Venue and to difobey and £ti7, ij^ Vice. Thus our Bodies are neither the Caufe andvice ^^ ^^^ Vices, nor that of our Vertues ^ * But our are. Souls are the Caule of b'oth, as P/jto veiy folidly proves in his Xth Book oi^ Lazvs. luivhae It has been charg'd on F/ato as a Crime, that he cliis^crlt gi^'^sthe Name of God to Creatures : But befides tures Gods, ^bat he has done nothing in this but what we find done in the Holy Scripture, where Men and Angels are called Gods •, Never did any one better obfen^e the infinite Sovereignty of the true God over mortal Creatures to whom hfe has given this Name, than Tliito has done. Thus lie teigns God fpeaking to In bis Ti- 'em as tlieir Supreme Lord. Children of the Gods^ J?*"^» d// the Works that have gone out of riy Hands are in- ' ^' dijl'oluble oi much as IpleaJ^^ and as long as IjKillfuf- tain "em. A'at but that whatsoever h.u been join d to- gether is of a nature capable of being dif united.^ but it becomes not an infinitely good Creator to deflroy h/s Work^ zvhen this Work has nothing of evil in it. Ton have been created^ and confequently you can't be en- tirely Imjnortal^ and Indiljoiuble s, however you fhall never be deftroyd.^ and Death fhall have no do?ninivn over you ^ ??!y Will being a ftronger Bond to af certain your Immortality.^ than all that ivherewith you have been bound at your Birth. We have yet three forts oj Animals tofrm of 7?rortal Matter^ zvithout which the World would not be ptrfe^.^ for to make it perfe& it ought to contain Animals of every Species ; but if Ifhould create them my /elf they would be equal to the Gods. Thcrcjorc that they may be mortal^ and. that the Wcrld may be compleated.^ do you form them, your Jelves according to your Nature^ by imitating the Power I difplafd in forming you : dnd feeing the mojt excellent of em ought to have fomething Divine to render "em worthy to rule the re/}^ and to engage * Therefore the Holy $cri/?rufe' commonly ^caks of the SoU!! i\ith reference to Yitcs andVertUts. Jlje Soul that fianetht ifi Soul touch, &c. theffi The Life of Phto. up them to obey Laws and jFuflice ^ I will provide that Divine Seed which is the SoiiL t)o yonjinijh this Com- pojition^ by adding that which js to he mortal ^ and by furnijhing it with neceffaty Aliments^ raife thejii u^ and make ^em grow^ and when they are deftroyed re- ceive them again into your Bofom. Plato here after a very Magnificent and Poetical manner defcribes how God created Man and the other Animals by means of fecond Caufes, which he calls Gods i and it is no difficult Matter to find iii his Words the Beams of thofe Eternal Truths which Mofes teaches us. PA/f^(after MoJes)hxm^s God in as if ipeaking to other Gods when he is about to create Man ^ though he did not comprehend the Myllery hidden undent thofe divine Words. In Flato as well as in the Writings of Mofes we fee Man was formed after the Image of God ^ not as to his Body, but as to his Mind ^ that he was to rule over other Ani- m.als ^ and that he only is capable of rendering God true Worfhip. Tlato teaches us after Mofes tliat thefe very Animals ferve to perfe8:ionate the Univerfe 5 contrary to the opinion of certain Heretiques, who accufed God for having made many Animals that were either dangerous or ufelels. In fine we fee in Flato as well as in the Holy Scriptures that Impor- tant Truth * that the Immortality of the Angels is not an effeO: of th^ir Nature, but a Privilege of mere Grace, which depends only on the Divine Will. 'Tis furprizing that fuch a Man as Plato^ who un- WhttmrGoi derftobd thefe Great Truths, and fpoke of God after <^-^j^ w'^f fo admirable a manner, as we fhall fee in divers pla- ^5^{^'^-(^'-^„ ces of this Treatife, Ihould notwithltanding maintain, as he has done in the nth Bock of his Repuhlick^ Tom. 3. that God being perfe8:ion it felf, cannot fhew him- felf to Men under any vifible Figure, and hereafons '^ This is what Sc. Ambrofe fays in eyprefs terms in his 3d Boole Pt Fids, flic & Angilm immortaUs efi naturdittry cu\us immortali- tAi efiin viluntats Creat$m. Angels themlelves arc not Immorcai by Nature, b«c their immortalicy depends on th^ Will of ihetr 1 JO The Life of Plato. „, , r,r thus •, If Goijhould metamorphofe h'mfelf he ik)0u11 Kufoning. dlji'^^^ ^ iorm. more perject than his ozv/i^ or a borm Icfs pcrfe^. Now "tis ridiculous to fay he changes for the better^ for then there would hejoniething more per- fell than he^ jvhich is ahfurd •, und 'tis Impious to admit that he changes himfelf into J ome thing lefs per- feti^ for God can't degrade hinijelj • be fides if he fhould appear under any other Form than his own^ he would lye^ becaufe he would appear to be what he is not. hence therefore it muft be concluded that he con- tinues in his Si?nple Form^ which alone is Beauty and Ferfetlion it Jelf And upon this he condemns iic7«?^r for havuig attributed to God thole Vifible Forms. If Plato had only employed this Argument ot" his to beat down the ridiculous Metamorphofes which the Poets attributed to the Gods, he would have had Reafon •, but to make ufe of it to oppofe the man- ner by which God has often render'd himfelf vifible, viz. Under the Form of an Angel or Man, whom he created after his Image, and whofe Figure he might take, without deceiving Men, or laying afide his Perfections, is an Error. And this did not e- fcape rhe knowledg of his Difciple Arijiotle^ who though otherwife lefs illuminated in what be- longs to the Divine Naturj, underltood better than Flato the Beauty and Truth of that Sentiment of Horner^ who in the XI Vth Book of his Odyfes fays that the Gods., who can cafily clothe themfelves with all fcrts of Forms^ fometimes take the figure of Tra- vellers and go into Cities to be Witneffes both of the Sins of Men and of their Good A f/ ions. Inftrufted by this great Poet he underftood that it is not un- worthy of God to afTume Humane Nature, to deli- ver Men from their Errors. Upon which his too Zea- lous Admirers have advanced that he had fome pre- fage of the Incarnation of the Mefliah. But what an Honour is it xoHomer^ that his Notions agree better with theTtuths contained in the Holy Scriptures, than thofeof the Greatelt Philolbphers. When God ap- peared to Men under a vifible Form he had both what was vifible and what was invifible. But The Life of Plato. iji But to return to Viators Phyficks* One may very y^^^ j> ^ well diflent both from thofe who will have 'em ve- mm my fc ry perfect ^ and from the Sentiment of thofe that made of Account 'em very defective. The former have too ^^^^^"^ good an Opinion of 'em ^ feduc'd perhaps by the ^^^M^* great plealiire they have found in penetrating the great Oblcurities of his Tima^r/s •, and otuers Ipeak too meanly of 'em, becaufe they have not given them- lelves time to found thofe Deeps, having been dil- courag'd by the drynels of his Principles, which he does not give himlelf the trouble or untolding • but leaves others the labour of explaining and rinding out the meaning of 'em. But in this there is a Me- dium to be obferv'd. 'Tis certain P/ato knew the chief Principles of true Natural Philofophy. This liifEciently appears by what has been already laid on this Subject. We find in his T'mceus an expli- cation of the Nature of the Elements, only by the Difpolition and Configuration of the parts of Mat- ter, which alfo caufe the different Senfations and Affections of the Body. There we find the Explica- tion of Colours, which are only the Reflexion of Light. By the different Mixture, by the dlverfified Figure and Motion of the Elements, each of which has many different Qualities or Forms, he explains the Production and Nature of Minerals, Metals, Oils, Salt, Liquors, Meteors, ^c. For Example, fpeaking of the Loadftone, and Amber, he fays, T^heir Vertue comes from the Motion of the Matter lahich goes out of their Pores. But all this together can't make a well methodiz'd Syftem of Phylicks : Nor is it his defign to give the World a Treatife of Phyficks : He fwiftly runs through that which is tranfitory, to find that which is permanent, and to dwell upon it ^ he forgets nothing that is necelfary, but reje£fs whatfoever is ufelels or fuperfluous -, he fo little defigns to enter into a deep refearch of this Matter, that he lets us know, that if any one has a mind to break off his Meditation from_ things that truly exift and abide, to apply himfelf K 2 to 1 J 1 7he Life of Plato^ to a more particular knoAvledg of fuch as are only h'aeurai traiifitory and momentany,and finds pleafure in fo do- ml^fr'd ^"Si ^^ ^^'^^^ "^^ ^^ difficult for himtofatisfy himfelf JJpi/to^in following liis Principles •, and to give hi mff If a a Divertife- DivertiJeniCTit of Lifi^ which he calls Wife and Mo- ^^nt. derate. By thefe Words Ylato gives us to underftand that he look'd upon this part of Natural Philofophy ra- ther as a Play, tlian an Employment •, and this ob- liged him, to give only a luperficial Account of itj that he might more ufefuUy employ his Time in fearching for more important and Solid Truths. A nd one may fay, that in this again he imitates Mofes^ who in the Hiltory of the Creation has wifely fup- prefs'd whatfoever might flatter the Vanity and Cu- riofity of Men, to inlift only on that which was proper to augment their Humility and Piety. There- fore we fhould be fo far from wondering that Na- tural Philofopliy was net rais'd to its perfe£lion in thofe Ancient Times when it was look'd upon at belt but as an Amufement more curious than ufeful, and when the greateft Men applied themfelves only to Morality which is concern'd only about our true Happinefs and Mifery ^ that I know not whether we Ihould not have more reafon to be furpriz'd that it fhould be fo much efteem'd in Ages wherein we ought even to make lefs account of it than Flato does. So- lomon does not advile Men to acquire Natural Phi- lofophy but to get Wifdom. For 'tis Wifdom only that teaches us to know God •, and this is Plato's Lan- guage, who to promote his Defign always reafons morally in his Phylical Difcourfes : and inftead of infilting on the Confideration of Mechanique Reafons taken from the Motion, and Succeflion of Bodies, applies him'iQl's'^JiS Socrates did before him,to difcover the firft Caufe, and to penetrate the Defigns of the Soveraign Spirit which governs the World 3 and en- deavours to explain whole Nature by Harmony aud Proportion ^ Seeking not fo much to teach Men Phyficks, as to give 'em great ProfpeQs, and to elevate 7he Life of ?hto. Ij3 elevate their Minds. Nay Socrates formally fays in Fh£do/2 that the manner of teaching Phyficks by the Succeflion and Morion of Bodies is very defeftive, and caufes more Errors than it cures ^ becaufe by de- taining the Mind too much upon Matter, and diat which is but a Second Caufe, it hinders it from rai- ling it felf up to God, who is the only true and iirft Cauleofall things ^ and he hhmes A/iaxa^oras^ who tho he knew this Truth, diJGTembles it in his pra£tiie, and deceives the expeQ:ation of his Readers. 'Tis liich a Relearch as this tliat Solomon reprefents as a very 'Evil and. 'Dangerous Employme^it and the Truth of this has been but too much confirmed by Experience. Before we quit this Subje8:, let us fee how he "^^^ order ranges the Celeftial Spheres, and what Vertues he fup- ^L ^^:^ ^^^''^^' pofes them to difplay by their Influences, Fhll he ^ ''^ ^ ^'^"* places the Earth as the Center of the World. 'Tis true Theophraftus writes, that in his Old Age he repented that he had given it that place, which is not fuitable to it. He lays it is the Boundary of the Riling and Setting of the Sun, and confequently the Inftrument of Time, as the Planets are, and Guardian or Mother of the Day and Night. After the Earth he places the Sphere of the Moo/?^ then that of the Sim^ that of Venus and that of Mercury ^ after Mercu- ry he places Mars^ Jupiter and Saturn. He fays that in the beginning after God had crea- j-/,^ influm- ted the Souls of Men, he diltributed them into all as of th& the Planets ^ by which he would fignifie, that the Stars, Bodies which thofe Souls animated in the time mark'd out by Providence, fhould be fubjeft to the Influences of thofe Stars. Which he explains more fenfibly when he feigns that there are Three Farcce the Daugh- ters of Neceffity, which turn a great Spindle, that ':S.AftExpiic^ the Axle-tree of the World, with its Eight Spheres, ^'on of the whofe Motions and Revolutions produce all things. ^^^''^^^^'''^^* Neceffity isDeftiny, which is nothing but the Order and Concatenation of Caufes, which ought to pro- duce fuch or fuchEffe^ls. This Neceffity has 5 Daugh- K 3 ' ters 134 The Life of Plato: ters which denote the three differences of Time which is either Palt, Prefent or Future. The firft which is the Eldeft is nam'd Lachefis that is, a Lot^ becaufe the Lots of all things have been regulated ftom all Eternity, that is before Time. The lecond is Gothon^ This is (lie that executes, and adds the prefent to the paft. And the third is Atropos which fignifies that the future is no lefs certain or invariable than the two others ^ but is the Confequence of one and and the fame Law which never alters. ThefeP^rr^e are cloth'd in white, and feated on Thrones with Crowns on their Heads, to lignify on one hand their Purity and Innocence, and on the other the Dominion they exercife over all that is fubje£led to 'em ^ they are plac'd at equal diftances over thefe Eight Spheres, upon each of which there is a Siren which Sings with all her might, and the ?arca anlwer this Smg- ing after fuch a manner, that all thefe different Voices make but one Harmony. Flato would here- by fignify that all things obey the Divine Law and concur to produce thofe Effefts, which are Confe- quences of the Caufes God has eftablifhed. S'/f^'/ But if our Bodies depend on thefe Planets and to Defiivy. ^^ey the Laws of this fatal Neceflity, our Souls may . preferve themfelves independant, and only obey God, who is Mafter of Neceflity it felf The Planets may by their Influence produce in us fuch or fuch Manners, and by thefe fuch or fuch Anions or Paffi- ons ^ but if our Souls will, they have power to mo- derate and regulate 'em. And when the Soul does the contrary, and fuffers her felf to be carried down the Stream ; (he deprives her felf of her own Liberty, and lofes all her Privileges. For this is that in •which that Free will, that God has left her to de- note her Origin, conllfts : She can either fubmit her felf to that Fatal Neceffity which Zomiftercslls an Augjncnting the ponder of Deftwy • or fubjea: that to her iell", by uniting her felf to liim, to whom all things are fubje^l, and in whom alone fhe can enjoy te Liberty ^ And this is' what J^luto means, wlien he The Life of Plato. i j j he lays a Prophet having taken the Lots out of the Lap of the firft Pj;t^, afcended a Throne, and ad- dreffing himfelf to all the Souls that had been crea- ted, Ipoke to em in thefe Terms. Hear zabat Lache^ h the x lis tbe Daughter of NeOeJJity Jays. 0 Mortal Soals.^ |<"'^. ^/ ^■'« here is the beginning of a New Period^ cr Life^ Tm^s' Tbu are going to animate Bodies that are dejiin'd to Death ^ Tour Demon (or Angel) fh all not make choice ofyou^ but, you fhall choofe your Demon (cr Anget) your f elves. 'Let that Soul therefore that has the firft Lot^ firft choofe the kind of Life which fhe will lead by the Laws oj Necejfity^ andfo of the reft. There is nothing but only Vertue that does not acknowledg her haws : fhe- is free ^ and gives not her f elf to any hut fuch as know how to honour her : Thi/s the fault is in the Soul which choofes^ and God is not to be bla?ned. After this Proclamation, all imagina- ble ways of living are proposed, and the Soul choofes. We cannot finifh this Matter without fpeaking ^^^ ^^^ fomewhat of thefe Demons, afTign'd as Guides to choke oj a each Soul ^ and this Article would indeed require a ^«^c« or long Chapter of it ielf, or rather an entire Volume, ^^"^'^ if we would found the bottom of this Do£trine •, iVw/ but 'tis fufficient for us here to know in general, that when Plato fays the Soul immediately afcerher animating the Body, choofes her Demon or Genius ^ his defign is only to fignify the Liberty of the Soul, and thatlhe is able to choofe between Good and Evil. That is, that as we are composed of 2 different Na- tures, by one of which we partake of this grols and Terreftrial World, and by the other of the Intelligible World •, by wliich we are raifed to thac which is moft Sublime and Spiritual ^ If the Soul immerfes her felf in Matter, Ihe has a material Demon, that hinders her from raifing her felf up to Celeftial Things ^ and if on the contrary fhe keeps her felf pure, and lives only by the Underftanding, (he has a good Demon, or perfeft Genius, which fupports and hinders her from defcending to that which is K 4 m^- 1]^ The Life of Vhto: ^4^^?r^ i""^ comiptibie-, if (he changes her Life i^ alfo changes her Demon , and after JDeath the Demon that ibe chofe, leads her either to he; Re ward or Punifhment. This was P/^.Vs Doftrine which he frequently delivAs in Allegories very diffi- cult to be underftood, but by wjiich he feems to have known, or atleaft had fome Glances of verv great Truths concerning the Nature and Diiference of thole Spirits which are beuveen God and Men Truths which the Cliriftian Religion has confecrated without diveftmg them of their Obfcuritv For who IS It that underftands thofe diiferent Orders of Spirits which St. P^/./ defcribes by thofe different Names of Powers, Thrones, Principalities and S^ ^-fi^f^' ^^"^^^ he doS not under Itand em and St Irene ^^ allures us that they cannot be underftood. It is probable ?hno had received al- moltthe fame Ideas from the Theolog^^ of the He brews, which we fhall fpeak of in the Argument of Socrates his A^oXo^r . and it ivas without doubt out of refpea to their Books, that he advanced that ex- cellent Maxim, that in thofe matters we ought to receive nothing for Truth, but what is found con- Or™lt ^^ ^he Word of God, and the Divine ^ None everprov-'d the Immortality of the Soul bet- ter than P/.;/.. His Proofs of it are to be feen in erl'^i^' ^'^ ^.^i'^- In ^^^ mean time I can't choofe but fpeak dm in .^e^e 9^ ^ ^^eming Contradiaion which is found in Piato. nis ^^Titings In Phxdrris he fays in exprefs Terms 1 bat the Soul is eternal, and that it can t peri fh he- cauje itzKo^ not begotten : And on tJie contrary he •lays m i m:em, Tkn the Soul wa^ created before the Body, and that it iccu begotten by the be (I of intellec- tual and eternal Caufes, as it zs alfo the be ft of all things that are generated and temporal. PW^?, to reconcile this Contradiaion, into xvhichhe is fure Vlato never fell, afTures us that by tms unbegotten and eternal Seal he underftands that- void, The Life of Plato^ 1}7 void and diforderly Spirit which mo\-'d all things ir- regularly before the Conftitution of the World ^ and on the contrary that he calls that the begouen Soul which God composed of that firft Spirit and of the permanent and eternal Subftance •, of wliich;he made a wife and regular Soul, becaufe he put fomething of his own into it, and added Underftanding to Senfe, and Order and Harmony to Motion. But at this rate the Soul would be a Compound of a fooliOi thing and a wife, which is the groffeft of all J^^j^^'^X Errors. It w^ould likewife be a Composition of txvo things equally Eternal, which by their Union would conftitute one entire begotten Subftance, which is a ContTadi£lion. In fine this void and precipitant Spi- rit which animated the firft Matter is not Eternal in P/dto's Opinion, for he makes it a Creature, and calls it Eternal only in reference to Time, the Birth of which it preceded. Therefore to reconcile thefe TJ^t voj sf tw^o different Ideas which he gives of the Soul, I ncoudiing fuppofe when he calls it begotten he has regard fim- ^H^ j^^" ply to the Effence of it, which began to exift ^'^'' by the Will of God •, and when he calls it Eternal, 'tis with refpeft to the Principle of it which is God, who communicates to it all its Qualities, and in whom it is properly Eternal. F/ato not only proves the Immortality of the Soul, T^e conft^ but alfo knew all the Confequences of it, as the Y'^"^^ ^ Refurreclion, and Final Judgment, when all Good ^,^^^ ]'^ ^ Men fhall be rewarded and the Wicked punilhed. piaio. Nay he penetrated fo far into thefe Divine Truths, that his Expreffions are entirely conformable to thofe of the Holy Prophets, and even to thofe of the E- vangelifts and Apoftles. For he exprelsly obfer\'es that at the time of tliis Judgment gcod Men fhall j^ f'^^ x be at the right hand of God^ and the Wicked at the Booh of hit left^ fro?n u^hence they fhall he thrown dov:n into the ^'fvi/ir^. Ahyfs and into oiitiKard Darknefs^ bound hand and ^^' '" foot^ where they fhall be tormented, and torn by Spirits, whichhecalls Fire, and where ::othing Ihall be heard but horuble Groanirrg and Howling, ■• H$ 1^8 The Life 0/ Plato.' That the ^^ taught as a certain Truth that the dead know d^ad l^now what palTes in this Life ^ For he fays in exprefs terms, Tvhat gaffes that Souls after they are fcparatcd from their Bodies hire in this J^^y^ jjj// jome power by which they take care ofhu- ^In the XI ^^^^^^ Affairs. This Truth is prov'd by a long train Boo^of of Re a f on s. We ought therefore to believe theje fo "La-VPS certain and Ancient Traditions : and to credit the Tom. 2. Teftimony of thofe Legiflators who have tranfmitted the?n to us. Vnlefs we will reproach them as fo ma- Tom. 2. ^y ^^ols. And in another place he fays, Hence J conclude^ that the Dead retain fome knowledge of ■what pajfes here below. Good Men have fome fent i- went before hand of this Matter ^ and the Wicked deny it : But the Prefages of divine Men are more certain than thofe of juch Miferable Wretches as are always i?n?ners'd in Vice. The Source ^^'^^^ received all thefe Ideas from the Traditions oi theft Tra- of the Egyptians, who had 'em from the People of dkions. God, and the Ancient Patriarchs . But in proceis of Time, thefe Traditions were fo corrupted by thofe Idolaters, and mix'd with fo many Errors, that 'tis not to be wonder'd at that Flato has explain'd one and the fame Truth by Defcriptions fo diiFerent and fabulous as thofe of his Fhadon^ his Gorgia^^ and the laft Book of his Republick. Thofe who have carefully read the writings of this Philofopher, di fcover yet more furpriling Truths The Divin'h ^"/^^ '■> ^^^ they find that he believ'd the Divinity tyojtheSon ofthe Son of God, which he has explain'd by Enig- 0/ God mas, tha t thofe Sublime Truths might not be expos'd pfatr ^^ ^^ ^^^ Raillery of the Profane. Tom'. 2. -^'^ ^^^ Epinomis^ after he had fpoken of the Ho- nour due to the Sun and other Planets, as they were the wonderful Works of God on which he had prin- ted the Character of his Omnipotence, and which in performing their Revolutions in the Time prefcrib'd to 'em, contribute to the perfeftion of the Univerfe by this Obedience of theirs : He adds. The moft Di- vine WO R D fraf7id this Univerfe and rendered it vifible. And that Man that is truly happy ^ jirfi ad~ mircs The Life of ?htol ijp fftires this WORD^ and is afterzmrd inflavii with a de/ire of learning all that can be known by a mortal 'Nature^ being convinced that thk is the only way^ to lead a happy Life here below^ and after Death to ar- rive at tnofe places that are prepared for Vertue ; where he Jhall be truly initiated and united with Wifdom 5 and always enjoy themoft wonderful Dif eg- veries. Here Vlato very exquiiitly maintains that . the knowledg of the WORD leads to all fublime Difcoveries. Vor none knows the father but by the Son. And 'tis only by him that we can attain a Life of Blifs. In the Letter he wrote to Uermias^ Era ft m^ and ^^^^^^ yj^ Corifcus to exhort 'em to live in Peace, he fays. Tom. 5. ICou mufl re ad my Letter all three together ^ and that you may profit by it^ you ought to implore the AJJtJi' ance of God the Soveraign herd of all things that ei- ther are or Jhall be -^ and the Father of this Soveraign^ who is the Caufe of Beings. If we are truly Philofo- phers we Jhall know this God as clearly as Blejfed Men are capable of knowing him. Does not ^lato in this manifeftly follow the Opi- nion of the Hebrews ? For whence could he receive this knowledg of God, the Father, and the Lord ^ ^*/^^- of God the caule of Beings -, but trom their Wri- ^^^IZ\ tings, who taught him to give the Son the name of xr. 15. hord^ of which none of the Greeks before him had ever heard, or had the leaft Idea ? Nor is it only pretended, that he had fome know- piato had ledg of the Word^ the Eternal Son of God, but/^«^ ^'^>^ of fome farther maintain, that lie had fome difcovery ^'. ■^"^■^ of the Holy Spirit^ and fo had a certain Idea of ^^^'^^' the moft Holy Trinity : For thus he writes to young Dionyfim^ I mufl declare to Archedemus, that whicl? i^^^^y ^ is much more precious and divine •, and which you have Tom. 5. a very ardent dif ire to know •-. finceyoufent exprefs- ly to me on that A j: count, tor as far as I underhand by him. you don't believe I htive fujjiciently explained what I think of the Nature of the firfl Principle -^ I mufl write oj this to you in Enigmas^ that ij my Let- ter 1 40 The Life of Plato.' ter Jhould he intercepted hy Sea or Land^ he that reads it ?nay not be able to comprehend any thing. All things are round about their King :, they exift by him^ and he alone is the caufe of good things : Second for fe- cond things^ and third for third. In his Epinomis^ and elfewhere, he eftablifhcs for Principles, the firft Good, the Word, or Under- ftanding or Soul. The firft Good is God ; and when he calls God, Goodnefs, or the firft Good, he had an Idea of this Truth, that Good is nothing but the Nature of God, and his Infinite Goodnefs. This Good he explains in Terms very well worth the reading. As the Sun (fays he) gives to vifible things^ not only the faculty of being fee n^ but alfo^ their Birth^ Nourifbment and Growth^ J^(flfo this B9ol^ vr of Good, not only makes intelligible things knowable^ but hif Repab. ^^/j}, gjyes ^em beings although that is not EJJenceJjut om. 2. y^^^^ o/i?^r thing that infinitely furpajfes EJJence by its Power and Majefy. The Word or Underftanding is the Son of the firft Good, who hath begotten him like himfelf And the Soul which is the Term between the Father and the Son, is the Holy Spirit. I don't know whether without having recourfe to thefe great Truths, we could by Tlatds Philofophy explain thefe Paftages which feem fo ftrange, fo as to give 'em another fenfe that fliould be natural, and agreeable to his Principles. I muft fay, I very- much doubt it. Nay, I am perfwaded it would be very great Temerity, or rather Impiety, to interpret 'em after any other manner after the Decifion of fb St Au-'"' ^^'^"y Fathers of the Church and Ecclefiaftick Writers, guftin, Fc)r they tell us in exprefs Terms, that Plato had this St. jerom, knowledg of the Father and the Son, and of him that .9r. Cyril, proceeds ii:om them both, namely the Holy Spirit. Thcodo-* Ongen is not content to aflure us of the fime rcc,5f.cle- thing, but accufes Celfi/s for having purpofely over- menr, &c. Jook'd the Palfage of the 6th Letter, becaufe Jefus Chrift is plainly fpoken of in it. Which proves, that the Chriftians were not the only Perfons who found 7he Life of Plato^ 141 found thefe great Myfteries in F/ato's Writings ^ but that the Enemies of Chriftianity found 'em there as well as they, and were uneafy at the fight of 'em. Let us not by our Darknefs caft a (hade over thofe Rays of Light which proceed from the Foun- tain of Light it ielf j but let us acknowledge that P/ato not only knew all that Natural Reafon could difcover concerning God to a Philofopher ^ but was illuminated by fupernatural Reafon too. Having been inftru£led in the Books of the Hebrews, in thofe of the Prophets, and in the Traditions of the Egyptians, he became favourably difpos'd to receive the Seeds of thefe Eternal Truths •, and was aflifted by Grace, for St. Atiguftin aflerts, that Jefus Chrift revealed 'em to him.That which is deplorable is that he has corrupted /^"^ P^^^^ 'em by his Reafonings. For he fpeaks of the Three l^hamhs Perfons of the Deity as of Three Gods,and Three dif ypith -which ferent Principles.Thus while the fupreme Reafon en- heiviis iUu- lighten'd him on one fide, Philofophy feduc'd him ^^f^'^ ^^ on the other : The common unhappinefs of thofe who ' merely by Humane Reafon go about to explain the Myfteries of God, which are not to be known but from himfelf, and from thofe he has truly infpifd. That Flato had a particular knowledg of the Sacred Writings appears by many Paffages in his Works, and by his Errors themfelves •, for the grea- tefl: part of his moft erroneous Opinions proceed in fome fort from that Source of Light which daz- zled him, and on which he has fpread fo much Darknels. This feveral have obferved before now. That of the Creation of Souls before Bodies feems to have had no other Foundation than that Paifage of Jeremiah^ where God fays to this Holy Prophet. , Before I formed thee in the belly I knevothee^ This-'"' '' ^' Philofopher not underftanding that God calls things that are not as if they were j and that he knows not only all that is, but alfo all that fhall ever be, built on this Text that Error of his, that Souls ex- ifted before Bodies. From the fame Divine Writings he extra6:ed all th§ 1 4 1 Ihe Life of Plato.' the great Truths which he teaches, as when he fays the Name of God is he that m for there's none but God that truly is. This Name of God, as St. Au- guftin obfen^es, is not found in any profane Book more ancient than "^lato ^ and this Philofopher could not have it from any other Books than thofe of Mofcs. Who is it that does not difcern the ftile of the Prophets in that place of Vhirdon •, where he de- fcribes a pure Earth which is above this of ours in Heaven, and in comparifon of which this we inhabit is no better than Dirt > In this every thing is corrupt, and we are encompafs'd with Darknefs •, or if we fee any Light, 'tis through great Clouds, and very thick Mifts : whereas in the other, the true Light is to be feen^ and everything in it is admirable. All things there fhine with the glittering Luftre of Gold, Jaf- pers, Saphirs, and Emeralds ^ and thofe that inha- bit it enjoy a long Life which is not crofs'd with a- ny incommodious Accident. The Ancients who dif- cover'd the Truth hid under thefe Images, fhow that they were extracted out of the Books of the holy Prophets, who call Heaven the City of God, and the Land of the Righteous -, and prove, that the Names of thefe precious Stones are taken from the 7 4th Chapter of IJaiah^ where God promifes to lay So tot the Foundation of his Church with Saphirs, and Lxxii m- Jafpers. '^•'''^- Ifhouldbe too prolix if I fhould here relate all that Plato has drawn from this fountain. 'Tis fuf- ficient to know, that what we find in him of this kind, is fo conliderable, that it ought to render his Writings very precious to us ^ and that of all the Works of the Pagans, there is none more ufeful, or that can be more fer\'iceable to eftablifh eternal Truths, to raife the Soul to the folid Contemplati- on of the divine EfTence, and to manifeft the Beau- ties of the facred Scriptures. And 'tis on thele Ac- Booh I. counts that he merited that great Encomium, given chjf- 5. him by Froclt^, Truth (fays he) is fpreai through all 7he Life of Plato^ 14 j a// Plato'i- Dialogues^ more ohfcurely in fome^ and more clearly in others. We find in ^em every where grave.^ fenfible^ fu^er natural thoughts of the firfl Fhilo/ophy^ which carry thofe up to the pure imma- terial E [fence of God^ who are in fome fort in a condition^ to participate of it. And as he who has created every thing in the World by his power ^ has in every part of this Vniverfe plac'd Images of the Gods J which are fo 7nany Froofs of their Exiftencc^ that all things in the World might turn towards the Deity ^ becaufe of the Union ^ and if I may fo fay^ natural Relation that is between them •, fothe Mind of Plato being filPd with the Deity ^ has difperfed his Thoughts of God through all his Works. He would not fuffer any fingle TraH to be defiitute of this Charatter^ and without any thing fpoken of God 5 that fuch as are truly enflam^d with the hove of Divine things might receive fome knowledg of the fupreme Being from all his Writings^ and fo might have a fuft Idea of every thing zvhich cannot be known but in God who is Truth it f elf. Having fpoken of Natural Philofophy and Mora- DiaUHic^. lity let us pafs to the third part which is Diale^ick. The Ancients write, that Plato perfected Philofo- phy, by adding this part to Pliyficks and Ethicks : But by this they only mean he brought Dialedick^ which is true Logick to its perfe8:ion. Indeed Plato's Logick is more natural, more exa£l, and more folid than that which was in ufe before him, and than that the Rules of which have been publifli'd after him. For he teaches more by examples, than Precepts : He always choofes Subje£ls that are familiar and ufeful to Morality -, and treares'em not as a Doftor, and as they do in the Schools, by Methodical Dil- courfes and ftudied Syllogifms, but like a Man of Converfation by free Difcourfes, which properly make the CharaO:er of Diale8:ick. Therefore Pla/o preferv'd Socrates his method of Dialogue being fully convinced that Sciences ought to be taught by Word of Mouth, and not by Writing, becaufe Men are 144 ^'-'^ ^^/^ ^f Plato.' are better perfuaded by the Tongue than the Pen ^ becaule the Anfwers, and Objeftions of the Learner, not only (liew what progreis Truth makes in his Mind ^ but befides give an occafion ot clearing up many Difficulties that lie in his way, and which can't all be tbrefeen in Writing. FLito teaches bet- ter than any Man how to fpeak with juftnefs, to anfwer precifely to what is asked, to lay down the State of a Qiieftion exaftly, and lead 'on tiie Argu- ment dire£lly. He lliews perfectly well how to make accurate Divifions, to define well, and to ex- amine Definitions aright, that none may be fuffer'd to efcape that are not true. He not only brought this Science to perfeftion but alfo regulated the ftudy of it ^ for to avoid the unhappy Inconveniences tliat befal thofe who apply themfelves to it too Young, and who commonly make ufe of it rather to concradi£t than ro invefti- At rvhat gate Truth, he would have none apply themfelves /4ge Plato to it, till they were above thirty Years of Age, and "^enVuP^ then would have 'em employ five Years in it, being Dkledick. per^'waded that on this alone depends all the Progrefs a Man is capable of making in the Sciences, and in the perfect knowledg of true and folid Good. And indeed, Diakllick being the Art of Reafoning, 'tis not only the Foundation of all the Sciences, but the only Guide that can conduct Men to true Happinels,. by making 'em diftinguilh Truth from Error. And for this lame Rcafon, near fix hundred Y>ars before Pidto^ the Holy Spirit exhorted Men to learn D/V//a- tick^ when he lignifies by the Mouth of Solomon^ that all Science without 'Examination and Proof ferves only to deceive Men. And alfo that the knowledg of a fool^ IS but a Difcourje in the Air imtbout Ex- amination and Proof. And for the fame Reafon T\\..i.g.and ^f- ^^^^^^ ^^5 ^ Bifhop Ought to hold f aft the filth- ily ' ' full Word as he hath been taught^ that he ?nay be a- ble by found doilrine.^ both to exhort^ and to convince Gainfayers^whohy their falie,Principies///^i;^r/ whoie Houfesj teaching things zvhtch they ought not. And this The Life of Plato. ' 1 4 y this is the work of Diate8:ick. For 'tis properly ^^^^ ^ .^._ a Habitude, a Science which readies to define what tiot of uu- every thing is, in what it differs from another thing, umc^. or in what it refembles it ^ to fearch it our where it is, to know what makes the EfTence of it, how many true Beings there are •, what thofe things are which are not •, and in what they differ from thofe that are : It treats of the true Good, and of that which is not fo , it (hews us how many things en- ter into the firlt Good, and how many are rank'd under its contrary ^ and leads us to diftinguifh that which is Eternal, ftom that which is but Temporal and Tranfitory •, and this not by Reafonings founded on Opinion, but by Proofs drawn from Science. For it hinders the Mind from wandering after fenfible things, and thereby fixes it on that which is intel- ligible, and by diffpating all fores of Errors by its Light, feeds it as it were in the held of Truth. Vlot'inm fays very well, that this is the moft efti- mable part of Philofophy •, and is not to be confi- dered as the Inftrumeut of a Philofoplier, but as that which is elfential to him. for it does not flop at limple Propolitions and Rules, but palles on to things, and has all Beings for its Matter and Objeft •, and by tlie Truth that is in it difcerns Error which is always a Stranger to ir. If the Writings of the Ancient Hebrews aHifled ^J^^l}'"!^ "Plato in laying the Foundations of good Ethicks and ^J^'^ T')','^ Phyficks, they have not been lefs fsrviceable to him v-deciici in eftabliOiing tlie Principles of good Logick. Thele jr m the m ^ Principles confift in a riglit Impofition of Names, ^'■^'^^• which ought to denote the Nature of things. For when the Nature of any thing is known 'tis eafy to reafon juftly, and to eftablifh the Truth. No Na- tion ever followed better Rules in this than the Hebrews, as appears by the Books of Alofe^^ and the Writings of the Prophets. And therefore Pkto con- felfes that the Greeks borrowed the greateif part of the Names of things from the Barbarians (that is from the Hebrews) and acknowledges that this right L Inipo- ue 146 The Life of Plato^ Impofidon of Names proceeds from a more Divine Nature than that ot Man. nt Chirac Plato fays, that Man will never be a good Dia- '''"i^^y le£l':cian, who is not in a condition (they are his Viauaman ^^,^^ Words) to Give and Receive Reafon. He means that to be a Dialectician a Man ought to be able, not only to know the Truth, but to make it known to others, and pt,'rfwade 'em to embrace it. And for this ixeafcn there are indeed two parts of Dialec- tick, namely Logick and Rhetorick. By the tirft we know, and by the fccond we perfwade. rhttrue uft Since Logick andRhetorick are the 2 parts of Di- of Logick aletElick, 'tis eafv to fee they ought only to be em- ..iAfc^fo. piQ^^^ fQj. jy^^lj^^ ^j^^ ^^^^^^ j^-y3.^ ^Q fupport^ frror 'tis no longer Rhetorick nor Logick ^ as a Rule is no longer a Rule when it is bent to make an ill ufe of it. For a crooked Rule can no longer judge, either of it ielf, or that which is ftraight. Logick and Rhetorick teach us truly to reafon and diicourle for and againft. Not tliat two Contraries can be equally true ^ But this is to put us in a con- dition of anfwering thofe who would abufe 'em in tavour of Liiuftice. None doubts that tke fole ObjeCf ot Logick is Truth : And this is no lefs true of Rhetorick : And F/ato very well fays that a Wife Man wJl never Lib our to render himfelf Dextrous In his Phfc- to pleaje Man^ but to pleafe the Gods. For ("he adds) drus,r(?w.3 Prudence rdju'ires that we jl)ould rather feek the fa- vour oj Our Mafters^ than of thofe who are on- ly our Companions in the fervice we ozve them. Never did any one exceed P/ato in (hewing the ufe of true Rhecorick, of which he gives admirable Pre* cepts : To fhew the difierence between this and its Counrerfcit, he compares the firft to the Medicinal Arc, and the other to skill in Cookery. The Phyfici- an feeks only luch things as may conduce to the H^lch of the Body, Health being the thing he de- figns to procure : but the Cook is concerned only for what mjy pleafe the Tafte, without troubling his Head, v\iiether 'tis healthtul or hurtfliL In like man- ner The Life of PlatoJ 1 47 jierthe true Oraror, he fays, feeks only to make the diffi- thofe to whom he fpeaks better, and the counterfeit '''"^^ ^^°: Orator has no other defign than that of perfwadmg J^/^^^^ / >m, whatever damage they fufFer by it. co-mterjdt Tis objected to him that a Man ought to make orator, life of his Eloquence at any rate to acquire Reputati- on and Authority in his Country •, and to bring it into fubjeftionto him, if poihble ^ to advance his hriends, to bring down his Enemies •, and in fine (when great Calamities happen) to lecurehimfelf or others firom danger •, P/dto anfwers all thefe Objeftions after an admirable manner, and by Principles that can- not be contefted. Firft he makes it appear that thofe who have the greateit Authority in their Countrey are the molt un- happy, if they have not acquir'd it by juft Means, and do not employ it to juit Purpofes. He (hews that Tyrants are fo far from beingHappy, and from having dominion over others, that they are very Miferable, and fo many vile Slaves ^ who never do what they defire, even then when they do what they pleafe. He proves that 'tis much better to fuffer Wrong than to do it ^ and that wlien a Man has once done it, 'tis much happier for him to be punilh'd for it, than to efcape the Penalty he has delerv'd. As for what refpefts a Man's faving himielf or fe- curing others from great Danger ^ he (hews 'tis not fo conliderable a thing as to deferve fo much of our Efteem ^ for there are a great many things which otten conduce to lave Lite, which yet are . , ,^ Very inconliderable in themfelves. for Exam, pie (he it Gotgbsl fays) the Art of Swim.ming is a thing very lit- Tom. 1, tie efteem'd, and yet on many Occafions it pre- fen^es a Man from certain Death. The i^rt of a Pilot faves whole Families, and the whole Eftates of divers Perfons •, yet a Pilot is not ordinarily much puft'd up on the account of this advantage ^ he does not think himfelf a very Confiderable Maa in a Scare, but contents himfelf with a moderate t 2 SalarfJ 14? T/:e Life of Plato. '^ Fahry,f as 'tis reafonaHe he fhould, becaufe he does ^ not know whether he has done ihoie wKoin he nas preferv'd any great iervice, for befid.s that he re- turns 'em juft Ir.ch as he found ein \ It otten happens that it might liave been better for iome of 'em to have perilh'd in their Voyage. The like miy be faid of the Art of Fngineers, that of Carpenters, Brick-layers, Coachmen and ma- ny otheis •, who often preferve the Lives of abun- dance of People ^ and yet there is no Goverment wherein the Laws allot, any very great iiouors, or eftabliih any v^iy confiderable Rewards lor thole that exercife 'em : So true is it that notwithftan- ding the love "Men naturally^ bear to Life, it mult be confefs'd that the Art of prelerving our felves or others is no fach wonderful thing, as lo be piefer'd to every thing belides. The only Art which j^ , merits our Ffteem, and which alone can n.ake a Art iswhich^^^'^ conlidered as a God, is that of faving Souls ^ aion* merits and to lave 'em, they muft be purg'd from tlieir our Eftsem. Vices : for 'tis the greatelt unhappinels in the World for a Man to pais into the other Life with his Soul loaded with Sins. Tlierefore a Good Man ought to employ all his Logick and Eloquence both to make • himlelf better, and to render others fo ^ and to put both himlelf and others in a Condition to appear before that Judg from whom nothing can be hid, who viewing Souls quite naked difcovers the leaft fears that ar^j left on 'em by Perjury, Injuf- tice, V^anity, Lying, Cruelty, Debauchery, and all other Sins •, and who, as he renders to every Man according to his Works, punifhes tliofe for a time, who have committed only fuch Sins as are cure- aWe, that is which may be expiated, and condemns thole to Eternal Torments who have been guilty of Mortal Sins ; and by puihing their Wickednefs to extremity have render'd themfelves incurable, and have no found part in 'em. This is the Danger f-ron^ which 'tis lb noble a thing to fecure Men. Tills is the belt Combate in the World, and the only The Life of Plato. I4p only one that deferves to be undertaken even with the peril of one s Life : for is it ht we Hiould fear Men who can do no more than kill the I'ody > Thoie Legillarors, Orators and Mniiflers of State who havj not employ d their Eloquence to iTie! orate the People that were fiibea to 'em, weie not true Orators, aud conlequently were not truly ri£;hieous. This P/aro proves by the Examples of \'t>\Lles^ S'mon^ Milaade^ and Themifloclcs -^ who were io far trom making the Athenians good Men thac they render 'd them yet more brutifh and lavage •, and in fine, bore the Punilhment of that little care they took of 'em. For all that befel 'em from the hands of the People, came on 'em through their own fault •, like that which happens to an ill Groom,who fuiiers his Horles to become more unluc- ky than when they were hrlt committed to his keep- ing, and fb at laft is kicked by 'em, and can no lon- ger rule 'em. This is the Idea ?lato had olKhe- torick, of which he gives excellent Precepts in his Vhedn^^ and Go/gia^^ Dialogues which can never be fufEciently commended, and wliich furnifh us with the Maxims of which we liave been difcour- fing. When I fay Rhetorick is one part of Dlale^lick, I don't forget that this is fometimes oppos'd to the other •, as we find in ^latd% own Writings in the beginning of G<7/*^/^, wliere Socrates lays i6?ohts^ that he exercis'd himfelf more in that which is calfd Rhetorick, than in Diale£lick. But 'tis ealy ta fee that Socrates there, by Rhetorick, means that Art which has no regard to Truth, but aim.s only at a plaufible Appearance of Truth ^ and tiie Scope of which is only to adorn and embdlKh any Subjet'R:. When Ifocrates makes a Panegyrick on Helena^ lie only employs the figures of Kherorick ^ and never troubles himfelf about the Proots and Arguments of Dialc8:ick. In a Word, an Orator is one who labours to excite or appeafe the PafTions, and to obtain his end fe^ks magnificent Words, and fpe- L ? cious 1 JO 7he Life of Plato. clous Figures, and employs falfe Arguments as if they were true •, and the Diale8:iciari applies himfelf to Art, only to prove the Truth •, as the Sophift has recourfe to Art only to put oft' Fallhood. We now comj to the manner in which P/ato han- dles the Subjefts of which he treats^ and Ihall en- deavour to dilcovcT the Beauties and Def e£ls of his Stile. jifttr v^hat Wq is accus'd of ncver propofing his Qjaeftions totauditf' ^"^P^y '^"^ clearly, and of cafting by this means a (i,f slbjfifs gre^t d^^l of obfcurity on his Dialogues. But to of rchich ht ]\.\^%^ whether this Reproach is well or ill foun- trtits. ded 'tis neceflTary to examine what belongs to Me- thod. There are two. forts of Method ^ The firft may be calfd fimple and dry ^ fuch is that of Ge- ometricians who endeavour only to propofe the na- ked Truths, and to draw juft Conclusions from their Propofitions. This Method is very good, and ex- treniely ufeful, when we have to do with Minds that are rational and free from all forts of Preju- dice : But is worth nothing when we deal with Peo- ple prepoileifed or unattentive, impatient or obfti- nate. 'The Second Method which may be call'd com- founded 01 ficr'id. is that of Orators •,' 'tis properly thehrft Method extended and difguiled by all the Ornaments that can render Arguments agreeable, and takes away that rudenefs and drynels from Pre- cepts, which commonly hinder the reception of 'em. If we examine Plato s works with reference to the firft of thefe : 'Tis certain he does not at firft dafh diftinftly propofe the Queftion on which he treats. But inftcad of being reproached he ought to be commended for this : ■ For he purpofJly reje£led this Method to follow the other which is infinite- ly more uleflil, and has more of Art in it. By this means he cures a great many Paflions, and deftroys an infiniteriumberof Prejudices, before they to whom he Ipeaks, knovv what he aims at •, and 'tis by this Couife he convinces them with fo much ' - " • • ■ ' ftrength' The Life of Plato. 151 ilrength of all the Truths he has a mind to teach. But fay fome, to what purpofe lerve thofe great Plato'i Prg. Preambles which he fets at the head of his Dia- '''«^^^^- logues ? Thefe are neceflary to accompany hisDc- iign •, and as Plutarch fays when he ipeaks of the Dialogue which P/^/^ made of the Atlantick lilaiad on Solons. Memoirs ^ Thefe are Superb gates' ahd. magnificent. Courts with which he purpofely emb'eUijh- es his great Edifices v that nothing maf>~ke . kaaming to their Beauty^ and. that all may he equally fplendii. He a£ls like a great Prince who when he builds .'a fine Pallace, adorns the Forch wth Golden Pillats to ufe the words of P/Wizr. Foi* 'tis proper that what is firft leen fhould be fplendid and magnifi- cent ; and Ihould promile all that greatnels .which is to be leen afterwards. : -">]:■■, o. ■ If Plato's Preambles (hould be excus'dfor the fake ^^'^ P: of their great Beauty, and for the genuine and ad- |'jl^^^„^'' mirable defcriptions with which they abound^ yet how can any one excufe the - frequent Bigreflions in which he engages himfelf ? This is .what is faid by thofe who never had the Patience to read P/^//^ • or elfe have read him very carelefsly . 'Tis true there are frequent Digreffions in- his Dialogues •, but thefe Digreffions never carry him entirely from his Sub- jeQ: ; for he always employs them either to eftablifh fome great Truth which he fhall have occafion for in the fequel of his difcourfe •, or to prevent the Readers mind with Authorities and Examples, or in fine to divert, and refrefh him after a painful and ferious refearch ^ and hi this F/ato may be faid to be the Greateft Inchanter that ever was in the World , for when he is giving you the proofs of the moft neceflary and folid Truths •, he takes care at the fame time to lead you into the Iweet Meadows, Groves and Vallies which the Mules frequent. Befides 'tis an inconteftable Maxime tliat tlie Ope- rations of the Mind are not like the Motions of an Arrow. An Arrow does not go well, unlels it fiee ftraight forward z, but thQ Mind makes po lefs pro- L 4 grefs 1 51 The Life of Plato.' gvcfs when it turns afide, oi ilops at aSubje£l, to cci Ltlci it well en eveiy fide, and by the difterent ulatois it has to othei things, than when it goes on diK^l'y to its ci:d. 'Tis ior an Anow to go, with- out luinirg, to the Mark we aim at •, and it al- ways miflcs its ftroke, how little ibever it diverts from ii. Put the Mind ol Man is not oblig'd to pro- ceed lo dire£lly ^ but is often engag'd to conlider luch Objefts as are nearly allied to that it defires to know ^ and to take a turn about them to examine 'em on all fidcs. This Circular Motion is no lefs fireight than that of an Arrow •, and thefe turnings and windings inftead of leading us from the end, conduct us 10 it. This is fotme that when we have been thinking P/dio was wandering from his defign by frequent Digreffions •, we are Itrangely furprized to fee, that that which feem'd to carry him from it does indeed after a woi^derful manner lead him to it ^ and that the Truths he-Ms explain'd in different places being laid together, form and compleat his Demonllrations, which would have been neither cer- tain nor right, if he had approached 'em by a direct ■^Line. Ke muft never have read P/c/to^ who accufes him of being ignorant of the Method of Geometricians. He knew it perfectly well, and defignedly forbears the ^VniAhbot ^i^e of it. A Learned Man, who is very well ac- F'eurv i» quainted With PA//^, has obferv'd before me, that no hk TuMjeyi-^xi can -more accurately propofe the State of a ''•^'^•^'^'"" Quelfion, more exacHy divide a Subje8:, and exa- mine Definitions more nicely than he. He never for- gets any of the things on which he has propos'd to treat ^ He alv/ays returns to his Subjeft, the fight of which he has never lolt, what Digreihon fo.,ver he makes. He often marks out the lieginning and end ot each parr, and of every Digreflion by Propofiti- ons and Conciufions ^ he ott:en ules ]<.ecapitulations ; and when he keeps his proof at a diltance, he always takes ca'e to male vou Tcmcmler the State of the CLueifion : So that his Dilcourfe has at once the li- berty The Life of Plato^ 1 5 j berty of Converfation, and the accuracy of the moft Methodical Treatife. An Ancient Philofopher has giv- Alcin. en this Commendation to P/ato •, that of all the Phi- ^'^* ^^* lofophers he is the moji excellent and admirable far dividing and defining : which qualities denote him to be a very expert Logician. As for his Stile 'tis fublime without being Impe- tuous and Rapid. 'Tis a great River the depth o^^^^}^"^ which makes it fmooth. The principal Caufe of that ' Elevation which reigns in it, is that he imitates Ho- mer^ more than any other Writers ^ and has drawn from his Poefy as from a living Spring that which has furnifh'd an infinite Number of Rivulets which he has made to run from it : Nay he is homer's Ri- val ; and indeed feems to have heap'd up ^q> many magnificent things in his Treacifes of Philofophy, and to have fallen fo often upon Poetical Matters, and Expreflions, only to difpute the Prize with this great Poet with all his might, like a rew Wreliler who enters the Lilts againft one that has already receiv'd all the Acclamations, and ,is the Admiration of all Mankind. This is the Judgment which Longini/s makes of him •, but fince he goes not^deep enough in- to the true Chara£fer of Platn.^ and underftood but a part' of it ^ That it may be better known, I hope 1 fhall be permitted to explain it a little more through- , ^ . ^ ly, by adhering to what our Ancient Mafters have.,^,.^YJ;!|^\J faid of it. .. ..iiii 2it\iiH.-.y .ts-3B<5 There are fo many different manners of compofing, Dion} fius that indeed tliey are innumerable. For one may fay, Halicarn.^ •the. Countenances of Men are not more difterent than J^/^^r ^o"! their ways of Writing. 'Tis with this Art as ^x\s pjitlon, with that of Painting, the Profelfors of which make very different Mixtures with the fame Colours, and Paint the lame Subjecfs after a very different Man- "ner. But though thole differences are fo very nu- merous, when they are examined nicely and by de- tail , yet thev may be reduc'd to three principal ones ^ which go under borrowed Names, for want of pro- per ones. The f irft is ault^re or rude Compofition. The I 54 7 he Life of Plato^ The Second is florid, or fmooth. And the Thitd intermediate, which is compos'd of the other Two. Aultere or rough Compofition refembles thofc An- Aufltre or cient Buildings, the Stones of which are neither po- rudecompo' Ufh'd, nor artiticially plac'd •, but yet are Will fix'd •, D?on\f. '^^^ ^^'^^'^ ^^^^ Solidity than Beauty , it has more ;4^.2 2,'&c.<^fN^t^ure than Art in it •, anddepeads more on the PafTion tlian Manners and Civility : It has nothing florid, 'tis great and rigid, if I may be permitted to ufe fuch a Term •, 'tis without Ornament ^ and all the Graces of it favour much of Antiquity. This is thetrue Chara8:erof/'/W^r, EfchylmdiiA Thucy- d/des. ...■■. ^ The Second, which is fmooth and florid, is almoft Smooth or entirely oppofite to the other. It feeks the Iweeteft florid com^ 2iXi6. fmootheft Words •, and avoids fuch as are harOi r/' a«J 2?*. '^^^ rough with all imaginable care. This favours 'more of Art than Nature, and depends more on po- lite Manners than on the Pafiion. This is the Cha- TddiQX of HeJiod^Sapho^ Anacreon^ Simo/iides^^nd Eu- ripides among the Poets, and of JJocrates among the Orators. F or of all that have written in Profe none e- ver fucceeded better than this Lafl:. The Third is made up of both together 'tis com- Mix'd Com- pounded of what is befl: in the two former ^ and there- fofition fore excels them both ^ for the perfection of Arts- "hfliolmr ^^w^ys confifts in a Medium, as well as that of oa/ 27 " ' Manners and A£lions, and the whole Courfe of ^^^ ^ Life. The Writers of this kind differ more among them* felves than thofe that have foUow'd the two former methods, becaufe of the different mixture they have made of thofe two Chara£l:ers ^ for fome have fal- len more on the rough way, and others more on the florid, Horner^ Sophocles.^HeroiotusfiemoPhenes^TIato and Arifhtle wrote in this lafl kind •, but without contra- di£i:ion Hower is the molt to be admired. There is no part of his Poems but is wonderfully diverfified by thef^ 2 forts ot Compofition. They who have follow'd Jiim 7he Life of PlatoJ i j y him are more or lefs excellent ^ according as they more or lefs approach this great Model. And as P/ato comes nearer to him than others, 'tis this that gives him his greateft Beauty, The Foundation ofthefe Three ways, as well as of all others is Firft the choice of Words ♦, Second- The pouh^. ly the regular placing of 'em, from which there ''^^''"^ of refultsa'difterent Harmony, aud in fine the ufe of Fi-^^^-^^^^'^-'''^' gures, and all the other Ornaments otDilcourfe. The choice of Words is firft in Order, but the regular Difpofition of 'em is firft in Beauty. This The choice is lb true, that the beftchofen and nobleft Words if of Words thrown at a venture, without Method and Art, will ^"jj pjf quite -fpoil the Elegancy of the Thought 5 whereas dngc^'m, the worft chofen and moft vulgar Words will make an indifferent Thought pafs, when Art has taken eare to put them in good Order; To be throughly convinc'd of this Truth, a Man need only pick out fome of the fineft PaiTages to be found in the Ora- tors and Poets, and alter tlie Order and Harmony of 'em without making any Alteration in the Words : and he'll deftroy the Beauty and Force of 'em^ for by this means the Figures; Colours, Paffions and polite Manners that appear in 'em will be loft. Hence it is that the Beauties which ihine in the Writings of thefe great Men can't be difcern'd but by thofe that know, all thefe differences. Idionyfim tialicarnaffeus with a great deal of reafon compares the difpofiti- DionyC <5ii of Words to Homers M'merva ^ for as this God- Haiicarn. defs by touching Vlyfjes with her Ring made him ap- -^'^^ ^^: pear one while little, deform'd, and like a Beggar tniuTret deprefs'd with Mifery and Age-, and another while ve- ?/> of com- ry great and marvellouHy beautiful ^ fo the different Pf'tion, placing of the fame Words make the Thoughts P* 4* '^'^^ 5* appear one while poor and low, and another while ^, ,. rich and fublime. ^f;"',^/ Plato may be call'd Divine for this part, and if he the difpofiti. were as happy in the choice of Words, as in the on of nor ds^ Difpofition of 'em he would equal Homer^ and ex- '«''W^''^/>- ceed all other Writers ;, but he lometimes fails in his tlJ!'/J! ' ' ■ ' ■ choice. ij^ The Life of ?hto, choice, when he quits his ordinary Stile, to fall upon extraordinary and fublime Expreflions. While he keeps in a limple and natural way,nothing has more gracefulnels, purity and linoothnefs than his Di^li- on, 'Tis like the Chrylial Stream of a clear tviver. He then ufes the molt common Terms, he only ftudies Accuracy and Perfpicuity, and contemns all foreign Ornaments •, he only preferA^es a little Air of Antiquity, which is almolt inlenfible, and ferves to fet off his Elegancy, and by Numbers varied with xvonderful Art ^ he every where fpreads a char- ming Harmony. But when he would exceed himfelf, and affefts to be great, the quite contrary lomjtin;es befalls him ^ tor befides that his Dlfticu is leis a- greeable, lels pure, and more embanaisd ; r.e talls- into Circumlocutions, which being Icattcr d up and down without clioice and without m';:afuie. have no Elegancy or Beauty •, and only make a vain fhow of a luxuriant richnefs of Language : Liftead pf words that are proper, and of common uie, he feeks only tor fuch as are novel, foreign and an- tique-, and inltead of employing only iuch figures as are wife and grave, and eafily undcrftood ^ he is excefiive in his Epitliets, hard in his Metapliors, and extravagant in his Allegories. When I fay this I don't pretend that this always happens to him •, one muff be either blind or ftupid, not to be touch' d with an infinite number of Pallages, in which he is as great and fublime as poflfible, and his Stile rifes up to the Characler of Wonderful. But I fpeak this to Ihew that when he falls, 'tis only in that kind of Stile, in which 'tis inipoflible for a Man always to fup- port himfelf equally. For the great and magnificent way is (lippjiy and dangerous ^ and he that will atr tain it mull expofe himfelf to Falls. And indeed none but a great Genius is capable of this noble Effort •, and the falls Men have iiad fignify that they were lei by a kind of Divine Ardour, which they could not govjrn. Thjrefore the fublime Merhod thuugh ic h.is very liccle Foundatio.i al- ways " 7he Life of Platoi^ i j7 ways carries the Prize from the middle way, though {t be never fo happy and perte£l. It mult moreover be laid to thepraife of PA//^, that the places wherein he may be faid to fall arc ^ very f^w in comparifon of thofe in which he has fucceeded to a wonder •, and if we take notice of 'em, 'tis not fo much to cenfure them, as to aji- mire that a Man rais'd lo high above the ordina- ry pitch of humane Nature ^ fhould not be able to preierve himielf from Faults in thofe placed where he might fo eafily have avoided them •, and where he leems to have known 'em. For he fome- times conf eiles that what he iays is not fo much like a wile and orderly Difcourfe, as a Dithyram- bick Poem ; and that he fpeaks like a Man^poffefs'd. This extravagant Enrhufialhi is vicious •, efpecially in Matters ot Philofophy •, and he ought to have corr jfted it,feeing he difcern'd it ^ and was fo careful and jealous of his Stile, that at fburfcore Years of Age, he did not ceafe to give new touches once and again to his Dialogues, and took fo much pains with 'em, that after his Death, the beginning of his Books ofaKf/z/^/zV/^ was found on his Writing-Ta- bles, alter'd twenty feveral ways. But it may be faid this Fault pleas'd him, or that, be- caufe he fear'd the Simplicity of Socrates would not be always relifh'd, he had a mind to raife it by the Sublimity of Thucydidcs and Gorgia-f^ however in imitating their Vertues, he did not take fufficient pre- caution againft their Vices. This is the Judgment which Dionyfius lialicarnaijeus makes of him in his Treatife of the Ancient Orators •, and he fupports it in the Anfwer which he makes to the great P^;;/- py who took Ylatds part. In this Anfwer he proves to him the Truth of this Cenfure, and makes ic appear, that he is of the fame mind himfelf •, and farther fhows, that the Ancients, as Demetrim Fba- lereifs^ and fome others, had paffed the fame Judg- ment before him. iLonginm^ who is fo fine, fo fure, and fo exa8: a Critick ',j8 The Life of ?hto: Critick was of the fame Opinion fome Ages before Viony^fius HdlicarniiD'eus. He acknowledges as well as this Latter that Flato writes after a divine manner in abundance of places, and at the farrie tim^, proves, like him too, by palpable Inllances, that he is Ibme- times too figurative in his expreHTions •, and that by a certain iiiry of difcourfe he fufters hiriilelf to be traniported to harfh and extravagant Metaphors, and to a vain allegorical Pomp, which can't choofe hut h equently languiih. This is a deleft which he might have avoided, as 'Deynetnus lays, if he had ufed proper Terms more frequently than Meta- phors. But to finlfh this Charafter in few words, by re- fuming wliat has bs-n already faid. In General there is nothing more harmonious and touching than Tlatos Diftion ^ he joins the force of the greateft Orators, wich the Graces of the greateft Po^ts ^ he is very fruitful and luxuriant : he 16 perfeclly defcribes Manners and Palfions, and forms CharaC; ters fo well, that all the Perlons he brings in every- where appear what they feem'd to be at firft view. There is nothing more perfeft when he keeps him- felf within the Bounds of ordinary Language •, but he fometimes falls when he ftrives to fbar very high, tho his Falls are not common, and yet the places wherein he lliows himfelf pompous and magnihci- ent are very frequent ^ fo that even in this kind of writing there are a thoufand things to be admir'd in his Books where there is one to condemned. Having fpoken of Flato's Stile, we come to fpeak a word or two of his Commentators, and Inter- preters. , We have but two Latin Tranflations of this Phi' lofopher's AVorks, that of Marjilim iuinus^ and that of John de Serres^ who corapos'd the Hiltory of YrA/ice under the Title of an Inventory (or Re- gifter.) Neither of 'em will ever make PA//^ to be welt underftood. However the former leems to me the beft for the literal Senic,and 'tis certain, that it has fewef The Life 0/ P 1 ato.^ 159 faults. Marfilius Fic'wus was a Learned and Labo- rious Man-, but being too fpeculative and abrtra6:ed, he lofes all the advantage of his Tranilation by his Explication, in which he ftrains Allegories and My f^ teries to an exorbitant degree. It would have been a great unealinefs to him to underlland any thing lim- ply, the Flato often fpeaks with great Simplicity 5 and by this means he endeavours to julliiy a great many Errors into which Plato fell ^ tor he every where finds a fenfe, not only commodious and ex- cufable, but orthodox •, he alwa'ys looks on him with a profound refpe8: as a Man infpir'd of God •, and is perfwaded there is no Myltery in the Chriftian Religion, but he knew it : I don't fay in the Wri- tings of the Prophets only, but in thole of the Evan- gelifts and Apoftles. John dc Serres was a Man of lefs Ability than Marfilius I'idnus^ nor did he undeiftand Greek near fo well as he, fo that his Tranfia aon abounds with Faults, and eifential Faults coo, wiiich corrupt Sa tU Ab- the Senfe : but he is yet rrjore to blame for entire- ^^^jy^J/ ly changing the order of the Dialogues, and diipo- st'nd'esy fing 'em into different Clafles ^ not according to UiC pag.297i SubjeQ:s, but the Titles of 'em, which are com- monly falfe i which makes the Reader, when he feeks for that in the Dialogue which is promifed in the Title, and does not find it, accufe Plato of be- ing very defe8:ive in his Proofs, and of wandering from his Subjeft •, fo that he has not the Patience to hear him. The only thing in his Work, that feems to me worthy of any great Commendation, is his fmall Marginal Notes -^ in which lie gives a naked difcovery of Plato's Method ^ for tho Plato was willing to conceal it, to render his Dialogues the more diverting •, it was fit fome Perfon (hould give himfelf the trouble of unfolding this Art tlio- roughly, which the Readers would not always un- • ravel of themfelves : This is a very great help, and indeed is very ufeful to make the Beauties of the Method Plata followed appear to good advantage. In i6o The Life of Plato^ In fine, if Marfilius fk'inus errs in running every where too far into Myfteries •, John de Serres runs into the contrarv^ Fault, in taking things too fimply : for 'tis by this means he charges a great many very innocent things, and which may receive a good fcnle to Phto's Account, as io many Crimes. The Com- PAz/'c' explains his Thoughts fo clearly himfelf • >r.nt jt or s of zhaz 3. Man n^^eds nothing but Attention, not to PJaco. lofe the train of his Rcalbning. The Obfcurities we find in 'em refult either from the Cuftomsof his Time, or the Opinions of the Ancient Philofophers •, into which Commentators give very little Light. The knowledg of 'em ought to be fought in the reading of Ancient Authors, which are more ufeful to make a Man underft and P/jto^ than all that have labour d to explain his Doctrine. Thefe Commenta- tors however are not to be flighted, but defence to be read tor their outi fake, without any regard to F/jto's Philofophy. At lealt there are five of 'em, of which I may make this Account : Mjximits Tyrius under the Emperour JUrcis Aurelius^ in the fecond Centur)'- : Plotinns in the third. Porphyrins the Scho- lar of Vlotimis^ and limblichus the Scholar of Por- fhyrius in the fourth , and Proclus in the fixth. The laft was a very great Pnilofopher, and fo skillful in the Mechinicks, that he equaled, and e- ven furpaffed Archuneies himlelf in divers things : But his Vanity was yet more remarkable than his In- genuity •, when to encourage the Emperour Anafta- Jius^ to whom it had been predicled, that he Ihould be kiird with a Clap of Thunder, he built a Tower for him that was to be Proof againft the Artillery of Heaven : for this Tower prov d ufelefs •, and the Emperour was kilfd with Thunder which he was fo defirous to efcape. We have moreover fix Books • of this TrocLts on PLito's Theology, and Theolo- gical Inftltutions. His Words are very difficult to be underitood, becaufe he is very abilracted. But whea a Man can penetrate 'em, he'll find 'em very profound, and fiili of admirable things. As when he The Life of Plato. 1 6 he explains what P/jto fays, that that which unites us to God is Love, Truth, and Faith ^ and fhows Faith to be the only caufe of Initiation. For (lays he) this ImtiJtion is made neither by knovilelg nor difcerning^ but by a Medium u-hich is fingle^ and j] rouge r than all Knowledges^ that is, by the fi- lence which taith infpires in raifing up our Souls to God^ and plunging them into that Sea^ zchich can ne- ver be comprehended. But he mult be read with a great deal of Judgment and precaution ^ for thefe things that are fo admirable are mix'd with a great many Errors, into which he was thrown by that ha- tred with which he *vas always animated againft the Chriftians. Id7?ihlichus is confiderable in that he perfeclly well explaifiS the Opinions of the Egyptians, and Chaldeans about divii:e things. Befides in exr^ain- ing thele Tvlyfteries he often gives great Difcove- ries that may be ufrtully employed to elucidate abun- dance of Difficulties in the holy Scriptures •,and is full bf Maxims that may be of great ufe. The greareft fault of hmhlichus is, that in treating of thefe very fublim:e Siibje£ls he often ihows himfelf credulous and fuperftiricus. Fcrphyrius was of Tyre^ he v/as calfd Malcho. And therefore Lcnginus, in his Letters, calls hirti the King oj Tyre^ becaule Malcho.^ m the Phenician Language, iignities a King, for the lame reafon be is nam'd Porphyrius^ which fignifies one c/citlyd tvith purple ^ that is to fay, a Kmg. The Ancients have preler\ed to us many things which he wiore bn the Philcfophy of Plato and PythagcrcU : but he was a Nlan of a wicked MLnd. snd very fat^ri- cal -, and was moreover fo inclin'd to Maglck, that this faciilegious Curiofit}' of his obfcur'd the great- tcit Dilcoveries of Truth wh'ch he had received rrom Pi^ia. 'ms Treatlfe or Abltineiice is the belt, and molt ulerul thing he compos d. Plctinm in my Opmion excels all the reft. Not but that he is often ver\^ abftracled and hard to be M under i6i The Life of ?\2ito. underllood ^ but in general he is more intelligi- ble than Vrodus ^ and for Morality much /\.' .an- tage may be reaped from his Writings. And 'tis happy that his finell Treatifes are the moft plain and intelligible. Longinus fays of him, that he has more clearly explain'd the Principles of Vhnv and Vythasi^crn-i than any Philosopher uetore him. i :e lays his Writings are worthy of the Efteem, and Ve- neration ot all Men \ and adds, thic though the greatcltpartofthe Matters on vviiich he trtacs feem to him incomprehenfible ^ a^j do I'ot afFeft him ^ he can never be weary in admiring liis Stile, the Solidity of his Thoughts and Conceptions, the depth of his relearches, and the truly Philofophical man- ner in which he handles his liibje£ls. W^hen Longini/s fays, he is not always afFe£led Tvith the Subje£ls which Ylotinus handles, he prin- cipally relpe£ls what he wrote on Ideas. For Lon- gmus had labour'd to refute Fori^hyrias^ who was brought over to the Sentiment of Flot'mus after ha- ving written againlt him ^ That is Longin.:: could ■' not conceive the Do£lrine of Ideas, and v.as oi Art- fiotles fentiment, who took what Diogenes had faid to ridicule this (Pinion, too literally : For Dioge- ;?^-rl:eing one day at Table w4th F/jto ^ and being fallen in Converfation upon immd ^crial and eterijal Exemplars, fays lie lo F':r^^. Ifce very tijell there is a Goh/et and a Tah/e^ hut I fee neither Gobleity nor Tiihleity. To which PA//i?anfwer'd, 'T/j-^^^r^/;/^ thou haf} bodily Eyes Kh'ich can fee a Gob let and a Tcib/e^ but not thfe of the Mind^ which alone fee Gobleity and Tableity. Never did any Difcipk do more honour to his Mafter than Plotinr/^ Jid to ?lato both by his Man- ners and Do6trine. It was he that firft laid, God was wonSd merely by bis Mercy to give our Souls only Mcrtal Chains, By which he fignifies that it was an Eifeft of his Compal'fons that he gave us Bodies fubjeft to Death j that lo we might not always be expos'd to the Mi- leries of this file, He The Life 0 Plato.; 16} He was convinc'd that our Souls draw all their Light and Sagacity only from that intelligible Light which created 'em ; that the Soul has no Nature iiiperior to it but that of God alone -, and that the Angels and other Celeftial Spirits derive their Hap- pinels and Knowledg from no other Source than that which enlightens us, and renders us happy. His Manners were yet more admirable than his Doc- trine. He all his Life delpis'd Vain-Glory, Riches and Pleafures ^ and his Probity was fo generally known 5 that the moft confiderable perfons of both Sexes, when they dyed, entrufted him with their E- ftates and Children •, as not being able to find a more feithful Depofitary, or more facred Afylum. Max'mus Tyr'im wrote on Horner''^ Do£lrine, and on the Matters of Philofophy ; almoft all the Dil^ courfes which we have of his do either dire£f ly or indire£lly refpe£l Platd% Philofophy. the Rea- / ding of 'em is very agreable and very ufefiil : But they fupply us with no more Aid for the underftand- ing of the Difficulties oi ?lato^ than allthereli Arid in this refpe£t one may fay the ufelefsnefs of thefe Commentaries proves the truth of one o^ Plato's Sentements, who held, that it fer\^es to very little purpofe to write on thofe fublime Sciences, and that the true manner of teaching 'em is by Converfation, which is the only way to perfwade a Man after fuch a manner, that he Ihall not have the leaft difficul- ty remain upon his Mind, and that he Ihall be ca- pable of convincing another of the fame thing : For we never well underftand a Truth ^ if we are not in a condition on all Occafions to make it known to fuch as have all neceflary Difpolitions to receive it. And this was likewife the reafon that Flato was more known, and better underftood at Rojne in Ci- cero\ time than hs is now. Becaufe he was read in the Company of Philofophers, and nothing fhor- tens Difficulties fo much as Living Commenta- ries. Unhappily for us thefe living Commentaries are now very rare, or to fpeak more plainly are M 2 not , 7 164 Ti^ i^/^ <^f Plato. rot 'to leTound. For of all our Philofophers there is not one who has clolely applied himielf to the reading of PA//^, a Negligence not to be excus'd. If the reading of Ffdto fhould not render us more , Learned, 'tis certain however that it might make us better, lefs proud, and more wife, not only with that Humane Wildom which qualifies us externally . to fill up all the Duties of our civil Life •, but alfo with that foveraign VVifdom which difpoles us to ol ey God, and to lubje8: our feh'es to the Truths of Religion, and which alone makes up the true Cha- rafter ot a Philolopher. Being therefore deftitute of all help from living Commentaries, fortheunderltandingofP/^/^^ lap- ply my lelf to Plato himleli, and fhall endeavour to give a faithful TranDation accompanied with fome Kemarks, in tliofe places which are molt diffioultand of greateft Importance. It may be the Facility of read- ing him in this drefswill attraft lome Readers. But however the fuccefs be, I fhall never repent of hav- ing employ'd my time in tranflating lome Trea- tiles of a truly divine Fhilofopher fince he had the glorious priviledg of being in the hand of God an Inftrument of Light and Grace for the Converfionof St. Aiigufiin -J and perhaps may be fo to fome of us. The i6$ The Argument o F T H E Firft ALCIBIADES. IN this Dialogue zohich is I/itituled OF HU- MANE NATURE, Y\^to attempts to cure our Pride and. Self-love, by fetting the Infirmi- ties and Defers of Hujnane Nature in the clear efi Light • and by prefcribing the means which ought to be us'd to reform //, with the care we ought to take of our /elves. The matter in queftion therefore is to know what We our Selves are ^ and above all that part of the Dialogue which treats of this appears to be Divine, for here Yhxoteaches, thatM- Alcib. I agree to it •, I (hall at leaft have the fatisfa8:ion of hearing what you have to fay to me. Socrat. I beiievelam not miftaken, you are pre- paring to go in a few days to the Aflembly of the Athenians to make them participate of the Know- ledge and Skill you have acquired. And if I fhould meet you at that inftant and ask you, Alcibuides^ what are the Matters about which you are going to advife the Athenians ? Are they not fuch things as you know better than they ? What would you an- fwer me > Alcib, Without doubt I fhould anfwer, 'tis about fuch things as I know better than they. Socrat. For you would not know how" to give good Counfel but in Matters that you know > Alcib. How Ihould any one give it in other things > Socrat. And is it not certain, that you know no- thing but what you have either learn'd of others, or what you have found out your felf ? Alcib. What can one know otherwife } Socrat. But have you learnt any thing of others, or found out any thing your felf ; when you have neither been willing to learn nor fearch into any thing > Alcib. Thar cannot be. Socrat. Have you ever thought it wprth your while to endeavour to find out, or learn, what you believ'd you already underftood ? Alcib. No certainly. Socrat. There was a time then, in which you thought your felf ignorantpf what you now know ? Alcib. That is very true. Socrat. But I pretty well know what are the things you have learn'd. If I forget any one of 'em mention it to mz. You have learnt, (if my Memo- ry don't deceive me) to read and write, to play on ' the of the Nature of Man. i ^j the Harp -, and to wreftle : ^ but as for the Flute you did not value it. This is all you underftand, unlels you have learn'd fome other thing that I never knew of. And yet 1 1 don't think you have gone abroad either Day or Night, but I have been a Wit- nefs to the Steps you have taken. Ahib. 'Tis very true, thefe are the only things I have leatn'd. Socrat. Will you then when the Athenians enter into a Deliberation about Writing, to know how that Art ought to be praQis'd, rife up to give 'em your advice ? Alcib. Nofurely. Socrat. Shall it be when they confult about the Different Tunes in Mufick ? Alcib. A fine Confultation indeed ! Socrat. Nor are the Athenians us'd to deliberate on the various Turns us'd in Wreftling ; Alcib. No certainly. Socrat. What is it then you exped they will con- fider, wherein you may give 'em advice ? It muft not be about the manner of building a Houfe neither ^ the meaneft Brick -layer would be able to advife 'em how to do that better than you. Alcib. He would fo. Socrat. Nor muft it be about any point of Divina- tion, you are not fo well acquainted with that Bu- finefs as every Diviner is, let him be fmall or great, handfome or ugly, of high or low Birth. Alcib. What does all that fignify ? Socrat. Nor is it any matter whether he be rich or poor, for good Counfel proceeds from knowledge- and not from Riches. Alcib, * He look'd upon it as an ignoble Inftrumenc, and unworthy of the Application of a Free-man. But the principal Caufe of this Averfion was, becaufe it fpoil'd the graceful Air of his Coun- tenance. t Alcibiades was Night and Day bcfieg'd by a corrupt fort of Men, who made it their conftmt endeavour tofeducehim. But Socrates^ like a good Father, kept him always in his fight, tofe- cure him from all thofe dangers, well knowing that none but him- fclf was capable of preferving liim from fo grearferils. 174 Tfce Rr/? Alcibiades 5 or^ jilcib. That's eafily granted. Socrdt. And if the Athenians fhould take into con- fideration the ways and means of recovering their Health ^ do you think they would not fend for a Phylician to confult him without giving themfelvesa- ny farther trouble > Alcib. No doubt of it. Socrdt. When is it then, d'ye think, that you'll rife up with any Colour of Reafon to give 'em good Advice '> Alcib. When they deliberate on their Affairs. Socrdt. What, when they confult about the buil- ding of Ships i to know what fort jof Veffels they fhould make ? Alcib. No, not that neither. Socrat. For you never learnt to build Ships •, That's the realon I fuppofe you will not fpeak of that Mat- ter ^ is it not ? Alcib. To be fure, I'll fay nothing on that Subje£l. Socrat. When is it then that their Affairs will be fo deliberated, that you'll put in with a Speech > Alcib. When they have before 'em the bufinefs of Peace and War, or any other tiling belonging to Go- verm ent. Socrat. You mean, when they confider with what Nations 'tis proper for 'em to make War or Peace; and when and how it ought to be made ? jilcib. You hit it. Socrat. Peace or War ought to be made with thofc Nations with whom 'tis beft to make either the one or the other ^ and when the beft Occafion offers, and alfo after the beft Manner ^ and as long as it continues to be beft, jikib. True. Socrat. If the Athenians fliould confult with what Wreftlers 'tis beft to take the Lock, and what others 'tis beft to deal with ''^ at Armes-end without clo- * Tis a kind "of Wreflliug fJippocratts fpeaks of in his i ith Book of Dicr, Chap. XI. To wielHt only with tht Arms, without tailing hUoj the body, mkf' ont Uan, and draws tht Fle(h upWArd. fing Of the Nature of Man. 175 iing in to 'em, and when and how thefe different Exercifes ought to be perform'd, fhould you give better advice in thefe Matters than the Matter of the Wreftling-ground ? Alcib. No Queftion but he would give the beft Counfel in this cafe. Socrat. Can you tell me what this Wreftling-Maf ter would principally regard in giving his Inftruftions, with whom, when and how thefe different Exer- cifes ought to be perfonn'd ? Would he not have relpeO: only to what is beft ? jilcib. Without doubt he would. Socrat. Then he would order 'em to be perform'd as often as it fhould be beft lb to do , and on fuch Occafions as (hould be moft proper. Alcib. Very true. Socrat. He that Sings ought Ibmetimes to joine his Voice with the Harp ^ and fometimes to dance as he Plays and Sings, and in all this hefhould^conduft him- lelf by what is beft. Alcib. That is moft certain. Socrat. Seeing then there is a Beft in finging, and in playing on Inftruments as well as in Wreftling,how will you call this Beft > For as for that of Wreft- ling, all the World calls it the moft GymnaflicL Alcib. I don't underftand you. Socrat. Endeavour to follow me ^ for my part I fhould anfwer that this Beft, is that which is always the Beft, and is not that which is always the beft, that which is moft according to the Rules of the Art itfelf> Alcib. You have reafon. Socrat. What is this Art or Wreftling ? is it not the Gymnaftick Art ? Alcib. Yes. Socrat, What I have been faying, is that that which is beft in the Art of Wreftling, is call'd the moft Gym- nafiick. jilcib. This is what you have already faid. Socrat. And this is Right. Alcib. 1^6 The Fir ft hlcibhdcs ; or, Alcib. Very Right. Soct'dt. Come then, do you alfo endeavour to give me a right anfwer. 1 low do you call that Art, which teaches to Sing, to play on the Harp, and to dance well ? Can't you tell mc that ? Ali'ib. No indeed Socrdtcs. Socrat. Try if you can't hit on 't in this way. How do you call tiie Goddeifes^that prefide over this Art > Alcib. You mean the Mules. Socrat. V' ery well. Let us lee then what name this Art has derived from them. Alcib. O, 'tis Mufick you fpeak of. Socrdt. Very right •, and as I told you that which was pertorm'd according to the Rules of the Art of Wreitling or of the Gpiinafiiim is calf d Gym/idftick : tell me alio how you call that which is according to the Rules of this other Art. Alcib. I call it Mujical^ and fay fuch a thing is done Muficalty. . Socrdt. \'ery good. And in the Art of making War and in that of making Peace,what is that which is bell, and how do yoi cjil it '> Seing as to thofe two other Arts you fay iia: which isbeft in the one is that which is mr.fl: Gy:r.naflick, and that which is belt in the o" her :s thit which is moft Mufical ^ try now in lik iTi inner to teil me the name of that which is beft in the Arts we are now upon. Akib. Indeed Socrates^ I can't tell. Socrdt. Bul if any one iliould hear you difcour- ling, and giving Advice about feveral forts of Food, and faying that is better th.m thls,both for the Seafon and Quality of' ^ and iiouklask you, Alcibiddcs^ what is it that vou call l)cicer ? would it not be a (hame, if you could ;,ot anfvvev, that you mean by better, that which is mow v/holeiome. Yet 'tis not your profeffion to 1c a Pnylician. And is it not a yet greater fhame that you know not how to give an anfwer in things you prof els to know, and about which you pieceiid to give Advice, ^s underftanding them better than others ? DoiS not this Cover you with Conf ufion > AUiIk of the Nature of Manl ' 177 ilAri^. I confels it does. .• . Socrat. Apply your Mind to it then -, . and endea- vour to give me an Account what is the defign of that better thing, which, we feek in the Art of nniak- ing Peace or War with thofe with whom we ought to be either in War or Peace. Alcik I know not how to find it out, what Ef- fort foever I make. . Socrat. What don't you know that when we make War we complain of fomething that has been done to us by thofe againft whom we take up Arjms ? And are you ignorant of the Name we give to the thing of which we complain ? ' . 4.lcib. I know on fuch Occafions we fay, they have deceived us, they have infulted us ^ they have taken a^ way our property^ . Socrat.. \Qxy well, when one of thefe things be- falls us, I pray explain to me the different manner in which they may happen. - fc Akik Ybumean^ Socrates thsit they may befal us juftly or unjuftly. Socrat, I do fo. A/cib. And that makes an infinite difference. . ,. Socrat. Againft what People then (hall the Athe- nians declare War by your Advice ? (hall it be a- gainft fuch as follow the Rules of Juftice, or fuch as a6: unjuftly, ? . A/cih. A Pretty Queftion, Socrates •, if any one fhouldrbe capable of thinking it needful to make War with thofe that follow the Rules of Juftice ^ do you think he would dare to own it > Socrat. Becaufe, you'll fay,that is not conforma- ble to th^ Laws. Alc'ib. No, doubtlefsj 'tis neither juft, nor ho- horable. .: Socrat. You'll always then have Juftice in view in all you Counfels ? 4ictb.. That is very neceffary. » Socrat., But. is not that better thing about which Twas Jul! now enquiring of you on the Subj^ of N Peace 178 TT^^ Pf^ft Alcibiades ; or, Peace or War, vie. to know with wiiom, when and how War and Peace Ihould b- made^ * always the moit juit ? A/fib. 1 am of that mind. Socr^it. How comes this to pafs then,' my dear A/- cihiades^ is it that you perceive not that you arfl> ignorant oi' what is juft^ or is it that I perceive not that you have learn'd it, and that you have fecretly attended. iome Mafter who has taught you to dif- tinguilh well between what is molt jult, and what is molt iinjuft > Who is this Matter ;, I pray tell me, that you may put me under his Care, and re- commend me to him ? Alcib. Thefe are your common Ironies,: Socrates. . Socfat. No, I fwear it by that God who prefides over OurFriend{ljip,and whom I would leaft oiiend byPer- ^ury. Ivery feriii>ully entreat you, if you have a "Mafter, tell me wh6 he is ? jikib. And what if I have none, do you think I cauld not otherwife know what is jult and unjuft? . Socrat. You kiiowit if you have found it out your felf. Ak'ib. Do you think I have not found it out > ■ Socr^jt. I am perfwaded you have tburid it if you haw fought for it. - Ak'ik D'ye think I have not fought for it ? ; Socrdt. You b;.'vc fonght for it, it you Have believ- ed ybiir idir ignorant of it* j4!i/!k. Do you then imagine there was not a time: when I was ignorant of it ? Socrat. XoM fpcak better than you think, but can- yon then precilely aihgn me the Time, when you believed you did not kiiow what was jult and un- juft' ? ■ Let us fee, was it the laft year that you fought for the knowledge of this being tliroughly convinced^ of your Ignorance in this Matter ? Or did you then think you knew' it ? Tell the truth, that our Cori-" * li js not fuff.cicnt to know whac is jufi:, we fliould know wharistnoft juft, and this point is very difficult to be found; this is not within the reach of little Politicians. M. U Fevre. verfation Of the Nature of 'Man, jy^ verfation may not appear vain and trifling. Alcib. The laft year I believed I knew it. Socrat. And did you not think the lame, three, four or five years ago ? ji/cib. Yes. Socrat. And before that time you were no more than a Child, were you > jilcib. Very true. Socrat. And at that tihie when you were but a Child, I am very fure you thought you knew it. Alcib. How are you fo fure of that ? Socrat. Becaule duiing your Child-hood, when you were with your Matters and elfewhere •, and ■^when you play'd at Dice, or any other play •, I have very often obferved you did not hefirate to de^ termine what was juft, or unjuft, and to tell - the firft of your Play-fellows that offended you, with a great deal of plainnels and aflurance, that he was bafe and unfair , and did you a great deal t of In- juftice. Is not this True ? . jilcib. What ^fhould I have done then do you think when any Injuftice was done me ? Socrat. If you were ignorant that what was of- fer'd you was unjuft, you might then have ask'd what you fliould have done. Alcib. But I was not at all ignorant of that, for I very well knew the Injuftice that was done me. ,,.. Socrat. By this you fee then, that when you were but a Child you thought you knew what was Juft' and Unjuft. Alcib. I thought I knew it ; and fo I really did.* Socrat. At what time did you find this out ? for it was not when you thought you knew it. Alcib. No. Doubtlefs. ;r'j.; ., Socrat. At what time then do you think you were .* See what Alcibiades did one day as he was playing at Dice, as 'tis reported by F/; ut\':^' Soitieems, Sxr^Trs. S.xTjf. You juit now acknowledged that you had ret learned it oT others neither : and if you have nei- ther ftvurd it out your felf, nor learn'd it of others, how came you to know it > whence had it you ? yl'V;.*. But perhips I raiftook my felf, and did not snfwervou well, -.rhen I told vou I had found it out . mv felf. J 'S.\r_T. K-v ^-^ v-u 1..-7T: irihen > -^.V;^. I :fu:""d i: is ::u:er- did. ^^2^? 5 .Tjr. Ther. we are to begin again, tell me of | v^Mifieri -- d it of the People. Usmdhy S -.'_-/. Now you quote a had Mafter. ' '-. What is not the People capable of teaching jn. S.crsT. So fax from that, that they are not capa- ble of teaching one to iudge right "^^ of a Game at Ta- bles i aixi that is much lefs important and lels diffi- cult, than to underftand Juiblce , don't you think fo as well as I > A!c:b. Yes without doubi SicrjT. And if they know not how to teach you things of little or no confequence, how Ihould they teach you things of this Lmportance and Solidity > jf'rih. 1 am of your mind •, yei the people are ca- pabie of teaching a great many things much more fo- lid, than any thing that bdongs to this Play. S.rj:. What are thofe > ^■ij.:r. Our Language fot Inftance ^ I leain'd that *Th» (kjT r«~as De!thcff oar Dranghs dot Chefs ; bat a aiore HAofo^bkal Garni, fior it caagbc cbrmocioBoftbc Hear ens, the cooffcof Ac Sbo, thacoT cbe Moon, tbe Edipfts, &:. /.<;« fays 13 his PkJru^ k wb iare&Ecd bj ^ EgjpasBi ooly Of the Mature of Man. i & i only of the People ^ I can't name you any one Jingle Matter I had ror it ; i am altogether obliged to the people for it, whom yet you account fo bad a Mafter. Socrat. This Is a very different cafe, ^ Li this the people is a very Excellent Mafter •, and we have always Reafon to apply our felves to "'em on this Account. AJcilf. Why > Socrat. Becaufe they have every thing th^tthe beft Matters ought to have. A/cih. Why, what have they ? Socrat. Ought not they that would teach others any thing, firft to know it well themfelvcs !• A/cik Who doubts it > Socrat. Ought not they who know any thing well to agree about what they know, and never difpute about it i for ii they fhould difpute about it, would you believe 'em to be well Lnttructed in it ? and could they be able to teach it to others > j^/cib, ^By no means. Socrat. Do you fee the people difagree about whjit a Stone and a Stick is '^ Ask all our Citizens that quef- tion, they'll anfwer you alike,, and when they go a- bout to take up a Stone ot a Stick, they'll all run to the fame thing, and fo of the reft. For I under- ftand this is what you mean by knowing the Lan- guage •, aU our Citizens conftantly agiee about this both with one another, and with themfelves. Of all our Greek Cities there is not one that difputes about the Signification and ufe of Words. So that the People are ver/ goo-d to teach us the Tongue ^ and we can't do better than to leara of 'em, but if inttead of dehiing to learn what a Horfe is, we would know what a good Horfe is ^ would the People, do you think, be capable of informing us ? AJcib. No cenainly. Socrat. For one cenain fign that they don't know * This was mae at At'a-^.s eipeci ally , where all :he Citizens fpeak- jng perfeft'y well, and cncrc being go dirfereot ufe ot w^rdi, as now adays among us, the people wa; an Excellenc Ma'ler foe cfae ground ofthe Un^uige. Tncvdote A.itopbiMi (va, ht firi dma yois a Chilli MiStr. N 2 if. \%i 7 he Fir ft Alcibiades • or^ it, and that they know not how to teach it, is that they can't agree about it among themlelves. In like manner if we defire to know, not what a Man is, but what a found or unfound Man is •, would the People be in a Condition to teach us this > Alcib. Still lefs than the other. Socrat. And when you fliould fee 'em agree fo lit- tle among themfelves •, would you not judge ""em to be very bad Inftruclors ? Alcib. Without any difficulty. Socrat. And do you think the People agree better with themfelves or others about what isjuft andunjoft? Alcib. No indeed Socrates. Socrat. You believe then they agree leaft of all about that <" Alcib. I Jam thoroughly convinc'd of it. Socrat. Have you ever feen or read that to main- tain that a thing is found or unfound, Men have ta- ken up Arms againft each other, and knock'cione ano- ther o'th' head ^ Alcib. What a folly muft that be ! Socrat. Well, if you have not feen it, at leaft you have read that this has happen'd to maintain that a thing isjuft orUnjuft. For you have read Homer'^s Odyfsee and lliade. Alcib. Yes Certainly. I*).- caki) of Socrat. Is not the difference Men have always &.e Trojan u^id about jultice and Injuftice, the foundation of ^f;,^7'^thofe Poem's.^ Was it not this difference that Wars is fg- caufed fo many Battles and Slaughters between the norance and Gtccks and Ttojans ? was it not this that made dnjufiice. ZUyfses undergo fo many Dangers and fo much Toil, and that ruin'd Tenelope^s Lovers ^ Alcib. You fay right. Socrat. Was it not this fame difference that de- . ftroy'd fo many Athenians, Lacedemonians, and Beo- tians at the famous t Battel of Tanagra^ and after * This great Battle was fought the laft year of the LXXX Olyntr piadt. The Athenian Captain, who gain'd it, was nam'd Afyro- nides. Socrates was then 12 years of Age, or thcrabout. M. Lt Ftvre. ' -" that ^ Of the Nmire of Man. 1 8 j that again at the '^ Battle ofCoro;iea where your Fa- ther was kiil'd i Alcih Who can deny this f", Socr- -i . Shall we then dare to fay the people knows a thiiig well, about which tiiey difpute with lb much Animofity, that they are carried to the moll tatal Exaemities ? Alctb. No certainly. Socrat, Very good ! And yet are not thefetheMaf ters you cite, when at the fame time you acknowledge their Ignorance ? Alcib. I confels it. Socrat. What Probability then is there that you fhould know what is Juft and Unjuft, about which you appear fo uncertain and fluftuating ^ and which you confefs you have neither learn'd of others, nor found out your felf > Alc'ih. According to what you lay there is no Pro- bability of it at all. Socrat. How! according to what I fay ? Youfpeak not right, Alcihiad.es^ fay rather 'tis according to what you fay your felf Alah. How ! is it not you that fay, I know nothing at all of what belongs to Juftice and Injuftice ? Socrat. No, indeed, ^tis not I. Alcih. Who then > Is it I > Socrat, Yes, 'tis your felf. Alcih. Howfo? Socrat. I'll tell you how ^o \ and you will agree with me. If I fhould ask you which is the grea- teft Number, one, or two •, you would immediatly anfwer two ^ and if I fhould again ask you how much greater this Number is than the other •, you would likewife anfwer, that 'tis greater by one. Alcih. Very true. ^ This Battle of Conntti was fought the fecond year of the LXXXIII Olymp. Here the brave Jolmld.es wjs kili'd; after which the Athenians were driven cut of Beotia, Socrates was then 22 years of A',e. This Battle of CorenenYiS o'ten through miftakc, been confounded with that of Chironea. M*UFivre. N 4 Socrat. 1 ?4 ^^^ ^^^p Alcibiacks • or, Socrat. Which of us two would it be then that would fay two is more than one •, would it be I ? ' yikib. No, 'twould be I. Socrat. For it was I that ask'd, and you that an- fwer'd. Is it not the fame thing in the prefent Qiicf tion ? A/cib. That's certain. Socrat If I fliould ask you what Letters compofe Socrates hisNanne,and you fhould tell 'em me one af- ter another, which of us two would tell them > Alcib. I fhould do it without doubt. Socrat. For in aDifcourfe which is fpent in Quef- tions and Anlwers •, he that asks never affirms, but This provii ilways he that anfwers. 'Tis I that have ask'd you, iheVfejui- 2in(\ 'tis you that have anfwer'd, 'tis you therefore M^thT^ that have affirm'd the things you have faid. [ " ' -■ jilcib. This mull be granted. Socrat. 'Tis your felf that have faid that the fine Alcibiades the Son of Climof^ not knowing what is Juft and Unjuft, and yet thinking he knows it very well, is going to the AlTembly of the Athenians to give them his Advice about fuch things as he knows nothing of ^ Is it not fo "*■ ■ Alc'ib. 'Tis even fo. Socrat. One may then apply to you, Alcibiades^ 'Tis in the that faying of Euripides. 'Tjs thy felf that has na- Tragedy of ^^^ 2f^ for it is not i that have fpoken it, but your Hippoly- ^^j£- ^ ^^^ y^y 2j.g ^Q blame to charge it on me. ^f Alcib. You have Reafon. Socrat. Believe me, Alcibiades^ 'tis a wild Enter- prize to have a mind to go teach the Athenians that which you do not know your felf, and about which you have neglefted to inform your felf. Alcib. I fancy, Socrates.^ the Athenians, and all the reft of the Greeks very rarely examine in their Counfel, what is moft Juft or Unjuft •, for they are fatisiied that is very -evident. And therefore with- out amufing themfelves with this vain Enquiry thpy only confider what is moft advantageous and ufeiiil j and Utility and Juftice are very diiferent things i fince there have always been people in- the i^. ;., ■ ^ - , ^ . . World- Of the Nature of Man. 1 8 j World th'at have found themfelves veiy profperous in the Commiffion of great Injuftice ^ and others who have fucceeded very ill, in tlie exercife of Juftice. Socrat. What do you "^ think then that, if what is Uftful and what is Juft are very different, as you fay they are, you know what is ufeful to Men, and why it is fo ? Alcib. ' What (hould hinder me, Socrates ^ Unlefs you would ask me of whom I learn'd this too -, or how I found it out my felf ? Socrat. Is your proceeding juft, A/cibiades^ liip- pofing what you fay is not right, as that may very well be •, and that 'tis very eafy to refute you by the fame Reafons which I have already employ'd ? You would halve new Proofs, and ttelh Demonftrations, and treat the former as old Clothes, which you are not willing to wear any longer. You are ftill for having fomething entirely new ^ but for my part, without following you in your Stragglings and Ef- capes, I (hall ask you, as I have already done, whence you came to know what utility is ^ and who was your Inftru^or : In a word I ask you all I have ask'd you before. 'Tis verycertain youll anfwer me too after the fame manner you have done, and that you'll not be able to fhew me either that you have learn'd of others, to know what is ufeful, or that you have found it out your felf But becaufe you are very nice, and don't love to hear the fame thing twice, I am willing to drop this Queftion wheciier you know what is ufeful to the Athenians or no. But if what is juft and what is ufeful are one and the fame thing ^ or if they are very difterent as you lay, why have you not prov'd it to me ? Prove it me, either by interrogating me as I have dealt with yod •, or in making me a fine Difcourfe which may fet the Matter in a clear Light. * If what is ufeful, and what is juft, wered'fferentthiags,yec if one knew what is Ufeful, one mght alfo know what is Juft: For we know Contraries by their Conjraries. But tliey are not different, and Socratesis going to prove it. Alcihiadsi knows qo Hibre what is ufeful than what is juft, '•'■- — ' - ■ ■ Alcih. i86 Tk F/Vy? Alcibiades,- or, Alcih. But, Socrjtes I know not whether I am ca- pable of fpeaking before you. Socrat. My dear Alcibicidcs^ imagine me to be the AfTembly, fuppofe me to be the People : When you are among them, mult you not endeavour to perfwade every one of 'em? Alab. Yes. Socriit. And when a Man knows a thing well, is it not equal to him to demonftrate to this and that Perfon one afi:er another ^ or to prove it to divers Perfons all at once ^ as one that teaches Reading or Arithmetick can equally inftru£l: one or more Scholars together > Alcib. That's certain. Socrat. And confequently of whatfoever you are capable of perfuaJing many you may very eafily perfuade one fingle Perfon. But of what can a Man perfuade others, is it not of that which he knows himfelf ? yilcib. Without doubt. Socrat. What other difference is there between an Orator that fpeaks to a multitude of People, and a Man that difcourfes with his Friend in familiar Con- verfation, but that the former perfuades a great Num- ber of People at once, and the latter perfuades but one } Alcib. 'Tis likely there may be no other difference. Socrat. Come then ^ Since he who is capable of "pro- ving what he knows to many, is by a much ftrong- er Reafon capable of proving it to one fingle per- fon ^ difplay here all your Eloquence to me, and en- deavour to Ihew me that what is juft is not always ufeful. Alcib. You are very urgent, Socrates. Socrat. I am fo urgent, that I'll prefently prove to you the contrary of that which you refufe to prove to me. Alcib. Do fo. Socrat. Only anfwer me. Alcib. Ha! Nothing but Queftions^ letmeintreat you to Ipeak your felf alone. Socrat, of the Nature of Man, 187 Socrat. What are you not willing to be conyinc'd ? ^icjbig j ji/cib. Yes with all my heart. ' ^^ ^Iffrlidlf Socrat. When you your felf ihall grant, and af- Socrates few firm to me that whati advance is true, wilt you not ^'(ftionf, beconvinc'd> -t\^.^ A/ab. I think I (hall. to he the Socrat, Anfwer me then : And if you your felf heft method don't fay that what is juft is always ufeful, never ^^ 'convince ; believe any Man living that (hall tell you lo. indnjute. Alcib. Agreed, I am ready to anfwer you, for I fhall receive no damage by it. Socrat. You are a Prophet, Alcihiades ^ but tell me j do you think there are fome juft things which are ufeful, and others which are not fo > Mcib. Yes certainly. Socrat. Do you think too that foftie of them are comely and honorable, and others the quite contrary > Alcib. How do you fay ? Socrat. I ask you for inftance, if a Man who does an A6:ion that is fhameful, does an A£fion tliat is juft > Alcib. I am very far from fuch a thought. Socrat. You believe then that whatfoever is juft is comely. Alcib. I am entirely convinced of that, Socrat. But is every thing that is comely and hono- rable good ? or do you think there are fome comely and honorable things that are Good, and others that are Evil ? Alsib. For my part, Socrates I think there are fome honorable things that are Evil. Socrat. And by confequence that there are jR)me (hameful things that are Good > Alcib. Yes. Socrat. See if I underftand you well. It has often happen'd in Battles, tliat one Man in attempting to fuccour his Friend, or Relation, has received a great many Wounds, or has been kilfd •, and another, by abandoning his Relation, or Friend, has iiw'd his Life : Is not this your meaning ? Alcib, 'Tis the very thing I would fay. " ■ • Socrat. xii 7he Fir ft Alcibiades ; brj Socrat, The fuccour a Man gives to his Friend is a comely and honourable thing, in that he endea- vours to fave one whom he is oblig'd to fave ; and is not this what we call Valour. A/cib. Yes. Socrat. And this very Succour is an evil thing, in that it is the caufe of a Man's receiving Wounds, or of being kill'd ? ji/cib. Yes, without doubt. Socrat. "^ But is not Valour one thing, and Death another > u4/cib. Yes certainly. Socrat. This Succour then which a Man gives to his Friend, is not at the fame time an honourable and an evil thing in the fame refpe£t. J/cib. So I think. Socrat. But obferve, if that which renders this Action comely, is not that which alfo renders it good : for you have your felf acknowledged that in refpeft of Valour this A£lion was comely. Let us now examine whether Valour is a Good or an Evil. And I'll fhew you the way to make this Examen a- right. Do you defire for your felf Goods or Evils > Alcib. Goods without doubt. Socrat. And the greateft > Alc'ib. Yes, you may be fure on't. Socrat. And would you not fufFer any one to de- prive you of 'em ? Alcib. Why (hould I fufFer that > Socrat. What do you think of Valour > at what rate do you value it >. is there any good in the World for which you would be depriv'd of it ? Alcib. No, not Life it felf What to be a Coward ? I would a thouland times rather choofe to dye. ♦ Socrates means, that Valour and Death being two very diffc* rent things, 'tis ridiculous to judg of one by the other : But each of *em ought to be examin'd by it felf. The former of thefe is the thing under debate, and not the latter. This iscxtreamly in- genious j and Aki'judis did not expcd fuch a very quick R67 partce. Socrat^ Of the Nature of Man, Socrat. Then Cowardife feems to you the great- eft of all Evils? Alcih. Yes. Socrat. And more to be fear'd than Death it Telf > *lcik Moft certainly. ^-rat. Are not Life and Valour the Contraries to Death :jid Cowardife ? Alaif. Who doubts it > :.ocrai,- You defire the former, and by no means wiih for the latter •, is it not becaufe you find thofe very good, and thefe very evil > Alc'ib, Yes doubtlefs. Socrat. You have your felf acknowledged, that the Succour a Man gives to his Friend in Battle is a comely and honourable Adion ^ if it be confider'd with refpeO: to the good that is in it, which is Valour* Mc'ih. I have acknowledg'd it. Socrat. And that 'tis an evil A£lion, when con- fider'd with refpe£l to the Evil that attends it, that is Wounds and Death. Alc'ih. I confefs it. Socrat. ^ Then it*hence follows, that we ought to call each A£lion according to what it produces ; we ought to call it Good, if Good fprings from it -, and Evil, if Evil arife out of it ? A/cib. So it feems to me. Socrat. Is not an Aftion comely in that it is Good, and (hameful in that it is Evil ? j4lcib. That's beyond Contradi£lion. Socrat. When you fay then that the Succour a Man gives his Friend in a Battle is a comely A£lion, and at the lame time an evil Aftion, 'tis as if you fhould fay, 'tis Evil tho it be Good. u4/cib. Indeed I think what you fay is trufe. Socrat. Then there is nothing comdy and honour- * Tiiis Maxim is falfe in Alcibiadts his fenfe, but very true ioi that of Socracts: for nothing can ever Tpring from a good Adion bnt GQpd, as DQthivg but £ril can fpring from as e?il one. able ipo 7he Firjl Alcibiades • or, able which is Evil fo far as it is comely and honour- able ^ nor is any thing which is fhameful good, fp far as it is fhameful. jilcih. So I think. Happintfs Socrat. Let US feek for another Proof of this h always Truth, ^re not all that do good Anions happy > tht fruit oj Can they be happy, unlels it be by the PofleQion of good Am- Qoo^ > \^ not this Poireilion of Good the fruit of a *"'^' good Life ? And confequcntly is not Happinefs ne- ceflarily for them that do good Anions > Alab, Who can deny it; ? • Socrat. ^ Then Happinefs \i a comely and honora- ble thing. Hence it follows that what is comely and what is good are never two different things, as we juft now agreed, and that whatfoever we take to be 'comely, we (hall alfo take to be good j if we look narrowly into it. Alcih. This is abfolutely neceflary. Socrat. What do you fay then, is that which is good ufeful, or not '* Alcib. Yes, it is ufefiil. Socrat. Do you remember what we faid when we Ipoke of Juftice, and about what we agreed ? , Ale lb. I think we agreed that all Men that do juft A£lions, muft needs do what is comely and honorable.' Socrjt. Then that which is comely is good ? Alcib. Yes. Socrat. Then that which is good is ufeful > Alcib. That's certain. Socrat. And confequently whatfoever 'is juft is ufeful ? Alcib. So it feems. * Socrat. Take good Notice that 'tis your felf who affirm thefe Truths •, for I for my part, only ask Queftions. Alcib. I acknowledge it. Socrat. If any one then thinking he well under- ftood theNature of Juftice ihould go into theAflem- bly of the Athenians, or Parthians if you pleafe, (to lay the Scene more remote) and Ihould tell 'em he - * And confeqiicncly HappiQcfs can't be the fruit of an HI Life and ot ill A^ionf, Of the Nature of Man, ij^i certainly knows that juft AQ:ions are fometimes E- vil \ would not you laugh at him, who have juft now granted and acknowledg'd that Juftice and U- tility are one and the fanae thing } Alcih. I folemnly proteft to you Socrates^ that I know not what I fay, nor where I am^ for thefe things appear to me fometimes one way and fome- times another, according as you interrogate me. Socrat, Don t you know the Caufe of this diforder ? Alcib, No, I know nothing at all of it. Socrat. And if any one fhould ask you if you have three Eyes or four Hands, do you think you fhould anfwer fometimes after one manner and fometimes after another ? or would you not anfwer him always after the lame manner ? Mcib. Tho I begin to be diffident of my felf, yet I think I (hould always anfwer the fame thing. Socrat. And is not this becaufe you know very well you have but two Eyes and two Hands ? Alab. I think fo. Socrat. Since then you anfwer fo differently whe- ther you will or no about the fame thing, 'tis a cer- tain fign that you are ignorant of it. Afcib. So one would tliink. Socrat. You confels then that your thoughts are VLrPzfncertahty certain and fluftuating about what is juft and unjuft •, always hon6rable or dishonorable, good or evil, ufeful or '^^'"^^ f^"^"^ tlie contrary. And is it not evident from hence that ^^"'^^'^''"' this uncertainty Iprings only from your ignorance ? u4/ciB. 'Tis evident. Socrat, Then 'tis a certain Maxim that the Mind is always flu£tuating and uncertain about every thing it does not know > Alcib. It cannot be otherwife. Socrat ^ But do you know how to mount up td Heaven ? ^ After he had fliown Alclbiada^ that Ignorance is the caufe of all the Errors of Mankind ;'he goes about to prove to him, that Men ought not to be accus'd of Ignorance Ui general, for if one kind of it is Evil, there is another kind Good, and this he main- tains very folidly. Alc'ib, 1^1 Tie Fir/? Alcibiades • or, ' Alcih. No, Iproteft. Socrat. Are you in any doubt, or does yoif Mind fluctuate about this > AkiB. Not in the leaft. Socrat. Do you know the reafon of this, or would you have me tell it you ? AlciB. Tell it me. Socrat. 'Tis becaufg as you don't know how to mount up to Heaven ^ fo you don' t think you know it neither. Alcih. Ho\T is that > SccTiit. Let You and I examine this. When you ^re ignorant of a thing, and you know you are ig-' norant ofit, areyou uncertain and ttu8:uating about this f^ For Example, about the Art of Cookery ? Don't you know you are ignorant ofit > Do you then amufe your felf in reafoning about the manner of drefling Meat, and Ipeak fometimes one way, and fometirpes another, don't you rather fuifer the Cook to take his own way ? Alcih. Yes certainly. Socrat. And if you were on board a Ship, would you concern your felf to give advice to turn the Helm to the right, or left ^ and when you don't underftand Ae Art of Navigation., would you fpeak about it fometimes after one fafhion, and fometimes after a- nother? Would you not rather be quiet, and leave the Pilot to fteer > Alcih. To be fure 1 fhould leave that to him. Socrat. Then you are n-ver fiu£l:ua ting and uncer- tain about things you don't know, provided you know th^t you don't kno\V 'em > Alcih. So it feems. Socrat. By this then you very well difcern that all the faults we commit proceed only from this fort of ignorance, which makes us think we knovy that of which we are indeed ignorant. Alah. How do you fay ? Socrat. I fay that which induces us to attempt a thing is the thought w^e have that we know how to do of the Nature of MatJo ^91 do it ; for when we are convinc'd that we don't know it, we leave it to others. A/cib. That is certain. Soc/'dt. Tlius they who are under this laft fort of ignorance never commit any fault, becaufe they leave to others tlie care of fuch things as they know not how to do tliemfelves= A/cib. That's true. Socrdt. Who are they then that commit faults ? 'Tis not they that know things ? A/cib: No certainly. Socrat. Seing 'tis neither they that know things, nor they who while they are ignorant of 'em, know that they are ignorant ^ it neceifarily follows that 'tis they who while they are ignorant of 'em, yet think they know 'em : can it be any others ? Akib. No 'tis only they. Socrat. Well then this muft be the ignorance which is fhamefiil and the Caufe of all Evils. Akib. True. Socrat. And when this Ignorance happens to be a- bout things of very great confequence, is it not ve- ry pernicious, and very (hamefiil > Akib. it cannot be denied. Socrat. But can you name me any thing that is of greater confequence, than what is juft, what is honorable, what is good, and wliat is ufeful ? Akib, No certainly. , • .Socrat, Is it not about thefe things tliat you your felf fiy you are liuftuating and uncertain ? Is not this Uncertainty a fure fign.as we have faid already, not only that you are i^.iorant of thefe things that . are h great and important • but alfo diat while you are ignorant of 'em, you think you know 'em } Akib. I am aifraid this is but too true. _ Socrat. Oh Akibiades ': In what a deplorable con. dition then are you ! * I dare not menrion it^ yet , * He ^02s nor mention ir immediately. Akibiades is not yec in a conclition ,ro bear the h:»rrour of ic ; .But he'jl mention it at length, when he has dilpos'd and prcpar'd che young Man to re- csirc this Tliwnder-clap. 6 feeing ip4 T/^f Rr/? Akibiades ; or, feeing we are alone 'tis neceirary I fhould tell it you. My dear jilcihwdes you are under a very fhamelul kind of Ignorance, as appears by your Words, und your own Teftimony againft your felf. And this is tlie Reafon you throw your ielf with fo much pre- cipitancy into tlie Government •, bet ore you are in- itrufted'in what belongs to it. But you are not the only Perfon who has tallen under this Unhappinefs •, 'tis common to you with the greateft part of rhofe who have intermedled with the Aft'airs of the Com- monwealth. I can except but a fmall Nii.r'ier. Nay it may be your Tutor Pericles is the only ?er- fon that is to be exempted. Alcib. And, Socrates^ 'tis likewife faid, he did not become lo accomplifhed of himfelf j but that he had a great deal of Converfation with many great Men, fuch as Pyt hoc/ides^ and Anaxagoras ^ and to this Very day, as old as he is, he fpends whole days with ^ 'Damon^ to inform himfelf Itill more and more. Socrat. t Did you ever fee any one,wiiO^:"^fe£i:ly knew a thing, and yet could not teach it another > Your Reading-Mafter taught you what he knew •, and taught it whom he pleas'd. And you that have learn'd it of him might teach it another. The lame may be laid of a Mufick-Mafter, and of a Mailer of Exercifes. Alab> This is certain. Sccrcit, For the belt fign that one knows a thing ■ well is to be in a condition to teach it others. Alcih. Sol think. ^ * This is he of whom Plutarch fpcaks in the Life of Pericles i tinderthe Ipecious V>.;lof Mufick he hid his Profefllon, which Vfd$ ro teach Politicks. The People perceived this, and banifh'd }iim with the Sentence of the Oflracifm. t Upon what Alcihiadsshid juft faid, that Peiicles had render'd Jiimfelf accornpliftied by the Converfation of Philofophcrs and Sophifts, Socratts would intimate to him, that this Converfation was very ufelefs for the acqairing of Vcrtuc, in which true Ac- fomplifhment confifis. And t'MS he ingenioufly proves by the Example ot Periclfs himfelf, who had rot been able to teach his rwn Children any thing i a fure fign that Ik had learn'd no great Matter of his Sophifts. Socrat, Of the Nature of Man, i p j Socrat. But can you name me any one whom Pe- rides has accomplifhed ? Let's begin with his own Children. Alcib. What does this prove, Socrates^ if Teri- des his Children were Block-heads ? Socrat. And your Brother Climax ? Alc'tb. A fine Proof indeed ! you talk to me of a Fool. Socrat. If Clinias is a fool, and the Children of Tericies were Block-heads -, how came it to pals that Ver'ides neglefted fuch good natural Parts as yours, and taught you nothing? Alcih. I am the only caufe of it my felf , in not attending at all to what he faid to me. Socrat, But among all the Athenians and Stran- gers, whether Freemen or Slaves, can you name me one whom the Converfation ofPeric/es has rendered more accomplifh'd, as Fll name you a Fythodor/^^ the Son of Ifolochus.^, and a Cdlia^^ the 3on <£ Cd- liades^ who became very great Men in Zeno's School, at the Expence of a hundred Minas. About 2oo\, Alcib. I can't name you one. sterling, Socrat. ^ That's very well ^ but what will you do with your felf, Alabiades ? will you continue as you are, or will you at laft take fome care of your felf Alcib. 'Tis a general Affair, Socrates^ and con- cerns me no more than others. For I underltand all you fay, and agree with you. Yes, all that concern themfelves with the Affairs of the Republick, area Company of ignorant People, excepting a very imall number. Stcrat, And what then ? Alcih. If they were Men of great Accompli{h- ^'^ *^^''^*" ments, it would be neceffliry for one that Ihoald ^jbtajes fi pretend to equal, or furpafs 'em, to learn, and ex- that whkb [iill to this * Socrates is not willing now to pufh oa this Queflion which he day rnins h^ftarted, whether Vertuenny be caught. The Qjeftioti is too m(i young general, aad he'll treat of it elie where-, here he keeps clofe to his j^ien* Subjeft, vshjch is co co jfoufli the Pride of Aldbidiis, 0 2 ercife 1^6 Tfce RVy? Alcibiades J or^ ercife himfelf, and after that to enter the Lifts as Wreftlers do •, but feeing they don't fail to inter- meddle with Government, tho endu'd with very indifferent and common Qualities ^ what need is there for a Man to give himfelf fo much trouble in Learning and Exercife > I am well affur'd that tvirh the Aiiiftance of Nature alone, I (hall excel 'em all. Secrat. Ah my dear Aldbiades^ what have you^ now faid ? what Sentiment is this fo unworthy of that noble Air, and all the other Advantages,which you poflefs ! u4lctb. What do you mean, Socrates^ when you ipeak thus ? Socrat. Alas ! I am inconfolable, both on your Ac- count, and my own, I have fo great an Affe£lion for you, if — - Mcib. If what ? Socrat. If you think you have only fuch kind of People to conteft with, and to furpafs. ^kib. Whom then would you have me ftrive to furpals > Socrat^ Again ! Is this a Queftion becoming a Man of a great Spirit ? jilcib. What do you mean ? Are not thofe the only Perfons I have to deal with ? An admra- Socrat. If you were to guide a Man of War, tie L(ffon, which was to fight in a little time ^ would you be ivhkh So- content if you were more expert in Navigatio/i^iiun cTii€S£ives ^11 ^|-,g Sailers you had on board you ? Would you Acibiadcs ^^^^ rather propofe to your felf to acquire all necef fary Qualities, and to furpafs all the greateft Pilots on the Enemy's fide, without meafuring your felf as you do now with thofe of your own Party, above whom you iliould endeavour to raife your felf to that Degree, that they (hould not have fo much as a thought ot difputing any advantage with you, but finding themfelves ablolutely inferior to you, Ihould only think of fighting under yoiu: Command > Thefe are the Sentiments that fhould animate you, if you deCgn'ct of the Nature of Man, 197 defign'd to do any thing great, and worthy, both of your felf, and your Country. u4lc$l;. Why this is all I defign. Socrat, This muft needs be a glorious thing in- deed Alcibiades^ to be a braver Man than our Sol- diers ! Ought you not rather conftantly to ibt the Generals of our Enemies before your Eyes, that you may excel them in Capacity, and greatnefs of Courage ? and (hould you not ftudy and labour to this End ; always endeavouring to equal the great- eft Perfons ? *AIc. Who then are thefe great Generals, Socrates? Socrat. Don't you know our City is almoft conti- nually in War, either with the Lacedemonians, or j-/^^ ^^-^ ^r with the Great King ? Perfia. Alcib. I know it. Socrat. If then you think to put your felf at the head of the Athenians, you muft alfo prepare your felf to receive the Attacks of the t Kings 0^ Lacede- ^ p^^ ^^,-« monia^ and of the King of Ferjia. were two Alcib. You may be in the right. «f ^ ^j«^». Socrat. No, Alas! No my dear ^/<:/^/j(^d'j'. ^You have only to think of excelling a Midiof^ who is fo accomplifh'd a Man for feeding of Quailes -^ and o- thers of the fame Rank, that feek to intrude them- felves into the Government, who by their Stupidi- ty and Ignorance (hew (as our good Women would fay) that they have not yet quitted the Slave, but retain him ftill under their long Hair ^ and who with their barbarous Language are come rather to corrupt the City by their fervile Flatteries, than to govern- it. Thele are the People you muft let before you without thinking of your lelf •, that when you are * Plutarch is of ufetomake usunderfland the bicter Satyr, that is hid under thefe Words, for he informs us thiz A lei blades ap- plied himfelf to feed f^uailes, hke this MidiaSy witnefs thac which he let fly out of his Bofom in an open place, and which was caught again by a Mafter of a Ship, nam'd Antiochis^ who had the favour of Alcibiadescvev after, in fo much, thac he left him the Comnriand of a Fleet in his Abfence, which had 1 ke to. have ruin'd the Affairs of the Athenians. O 5 to IpS The Firji Alcibiades • or, to engage in fuch great Battles, you may go, with- out having ever learn'd any thing of virhat you ought to knou^, without being exercis'd at all, with- out making any preparation, in a word, that with- out having ever given your felf the lealt trouble, you may go in this Condition to put your felf at the head of the Athenians. Alcib. Socrates^ I believe all you fay is true. Yet I fancy the Generals of Lacedemonii!-^ and of the King of Yerjia^ are like other Generals. Socrat. Ah my dear Alc'ihiades^ pray obferve Wnxt^ So- ^j^2|. 3J.J opinion that of yours is .«' • ^nZ%olg ^i''^^' Why fo ? t^o fay is Socrat. In the firft place, which of thefe two snt of the Opinions do you think will be moft advantagous to ^Mti ?r^^ ^^^' ^"^ ^^^^ engage you to conduft your felf with haslejt^us. ^^^ gteateft Care ^ whether to form to your felf a great Idea of thofe Men, which may render 'em formidable, or to take 'em, as you do, for ordinary Men, that have no advantage above you ? uildh. Doubtlefs that of forming to my felf a great Idea of 'em. Socrat. Do you think then 'tis an Evil for you to condu8: your felf with care ? Alcib, On the contrary I am perfuaded it will be a very great Good. Socrat. Then this Opinion which you have con- ceived already appears to be a very great Evil. Akib. I confefs it. Socrat. Butbefides this 'tis falfe, and I'll prefent- ly demonllrate this to you. uikib. How fo ? Spcrat. Whom do you account the belt Men ^ thofe who are of high Birth, or fuch as are of mean. Extra8:ion > Mc. Without doubt,thofe who are of high Birth. Socrat. And don't you think, they that have had a good Education join'd to their high Birth have, every thing that is necelTary for the Perfe£l:ion of Yertue ?, ^ Alcib, Of the ]>(ature of Man. , 199 j^/cib. That is certain. Socrat. By comparing therefore our Condition with theirs, let us fee hrlt of all if the Kings of Lacedemonia^ and the King of Perfia are of mean- er Birth than we : Don't we know that the former Acheme- defcend from ]i{ercules^ and the latter from u^che- nes, tk menes^ and that Hercules and Ache me nes defcend ^o^ Ferkles left you in the hands of Zopyrm a vile Thracian Slave, who was indeed unfit for every thing befides, becaufe of his old Age. I would here recount to you all the confequenr Matters relating to the Edu- cation of your Antagonifts, but that I Ihould be too long •, and the Specimen I have given you is fufficient to make you eafily judg of the reft. * No Perlbn took care of you at your Birth more than of any pther Athenian ^ no Body takes any pains about your Education •, unl^ls you have fome oiie who concerns himfelf with it, becaufe he fincerely loves you. Socrates And if you confider the Riches of the Perfians, the ^^"-^^ ^'«- Magnificence of their Habits, the prodigious Expence-^^^'* they make in Perfumes and Eflences, the multitude of Slaves that furround 'em, all their Luxury, Finery and Politenefs, you'll fee your felf fo little, that youll be quite afliam'd of your felf. Will you but caft your Eyes on the Temperance of the Lacedemo- ^'^^ ^•'^^'*' hians, on their Modefty, Eafinefs, Sweetnefs, Mag- ^" °y^^_ nanimity, their good difpofition of Mind under all „j'^„j, the Accidents of Life, their Valour, Firmneis and Conftancy in Labours, their Noble Emulation, and love of Glory ? In all thefe great dualities, you'll find your felf a Child in comparifon of them. Again, if you would have us take notice of their Riches, and think your felf fomething under this head ^ I am willing to fpeak to it, to make you remember who. you are, and whence you came. I'here is no Com- parilbn between us and the Lacedemonians, they are abundantly more wealthy. Shall any of us dare to compare our Lands with thofe of Sfarta^ and McJ- fene ^ which are much larger and better, and main- tain an infinite number of Slaves, without counting the llotes ^ Who can number that excellent Race of Horfes, and thofe other forts of Cattle which feed in * 'Tis certain, the Athen'ans gave their Children no Gover- ners, but Slaves, or fuch as were enfranchis'd ; this appears by the Greek Comedies, which are left us, and by the Comedies of FlaHtm and Tinner, M. Li Fsvrs. the 101 The Fir (I Alcibiades ] or^ the Paftures of MeJJene ? whereas we inhabit a dry and barren Couiitiey : But I pafs by all thefe things. Would you fpeak of Gold and Silver ? I tell you all Greece together has not near fo much ^LsLacedemonia alone •, for the Money of all Greece^ and very often that of the Barbarians too lias for feveral Ages gone into Laccdemonij^ and never come out again. So that one might very well fay, in allufion to what is faid by the Fox to the Lion in Efop's Fables. I fee the Track of all the JWoney that is gone /;7r This Man founds the Succefs of his Defigns on his Application., Expe- rience.^ and great Wifdom ^ for thefe are the only things Of the Nature of Man. loj things that make the Greeks efleenCd hi the World. But if one fhould fay to her, This Alcibiades is a young Man^ not yet twenty years of Agc^ who -is very ignorant^ has no manner of Experience^ and who^ when a certain friend of his whom he pajfon- dtely loves^ reprefents to him^ that he ought above all things to cultivate hitn/elf to labour^ meditate^ to exercife him/elf y and after having acquird the Capacity that is nccejjhy^ might engage in War with the great King •, will not believe a word of the Matter^ and fays he's fit enough for this as he h al- ready. How great would be the wonder of this Princels > Would (he not ask •, on what then does this young Giddy-brains depend ? and if we fhould tell her, he depends on his Beauty ^ his fine Shape^ his Nobility^ and jortunate Birth •, would (he not take us for Fools, conlidering the great Advantages the Kings of Verfia^^ have in all this above us > But without going any higher, do you think La?npyto^ the Daughter of LeotychidM\ the Wife of Archi- damus^ and Mother of Agl'S-^ who were all born Kings of hacedemonia^ would be lefs aftonllhed, if one Ihould tell her, that as ill educated as you have been, you don't fcrup].e to trouble your head with a defign of making War with her Son > Alas ! Is it not a horrible Ihame, that the very Women among our Enemies know better than we what we ought to be to undertake to make War with them with any likelihood of Succefs ? Follow my Advice then, my dear Alcibiades^ and obey the Precept which is writ- ten on the Gate of the Temple of Delphos. Know thy f elf For the Enemies you have to deal with are fuch as I reprefent 'em to you, and not fuch as you imagine 'em to he. The only means of conquer- ing 'em are Application, and Skill : If you renounce thefe fo neceflary Qualities, renounce the Glory too, of which you are lb paffionately ambitious. Alcib. Can you then explain to ms^Socrates^ how I ought to cultivate ray felf ? for no Man whatever JTpeaks more truly to me than you. Socrat. 1 cari without doubt, but this does not re relpecl 104 The Firft Akihisides] or, fpea you alone :, this concerns us all how many fo ever we are. We ought to feek the means of mak- ing our felves better^ and I fpeak no more on your Account than on my own, who have no lefs need of Inftru£lion than you, and have only one advantage above you. y^/cib. What is that > SocraL 'Tis this, my Tutor is wifer and better than Vertcles^ who is yours. Tut^'lj '^ -^^''^' "f^}"" is this Tutor of yours > Mm. Socrat. 'Tis God who never permitted me to fpeak to you before this Day, and 'tis in purfuance of his Infpirations that I now tell you, that youll never arrive at the Reputation you defoe, but by me. Ale lb, Youjeit, Socrates. Socrat. It may be fo. But in fine 'tis ftill a great Truth, that we have great need to take care of our felves. All Men need this,and we yet more than others^ Akib. You fpeak no Untruth, fo far as it con- cerns me, Socrates. Socrat. Nor in what concerns me neither. Akib. What (hall we do then > Socrat, Now is the time to throw off Lazinefs and Softnelk Alcib. Tis very true, Socrates. Socrat. Come then, let us examine what it is we would become. Tell me, Would we not render our felves "^ very good? Alcib. Yes. Socrat. In what fort of Vertue ? . AlciB. In that Vertue that renders a Man good and fit > Socrat. For what? Alcib. For Bufinefs. Socrat. What Bufinefs > The managhig of a Horfe > * But there are many different forts of GoQdnefs, and upon this Socrates is going to enlarge. For the word Good in Greek fignifies Accomplifh'd, Excellenr, improv'd in any Arc or Science, or Vertuous. An J the word£w7, by the Rule of Contraries, hasas m^ny Significations. This Remark is neccOary for the undcrft and- ingot what follows. M. U Fivre. It Of the Kature of Man. lo j It can't be that, for that belongs to Querries. Is it Navigation > not that neither, fot that belongs to Pilots. What Bufinefs is it then > j4/dk The Bufinefs in which our Ijeft Athenians are employed. Socnit. What do you mean by our belt Athenians > Are they the Prudent or Imprudent r Alcib. The Prudent. Soc. So that according to you whenaMan is Pru- dent in any thing, he is good and fit for that thing ^ and the Imprudent are very bad for it. ^Icib. Without doubt. Socrat. A Shoe-maker has all the prudence necef fary for making of Slioes. And therefore he is good for that. A/ab. 'Tis right. Socrat. 'But he is very Imprudent for making of Clothes, and confequently is a bad Taylor. A/cib. That's certain. Socrjt. This fame Man then is both Good and Bad > Alcih. So it feems. Socrat. It follows ftom this principle that your Atnenians whom you call Good and Honeft Men are bad too. Alcib. That is not what I mean. Socrat. What do you mean then by the good Athe- nians ? Mcib. They that know how to govern. Socrat. To govern what ? Horfes ? Alcib. No. Socrat. Men ? Alcib. Yes. Socrat. What fick Men, Pilots, or Mowers > Alcib. No, none of thefe. Socrat. Whom then > Thofe that do fomething, or thofe who do nothing ? Alcib. Thofe that do fomething. Socrat. Thofe that do what ;* Endeavour to explain your felf and make me underftand your meaning. Alcib. Thofe that live together, and make ule one of another ; as we live in Cities. Socrat ; fit 206 The Fir/i Alcihhdes ; or, Fr fi>( ?•' Sxrif. According to you then the Good Atheni- ";. ans are fuch as know how to command fuch Me* 'iv v'Jr as make ule of Men. tmtii -'T.i ^^.Lip. 1 mean io. trf)i til lift Sxr.:t. Is it thole thi: know how to command tfm citi- fj^g \ijfters of Gallies who make ufe of Rowers ? '^''"*- Alab, No. S.\. B^caufe this belongs to Pilors. Is itthenthofe Thi Ml- ^^^ know how to command the Players on the Flute ^mei tht who make ufe of Mulicians and Dancers ^ No doubt- ckoirsreii' lels, for tliis bclongs to the Mailers of the Choirs. Uttdtht ^^/^.;7,. Thar^s certain. «i w^f/r ^ATjf . What do you mean then by knowing how fU:e it rt-.ts to Command fuch ^len as make ufe of other Men ^ thi Pliers Auix I mean 'tis to command Men that live to- gether under the lame Laws, and Polity. Sat jr. What is this Art then that teaches to com- mand 'em > If I Ihould ask you what is the Art which teaches to command all the Rowers of the fame Vef- fel, what anfwer would you give me? A/.ib. That 'tis the Pilot's An. S.'crdt. And if I Ihould ask you what is the An that teaches to command Mulicians and Dancers > A/cih. I u'ould aiiiwer you, 'tis the Art of the Matters of the Choirs. Stv. Kow then do you call this Art, which teaches to command thofe who make the fame Politick B j4icih. 'Tis the Art of giving good Counfel. SxrjT. How ? What then is the An of Pilots the An of giving bad Counfel ? Is it not their defign to give good ? Ale. Yes ctnainly to fave thofe that are in the lliip. Sci\ You fay very well : of what good Counfel then do you fpeak ^ and to what does it tend ? Akib. It tends to prefer^■e the City, and to make it better policiei. Sxrji. But what is it that preferves Cities, and makes 'em better policiei ? What is it that ought or ou^ht no: to be in "era ? As if vou fhould ask me what Of the Nature of Man. 207 what it is that ought or ought not to be in a Body- to make it found and in good health •, I would im- mediately anfwer you, that that which ought to be in it is Health •, and that which ought not to be in it is Sicknefs : Don't you think fo as well as I > jilcib. I think the very fame. Socrat. And if you fhould ask me the fame thing of the Eye, 1 fhould anfwer you after the lame man- ner that the Eye is in a good condition, when it has all that is neceffary for Sight, and when nothing hin- ders it from feeing. And the very fame of the Ears, tliat they are very w^ell, when they have every- thing they need to hear well, and no difpofition to Deafnefs. jikih. True. Sccrat. And now for a City, what is it which by its Prefence orAbfence makes it to be in a better con- dition, better policied and better governed > uilcih. I think, Socrates^ 'tis when Amity is well eftablifl'i'd among the Citizens, and Hatred and Di- vifion are banifhed out of the City. Socrat. What do you call Amity, is it Concord or Difcord > Alc'ih. 'Tis Concord certainly. Socrat. What Art is that which makes Cities ac- cord, for example about Numbers ? Mc'xh. 'Tis Arithmetick. Socrat. And is it this that makes particular per Ions accord one with another, and each one with himfelf i* jilcib. Without doubt. Socrat. And how do you call that Art which makes each one agree with himfelf about the length of a Span or Cubit, is it not the Art of Meafuring > Alcib. Yes doubtlefs. Socrat. Then Cities and particular perfons accord by means of this Art. And is it not the fame thing about Weight ? ^Icib. The very lame. , Socrat. And what is that Concord of which you fpeak, in wliat does it confift, and what is the Art that 2o8 7he Firft Alcibiades ; oi-^ that produces it ? Is the Concord of a City the fame that makes a particular perfon accord with himfelf and others > Alcih. I think fo. Socrat. What is it } Don't be weary in anfwering me, but charitably inftrucl me. Alcib. I think it is this Amity and Concord, that makes Parents agree with their Children, one Brother with another, and the Wife with her Husband. Socrat. But do you think a Husband can agree well with his Wife, and that they will accord perfeQly about the Tapillry which fhe works, and he knows not how to make ? Alcib. No, certainly. Socrat. Nor is there any need of it ;, for 'tis Wo- men's work. No more is it poffible that a Woman jhould agree with her Husband about the ufe of Arms •, for Ihe knows not what belongs to it: This being a Science which appertains only to Men. Alcib. 'Tistrue. Socrat. You agree then that there are fome Scien- ces which are deitin'd only for Women, and otheis which are referv'd for Men. A'cib. V^ho can deny it ? Socrat. It is not poflible that W^omen fhould accord with their Husbands about all thefe Sciences. Alcib. That's certain. Socrm. And confequently there will be no Amity, feeing Amity is nothing but Concord. Alcib. I am of your mind. Socrat. So that when a Woman does what flie ought to do, fhe will not be loved by her husband ^ and when a husband does what he ought to do, he will not be loved by his Wife } Alcib. This is a certain confequence. Soc. Then that which make Cities well policied, is not, for every one to follow his own employment in 'em. Alcib, EowQVQx Sochiti^f^ methinks ' " ' " Socrd^ Of the Nature of Man. % o; Socrat. How do you lay ? Can a City be well po- licied wirhout having Amity in it, are we not agreed that it is by Amity that a City is well regulated, and that other wife there is nothing but Diforder and Con- fufion } jllcib But yet methinks, 'tis this very thing that prol'-ces Amity, namely that everyone mind his ow.i Bufii.els- Socrat You faid the contrary but juft now. But - 1 muit endeavour to underftand you, what do you fay ? That Concord well eltal ililhed produces Amity > What can thei e be Concord about things which fomc know., and otners don't underftand ? yilctb That's impofiible. - Socrat. When every one does, what he ought X.6 do, does every one do wnat is juftor what is unjuft ? Alcib- A pretty Queltlon ! every one then doeS what is Juft. Socrat Hence it follows that vvhen all the Citi- zens do what is Juft, yet th^^y can't love one ano- ther. Mcik -^ The confequence is neceflary. Socrat. Whac then is this Amity or Concord, that can accomplilh and make us capable of giving good Counlel -, i'o that we may be ot the Number of thofe whom you call your beft Citizens '> for 1 can't com- prehend what it is/ or in whom 'tis to be found, Sometimes 'tis to be found in certain perfons, and * This confequence is very certain : Alcihiadis acknowledges '\U but liedoe^ not yec ndc-ftand the Reafon of it. I have given a hint of it in the '^rgumenr -, 'ut'tisfii rocivplainSo(f*-^f;\rhis thought here at length ••, hjs defign is to iliew that when Men precifely do only their own bufmefS; they only take care of what belongs to themielves \ and fo limit tliemfelves to the knowledge of par» ticular things and do not rife ujiro that of theeflenoeo* univerlal! things ; which s t'^eonly Knowledi^c' that produces Union and Con- cord, whereas the KnovLdge .Tine! V of parties! r things produ- ces Diiorder ad Divifion. rhertiore to make oncnrd reign in a ftate'iis not enough ''ir every one ri take care of what h:: has jhe mufl take care Jt h niuU too. This care /iilte^ch htm to love his Neighbour as himfelf ; and 'as oniy this Ljvc, which has Goci for its Principile, that can produce Concord and Uaioo. 2 1 o Tfce Ftrft Alcibiades ; or, fometlmes 'tis not to be found in 'em, as it feems by your Words. ^Icib. Socrates^ I folemnly proteft to you, I know nor what I lay my felf : And have run a great rifque in being a long time in an ill Condition, with- out perceiving it. Soc. Don't be dilcourag'd,^/f//'/Wf j>, if you fltould not perceive in what Condition you are till you are , 50 years of Age. it would be a difficult rnatter for you to recover your lelf out of it, and to take care of your felf; but now at your years 'tis the fitteft time for you to feel y ourDiftemper after the manner y ou do. ^Icib. But when a Man feels his Diftemper what mult he do ? , Socrat. You need only anfwer to feme Queftions, kdp'oiGoi ^^^'^^'^^^^S wliich if you do, I hope by the help of God, Men can't ^oth you and I lliall become better than we are, at • ysjom. leaft if my Prophefie is to be believ'd. Ale. If there needs nothing but to anfwer you to bring it about, 111 promife you your Prophefie fhall prove true. Soc. Come then. What is it to take care of one's felf fo that when we think we take care of our felves the moll, it may not often happen to us without our knowledg to take care of quite another thing > What muft a Man do to take care ofhimfelf ? does he take careof himfelf, when he takes care of the things that belong to him ? Alab. ^ I think lb. Soc. How > does a Man take care of his feet, when he takes care of the things that belongs to his feet ? Alcib. 1 doi/t underftand you. Socrat. Do you know nothing that properly belongs to the hand > To what part of the Body do the Rings appertain, is it not to the Fingers ? Socrat. \qs doubtlefs. Soc. And in like manner the Shoes belong to the Feet. A/cib. Very true. * Alcibiadci anfwcrs according ro the principles that arealmofl generally recciv'd. Men thitikthcy take carecf themfclveS', when tlicy rake care ofthe things thjt belong to 'em i hue they are grcfly miftciken: hv.d Socrates h going to confounu this Error with grcac Sjlidity. That which is wmis not ffy/f//. , Soc. Of the Nature of Man. ill Socrat. Do we then take care of our Feet, when we take care of our Shoes } Alc'ih. Indeed Socrates I don't yet underftand you« Soc. What do you mean then by taking care of a thing > Is it not to make it better than it was > What Art is it then that makes our Shoes better > Alcib. 'Tis the Shoemaker's Art. j^ Greece Socrat. 'Tis by the Shoemaker's Art then that we the shoe- take care of our Shoes : Is it it by the fame Art too fnikitrs that we take care of our Feet ^ or is it by fome other ^^'^^^^ Art that we make our Feet better > ^^jf^f j^Icib. Without doubt that's done by another Art. madi 'm, Socrat. Don't we make our Feet better by another Art, which meliorates the whole Body ? And is not p^ ^xet- this the Gy mnaftick Art ? cifeflreng- Alcib. Yes certainly. thensall Socrat. 'Tis then by the Gy mnaftick Artthatwe^;^^!''''^ "-^ take care of our Feet ^ and by the Shoemaker's Art, ^ ^ ° ^' that we take care of the things that belong to our Feet > 'Tis by the Gymnaftick Art we take care of our Hands 5 and by the Gold-fmith's Art that we take care of the things that belong to our Hands. 'Tis by the Gym- naftick Art that we take care of our Bodies ^ and by the Weaver's Art, and many other Arts that we take care of the things that appertain to our Bodies, jilcib. This is beyond all doubt. Soc. And confequently the Art by which we take care of our felves is not the fame with that whereby we take care of the things that belongs to us. Alcib. So it feems. Soc. Hence it follows that when you take care of the things that belong to you, you do not take care of your felf. Alcib. That's certain. Socrat. For 'tis not by the fame Art that we take care of our felves, and of the things that belongs to us. Alcib. I ackowledge it. Socrat. By what Art is it then that we take care of our felves ^ Alcib. I cannot tell. P 2 Socrat, 1 1 2 7he Ftrft Alcibiades ; or, Socrat. We are already agreed that it is not that by which we can make any of thole things that be- long to us better : But that by which we can meli- orate our felves. Akib. 'Tis true. Socrat. Can we know the Art of making Shoes bet- ter, if we don't firft know what a Shoe is ^ or the Art of taking care of Rings, if we don't know firft what a Ring is ? Akib, No that can't be. 5. Can we then knom what Art it is that makes us bet- ter I, if we don't firft know what we our felves are ? Alc'ih. Tis abfolutely impoffible. Socrat. But is it a very eafy thing to knovv ones lelf •, and was it fome ignorant Perfon that wrote that Trivial Precept on theGate of >^/?(9//?'s Temple at Belphos > Or is it on the contrary a thing of great dif- ficulty, and which is not given to every Man ? Akib. For my part, Socrates •, I have often thonght it was given to all Men : and yet it has often feem'd to me to be a thing of very great difficulty. Soc. But, Akib'jades •, Let it be eafy or difficult ^ 'tis ftill certain that whenpnce w^eknow it •, we imediate- ly and eafily know what care we ought to take of our felves. Whereas while we are ignorant of it •, we (hall ' never come to the knowledg of theNature of this Care. Akib. That is beyond all doubt. Socrat. Com^ on then ^ by what means (hall we find out the ^ Eflence of things to fpeak univerfally > By * This univcrfal Eflence of things, dvroroAvrot is the Divine Intelligence, the Eternal Idea, the only caufe of Beings, and the fmgular Eflence, Avroiy^czv, is the thing forra'd on this Idea. So that there are two wa>s of knowing one's fclf : The firft is to know the Divine Incelligence-, and to defcend from that to the Soul, by folfowing the dcfigns which the All-wife Creator had in creating it; and the other is (imply to know the Soul as a Being different trom tlie Bo ly, and to be convinc'd that that alone is the Man. The firfl is the moft perfeft : However Socrates leaves this at prefcnt -, and applies himfelf only to the ftcond, which is more eafy : but he afterwards refumes it, and from the knowledg of the Soul raifes Alcibiades to the Confideration of the Eternal Idea, in which alone, as in the true Light a Man may perfeftlyfee hi^ Sou!, and all that belongs to it. The whole Argument of SO' ernes is worthy the mofl foiid Theology. this of the T\atureo Man. i 13 this we (hall foon find what we are our felves ^ and if We are ignorant of this Effence we (hall always be ignorant of our felves. Akib. You fay right. . Socrat Follow me clofe then I conjure you m the Name of God : With whom are you how diicouri- ing, is it with fome other perfon or with me ? 1/^//;. No 'tis with you. , ^' Soc. And I in like manner difcourfe with none but You, Tis Socrates that now fpeaks,and Alnbiades that hears. Alcib. True. r ^ c . Soc. 'lis by ufmg Words that Socrates fpeaks •,_tor to fpeak', and to ufe words is one and the fame thing. Ale lb. 'Tis fo without doubt. Socrat. Are not He wlio ufes a thing, and the Thing which he ufes, different ? Mcib. How do you fay > , ^ ,r • Socrat. ForExample, a Shoemaker, who ufesKniyei, Lafts and other Tools, cuts with his Knite and is different from the Knife with which he cuts. A Man that plays on the Harp is not the fame thing with the Harp on which he plays. Alcib. Thar s certain. . Socrat. This is what I ask'd you juft now whe- ther he that ufes a thing, and the thing he ules, al- ways feem to you two different things > Alcib. So they feem to me. , r 1 • Socrat. ^ But the Shoemaker doQS not only uie his Tools, but his Hands too. Mcib. That's beyond all doubt. Socrat. He alio uf:;s his Eyes. Alcib. That's, certain, . Socrat. We are agreed that he who. ufes a thing, is always different from the thing he ufes. . Alcib. That is agreed between us. S<^c.So that theShoemaker and theHarper are fome o^ ther thing than theHands andEy es which tiiey bothule. Akih. That's plain. * He defigns to prove, that ihe Bcdy is ro lefs «? Inftrumcnc of the Soul, than all the other remoter Inftruments v^^^^h k^^J^^^^^^ a 1 4 i he ttrit Alcibiades 5 or, Socrat. Man ufes his Body. Alcib. Who doubts it ^ Soc. That which ufes a thing is different from the thing which is ufed. Alcib. Yes. Soc. Man then is a different thing from his Body ? Alcib. 1 believe it. Socrat. What is Man then f* Alcib. Indeed, Socrates^ I can't tell^ Soc. You can at leaft tell me that Man is that which ufes the Body. Alcib. That's true. - Socrat. Is there any thing that ufes the Body befides the Soul ? Alcib. No nothing elfe. Socrjt. 'Tis that that governs. Alcib. Moft certainly. Soc. Ibelievethere'snoMan but is forc'd to confefs- Alcib. What > Soc. That Man is one of thefe three things, either the Soul or the Body, or the Compound of 'em both. Now we are agreed thatMan is that which commands the Body. Alcib. That we are. Soc. What is Man then? Does the Body command itfelf\No. For we have faid 'tis the Man that «om- snands that. So that the Body is not the Man. u4lcib. So it feems. Socrat. Is it then the Compound that commands the Body > and (hall this Compound be the Man ? Alcib. That may be. Socrat. Nothing lefs. For lince one of 'em does not command as we have already faid, ^ 'tis impof ^ iible they boih (hould command together. Alcib. 'Tis very true. Socrat. Seing then neither the Body, nor the Com- '^ For befides tl at this is a Concradiftion ; feeing that which does no. comm nd mouM chen co -.mand \ there is no. a third thing for thefe two ro comm nd together. If h. Soul and the Body boihcomaiand, wjiat is ic that is under their Command ? pound of the Nature of Mm. 2 1 J ponhd of Soul and Body are the Man, /tis abfolute- Fy iieceOTary either that Man is Nothing at all, or that the Soul alone is the Man, Alcih. Moft certainly. 5.m//.ShallI demonftrate to you yet more clearly that the Soul aloqe is the Man > jUcib. No, I protJT, mis is fufticiently prov d. C;;. We hive not yet founded this Trutnwi A all the ^. ccuracy it deferves ; but 'tis iufficienrly prov d and that may ierve. We ihall lound it tarther, and Se "^better, when we have found out what ^ejuft now quitted, becaufe it required a longer In^ veftigation. Alcib. What is that ? i v ^ Socnit. Tis what we faid but now -, that ti^ ne- ceffary we would firft feek to know the very effence oSmgstofpeak univerfally •, inftead of which we have ftVd to examine and know the I^fence of a particular thing , and perhaps that is iu&cient Fot we can find nothing that is more properly, and pre- cifely our felves tiian our Souls. Alcib. T Hat's very certain. Socriiu So then this is a principle very well elia- blilh'd i;hat wlien you and! converfe together, by making ufe of Difcourfe , ;tis my Soul tliat convei- fes wi?h yours. And this is what we faid jult now, that Sacrates fpeaks to Akmaies, by addreffing Words not to the Body which is expos d to my ..yes but to Alabudcs himieU; whom I do not f^e, thai is, to his Soul. i Alcib. This is evident. Socrat. He then who requites us to know our ielves, requires us to know our Souls. Akib. I believe it. Socrat. He who knows his Body only, knows that which belongs to him, but does 'not know himleLu Tlius a Piiy fician as a Piiyiiclan, do.s not know nm- felf nor a Wrefiling-Mafter as a Wredling-Maiter, nora Hustaod-Man?s a Husband-Man. ^ AUp^rfons. of thefe ProfelTions, and tlioie of the liive N-i^ur., P 4 ^^^^ 2i6 The Fir ft Alcibiades ; or, .?re fo far from knowing thcmlelVes, ^ that they do not know particularly what belongs to 'em ^ andti-ir /Irt makes 'em adhere to what is yei rnoie iorr.ign to 'em than that which propc^iy belongs to 'em. r or they know only thofe things that appeitam to me Body, and by wiiich they cure, *and prekrve it in health, ^/ SccrjL To exercife your felf, and be inftru£led in what is neceiTary to be known before yon inter- meddle with the Affaks of the Common-wealth ^ that you may be always forrihed with an r.ntidore ^ and that you may no: peril h in fo contagious, and fatal a Converfation. A/cih. All you fay is very well, Socrates ^ But en- deavour to explain to me, by wiiat means we may be able to take care of our felves. S:'Lj\:t. That's done already, for firll of all we have prov'd what Man is, and that with good reafon ^ becaufe we f ear'd, if that v^ere not well known, we (hould take care of fome:king quite difterent from our felves, without perceiving it. We afterwards agreed that we ought to take care of our Souls ^ that tills is the only end we fhould propofe to cur felves ^ and that the care of the Body, and of that which ap- pertains to it, as Riches, fnould be left to others. /i/cib. Can any one deny this ? * He was fo in love with the People, that he did not ceafe to befto-.v Gifts on *em, and to prefenr 'em with Shows and Plays. F/; Sscrjt. ObfeT\-e well what I fay. If : op- tion fpoke to the Eye, as it I'peoks to the Mm, mi fhouldiay to it, K/uu: thy jcif : what Iho-ild we think it required of it > Should we sot think it re- quired it to lock: upon it felt in Iccnething in which the Eye might fee it felf > A/cih. That's e\i^de-L Soc. Let us then feek tor this thing, in whicL as we behold our felves in it. we miy leeboih it.aiid oar lelves. yi/ciP. We may fee oui lelves m a Lo'Dkisg-glais, and in other Bodies of the like kind. Sccrjt. You uy very welL Is not there likewile ibme little part of the ^"ye, wnich has liie fime Effeft as a Looking-glils ^ jilsir'. \ ts cerrainly there is, SsxTJi. You have obfervcd then, tiiat as ofren as you look into an Eye, you fee your own Image, as in a Glafs, in that little part which is calFd by a Name wiiich fignines a ' Baby, be- * -V. Lt Fevrt had rcafea to Uj, dut IntT/ics^ oc^ to be read tor lieifAe^-At ■ajd that ic fiiooid re (racAared m>rttcli^i§. SicTsti: s row ioiia to rcfuaie the Propcfi ioa he had qfiicRd, which wai lo -now the uniTe. I'a! E&ace oC things \ aod ^ he s goim to fay oo :h:s Suojcd i: incaparably fine. t There is a iank in the Grcefc, which I iraaikr to mki les^ there ; *or n+ar feofehss ts^vah here, which G^/Aea mtt?H^ x ; : CO Se read r^fw chs !5 the AK'*^ "^ ^ ^V^ .. i Poppet crBa:iy. 120 The Fir ft Alcibiades ; or, caufe 'tis tlie Image of him that looks on it. A/cib. 'Tis true. j Sccrat. Then an Eye, that it may fee into ano- i ther Eye, ought to look into this part of it, wnlch is the moft beautiful, and which alone has the fa- culty of feeing. Alcib. Who doubts it > Socrat. For if he fhould fix his Looks on any other part of the Body of Man, or on any other Objed, unlefs it were like this part ot the Eye winch fees, it would fe^ nothing ot it felf j^kib. You are in the right. Socrat. Therefore an Eye that would fee it felf, ought to look into another Eye, and into that part of the Eye, in which all the Vertue of it refides^ that is, the Sight. Alclh. That's certain. //; -what roi Socrat. My dear Alcibiadi^^ is it not juft fo with [hoiild loo^ the Soul > Ought it not to look into the Soul to upon our fgg itfelf^ and into that ^ part of the Soul, in which f now OUT ^^^ ^^^ Vertues, that is to fay Wifiom. is ingcne- ftlvesTvtU. ^^^^^ J* <^r elfe ought it not to behold it felf in ibme Other thing yet more noble, which this part ot ^ the Soul in fome fort refembles ^ Alcib. So methinks, Socrates. Socrat. But can we find any part of the Soul which is more divine than that in which Knowledg and Wifdom refide. jilcib. No certainly. * That is into our Intclleft or Under flandiog. We oyght ftridly to remark with what Wifdom Socratts here cxpreftes him- felf. In fpeaking of the Soul of Man, he acknowlrdges, that Wifdom is ingencratcd in it, that is, thit it comes to it from without i for it is not its own Light •■, this is derived into it from God. And a few Lines lower, as he fpe^ks of the Divine Intelli- gence, he does nocchoofe to ay, in which Knowledg and wifdom are ingenerated j but fays he, in rvhich they refide - becaufe it is Wifdom it felf, and the Source of Wifdom. The Latin Interpre- ters, who did not pry into this Accuracy of Socrates have fpoiled all the b-auty of thefe Paflfages by their Tranflations. More Atten- tion and Fidelity ouglu to hive been ufed in handling Thcologicail Truchs. Socrat. Of the Nature of Man, iii Socrat. 'Tis then in this Soul, of which ours is ^' ^^4 ^'• but the Image, 'tis in this divine Soul we ought to ^^^^'^^''f behold our lelves, and to contemplate the whole co^^o^^flw Deity in it, that is to fay God, and VVifdom ^ if our^c^ves we would know our felves perfcclly. w^//. Alab. Thisjeems very probable. Sr'crat. To know one's felf is Wildom , as we ha\^e both agreed. Alcib. 'Tis true. Socrat. While we don't know our felves, nor are wile with this Wifdom •, we can't know either our Goods or our Evils •, for it is not pofhble that he who knows not Akibiaies^ fhould know that what beloiigs to Alcihudes^ does indeed appertain to him. jikib. 'Tis impoffible. Socrat. 'Tis only by knowing our felves that we come to know that that which belongs to us does in- deed appertain to us. And if we know not what be- longs CO us ^ neither fhall we know w^hat has refer ence to the things that belong to us. Alcib. I confefs it. Sccrat. We therefore jpft now did ill to agree, that there are fome Perfons, who tho' they don't know themfelves, yet know that which belongs to them, without knowing the things that appertain to that which belongs to them. For thele three Know- ledges •, to know one's lelf, to know that which be- longs to one ^ and to know the things that appertain to that which belongs to one, are link'd together, they are the r-.^iinn of the fame Man, and the £tfe£l of one and the lame Art. Alcib. 'Tis very likely. Socrat. Now that Man that knows not the things that belong to him lelf neither will know thofe that belong to others. Alcib. That's evident. Socrat. And if he knows not what belongs to others, neither will he know what belongs to the City. Alcib. That's a certain Conlequence. Socrat, Therefore iuch a Man can never be a good States 221 7he Fir ft Alcibiades; or, States Man ^ nay he can't be fo much as a Good Matt- er CO govern a Family ; what do I fay ? He can't fo much as govern hlmielf ; for he knows not what he does ^ and it he knows not what he does, 'tis impoflible he ihould be tree from Faults. A/cil?. Tliac is impolTible indeed. Socrjt. And it he commits Faults, does he not do ill both in private and in publick ^ If he does ill, is he not Milerable > and as he is Milerable, does he not involve thofe that obey him in his Misfortunes > can't beh%- Socrjt. Then 'tis not pofiible that he who is nei- fy. ther Good not Wife, Ihould be Happy. Alcib. No certainly. Socrat. Then all vicious Perfons are Miferable. Akib. I acknowledge it. Socrat. Then a Man can't deliver himfelf from his Mifery by Riches, but by Wifdom. Alcih. That's certain. Toi Happi- Socrat. So that, My Dear Alcibiades^ Cities have nefsofritiesYio need either of Walls, or Ships, or Arfenals, or Tonftish Troops or Grandeur to make 'em happy ^ the only Venus. thing they need is Vertue. And if you would ma- nage the affairs of theCommonwealth well,you muft give your Citizens Vertue. Alcib. This is an evident Truth. Socrat. But can a Man give that which he has not ^ Alcib. How ihould he ? Socrat. Then you ought firft of all to confider how - to acquire Vertue ^ and fo muft every Man who de- fires to take care not only of himfelf^ and the things that belong to him ^ but alfo of the City, and the things that belong to that. Akib. This is beyond all doubt. . Socrat. Therefore you ought not to confider how to acquire for your felf or your City a large extent of Fmpire and the abfolute power of doing what you pleale , but only how to acquire Wifdom and Juftice. AJcib, 1 believe what you fay. Of the Nature of Man. 12} Socrat. For if you and your City govern your felves ^'''"^l^ wifely and juftly, you will pleale God. l^/^^ ^^^^ Ale. I am well convinced of tliat. dom and Socrat. And you'll govern your felves wifely and fu^ke. iuftly if as I iuft now told you, you behold your ifm -would ielves always in the Deity -, in that fplendid l^.'i';^;^, wnich alone is capable of giving you the knowledge ^^^;;^^^^^^ '> Ot the Truth. -we mufi be- Alcib. This feems very reafonable. hold ow So..rat. for while you behold your felves in \\(\^\iivismGoii Light -, you will Le your felves ^ and will fee and know your True Goods. Alcih. Witliout doubt, Socrat. And fo you will always do what is Good. Alcib. Moft certainly. Soc. If you always do what is good, I dare anfwer ^^^^i^^^, ^ for it, and warrant you, you (hall be always happy, th certain Alcib. Your warrant is very good in this cafe, recommence Socrates. Amors Socrat. But if you govern your felves unjuitly, and inftead of beholding the Deity, and True Light rhoie that you look into that which is without God and full ^^^''^ ^^ of Darknefs, you will do nothing but the Works of ^o^^y^^f Darknefs, and fuch as are full of Impiety ^ and it can't the works of be otherwife, becaufe you will not know your felf Darknefs. Alcib. I am of the fame mind. Socrat. My dear Alcibiades, reprefent to your felf 7^^ ^^^.^..^^^ a Perfon that has * a Power to do any thing he ,j,^, ,j. pleafes, and yet has no Judgment •, what is to be ex- abfoiute peaed from him? and what Mifchief is there that Pomr, will not befal him? For example, fuppofe ^^^^K;2lVith Man has power to do whatever comes into his Head, ^i^^dom. has no underftanding in Phyfick ^ is in a rage againft every Body, fothat no Perfon dares fpeak to hmi or reftraiH him •, what will be the event of this > He will without doubt deftroy his Body, and render himfelf incurable. * When wifdom is wanting, abfoiute Power always tranfports Men beyond the Limits of their Duty, and induces 'em to trample Religion and Juftice under their Feet. Alnb. 1X4 The Fir/i Alcihiidcs] br, Alcib. 'Tis very true. Socrat. Suppofe fome Perfon in a Ship, who has not the Judgment and Skill of a Pilot, fhould vet have the liberty to do what he thinks fit : You your felf fee what muft certainly befal him and thole that abandon themfelves to his Condu8:. Alcib. They muft all neceflarily perifh. Thtruheoj Socrat. The cafe is the fame with Cities, Repub- cities and ij^ks, and all States : if deftitute of Vertue their States M -n • • ^ • ^V «rr.»-«r./,.«Ruine IS certain. ;. ,. , , .. Verne does Alcib. Tis impollible it ihould be otherwife. not reign in Socrat. Confequently, my dear Alcihiades.^ if you ''^' would be happy ; your bufinefs is not to acquire a large extent of Empire for your felf or your Repub- lick-, but to acquire Vertue. Alcib. Very true. *Tu mm Socrat. ^ And before this Vertue is acquir'd, 'tis advantage-^^ better and more advantageous, I don't lay for a %s?erftnT Child, but for a Man to obey him, who is the moft to obey than Vertuous, than to command. command. Alcib. I am of the fame mind. Soc. And what is beft is alfo moft beautiful. Alcib. Without doubt. Socrat. That which is moft beautiful is likewile moft becoming, and fuitable; Avici! Alcib. That's beyond difpute- Pfrfon Soc. 'Tis then becoming and fuitable tO a vicious ought to he Perfon to be a Slave, for that is beft for him. a Slave. Alcib. Moft certainly. Thebaferjfs Socrat. Then Vice is a vile thing, and fuitable to 'f^'"'- a Slave. Alcib. So it feems. The Nobility Socrat. And Veitue is a noble thing, and fuits oj Vertue. only with a free Man. * Afrer Socrates has confounded the Pride o( Alcibiai.es ^ he gives a finifhing ftroke to lay him low, in reducing him to pronounce this - • terrible Sentence againft himfelf, that he's Only worthy to be t Slave, becaufc he h»s no Vertue j fiacc 'sis Vertue alone that makes Men free. Alcib, Of the Nature of Man. tif Jllcib. That can't be contefted. Socrat. Then this Vilenefs ought to be avoided, which only faites with Slaves. u4lcib. Moft certainly, Socrates, _ Socrat. Well then, my dear Alcibiades ^ do you nov^/ perceive in what condition you are ? Are you in this noble Difpofition of Mind fo becoming a Man of your Birth ^ or Alc'tk "^ Ah, Socrates^ I perceive very well, I arri in the Condition, you fpeak of. . Surat, But do you know how to deliver your felf out of this Condition, which I dare not name, when I Ipeak of a Man of your make ? Alcih. Yes I do Soc. Well, how can you deliver your felf ? , , . jilctb. I fhall deliver my lelt^ li Socrates pleafes* Socrat. You don't fay well, Alcibiades. Alcih. Whatfhould I fay then > ^ Socrat. You fhould fay, if God pleafes. Wemda ■ Alcib. Well then, I fay if God pleafes^ and I add, ""f^w^ let us for the future change Perfons ^ ydu fhall per- ^J'^^jt J* fonate me, and I you ^ that is to fay. 111 now t make ' ^'''' ^ ' my Court to you, as you have hitherto made yours to me. Socrat. If fo my dear Alcibiades^ what is repor- ted of the Stork may be faid of the love I have for * Tis upon this, without doubt, thie Plutarch fays, Alcibiades ftruck widi the vidorious Reafons 6f Socrates^ was like a Cock, that after a long fight, hangs the wing and yields himfelfconguer'd, Aad that Socrates by his ingenious Difcourfes touch'd him to the iguick, aud made him pour out a floud of Tears, t This^ Paflage is corrupted in the Text. It fhould be read, «>f vsri (Td 'i7miJ'ccy)i>ryrf^Wi or «V av iiJ.i k7WLiJht,yi'yrffci<;, TU be your Pedagogue or i'choolmafter, as you have been mine. We fee So- crates has been con<'iantly roiIowing>i/afe4cif.ja5hisSehpo!mafter i for the future Alcibiades defigns to follow Socrates \n his Turn : but it will be to learn of bi ri and not to teach h'm. In Greece they had Schoolmafters for their Children , becaufe they vvenc to pub- lick 5chdbls, and there were no private Mafliers buc for Perfons of the firft equality •-, and they made ufe ot'em but rarely. M. le f?vre. In the Tranflition 'twas requifite to put an equivalent Term, be* Cauje the Word Ptdagogue or ScMmafter would not have (oundec! Q you i ii6 7T?e F/Vy? Alciblacles, Sec. you •, for after it has hatched and nourifhed a little Winged. Love in your Bolom •, Tliis little Love (hall take his turn to cht;riih and nourifh that in his old Age. Alcib. It fhall lb ^ and trom this day I'll apply my felf to Righteouliiels. Socrat. 1 defire you may through the whole courfe of your Life, perlevere in thisdefign * but I confefs I fear it very much. Not that I dilbuft your Good Temper ^ but the force of the Examples that reign in this Ciry occafion thele apprehenfions. I tremble for fear they Ihould be too itrong for you and me too. ''■ The Event provM that this fear of Socrates was but too well founded. Aldhiadts with all his good Temper, and with his great Qualities, entirely ruih'd hinifelf, and did a Worldofmiichief to the Athenian'^. Heaban on'dhimfelfto Plcafures; imraers'dhim- felf in LuxU' y '■> aid made Spoil on all hands, without any rcfpeft to Honour or Decency : and if he did ill m feizing, he did ftill worfe in fj-ending, to furnifh matter for his Intemperance and De- bauches. Inftead of following the Rules of Juftice, he govern'd after a licentious manner, full of Diflblution, and mix'd wich Trea- chery and Deceit ; and gave himfelf up to extravagant Fits of Anger, which occafioned ^reat Mifchiefs. All which proceeded from his forfaking Lycens^ and forgetting the wife Leflbns ot Socratts. Aid- b'udes his Difeafe became incureablc when he had ieft this Phyfician, It feiZ'd him like a violent Fever, ovcrcurn'd his UnderftandiBg, and made him as it were run mad. From Lycem it drove him to the Afiembly of the Athenians j from that Aflembly it forc'd him to Sea, from the Sea to 5ja7)', from thence to Lacedemonia, from Lactdtmonii to the Pnjians, from the Perfians to Samos, from Samos to Aihtns^ iom Athens 2%3\n into the Hdleffonty and from thence in fine it brought him to be confin'd in a Town of Phrygia. where he liv'd obfcurely in the Embraces of a dcbauch'd Woman, and was at lafl miferably kill'd. THE ii;^ The Argument o F T H E Second ALCIBIADES, P^ety is the only fpring of our Uafpnefs^ and liS Grayer alone that nounjhes Viety : By this -uoe keep up a continual Correfpondence with (Joi. reprefent ourKeceJJities tohim^ ani draw down his havoars upon i/s. So that the EJJence of Religion confifts in Prayer. For Prayers are properly the Sal- lies oj a Soul penetrated with Piety ^ dif covering its Mifery to GoJ^ in order to requeji a Rejnedy. But our Pajfions fill our Minds noith fo much Darknefs^ that we know neither our Goods^ nor our Evils^ but following our own Defires every day offer fuch Peti- tions to God^ as would be fatal to //f, and would be- come realCurfes ifGodJlwuld ha r ken to us. Therefore there is nothing of fo great Importance as Prayer ^ nothing that requires fo much Prudence and Attenti- on^ and yet we go about nothing zvithfo much Teme- rity and Aegligence. Plato here vigorouJJy oppofes thisAbufe ^ and teaches^ that if we would pray voellwe muft learn to know our Goods andEvils ^ that iheKnow- ledg of this is only taught by God ^ and c o rife que nt' ly that ^tis God alone that can dijjipate the Darknefs of our Souls ^ and teach us to pray. Till then we can't fafely make any Prayers of our f elves ^ without being exposed to great Dangers. But are we in the mean time to continue without Prayer.^ the we are in continual need of the Divine Afjil^ance (- There •would be Siupidny or Pride in this kind of Ina^ion. Certainly it would be more eligible for the Soul to con- tinue in filence^ than to ask Evils of God^ z^hen.fhe defires to ask Good^ but God hoi' given herfome help Under this Ignorance^ in infpiring even during the Q: 2 time 1 1 8 The Argument of the Second Alcibiades. iiwe of Dnrknefi^ aVrayer which teaches us to ahan- don our f elves to hun^ and to re que ft of him^ that he ivou/ddo his own Will in us^ and not ours. Of all the Prayers Men are capable ofinaking.^ this is the ?noft a- greeable to God^ and //;/j Socrates zvould have vien con- tinually make. When God hiu once enlighten d and in- firuUedr/s^ we fhall then ask of him whut we think necejjary •, for feeing z\}e Jhallfpeak only by hk Spirit vccjhall requeft of him that i>chich is truly Good-^ which he is alzvays willing to grant ^ and will never fail to give it^ becdufe he truly loves us. This is what Socrates defigns to teach in this Dialogue^ which way be termed Sacred •, fmce it is full of Maxims., very zvorthy of Chrifianity it felf-^ and very ufeful both for Politicks and Religion. As Ziehen Socrates fays^ all the Sciences in the World zvithout the Know- ledg of that zvhich is very good^ are pernicious^ in- fie ad of being ufeful ^ z^jhen he teaches us., that God is not to be corrupted by Bribes., and that he does not regard the Sacrifices^ and Offerings of the zvicked j but the Right eou/hefs and Holinefs of thofe that in- voke him : And when he afj'ures us^ that God ts free and hoj' afoveraign Pozver to hear^ or reje^ our Supplications-^ whence it follozcs^ that when he hears them^ he ffews ifs an AU of Grace., and not of ftri^ Ju(\ice. Here are many other Beauties zvhich may be eafily remark" d^ becaufe they very fenfibly and oh- vioufly offer themf elves. This Dialogue is a kind of Continuation of the precedent. As in the former^ Alcibiadesyf^;/?V to under ft and but little withrefpeU to humane Affairs •, in this he appears to be very ignc* rant in divine things -^for there is fo great a Connexi* on betzveen "em •, that thofe that are ignorant of the one., are neceffarily ignorant of the other., as Socra- tes dc?nonftratcs., when heffezGs., that to know God, to knozQ one" sf elf and to know what appertains to our/elves^ and zdjat to others^ is the Effe^ of one and the fame Art. We 7Jiay obferve by the way^ as z\)e have done before •, that this Dialogue isfuj}ain"d its all the reft are^ by Action. And this Dramatrick Air The Argument of the Second Akibiades. 219 Air^ is that which animates it, andk one of its great • eft Beauties. ^ , _ , ^ All that is farther necefjary to be known, n at what time Y\^to fumJ^s it to_ he 7nade. If we follow h^ Interpreters, they make hm ff into a very ndi- adorn Inconveniency. Vor after he had fad Archel^- us A7;7^^ ^/Macedonia wa^ kilVd, he j peaks oj Vq- ricles as of a Perfon yet, alive, contrary to zvhat ■k certainly known, namely, that kiQ\\&i\xs farviv d Pericles, and wa^ not affafinated till Twenty years after his Death; and contrary to what mtohimfelj fays, in h^ Gorgias and Th^ages. We/hall feein, the Notes what led Plato'x Interpreters into this Mi- ftake. In the mean time it may he maintained, f hat bo- crates held thefe Difcourfes with Alcibiades, thepjt ygarofthec/^Olympiade; for ?QidicczfreIgfdi^ years after the death (/Pericles, who died thelaji year of the 87 Olympiade. Archelaus, who kil d Perdiccas, reign' df even years, and then was kill d the M year of the 92 Olympiade. This naturally leads us to the time of this Dialogue. They that make Archelaus to have reign' d 16 Tears, or Perdiccas 2^, make kid^tldMS furvive Alcibiades .7;zi Socrates. This Dialogue is of the fame Character with the precedent, {xccuvtims, that is, Socrates here makes Alcibiades find out the Truths which he de/igns to^ teach him. 'Tis alfo a Moral Dialogue, as well as the former. a? THE »J THE Second ALCIBIADES, O R Of prayer. Socrates J Akibiades. Socrates, \ La/'/Wt'i', are you going into this Tem- ple to fay your Pray eis ? tes, A . :ih. Yes Si Jllcih. Yes Socrates^ that is my defign. . Socrat. Indeed you feem very thoughtful , I fee your Eyes are fix'd on the Ground like a Man that's thinking on fome very ferious Matter. Mcib. What (hould I think on, Socrates > Socrat. What fhould you think on > on fome very important thing, I fuppofe ^ fori befeech you in the Name of God, tell me, whether when we addrels our Prayers to the Gods, either in publick or pri- vate, do they not grant us fome things, and refufe us others ? do they not hear fome Perfons, and re- jeQ others ? ^/c. That's very true. Socrat. Don't you think then, that Prayer requires Ffjytr re- ^ ^^-q^^ (j^^l of Precaution and Prudence,' left before ^greltdcdof^^ are aware we ask the Gods great Evils, while iVifdom and we think we are requefting what is good •, and left iPrudem. they fliould be difpos'd to grant what is requefted of 'em ^ as they granted Oedipm^ his Petition, who pray'd that his Children might decide their Rights by the Sword. This unhappy Father, who might have pray'd to the Gods to remove from him the Mifchiefs that opprefs'd him, drew new Miferies on _ ' him- Of ^%A1[E% ^3» himfelf by liis horrible Imprecations •, for Hs^Petiti. ons were heard, and this proved a fource of terrible Calamities to his Family, the particulars of which 1 need not relate to you. x^. j tv-i Auh. But Socrates, you tell me of a Mad Man, can you believe any Man in his Senfes would have made fuch l^ind of Prayers ? Soc. Then to be mad you, think is oppo:> d to being wife. Alcib. Moft certainly. , ^ , , _ r-^^k Socrat, Don'tyouthink, that fome Men are Fools, and others Wife ? Akib, Yes. , i 4 5.m7f . Come then, let us endeavour to know and diftinguKh 'em well •, for you agree that there^are fome that are foolilh, others that are wile, and o- thers that are mad. Alcib. I do fo. , , 5 t r 1.^ Soc. Are not fome People in health, and others fick?- Alcib, That's certain. ■ Socrat. Thefe are not the fame Perions. Alcib. No certainly. • u cat Socrat. Is there a third fort, who. are neither fck nor in health > Alcib. "^^0. That can't be. ^ .^ , . . ,. Socrat. For a Man muft neceffarily be m health or fick, there is no Medium. Alcib. So I think. r ^ ^r. Socrat. But is it the fame thing with refpett to. Wifdom and Folly in your opinion ? Alcib. How do you fay ? rr -i v^ Socrat. I ask you if a Man muft neceffarily be either fooliOi or wife •, or is there a certain Medi- um which makes one become neither a wife Man nor a Fool ? » If one were difpos'd to Criticize, one might fay, tliercisa third ftate which i.rl?at of Convalefcence i« -Jnch Men h^ve^^^^ yetrecover'd Hcakh, neither are properly fick. ^m atbo«om. Lis is not true, for one who is recovering is no longer under the Power of Sicknefs, but is in the way of Healili. ^^^^.^^ iji I7;e Second Alcibiades • or, Alcib. ^ No. There's no Medium. Soc/dt. Then One muft neceflarily be one or t'other. Alcib. So I think. Socrat. Did you not juft now grant that Madnefs is oppofite to Wifdom ? Alcib. Yes. Socrat. And that there is no Medium, to put a Man into flich a Condition as to be neither wife nor fooliOi > Alcib. I did grjnt it. Socrat. But is it poflible for the fame thing to have two Contraries opposd to it ? Alcib. By no means. Svcrat. Then Folly and Madnefs will appear to be one and the lame thing. Alcib. So methinks. Socrat. Then it we fay all Fools are mad, we (hall fay rigiir. A/cib. Certainly, Socrat. Without going any farther^ Among all the Men of your Age, if there are any Fools, as without doubt there are, and fome of a longer Itand- &g, (for, I piay, don't you find wife Men are very rare in tliis City and Fools very numerous) would you call thefe Fools mad I '. Akilh Without any Scruple. tht T>if- Socrat. But do you think we (hould be very fafe (Utyivhich among fo many miad Men ^ and that we (hould not Socrates feefote now have born the punifhment of luch Con- yei°i"L\d- "^"^'^^^i^^n ^ in futtering firom 'em whatever might be hhdci has ex petted from mad Men? Have a care what vou fay, ;«/? gnnt- » To this 'tis objefted, that ihcfc is a certain Medium between id. Vcrtue and \ice, which is the State ot fuch as are, ficither vi*. cicus, no: verruous, as Tacitui fays of Gj/oj, migis txtri yit'u qulm cum Virtiitibus. But 'cis eafy to fee, that this Exprcflion of Tacitus is ncttrue, but only in rhe common Language of the World, which makes only a fuperficial Judgment, without penetrating deeply into :hings, and fo calls none vicious but thofeiivho prac- tifegrofs Vices j and isf for 1 perceive it may be otherwife than I fay. _ Socrat. I think fo too^ and we muft examine the Matter after this Manner. Ak. After wha_c Manner ? Socrdt. fm going to tell you ; Some Peilons are fick, are they not ? Akib. Who doubts it ? Socrat. Is it abfolutely necelTary, that every one that is fick, Ihould have the Gout or fever or lore Eyes > and don't you think he may be free trom all j^solution thefe Diftempers and yet befick ot another Dileale > ,/ thkdiffi- Yoi there are divers kinds of Dileafes, befides thefe. culty. Akib. So I think. ^ r , r Socrat. You believe every Diftemper of the Lyes is a Difeafe, but you don't think every Dikafe is a Diftemper ot the Eyes. Ak.Ho certainly ,but yet I don't fee what that proves. Socrat. But if youll tollow me, I am perfwaded, we thall find that prefently. loa know that faying of the Poet ^ 1 wo Men that go together. Akib. I follow you.with all my might Somites. . Socrat. Are we not agreed that every Dilt-mper of the Eyes is a Difeale, and that every Difeafe is not a Diftemper of the Eyes > * Plato often intermixes Sentences of the Poets inhisDifcour- tes v,ithout giving any notice when he does it. To underftand this Paffrrwelirand ro'knovv all its Elegancy j '«s neceflary core- member the Words homer puts into Diomedes his Mouth, when Sr propofes to fend Spies into the Trojan Camp. For he fpeaks thus ify Courage prompts me to go into the Enemies Army but if any TrioM accompany me! I (hoMio ^ith greater Boldn^fs and Confi. InZ fortwo Lnthat gJ>to,ether, take a betUr ue^ ofthngs one fees ivhit the other cioes not obfnve: One Man alone, tho he want noj Frndence, yet has always lefs Vigour and At:iviry mtis Mmd. Liad. K ver 224. SothathereisamanifeftAUufion to this Paffjge. "Corner faystoVre Si e?;^f^V«, Tr^o A.n that go ^^f^^^.J..^^ Plato dyi> cr;vri JUo (XKcrlo^vc^y Tvpo Mn that examm together. Bu^ becaufe mma is notnow fo well krown as he was m. fL's time, I haveelucidaed the Paffage m the Tranflanon, by add ng, you\nor. that Saying of the Foet Wirhout ^^^1^^ the Al- lufion would nc< haTC been perceiveablc. The Latm Traoftators bave flip'd ovtr it v\ithouc perceiving ic, .^ 134 ^^^ Second Alcibiades • or, A/cib. In that we are agreed. Soc. And that with good Reafon •, for all that have a Fever are lick ^ but all that are lick, have not a Fever, or the Gout, or fore Eyes. All thefe Afflifti- ons are Difeafcs, but Phylicians alTure us that they are fo many difterent Difeafes by their Eftu£ls -, tor they are not allalike^ and they don't deal with thenni all after the fame manner ^ but according to the Na- ture and Violence of 'em. Are there not a great ma- ny forts of Artificers ? There are Shoemakers, Brick- layers, Archite£ls, Carvers, Painters, and a multitude of others, whom I need not name ^ work is divided among 'em. They are all Artificers, but they are not all Carvers or Architects. A/cib. 'Tis true. Socrat. In like manner Folly is divided among Men, thofe that have the greateft fhare of it we call mad, or diftrafted. Thole that have a degree lels we call Fools, and Stupid ^ but while Men feek to Folly Is di- hide thefe Vices under honourable and fpec>ous videdamong^ Names ^ they call the former Men of Magnanimi- bowand In- ty, and Courage ^ and they call the others Men of duflry is Simplicity •, or elfe they fay they have no harm in fhafda- 'em ^ but have little Experience, and much Youth. moni em. yQ^'^[ fjj^^ ^ gj-g^l- many Other Names belides thefe with which they palliate their weak fide. But thefe are fo many forts of Folly, which differ only as one Art does from another, and one Difeafe from another. Don't you think fo as well as I > A/cib. I am of the fame mind with you. Socrat. To. return then to our Subje£li Our firft defign was exactly to know and diftingifli the Foolifh Irom the Wife •, for we agreed that feme Men are Wife and others Fooliih, ^djd^^ we not ^ Alcib. Yes, in that we agreed'.'- Socrat. Don't you call him wife.who knows, what he ought to fay or do, and him foolifli who knows neither one nor t'other? Ale. Yes certainly. Socrjt. Are they, who know not what they ought Tpidefni- ^q ^-^y ^^ j^^ ignorant that they fay and d,o, what mfeM^^n tiiey ought not > and a Fool. Alcib. Of not. 1^6 The Second Alcibiades ] or^ greateft of all Goods -, yet have deriv'd no other Advantage from this great Elevation, than to be ex- pos'd to the Stratagems of their Enemies, who have ailaffinated them on the Throne. 'Tis impoflible but you mult have heard of that Tragical Story that has lately happened. * Arche/a^^^ the King ofMa- cedoma had a Favorite whom he lov'd with an un- bounded PaiTion •, this Favorite, who was yet more in love with the Throne oiArchelar^^ than this Frince was with him, kill'd him to fill up his place Mattering himfelf that he (houldbe the happieft Man m the World : But he had fcarce enjoy^ the Tyranny 3 or 4 days, when he was cut oiF by others that were poffels'd with the fame Ambition. And among our Athenians (for thefeare Examples which come not to us by hear-fay^ but fuch as we have leen with our Eyes) how many have there been,who atter they had ardently afpifd to be Generals of the' Army, and had obtain'd what they defir'd, have been put to death, or banifhed > How many others who have feei^d more happy, havepafs'd through innu- merable Dangers, and been exposed to continual l-ears, not only during the time of their being Ge- nerals, but alfo after their return into their Coun- try, vidiere they have all their Life-time had a more cruel Siege to maintain againft envious De^raftors than all thofe they fuftain'd in War againft the E- nemies of the State ? So that the greateft part of em wifli'd they had never been any more than pri- vate Men, rathef than to have had the Command ^^/rmies at fo dear a rate. If all thefe Dangers and Fatigues would produce a Maa any advantage in the end -, there would be lome reafon for him to to expole himfelf to 'em, but 'tis the quite contra- ry- What I fay of Honours, I fay alfo of Children How many People have we i:QQn^ who after they =*■ ArcheUm was the natural Son of Perdiccas. He kill'd his Fa- ther, his Uncle Alcetas and his Son. He afterwards kill'd the Le- gitimate Son ofPerdiaai-y and after he had pofTefsM the Throne 7 years, was afliffiaated by his Favorite Cmirfts, have have importunately defir'd of God, that he would give them Children, and have accordingly obtain'd ^em, have by this means precipitated thenifelves in- to terrible ^iferies and Troubles : For fome of 'em have fpent their whole Life in Sorrow and Bitter- nefs ^ becaule their Children have prov'd wicked ^ and others who have had fuch as have prov'd good have been no more happy than the former, becaule they have loft them for the moft part in the Flower of their Age : So that they had much rather never have had 'em. Now tho all theie Miferies, and many others, are very obvious, and common ^ yet there's fcarce a Man to be found, who would refule thefe falfe Goods, if God fhould give 'em him •, or who would ceale to importune him for 'em, if he were affufd he fhould obtain 'em by his Prayers. The generality of Men would not refufe, either the Tyranny, or the Command of Armies, or any other great Honours, which yet are certainly much mere pernicious than ufeful •, but would requeft 'em of God, if they did not fpontaneoufly offer themfelves to 'em. But wait a moment, and you'll hear 'em fing a Falinodia^ and ofifer Petitions quite contrary -^ RbcmU' to the former. For my part, I confels, I can't choole ^''"'* but think, tliat Men are really to blame, /> com-ThUka. plaining of the Gois^ and accufing "em of being tbeP^Jf^ieojf Cdiife of the Mi/eries they fujfer •, for 'tis them- ^^"^J'"' \ felves^voho by their Faults^ or rather by their Follies^ ofU OdS 1/2 fpite of fate draw Mijehiefs on themfelves. at the ht- " And therefore, Alcibiades^ that Ancient Poet feems mning. to me to have had a great deal of Senfe and Rea- fon, who having (as I think) very imprudent Friends, whom he faw every day going on in a Courle of ask- ing of God fuch things as feem'd good to them, and yet were very bad for 'em, compos'd for 'em this Prayer, and gave it 'em. Great God^ give us the Good Things that are necefj'ary for ///, whether we ask ^em or not •, and keep evil things from m^ even -^^ Admin- when we ask 'em oj thee. This feems to be a moft ^? ^'"'^^'^ Excellent and very fafe Prayer* If you have any \nmTM' thhig thoT. 238 , 7he Second Alcibiades- or' thing to objea: ngainft it, do not hide it from me ^/a/^. 'Tis h3rd to contradia what is well Ipoken. The only refleaioni make on it, Socr^res, Is how many tyils are brought upon Mankind by Ignorance ^or we don't fo much as perceive that'tis thisthatnot only makes us every day do fuch things as are fatal to us i but (which IS moll deplorable) engages us to ask our own unhappinefs of God ^ and this is what no Man can tell how to imagine. There's no PeP Ion but thinks himlelf capable of asking fuch things ■ ^1 r'. 'r ^'^ '^?y "^^f"l ^^' him, and very uncapt ble ot dehring fuch as are pernicious to him • for this would not be a Prayer, but a real Imprecation. Socrar Hold a little, my dear Akibmdes, 'tis poffible there may be found fome Perfon wifer than you and I, who might with good Reafon reprehend us, and tell us we are very much in the wrong thus to blame Ignorance, without adding what lort of Ignorance it is that we condemn, and in what it con- ignmnceis "1^^- ^^t it Ignorance is bad in fome things 'tis fometimes good in Others. ' good. ^f /^. How do you fay, Socrates;\s there any thing otwhat kmdfoever of whkh 'tis more ufefulto be Ignorant, than to know it ? Socrat.So I think, and you think otherwife. Alcib. That I do I proteft. Socrat, Yet I fhall never believe you capable of being irritated againft your Mother With the fury ei- ther of an Orefles^ or an Alcmaon, or any the like Parricides ^ if there have been any others who have tommittedthe fame Crimes. 7l/a7;. Ah !. Socrates, I intreat you in the Name ot God alter your dilcourie. Socrat. Akibiades, you are to blame to defire that of me of me, I fay, who tell you, I don't think you capable of committing thofe Crimes. You could do no more if I accused you of 'em. But fince thefe Attions appear fo abominable to you , that one mult not name 'em unlefs there be an abfolute ne- ceffity of It . with all my heart, fo let it be. I on- Of f%^ArE%. 139 ly ask you, do you think, if Oreftes had been in his Senfes, and had known what was good, and ufeful for him, he would have dar'd to do what he did ? Alcib. No certainly. Socr.it. Neither he nor any body elfe would have done It. Alab. That's moft certain. Socrjt. Then in my Opinion this Ignorance of what is good and ufeful is a great Evil. A/cib. I am of the fame Mind. Socrat. And that either in Oreftes^ or any other Perfon. Akib. I am fully perfuaded of that. Socrat. Let us examine this matter yet a little far- ther. Suppofe then ^ it had formerly come into your Head on a fudden, that it was a very good and laudable A£lion for you to go and kill Pmr/^j- your Tutor and Friend ^ and that you had taken a Dagger, and gone dire£tly to his Door, to ask if he were at Home, as having a defign againft him alone, and not any other ^ and that you had been told he was with- in. I don't mean by this that you could ever have been capable of comtoitting fo horrible an Aftion ^ ^ The latin Interpreters have trarflated this PaiTage, as i( Pla- to had faid, if it (hould come into your bead of a. fudden^ to go and kill Pericles yoHr tutor and Friend, not confidering chat they make Plato fall into a very .idiculous Faulc. For to fpeak thus, Peri- cles mufl have been ftill living. And Flatohid. been faying, thac Arc ehm. King of Micedonici, had been aflalinaced, and we know Pericles died o years be'c re. How then fhall this Concradiftion be reconcil d ? How fhall we fecure Plato from this Faulc of v^hich he is not guilty : feeing he fpeaks the contrary in GorgiasAnA Thea- ges ? There's no great i ifficulty in the Matter, 'cis only to tran- flace as the Greek Terms will bear; if it had formerly come into your had on a fiidien^ that is, if tvhile Vi'.ridc^ was living, &c. By this means we not onl) prevent a great miftake, in regard of the time, but alfoefr;,pe a great Fault agaitift the Rules of Decency. For thac Pericles fhould be yec alive when Socrates fpeaks thus to Alci- biades, is a hard dnd odious Suppoficion ; hutfuppofing Pericles to be dead, it has not the fame harfhnefi in it. Athene us wouXd. not have forgot to improve this PafT^ge to ftrengthen his Chicanerie againft Plato\ Gorgias, if he had not very well underftood thacic wouJd bear another Imerprecation bcfides that given it by his Tranflators, but 240 The Second Mc\hh6es ; or, but I make this Suppofition to (hew you that there'^ nothhig hinders, but a Man who knows not what is comely and honourable may be in a difpofition of taking that for very Good, which is in it felf very Evil •, Don't you think fo as well as I > Alcib. I am perfectly of the lame Mind. Socrat. To go on then ^ fuppofing you had been told Pericles was at Home, and you had gone in, and feen him, but not known him, and imagined that you faw fome body elfe •, would you have had the Boldnefs to kill him > No certainly, for your defign would have been only againft him •, and every tims you had been at his Houfe on the fame Defign, and had miftlken him for another, you would not have done him the leaft Injury. Alcib. That's very certain. Socrat. What then ? Dd you think Oreftes would have laid his Parricidial Hands on his Mother, if he had miftaken her for another ? Alcib. No doubtlefs. Socrat. For he did not defign to kill the firft Wo- man he met, nor the Mother of this or that Perfon -, but had a mind to kill his own Mother. Alcib. You fay right. Socrat. Then this Ibrt of Ignorance is very good for thofe that are in fuch a difpofition of mind as his, and have fuch kind of Fancies in their Heads. Alcib. So I think. Scorat. By this then yo'u plainly fee, that on fome Occafions, and in foriie Perfons whofe Minds arfedif pos'd after a certain manner. Ignorance is at Good and not an Evil, as you juft now fuppos'd; Alcib. I perceive it very well. ^ Socrat. If you will take the pains to examine what ^. ^jf , I am now going to fay, how ftrange foever it may Sciences Ire ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Y^^o ^^ ^^^V ^^ yo^'H he of the fame nfelefs tvitu- Hlind T^ith me. out the Alcib. Well, Socrates, What is it > ^nhlf^' 5^r/-j/. 'Tis true, that poflibly all the ^Sciences tohichi! without the knowledg of that vvhich is very good, wr> goad. are ^xt feldom of ufe to thofe that poflefs'em, nay moft Gommonly are pernicious to 'em. Follow me a lit- tle in your Thouglits, I entreat you. When we are about to fay or do any thing ^ Is it riot altogether neceifary, either that we really know what we are go- ing tc> do or lay, or at leaft that we think we know it > Akib. Without doubt Socrat. According to this Principle the Orators who every Day advile the People, give them advice about what they know, ot at leaft think they know. Some give 'em counfel about Peace and War, others about the Walls that ought to be built, about the Fortifications, Gates, andArfenals. In a word, all, that the City does for it felf, or againft another City, . is not done but by the advice of Orators. Alc'ih 'Tis true. Socrat. Oblerve well what follows •, and fee if I can finifh my proof: Don't you divide the People into wife Men and Fools > Atcib, Yes. Socrat. Don't you call the greateft number Fools^ and the leaft wife Men ? Alcib. Yes Socrat. Is it not with reference to fomething that you call 'em fo ? Alcib. Moft Certainly. Socrat. Do you tlien call hirti a wife Man who can give this Counfel without knowing wliat is beft, or in what time it is beft > Akib. No certainly. Socrat. Nor do you call him wife, who can make War, but knows not when nor how, nor how long 'tis beft fo to do, Alcib. No, not I. Socrjt. Nei ther do you call thofe Magiftrates wife, Who know how to put to death, to fine, and to ba- ni(h : and yet know not when or on what Occafi- ons thefe punifhmients are beft and moft juft. Alcib. No indeed. tocrat. Well then, when any one knows well how to do all thefe tilings, and thefe Sciences are accom- panied with the knowledge of that which is very R good j> 24X T/;e Secow J Alcibiades J or, good (and this is the fame with the knowledge of that which is very ufetul, as you have granted) we call this Man wile, and fay he is very capable to ad- vile and conduft himielt, and govern tne Common- wealth. And we lay directly the comrary ot him who does not add the knowledge of that which is good to thele Sciences. ^t is iohg Alcib. This mult be granted. r# provt 5^^;.^ When a Man knows how to mount a Horle, Mfdinthe ^^ drawa Bow, to Wreltle, in a word to perform a- Art a Man ny of the like Exercifes •, or is well inftrufted in a- j>roje{f?s u ny other Art, how do you call hhn, when he Kotfufficient i^nows perfectly well what is molt contormable to •trr^r . the Art he proteffes? Don t you call him a Querry name o) a. a i-/ir- fiT ^ •tt>i[e Man. that employs himlelt m managmg of Hories, him Wreftler that makes it his bufinefs to Wreltle, and him a Mufician who underltands Mufick, and fo of the leitf* Don't you give 'em all fuch Names as are derived from their Art, and are fuitable to it ? or do you give them other Appellations > Aldb. We give 'em only fuch Names as are taken from their Art. Socrat. Do you think 'tis of abfolute neceflity that he who well underltands the Art of which he makes Profelfion, fhould alfo be a wife Man ^ or (hall we lay he may be far from that Chara£ter > Alcib. He may be very far from it Socrates. Socrat. ^ What will you fay of a Ee^::tl'ck com- pos'd of Wreftlers, Pipers, Archers, and other fuch kind of People mingled with fuch PerJR)ns as we have been fpeaking of, feme of whom know how romake War, others to eoncemn to Death •, and with thofe States-Men, who are bloated with pride on the Account of their pretended Capacity in Politicks > Suppoiing all thele People to have knowledge of what is very good, and that there is but one iingle * ThisisafubtileSacyr againft the Rcpuhlick of the / Alcib. I fhould fay, Socrates^ that would be a ve- ry ill-compos'd Commonwealth. Socrat. Much more would you fay fo, when you faw every one full of Ambition, and ftriving to en- grols the greateft part of Affairs to himfelf ^ that he might ft ill exceed himfelf, and become eveiy Day more powerfiil in that part of the Government which is the moft Noble •, and if you fhould at the fame time fee every one making horrible Miftakes againft the knowledge of what is very good, both on his own account and that of the Commonwealth-, becaule hecondu£ls himfelf by Opinion without Underftand- ing. This bemg the State of the cafe, (hould we not have great Realbn to fay that fuch a Repiihlkk can't choofe but be full of Diforder and lujultice ? Alc'ih. This is manifeltly true. Socrat. Have we not agreed that it is abfolutely neceffary for us either to believe we know, or elfe rea- ly to know what we are about to do or fay without a- ny farther Deliberation > Alcib. That has been agreed between us. Socrat. * Have we not like wile acknowledged, that when any Man does that which lie knows, or thinks he knows •, provided he polfeffes the knowledge of that whicli is very good, great advantage hence ac- crues both to himfelf and to the State. Alcib. Who can doubt that > Socrat. And that when 'tis otherwife, the contra^- ry enfues. Alcib. That's evident. Soc. Do you ftill perfift in the fame Sentiments ? Alcib. I do. Socrat. Have you not faid, that the greateft num- ber is that of Fools, and that of wife Men theleaft ? Alcib. Yes, and I fay the fame ftill. * The knowledg of that which is very good condufts and dired» US not only ia ihc things we know, but alfo in thpfe wc koow not. R 2 Socrar, 244 ^^^ Second Alcibiades ; or, Socriii. Did we not upon this fay, that the great- eft number keep at a diftance from that which is good, hecaufe they ufually abandon themfelves toO- pinion withoutUnderftanding. Alcih. Yes, lo we laid. Socrdt. Then 'tis ufeful for this great number to l-;now nothing, and to believe they know nothing, be- cauie what they know, or believe they know they will be willing to put in Execution, and in fo do- ing, inllead of gaining any advantage, they will re- ceive great prejudice. Alcib. You fay true. Soc. By this then you fee very well, that I had reafon when I told you juft now, that poflibly all Sciences, without the knowledge of what is very good, were leldom ufeful to thofe that poffefs'd 'em, but "were moft commonly very pernicious to 'em. Were you not then lenfible of this Truth ? Alcih. I was not then fenfible of it, Socrates^ but ^now 1 am. SixTdt. Then a City which would be well govern'd and a Soul that would live well applies it lelf only to this Science ^ as a Sick Man commits himfelf to his Phyfician ^ and as a Sailer, that would ar- rive Mq at his Port, obeys his Pilot. * Without this the greater Fortune, Men or States enjoy, the ^ This is ore of the moft difficult places in PUto ; Mayfdiui Ficinus, and Df SV?>?jhave tranflated it very ill, and have rather obfciir'd than inrerpreted i% However Ficiniis fufpcfted that ic was corrupted, rho he could not correft it. I am of opinion that we fiiould re:d [Av for ^h , and 7« for y6. feuc that is not all, the princip.il Fault in the Textconrifts in the Word 4v-)m< which makes a very ill Stnfe, we muft therefore nectffarily read W^f, and take away the I'oinr. Pbtoh Scrife is, that without the knowledg of what is ve: y good, the greater Fortune a Soul or a City en)oys, the prcsccT Crimes will they commit to fariare their Paffions. The Con uption came G cm theWord -^uy^v which is 9 or 4. Lines higher. But Flato fpeuks no more of the Soul than he does of the City, ind c-nfcqucntly could nor repeat -^p^V. He certainly wrote 7y';yif, and this mode o{ Speech i-Traficm tc -nt toj^j is very elegant, qut wall's jortuna a^iavnit, properly, the more Fortune blows on their Fiiap. The Beauty 01 this I'rinciplc, and the Truth which it con* ta'tit, p ovc the nccefTity of leflorirg the Senfe atcr thismannerj The ^ I uccr Fortune w'.ekcd Men have, the gi eater Sins do they ^°^"^*^- great- Off^ArE%. 245 greater Crimes will they commit, either to acquire t'^^,'""'^ Riches, or to augment their Power, or fatiate their ^^^^^"'^^^^^^^^ PalTions. He that poflefses all the Arcs and Scien-^^^jf^l,^ '^^ ces, and is deltitute of this, will be driven about and cam s th^j tofs'd by each of them, and be really batcer'd with commit, ij a furious Tempeft ; and having neither Helm nor f^^^^l^'"^- Pilot, 'tis impolTible he fhould go very far, and his hiorvLg ruine muft needs be near. Methinks wliac the Po^t of whutis fpeaks of one whom he would difpraife may be ap- '^'^^1 good. plied to him. ^ He knew (fays he) tmmy things^ but knew "em all amifs. uilc'ib. How can one make fuch an applicati- on as this, Socrates} for my part, I don't think there is any Juftnefs in it. Socrat. On the contrary I fay there is a great deal of Juftnefs in it. For my dear Alabiades^ 'tis a fort of Enigma. Homer and the other Poets are full AU Poejie of 'em. For allPoefie is naturally enigmatick, and ".^"^s'"-'^' 'tis not given to every Man to penetrate thole Obfcu- ^'^^* rities •, and ifbefidesits being Enigmatick, it be hand- led by envious Poets, who inftead ofdifcovering their Wifdom to us, only feek to hide it from ua^ 'tis tlien almoft impoffible to found their Thoughts. But you'll never accufe Homer that moft Wife, and Di-. vine Poet of being ignorant that ^is impomble to know amifs what one knows ^ 'tis he tiiat fays of Margites^ that t ^e knew jnany things but knew '^/;^ all am'ifs^ and he fpeaks enigmatically, for h^ puts \he knew'] for hi shear ning and \_ami/s] for unhappy-^ which terms could not well enter into the Compo- fition of *his Verfe ^ but what he certainly meant by * Or thus, To a great Sum his KnovvleJg did amounir, But all he knew turn'd to an il! Account. t Homtr made a Poem againft one Margites, who knew much, and yet fpent his Life in Idlenefs and Debjuchery, a certain fign that he did not poflefs the knowledg ot what is very good. This Poem which was made up of a mixture of Here ick and lam'iick Verfes is loft : In which Homir turn'd die pungent Railleries of thofe Satyrical Pieces which were in vogue before him into pleafanc Stories and Jefts; and by this means was the fiift chat gave us any ftrokesof Comedy : Sec the a'^^ Ch.ipter of Afijlotle of the Arto^ Poetry. R 3 it, 1^6 7he Second Alcibiades ; or^ M th( 5a- it, is that Marines had a great deal of Learning and Mc. . m Knowledge, and that this was an unhappy or unfor- Zithlut the tunate knowledge to him= If this knov^edge was Ifnewitdgt untortunate to him he mult needs have been a poor Man, if we will adhere to wiiat has been laid. Alcib. So I think, Socrate.^^ I fhould fcarce yield to the molt evident Truths, if I fhould not grant that. Socrat, You have reafon. But, Alcibiades^ I en- treat you, let us afliire our felves of the Truth. You fee how many Doubts and Uncertainties prefent them- felves. You have your (hare of 'em, for you go fometimes to the right and fometitnes to the left. That which feems true to you this Minute you re- ceive as fuch ^ and the very next Moment 'tis quite- another thing in your Opinion. Let us endeavour to know wliere to fix. And as I have already faid, if the God to whom you arc going to pray, fhould Sud- denly appear to you, and fhould ask you before you have begun your Prayers, if you would be fatisfied that he fhould grant you fome one of thofe things we firit fpoke of ^ or rather fuppofing he fhould per- mit you to make your requeft ^ which would you think moft fafe and molt advantageous to you, whether to receive what he fhould give you, or to obtain what you fhould ask of him > Alcib. I folemnly protelt, Socrates^ I know not how to anfwer you : For nothing feems to me to be more foolifh, and more to be avoided with the great- elt Care, than to run the rifque of asking real Evils of God, while one thinks one is asking tru^ Goods of him, and thereby to expofe one's felf^ as you have very well faid, to retra£tthe next moment, and make new Reqiielts quite contrary to the former. Sec rat. Is it not for this Reafon that that Ancient Poet I was fpeaking of in the beginning of our Dif- couife ^ and who underltood thefe things better than we, would have us end our Prayers with thef e Words, And keep evil things from //r, even when we- ask "em of thee ^ A/cib. So I fuppofe, Socrat,^ ? Of ^(K^AYE<^: 147 Socrat, In like manner tlje Lacedemonians, whe- ther they imitate this Poet, or have of themfelves found out this Truth, make both in publick and pri- vate a Prayer much like it. For they defire the Gods The ?rayer to give "em that which ^Comely with that zvhich is oftbe Uch Good. They vi'ere never heard to make any other '^^'"''^^"^' Prayer ^ and yet they are as happy as any People in the World •, and if they have fometimes leeii an In- terruption in the Courfe of their SuccelTes ^ how- ever none can juftly blame their Prayer. For the ^"^ ^/^'* Gods are free, and it depends on their Will, whe- ^Xt^^^r"* ther they will grant what is delif d of 'em, or give or njea out what is contrary to it. And on this occalion Fll tell payers you another Story, which I have often heard related ^i^houtbem by fome antient People. The Athenians being en- ^'^^ "^^^*'^' gag d formerly in a War with the Lacedemonians, it happen'd that they were always beat in every Bat-, tie that was fought : Being deeply concerned at this Misfortune, and feeking Means to divert thefe Mi- feries that impended, at laft after divers Confultati- ons they thought it the beft Expedient to fend to the Oracle of Ammon^ to enquire of him the Reafon of their Misfortunes, and to pray him to tell 'em why the Gods granted Vi£lory rather to the Lacedemoni- ans, than to the Athenians, wlio every day ofter'd 'em a great Number of choicer Sacrifices, who en- riched their Temples with nobler Offerings, who annually made more magnificent, and more devout ProceiTions in their Honour, and in a word who themfelves alone were at greater Expence in their Worfhip than all the reit of the Greeks together. Whereas (faid they) the Lacedemonians have no regard to thefe Ceremonies, they are fo covetous in reference to the Gods, that they oRer them muti- lated ViiStims, and are at much lefs charge in eve- ry thing tliat concerns Religion than the Athenians, tho they infinitely exceed 'em in Riches. After they had thus prefented their Reafous, they ask'd hovy thofe Miferies that prefs'd their City might be di- verted. , The Prophet gave 'em no immediate an- R 4 fwer, 5^4? Tk S^cowd! Alcibiades • or, fwer, for doiabtlefs the God would not permit him to give any. But after fome time, recalling the Am- baffador, he told h.m. This is the Anfi\:cr Ammon gives the Aihenians-^ he loves the Bcncdidionsi.ofihe Lacedemonia/is Ki:(ch mere than all the Sacnjices of jp-wycrs, /^^ Greeks, This was all he laid. By the bene- aedi^kms. ^^^^^^^^ of the Lacedemonians, 1 fuppole, he only • . * meant their Prayers, which inde.d are more perfeft than thofe of any ocher People, tor as for the reft ofthe Greeks,icme of 'em indeed ofterd Bulls with gilded Horns, and others confecrated rich Oblations to the Gods \ but at the fame time requefted in their Prayers whatever their Paflions luggefted, without informing therpfelvcs, wlieiher whac they ask'd was Good oj Kyil, But the. Gods, who hear their Blaf phemies, are not pleas'd with thofe miagnihcent Pro- ceffons, nor do they .accept their coilly Sacrifices. Therefore nothing requires fo much Precaution and Attention as Prayer j to know what we ought to fay, and what not. \ oull find many other things in homer^ which amount to the lame thing with the Story I have been telling you. For he fays, the Trojans^ when they built a Fort, offered, whole lie- catomhes to the hmnortal Gods^that theWmds curried a pleafant Odour from Earth to Heaven^ and yet that the Gods refused to accept allthk^ but reje^tedat^ be- caufe they had an Avcrfwn for the f acred City of Troy, fcr Priamus, and all his Teople. So that it was to no purpofe for 'em to offer Sacrifices, and make Pref^nts to the Gods that hated 'em ^ for the lohe^cor'-^' ^^'^^Y ^^ "^^ ^^ ^^ corrupted by Bribes, like a cove- fHpted by ^ous Ufjier. And ivefhouldbeFocls, ifwefhould Bribes. pretend by this means to render our felves more a- ' greable to the Gods than the Lacedemonians. For it Vv'ould be a very horrible and moft unworthy thing for the Gods to have m.ore regard to our Gifts and Sacrifices, than to our 5ou]s, in diftinguifhing thofe that are truly holy and righteous. But they have re- gard only to our Souls, and not at all to our Procef- ficns, or Sacrifices, upon which the mcit profligate Per^ Of f> Socnit, Don't you remember you told me you were in great perplexity ^ for fear you (liould at unawares pray for Evil things while you defign'd only to ask for Good ? Alcib. I remember it very well, Socrates. Socraf. You fee 'cis not at all fafe for you to go and pray in the Temple, in the Condition you are in, left the God hearing your Blafphemies ihould re- je£l your Sacrifices, and to puniih you, fhould give you what you would not have : I am therefore of the mind that 'tis much better for you to be filenr, for I know you very well. Your Pride, for that's the fofteft >5ame I can give your Imprudence, your Pride 1 fay, probably will not permit you to ule the Prayer of the Lacedemonians. Therefore 'tis altoge- ther necelTary you fhould wait for fome Perlbn to ;each you how you ought to b^^have your felf both towards the Gods and Men. Alcib. And when will that time come, Socrates > an(^ who is he that v;iil inftru£t me ^ with what plea- fure fliould I look upon him ! Socra(i> 1 JO 7he Second Alcibiades, &c^ Thjt iiOsi, Socrat. He will do it, who takes a true Care of you. But methinks, as we read in Horner^ that Mii- nerva diflipated the Mift that cover'd T>iome.k^ his *Tn God Eyes^ and hinder'd him from diilinguifhmg God from 'diStpaUthf ^^'i > ^^ 'f^^ neceOTary he fhould in the nril place Darkness of fcatter the Darknefsthat covers your Soui, ard af- tht Mind, terwards give you thole remedies that are ne_edary toputyou in a condition ofdifcerning Good and Evil ^ for at prefentyou know not how to make a difference between 'em. Alcib. Let him fcatter then, let him deftroy this Darknels of mine, and whatever elfe he pleaies ; I abandon my felf lo his condud •, and am very ready to obey all his Commands, provided I may but b^ made better by 'em. . , Socrat. Do not doubt of that. For this Governour fingular'^ I tell you of, has a Singular Affeftion for you. Lovejor Alcib. I think I muft defer my Sacrifice to that time. Mm. Socrat. You have realon, 'tis more fafe io to do than to run fo great a Rifque. Alcib. Well then I'll defer it, Socrates ^ and to exprefs my Thankfulnefs for the good couniel you have given me, give me leave to place on your Head this Crown which I wear on mine. Well prefent other Crowns to the Gods, and all the Service we owe em, when I fee that happy Day ^ it will not be long before it come, if they pleafe. Socrat. I receive this Favour with very great plea- fure ^ and fhall always kindly accept whatever comes from you. And as Creon (in Euripides) feeing Tire- fias approach him with a Crown of Gold, which was the firft Fruits of the Spoils of the Enemy, and with which the Athenians had honour'd him for his Art, T/i in Eu- faid, 7 take this Crown which is the fign of Vitlory vh^^^'i'u fi^ rt^wi Omen ^ for you fee ^ we arealfo in a great aos?° ^ ' ft^^^^ of War •, fo I mult fay I take the honour I receive at your hand for a happy prefage ^ for I am in no lels a Temped than Creon^ while I am endeavouring to gain the Vi£l:ory over all your Lovers. The M» The Argument O F T H E A G E S. THE Ancients cited this Dialogue under tht Title of Wifdom, or that of Philofophy, as may he feen in Diogenes Laertius : But hovo oldfoever thcfe Titles are^ they were given by l^hilofophers that were unacquainted with the Dejign of Socrates, who here propojes only to treat of the Education of Children^ which is the Bajis and Foun- dation of Fhilofophy. As Plants do not thrive well^ unlefs it he in Ground that is well prepar'^d^ and which has heen varioujly manured^ and aljo receives the henign Influences of the Heavens •, jo Vertues will not grow^ unlefs in a Soul well cultivated^ and ■under the Influences of the divine Favour : On this good Education^ not only the Happinefs of Families depends^ but alfo that of Cities^ Republicks^ and all States •, this is lichat Socrates endeavours to maintain in this Dialogue. The young People of the heft Fa- milies of Athens, dazzled with the Glory ^/Cimon, Themiltocles, and Pericles ^ and full of vain Atii- hition^ thought of nothing but of adhering to the So' phifts^ zvho prom if ed to make ""em very great Politici- ans^ and to put ''em into a Capacity of governing the Athenians and their All.es. Their Parents were tin&ur'd with the fame Folly : The wife ft of "em were thofe that fear' d the Confequences of this Ambition^ and only di /covered the Dangers to which their Chil- dren vcere expos' d by the Corruption of thofe that in- frutfedl'outh. Socrates here difcoiirfes voith a Fa- ther and a Son ojthk Character, The Son aims only to 251 "^^ Argument of Theages.' to make himfelfagood Tyrant ^ and the Father does not blame this Ambition of his Son^ provided he avoided the Corruption that reigned at that time. All the Bu- finefs is to find a good Mafter. Socrates makes an admirable Improvement of this Difpofition of theirs^ to fheu\ that one Man can never teach another true Wifdom^ which alone ?nakes Men govern well ^ but that tbe fpecial favour of God is requifite to this purpofe^ without which all the Endeavours of Maf- ters and Schollars too prove ufelefs ; and this he confirms by Examples. This is the true Subje&ofthis Dialogue^ in which we find divers furprizing Truths which fhall be explained in their place. This Con- verfation pafs'd that year^ in which the Athenians were heat at Ephefus by Tifaphernus ^ which was the d^th year of the Theag. Yes. Soc. Who are thofe Perfons you call wile, are they fuch as are skillful in what they have learn'd, or the ignorant ? The. Such as are skillful. Soc. What ! has not your Father caus'd you to be inftruaed in every thing, that the Children of our belt Citizens learn, as to read, to play on Mufical Inftruments, to wreftle, and to perform all other Exerciles ^ Tl)e. ^ es, my Father has caus'd me to be taught . all this. Soc. Well then ! and do you think there is any 0- ther Science, in which your Father is oblig'd to caufe you to be inftfufted ? The. Yes without doubt. * Tlie Athenians were very careful to giee fine Sacred Names «o their Children : But all Names are falfe, when they don't dc- fcribe the (^hara^er of thofe to whom they arc given. Soc. 256 THEAGES] or, Soc. What Science is that > Tell me, that I may render you fome Service in the Matter. The. My Father very well knows it •, for I have very often told him of it ^ but he is pleas'dto fpeak, after fuch a manner to you, as if he did not know what I defir'd. There's no day paffes, but he dif- putes with me, and ftill refufes to commit me to the Care of foitie skillful Man. Soc. But all that you ha\e hitherto faid to him, has paft only between you two. Now therefore take me for an Arbitrator ^ and before me declare what Science it is you have a mind to attain. For if you were willing to learn that Science which teaches how to ftecr Ships, and I fhould ask you. The age s^ what Science is it in which you complain your Father is not willing to have you inftruaed > Would you not immediately anfwer rne, that 'tis the Science of Pilots > The. Yes doubtlefs. Soc. And if you Were willing to learn the Art which teaches how to drive Chariots, .would you not in like manner tell me, 'tis that of Charioteers > The. I fhould tell you the very fame thing. S'oc. Has that of which you are fo delirous a Name, or has it none ? The. I believe it has a Name. Soc. Do you know it then without knowing the . Name of it? The. I know it, and I know the Name of it too; Soc. Tell me what it is then. The. What other Name can it have than that of Scicncd ? Soc. But is not the Art o^Charioteers alfo a Sci- ence ^ what do you think 'tis a piece of Ignorance ? The-, No Certainly. Soc. Then 'tis a Science ^ what is the ufe of it> Does ^ it not teach us to guide the Horfes that are faften'd to a ^jSxrares Chariot f* • ii going to T/)^. Moft certainly. ^'''''' Spc. And is not the Art of Pilots alfo ^ Sci^rie^ ?' The. So I think. OfWiSDdM. 15^ Sods it not that which teaches us how to guide (hips > Ti6^. The very fame. • Soc. Well what is that which you have a mind to learn, and what does that teach us to govern > The. I think it teaches us to governMen, Soc. What, lick Men ? The. No. Soc. For that belongs to the Medicinal- Art, does It noc ? The. Who doubts it ? , 5"^^. Well then does it teach us to regulate the Choir of Muficians ? Tbe. Not at all Soc. For that properly appertains to Mufick. The. True. Soc. Biit does it teach us to govern thole who per- form the Exercifes > The. No more than the others. Soc. For that belongs to the Gymnaftick Art What fort of Men then does it teach us to govern? Explain your felf clearly as I have done on the other Sciences. , The. It teaches us to govern thofe who are in the City. Soc. But are there not Sick Men too in the City > The. Without doubt there arfe, but I don't mean them, I Ipeak of the other Citizens. Soc. Let's fee, if I under'fend well of what Arr you fpeak, I think you don't fpeak of that which teaches us to govern Mowers^ Vini^-drelTers, Plow- Men, Sowers, and Threlhers •, for that belongs to Husbandry. Nor do you fpeak of that which teach es to govern thofe that handle the Saw, the Plane, and the Lathe : tor chat belongs to the Joyner's Art. But you fpeak of tiie Art that teaches to govern not only thefe but all other Artificers, and all private. Perfons both Men and Women : Perhaps this is the Science you mean. ,. The. ,'Tis the very lame, I had no defign to fpeak 6f any other, . n ' jjg 7HEJGES; or, So£. But, I pray, anfwer tne, did Mgifthm who kiird Agamemnon at Argos^ govern thole forts of People, Aulficers and private Perfons, both Men and Women •, or others ? Ihe. He governed only fuch as theie ^ are there any other to be govern'd ^ Soc. Did not ^elej^s the Son Q^'Eacm likewife go- vern thefe at ?hth\d > And did not Fer Under the Son o^Cypfelifs rule 'em at Corinth > Did not Archela- It vfM <, or j^ ^-j-jg g^j^ qP Fcrdicca^^ who fome few years fince fore.^"^^ ^' afccnded the Throne of Macedonia^ alfo command He WM thefe forts of People > And did not * Uippitu the kiirdattht Son of FififlriitHs^ who govern'd in this City, rule Mrf ojTr/iw Q^j Citizens in like manner > vtryruu j.j^^^ Who doubts it .^ Soc. Tell me, what do you call t Bdcis^ the Sybile and our Amphilyti/s ^ when you would denote their p'ofejjion. The. What fliould we call 'em but Deviners > Soc. Very well. Anfvwer me after the fame man- ner about thefe : What do you call Mippias^ and Peri cinder^ when you would denote their profeflion by the Dominion they Exercile > The. Tyrants, I think ^ what other Name can we give 'em> Soc. Then every one who d^fires to command all the People in this City, defires to acquire a Domi- nion like theirs, a Tyrannical Dominion, and tp be- come a Tyrant. The. I think fo. * ffippijSi the Son oi Pijiflratns was Tyrant of Athenj four years » according to Tbucydides he fuccecded his Father, and not Hippar' ehiti. After he had reigned 4 years he was baniftied j and 20 years after his Exile was kill'd at the Battle of MArntbon^ where he bore Arms for the Perfians. f Bacis was a Prophet who long before Xerxts made a Defcenc into Greece, predifted to the People ail that (hould befal 'cm, Herodotus relates fome of his Prophefies in his VIII Book j and looks upon 'em to be fo formal and plain, fince their Accomplifh- menr, that he fays, he neither dares accufe thefe Oracles of Falf- hood himfelf, nor fuffer others fo to do, or to refufe to give Cre» Hit to 'em. AriJophanes fpeaks of this Deviner in his Comedy »j Fence, As for AmpbilytHSt I know aothing of liim, Soc, Of WISDOM. 259 Soc. This then is the Science with which you are fomuch in Love. The. That is a natural Confequence of what I have laid. Soc. You are a Villain ! Do you defire to become our Tyrant ^ and have the boldneis to complain that your Father does not put you under the Condud of ibme Perlbn that may qualifie you for Tyrany > 4: And you, Demodocus j who know your Son's Ambi- OD, and have wherewith to fend him to be accom* plifh'd in»this fine Science which he defires, are not you afham'd to envy him this Happinefs ;, and not to provide him fome great Matter ? But lince he now complains of you, as you lee, in my Prefence •, let us confider whither to fend him, and if we know any one whofe Converfation may make him an ac- complifh'd Tyrant. Dem, Socrates^ I beg of you for God's l^ike let us -, * confider it together. For on fuch an occalion as this cus taks we have need of good Advice. this in earn- Soc, Hold a little, let us iirft know of him what ffi^ ^bieh he thinks of the Maner. ^^A'^^ '- Dem. You may ask him what you pleafe. caUh^""^' Soc. Theages, if we had to do with Euripides, who fomewhere fays. Wife are the Tyrant s^zioho with th' voife Converfe. and (hould ask him, Euripides^ in what do you fiy Tyrants become wife by the Converiation of wile Men > If inftead of that he fhould tell us. Wife are the ^low-men, voho with ih'' tmfe Converfe, we (hould not fail to ask him, in what are the Plow-men render'd wile ? Do you think he would give us any other anfwer than that they are render'd wife in that which belongs to Husbandry ? The. No : He would give no other Anfwer. % Thisis aolroaie of Socratts founded on vvhac Dimodocus faid at the beginning of this Difcourfc, w\. that his Son had an Ambi- tion that was not diflionourable. MarfiLm Fkinns and DeSirres were equally miftak«n here j and not perceiving the Ironic corrup- ted ihii Palwgc hy their Tranfluioo* S 2 ScfCt z6o THE AGES; or, Soc. And if he fliould tell us. Wife are the Cooks^ vcho zvith the icife Converje^ and we fhouldask liim wherein they are made wife > What do you think he would anfvver > Would he not fay they are made wife in the Art of Cookery ? . 'The. Without doubt. '•';o BlOc. And if he thould fay. Wife arc the Wrejilers^ who with th^ wfe Con- verfe : Would he not upon the Repetition of the fame Queftion give us the.fame Reply, that theyare made expert in the Art of Wreftling ? The. Yes certainly. • Sec, This being fo, fince he tells us, Wife arc the Tyrants^ who with th^ wife Con- vejfe: if we fliould ask him, Euripides^ in what are thole Tyrants render d wife > What anfwer do you think he would make us? in what would he make this Wildom confift > The. I proteft I can't tell. Soc. Shall I tell you then ? The. With all my heart, if youpleafe. Soc. He would fay they were made wife in that Arc which x\nacreon tells us, ^ the wife Callicrete knew perfe£l:ly well. Don't you remember his Songs? The. I do remember it. Soc. Well then don't you defire to be committed to the Care of fome Man, who is of the fame Profefli- on with this Virgin of Cyane^ and knows like her the Art of forming Tyrants, that you may become our Tyrant, aud that of the whole City ? Thci Socrates^ you have play'd and jelled on me a great while. Soc. How ! Don't you fay you defire to acquire that Science which will teach you to go^'ern all the Citizens ? Can you govern them without becoming their Tyrant ? The. I could heartily wifh to become the Tyrant • * This was a Virgin whoemploy'd hcf fclf in reaching Politicks, as Afpafia, Victims, and fomc others did after her. ThefVerfes which AriAcnon made on her arc loft. • ^ of Of WISDOM. i<5i of all Mankind, and if that be too much, at leaft of the greareft part of 'em ;, and I believe, Socrates, you would have the fameAmbition as well as all other Men : Nay perhaps it would lb little content you to be a Tyrant, that you would be a God ; but I did xhis u not tell you that that was the thing I defir'd. foimdid on Soc. What is it you defire ? Don't you lay- you ^^'^t So- defire to govern Citizens ? - " ^^^^^ ^'^ The. Not to govern them by force as Tyrants Of WISDOM. i6i The. Well then, Socrates., are not you likewife one of thole Great Men > if y oull fufFer me to attend you 'tis enough, I'll feek for no other Mafter. Soc. What is that you lay Theages f* Dem. Ah Socrdtes^ My Son has laid very well, and you would do me a great Kindnels ! No, I have no greater riappinels than to fee my Son pleas'd with your Company ^ and that you are fo good as to per- mit liim to take this Liberty. 1 am afham'd to lay how much I delire it •, but I entreat you both for God s lake, you, Socrates., to receive my Son ^ and you. Son, never to feek any other Mafter than 5^?- cratcs By this means you'll both deliver me from Socrates my greateft Trouble and Fears. For I am concinu- ^'" ^"^^^ ally ready to die with Fear left my Son fhould fall ^oniy^pafon into the Hands of fome Perfon that will corrupt him. at Athens, The. Well, Sir, you may lay afide your Fears on ^^'^'^ ^kom my account, if you are but happy enough to perfuade '^ .•^''* ^ Socrates^ and engage him to be troubled with m^. huchUdm Dem. Son, you have Reaibn. Fll now apply tvithout my felf to none but you, Socrates ^ and not to a- dan£er. mufe you with fuperfluous Difcoiufe ^ I am ready to give my felf up to you, and all that I have in the World : You may entirely difpofe of me, if you will love my Theages^ and procure him all that good, you are capable of doing l:im. h-^- i Soc. I don'c wonder, Demodocus^ that you are lb very importunate, if you beliex'sp your Son may re- Woatoughs ceive Advantage from me \ for i know nothing to be the about which a wife Father ought to be more earnelt ^J"^'-f and careful than about what concerns his Son ^ and 2/j> f^. what may make him a good Man. But that which tbtr. furprizes me, and which I can't comprehend, is, how you came to think me capable of rendring you this great peice of Service, and of forming him into a good Citizen : And how came he to imagine me to. be in a better Condition of aihfting him than his Fa- ther > For in the firft place you have liv'd longer in, the World than I ^ you have exercifed the Principal Offices, and are the luoft conliderable Perfon in your S 4 Town; }6^ 7 HE AGES; or, toidofdi. y^"' i^^ ^^1,^^^^ reft of the City. Neither you nor lers Towns Y^^,^^^ i^e any ot the(e Advantages in me.- But or Bur. it i hedges defpifes the Converfktion of our Politi- rcui^s- pans ^ and is looking after tliofe Perfons who pro- mile to educate Youth well, we. have here P/W/1-/^ QtUos, Gorpa^xh^Leom-we, Foluso^Agrigentum and divers others, who are of fo great Ability, that «s they go their Rounds from City toCity, they make M iV ^A Pl'^'??i^ ^^'^ y^^"g People of all theno- bielt and rieheft families, who might be inftruaed i^ratis by one of their own Citizens whom thev would pleale tochoole ^ they makea (hift I fay to perfuade em to renounce thofe of their ownCitv -and to adhere to them, tlio' they muft pay 'em great pimrms, and after all think themfelves under ^reat Qbiiganons to^em -^: Thefe are the Men that you and your Son ftould choole, inftead of thinking of me^ for I know none of thofe polite and happy: Sciences : I vyould indeed underftand 'em with ali my heart, but I have always profefs'd to acknowledge that I know nothing (as I may liy) unlelsit be one little Science t which only refpeds Love. And I for my part, dare boaft of being more profound in thisScience, fuch as it is, than any of my Predecei: for^ or thofe of the prelent Age. ■ . n i,^^^V^?" ^^- ^^^^y ^^11^ Socrates will not trouble himfelf with me, if he would, I fhould"e ry readily put my felt under his Conduft, but he jefts when lie^thus fpeaks of himfelf , for I know divers of my Lquals, and others of a i^ore advanc^ Age tnen mine , who before they attended to him had no great matter ofmeriti but lince they have enjoy'd ^,ol?? '^ M ^^?"'^ ''^'*^'' ^°'="'^^' "^« to ridicule that excefllve cagernefj w,ch which the Athenians ran to thefe Sophins X> vcre good tor nothirg but to corrupt their Mitids! ^ ' l>r,nc,pIeofLife,,nd, as he elfewhere fay , TcmoniZcdv^ his Of WISDOM. 26j Ms Converfation are in a little time become the fi- neft Men in the World •, and far furpafs thofe to whom they were much inferior before. Soc.Thcjges^ Do you know how this comes to pais > The. Yes truly I know it very well, and if you were will willing ^ I fhould foon be like thofe ^ young Men, and fliould have no occafion to envy 'em. ' Soci You are miftaken, my ditii The ages ^ and are very far from the truth ^ which I am now go- ing to inform you * I have had by the Favour of God, ever fince I w^as born, a Genius that always accompanies, and governs me. This Genius is aVoicc which whenever it fpeaks to me always diverts me from what I have a mind to do, and never prompts me to it. When any one of my Friends communi- cates any defign to me,if I hear thisVoice,'tis a certain iign that God does not approve of this defign, but would divert him from it. Ill name feveral Per- fons to you, who are Witneffes of what I fay. You know the Gallant Channides^ Glaucon's ^on : He came to me one day to acquaint me with a defign lie had to go and contend at the t demean Games. He had no fooner begun to communicate this Mat- ter to me, but I heard the Voice ^ Therefore I en- deavour'd to dilTuade him from it, and faid thus to. him ^ as foon as you began tO open your Mouth I heard the Voice of the Genius that guides me, there- fore I entreat you not to go. He replied, perhaps this Voice advertiies you that I fliall not be Crown 'd :' but if I don't obtain the Viftory, I fhall however exercife my felf ^ I Ihall engage with the reft, ancl that is enough. With theie words he left me, and went to the abovelaid Exerciies. You may know * I havi had by the Favour of God, the Greek favs 0t-'oi, ^'Jf * by a Divine Loty that' is to fpeak properly^)' Vridefiimtidn •, md confequently by the favour ot God. ««.<£« is here che fame thing as KK^©- in the Writings of Sc. Paul, as that Learned and ^'ious I^erfon who has lately made a ftnall cxtraft of Plato has obferv'ti ' Ijefore me. •j-pne of the four famous Games of G)f<'«^ which were celebratecl, once in three Years near the Cicycf /^{wa in Psleponnifus in ho- Ui\xt oi Arcktmom, ^ ' " * from t66 THE AGES; or, from his own Mouth what befel him, and it well deferves your Notice. And if you would ask C/i- tomacus^ the Brother of * Timarchus^ what this lat- ter told him when he was goiug lo dye for having defpis'd the Admonition ot my good Genius -, and again what was faid to him by Evathlus who was fo famous for running Races, and who entertained T'wiarchus when he tied, he would tell you that Timarchiis faid to him in exprefs Terms — - The. What did he fay to him, Socrates f* Soc. I am going to die hecaufe I would not believe Socrates. And it you are curious to know the Story, I'll tell it you. When Timarchm rofe trom Table with Fhi/emon the Son ot Fhi/emonides^ to go and kill Nicias' the Son of Herojcamander^ tor none but they two were in the Confpiracy, as he rofe up he faid to me, What do you fay to me^ Socrates > you have nothing to do hut tojiay all here and drink toge- ther \ I am obliged to be ^one.^ but will return in a moment if I can. Upon this I heard the Voice, and immediately calling him back faid to him •, I beg you would not go out, my good Genius has given his wctfited Signal. Upon which he flayed : But fome time after rifes up again, and fays : Socrates I ant going. The Voice was repeated, and I ftop'd him again. In fine becaufe he would efcape me he rofe up the third time without faying any thing to me ^ and taking his Opportunity when my Thoughts were otherwife employ'd, he llip'd out, and did that which brought him to his End •, This was the reafon he told his Brother he was going to die becaufe he would not believe me. You may alfo learn from G^mmm ^^^^ of our Citizens what I told 'em about the Ex- V^Akihii' pedition of Sicily^ and the Shocks that our Army des and would receive tlicre. But not to mention things that Nicias. ^iq paft^ of which you may be eafily informed by thofe that know 'em perfe£lly well j You may now *I fuppofe this xitimxr chits oiChironea whodefir'd to be interred near one of Socrates his Sons who died a little before. I could never find any footftep of this Hiftory elfcwhere. make Of WISDOM. 26/ make tryal of this Signal which my good Gemm commonly gives me, that you may fee whether lie Ipeaks true. For when the brave Sannion went for the Army I heard this Voice •, and he is now going with "^ Thrafylhis againft Ephefus^ and the other Ci- ties of Ionia ^ I am perfuaded hell dye there, or fome Misfortune will befal him ^ and t I very- much fear that Enterprize will not fucceed. I have told you all this to make you comprehend, that e- yen for thofe who are willing to adhere to me, all depends on this good Genius that governs me. || For thole whom he oppofes can never derive any advan- tage from me : I can't fo much as have any Conver- fation with 'em. There are many whom he does not hinder me from feeing ^ and yet thefe make no greater proficiency than the former^ but tliofe, whole ^ Converfation with me is approv'd and favour'd by this good Genius are fuch as you told me of juft now j who in a very little time make a very great progrefs % in fome this Progrefs is liable and permanent, and takes deep Root ^ and in others 'tis but for a time : That is while they are with me they advance after a furprizing manner ^ but they no fooner leave me but they rerurn to their former Condition •, and don't at all differ from the Generality of Men. This is what happened to Ari(}ides^ the Son of Lyjimachus., * Thrafylitu wa6 chofen Geiie«al with Thrafybulut the 4^^^ year of the 92 Olympiade. f Indeed the Athenians were beaten and repuls'd at Ephefus. Xenoph. Bool{J» Therefore Plutarch fays in the Life of AlcibUdes that TkrafyUm his Army was terribly gall'd under the Walls of EphefiiS : and that in memory of this Defeat rhe Ephejtans cre^4 a Trophy of Brafs to the flume oi thc]^ thenians. jj A remarkable Paflage. Here are four States of Men. Some arc rejefted of God for their Wickcdnefs, which can't be hid froni him, others are tolerated for a time; God gives 'em time to fee, and learn, but they are not attentive, and 'tis only their own fault, that they make no progrefs. Others are approv'd, but thefe Ufs fucceed very differently: In fome the good Seed falling into good Ground takes deep root, and in others it flourifhcs but for a time j as the Gofpel fays of thofe who receive the Word in ftony Places or among Tliorns. This is the Truth Sqcraus deiigns co teach \n ^his Place. " ^ ■ and ^68 THEAGES; or; and Grandfon to Ariftides^ while he was with me he made a very ftrange Progrels in a very (hort time but being oblig'd to go in fome Expedition, he em- bark'd : At his return he found that ^ Thucydides the Son o£ Me/rficis^m^d Grandfon of Thucydides had been willing to be acquainted with me ^ but it happened the day before, I know not how, that he fell out with me for fome Words we had in difputing. Now Arijiides coming to fee me, after the firft Comple- ments •, Socrates^ fays he, I am juft now told that Thucydides is angry zmth yoii^ and alls with a great deal of Haughtincjs as if he were fomewhat more than ordinary 'Tis true^ laid I. f Ha^ Repli- ed he, what does he no longer remember what a Slave he was before he faw you ? ""Tis very likely he has for- gotten it^ faid I. Truly Socrates^ added he, A ve- ry ridiculous thing has happened to me. I prefently ask'd him what it was. ^Tis thi-s^ feid he. Before I zvent for the Army^ I was capable of difcourfing with Alen of the greaieft fenfe ^ and was not infe- riour to any of ""em in Converfatwn. I made as hand- fome a figure as another \ and always kept compafiy zmth the II be ft and mo ft polite Alen I could find. Where- as now "tis quite contrary^ I carefully avoid '^/?, / am fo much afha7ned of my Ignorance. I ask'd him if this Faculty had left him fuddenly or gradually. He anfwer'd me, that it left him gradualy. Well how did you come by it^ laid I, zt^as it zchile you zvere Learning fomething of me., or Jome other zvay ^ Vll tell you Socrates^ reply'd he, ''Tis a thing that will ffem incredible^ but yet "tis very true : X i could ne- ver learn any thing of you., as yvu know very welL ■ * The Grand-Son of Thucydides who rivall'd Piricles in the Go- vernmcht. ' f Men are no better than vik Slaves before they have attended to Philofophical Difcourfes. \\Socrates cajls thofe good and polite, who fpenc their time in difcCurfing on felid and agreeable SabjeAs. :j: He means he learn'd nothing that had made a deep and lafling Impreflion on his Mind, he had Opinions only, and not Science finre he had beea by himfelf, but was more knowing when he was with Socrates. How Of WISDOM. '269 However I made fome proficiency^ if I was but in the fime Houfe * where you were^ tho'' not in the fame Room ^ when I could be in the fame Room I advanc'd fi ill more -^ and whenever youfpoke^ I fenfibly found my felfiwproveyet more when I had my Eyes uponyou^ than when 1 looli'd anotber way : But this Progrefs was incomparably greater^ when I fat near you and touched you^ whereas now all this Habit is utterly vanifi'd. Thus you fes, Theages, what fort of Converfation is to be had with me. t If it pleafe God, you'll advance confidetably, and in a very little time ^ otherwife your Endeavours will be fruitlels. Judge then if it be not more advantagous, and lafe for ydu to apply your felf t© one of thofe Matters who a handfom are conft-intly fuccesful with all their Scholars, than ^^^t^^ on to follow me, with all the hazards you muft run. theSophifis, The. I'll tell you, Socrates^ what we ought to do ■in my Opinion. When we begin to live together, let us try this God that condufts us : If he approves , our Converfation ^ I am at the top of my Wilhes : if he difapproves it -, let us immediately confider what Courfe to take, and whether I ought to feelc another Mafter, or (hould endeavour to appeafe this God * by Prayers, by Sacrifices, or any othet' Expiations, which our Deviners teach. Dem. Don't oppoie the young Man's Defires any longer. Theages fpeaks very well. Soc. If you think 'tis belt to do fo -, with all my heart. I agree with you. * Tlicre are four Degrees of Light, according as you more or lefsapprojch wife Men. 'Tis fomething to lodg in the fame Houfe, 'cis a little more to be in the n!me Room j 'cis a yet greater advan> tage to have ore's Eyes a/wjys upon 'cm ^ that fo one may loofe none of their Words, but the gre.?refl bencfi t of all, is to be near 'erti, and i> I may fo fpeak, to be always glew'd to 'em. Few Perfons are fo copfirm'd in Wifdom, that they can lofe fight of 'em with Impunitv, and without great damage. Thefe differenc Degrees are fliil more remarkable in proportion to the Approach we make to the div'ne Wifdom. I belieVe this is all the Myftery Socrates defigm to teach here. We fee admirable Proofs of this Truth in the Writings of the Saints. t For all the Good we either do,or receive, comes from God. *■ There are but »hree ways Men can nfe to appedfe the Acger of God J Prayers, Sacrific<.s, and Purifications, Tht 170 The Argument OF EUTYPHRON, IN all thnes^ and in all Religions there have been fuperftitious l^erfons and Uipocrites, Both thefe have offer' d almofl the fame Injury to God^ and equally hurt Religion. Plato introduces one of thefe Charatlers in this Dialogue ^ for "tis not eafy to determine whether Eutypliron a3s fuperftitioufly or hypocritically 5 the former is moji probable^ Eu- typhron^^^x amn to accife his ovon father of Mur- der ^ This is a very unnatural flep : But on the o- ther hand ^tis the flep of a Man who confults not Ylejh and Blood ^ ziohen the ^efiio/t is about doing an A^ionfo agreeable to God as that of bringing a Cri- minal to Funijhment. The Bufinefs in hand there- fore here is to examine this AUion to know if it be jufl. And Plato renews this Difcourfe to ridicule the falfe Religions of the Fagans^ and the Plurality cf Gods, together zvith the reft of their fables : And tojhew, that they who then paft for the moft intelli- gent Ferfons in Matters of Religion, had indeed no knowledg of it, and rendered God only falfe Worjhip, which dijhonoui^'' d him. This is as great a Dejign as he could have -, and he executes it with 7narvellom Addrefs, tc which purpc^e the V erf on againft wlyom Socrates had difputed ferves extremely well. For Eutyphron teas no ordinary Man -, he was a Deviner-^ and confequently cloth'd with the QjaraSer, and en- tr lifted with the Office of inftruUing others in Religi' on. Nothing can be more ingenious, and natural than the heginning of this JQialogu^ where Plato with The Argument of Euty phron. 171 with great Simplicity and Modefty^ and without the leafl appearance of AffeUation^ dif covers at firft vievo^ not only the CharaSer of Eutyphron, and that of all fuperjtitious Verfons^ who by their ^ligioits Miftakes are commonly carried to the ComjmJJion of all forts of Injuries and Crimes •, but alfo that of So- crates, that of hps 'Perfecutors^ and in general^ that of the Athenians. This Dialogue is full af excellent Frecepts of Morality and Religion. There's a great deal of Ingenuity and Subtilty in it : The lively De- fer iptions^ the frequent Ironies^ and fatyrical Strokes admirably diverfify it. Wcu( there ever fe en a 7nore fuhtile piece of Satyr than that which Plato makes againft Melitus ? He is not content to ?nention his "Name., and in what part of the City he was born ^ but likeimfe draws his Figure ^ and yet all thefe In- dications cartt make him known to tutyphron. He that accufes Socrates, and thinks himfelf capable of reforming the Co7nmonwealth.^ by fhewing what it is that corrupts Touth^ and overthrows Religion^ is nei- ther known to him whom he accufes.^ nor to the Mi- niflers of that Religion of which he pretends to be the great Support. All the other like Strokes will be eafily obferv'd in Reading^ and the Beauty of the Cha- ra^er of the fuperflitioi/s Man^ who believes a thing only becaufe he believes it^ and who is always near the Truth zmthout ever attaining it^ will be plainly difcerrCd. The Reader will fee with Pleafure^ that Eutyphron is a good honefl Man^ who has upright Intentions^ but is fo full of refpe^ for ^e fables that have been taught him^ that he receiwi^^em all as ■ f acred without ever entertaining the leafl fufpicion concerning'' em '^ he is fo fwelVdwith Vr'ide^ and full of that precipitant Confidence^ which Superflition commonly infpires^ that he publif}}es his Vifions as certain Truths^ not to be contradiSed by any Man. And Socrates, who makes^ as if he were willing to be inftru&ed^ receives his Do^rine with refin'd Iro- nies^ and ambiguous Railleries ^ and at length confutes it zvith ahundance of Strength and Solidity. J71 EUTYPHRON, O R Of Holinefs. Eutypbron, Socrates. this King's E/^^.Tlf THatNews Socrates? What have you left: Forch was y \j the Company of Lyceus to come hither thfliht^ into the King's Porch ? you have no bufinefs to bring fid/of the you hither, as I have. Ceramique, Soc. 'Tis fomewhat worfe than bufinels, Eutyphron^ Tvhm one the Athenians "call it an Accufation. who tvas ^y ^ccufes you, ^ for I can never believe yOu would caliei^i the accufe any one. ^i^f' Z"'^- Soc. You are in the rights thefpace of ^''^' "^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ydur Accuftr > , . a. Te^r^ and ^^^' ^ ^<^"'t know Very well my felf, I take too^ Cog- him to be a Young Man who is not yet known, I nifeance of think his Name is Me/kus, he is of the Town of Pit- IjOrpbansJ^-'x^^^ ' Ifyou remember any one of that Quarter and of Oat- of the CitY who bears that Naniie, who has, Lank rages that Hair, a Tflb Beard and a Crooked Nofe, that is the 7i!tedT' ■^^"• gainfi R£- ^^^^' I ^^'^'^ remember any fuch Perfon, Socrates^ ligion. but I pray, what is the Charge he brings againft you I Soc. What is the Charge ? Wliy 'tis fuch a one as fhews him to be no Ordinary Man. For 'tis no * This is very remarkable. Entyphron who is going to accufe his own Father can't believe that Socrates is capible of accufing any Man. Plato makes life either of che precipitancy of this Superftiti . oiis Man, or oi the good opinion he has of himfelf, to infiauate ih« ac Aihens honeft Men riever drove the Trade of Accufcrs. little Of BOLITiESS, ' 17J littk thing to be fo knowing in fuch Important and Sublime matters at an Age lb little advanc'd as his'. He fays he knows how our Youth are corrupted, and who they are that corrupt 'em. He feems to be fome able Man who has taKen notice of my Ignorance, and is come to accufe me for having corrupted his Companions % and to bring me before the City as our Common Mother. And it muft be confefs'd, he feems the only Perfon that knows how to lay the : foundations of good Policy. For 'tis reafonable that J^^ ^fj^,^\, a States-Man fhould always begin with the Educati- u^tkFol^. of Young People, to render them as Vertuous as may damn of be ^ as a Good Gardiner beftowes his firft Labour and goodPoUcy. Care on the Young Plants, and then pafles on to the others, Melitus doubtlefs takes the fame Courfe ^ and begins by cutting us up who hinder the Young Plants from fprouting and improving. After this without doubt he'll extend his beneficent Labours to thofe Plants that a[re more advanc'd ^ and will by this means do the greateft kindnefs imaginable to the City. This is what may be expe£led from a Perfon that knows fo well how to begin at the right end. , Eut. I fhould be glad to fee it, Socrates^ but I tremble for fear of the Contrary, ^for in attacking you he .feems to me to attack the City in the moft lacred part of it : But I pray tell me what he fays you do thus to corrupt Young People. Soc. He fays I do fuch things as at firft hearing muft needs feem abfurd and impoifible, for he fays I am Forger of Gods, that 1 introduce New Gods, and do not believe tlie Old ones. This is the Charge he has againft me. , Eut. I underftand you ^ 'tis becaufe you fay you have a Genius that dayly guides you. . Upon this he accufes you of introducing new Opinions in Re, * The Greek fays, in injuring yon he labours to xuint the City, and Uiin's by the Fire-fide. It was a Proverb io Grttce, to begin by the tire-fide, when they fpoke of beginning with what was moft ex- «:cllenc aiid facred y for the Fire fide concain'd the Domeftick 0odf,. So that this was, a great Enpomium of Socrates. Wife Men arc cc Cities what Domeftick Gods are co Families. ■ , T ligion; 174 EmrfH<^otiior; llgion, and comes to defame you in this Court, well knowing that the Mob is always ready to receive this fort of Calumnies. What do not I my felf meet with, when in publick Aflemblies I fpeak of Divine things, and predift what fhall come to pafs > They all laugh at me as a Fool ^ not that any one of the things I have foretold has fail'd of its Accomplifh- ment •, but the Bufinefs is this, they envy all fuch as we are. And what remains for us to do > The beft way is never to trouble our Heads about it ^ but to go on ftill in our own way. Soc. My dear Eutyphron^ is it fo great anllnhap- pinefs to be lauglf d at > For at bottom I believe the i)h cbd' Athenians don't much trouble their Heads to examine raeier of ^ whether a Man has a great Capacity or not ; provi- ^^^ ^^wX ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ about to teach others what he Tgmsmil l^nows. But I believe if a Man fhould make it his Kith the bufinefs to teach, they would be down-right Angry, Account either out of Envy as you intimate, or for ibme o- ^ills^lfoi ^^^^ K.eafon that we know not. \m\n\he Eut. I have no mind to try to my Coft, as you A^s oj the do, what Sentiments they have of me. Apopus. Soc. That's another Matter •, * It may be you are ve- ry referv'd, and do not willingly communicate your Wifdom to others, whereas I am affraid they think the Love I bear to all Mankind engages me too freely to teach 'em all I know, not only without asking a Reward, but even by preventing them, and preffing 'em to hear me. But if they would content them- felves with laughing at me, as you lay they do at you,it would be no unpleafant thing to fpend ibme hours in this Court in Laughing and Divertifement ^ but if they take up the Matter in eameft, none but you Deviners know what will be the Event of it. Eur. Perhaps you may fuftain no damage, but may * Socratis makes ufeof the Confcffion which he has dravf n out of EutyphroHy to (how by this Dcvincr the Charaftcr of th(5fc who were fct up to teach Religion, They neither taught, nor refuted any thing, but through fear left the People io SuperAitioo and Ig- Qoraocc. come Of HOLltiESS. 17 5 come to a happy Iflue in your Bufinels, as well as I in mine. 5"^^. Have you bufinefs here then > are you Defen- dant or PlaintifF? Eut, I am PlaintifF. Soc. Whom do you profecute f* Eut. If I fhould tell you, you would take me for a Fool. Soc. How ! Do you profecute one that can't be taken > Has he got Wings ? Eut. The Perfon I profecute, inftead of having Wings, is fo old that he can fcarce walk. Sac. Who is he > Eut. 'Tis my Father. Soc. Your Father ! Eut. Yes my Father. Soc. Of what do you accufe him ? Eut. Of Murder. Soc. Of Murder, good God ! That's an Accufati^ on indeed above the comprehenfion of the People, who will never conceive that it can be ^ull -. an or- dinary Man would have enough to do to give it any tolerable Colour. ^ This is a thing that belongs only to him who is arrived at the highelt pitch of Wifdom. Eut. You lay true, Socrates^ it belongs only to fuch a Perfon. Soc. Is it any one of your Relations that your Father has kill'd ? Without doubt it muit be fo •, for you would not profecute your Father in a Court of Juftice for the fike of a Stranger. Eut. What an Ablurdity is that, Socrdte^^ to AjalfePrin- think that in this refpeft there is any difterence be- ^^P^^. •' /'"' tween a Relation and a Stranger ! The thing is equal ip^l>^\gi, that which ought chiefly to be coniider'd, is to ex- far becomes amine whether the Perfon that has kill'd him, did injiifiictand Imfiety, • From this Principle of Socrates ic follows by a juft confe- quence, tliac ic is only God's Province to command and aucho- rizcfuch Aftionsas appear fevcre and cruel to Nature, which is a great Truth. T 2 it ryS EUTYf HliO Ni or, it juftly or uniuftly. If it was juftly, he ought not to be put to any trouble, but it" unjuftly, you are oblig'd to profecute him, whatever Friend- fhip or Relation there is between you. To have the leaft Converfation with him is to make your felt" an Accomplice of his Crime, and fo it is not to prolecute him to bring him to Punifhment, which alone can purifie and expiate you both. But to apprize you of theFadt. The deteafed was one of ourtarmers, wlio rented a piece of Land of us when we dwelt ac Ndxus : This Man having one day drank too much iell into apaflion,and was fo tranf- ported with Rage againft one of our Slaves that he kill'd him. My Father order'd him to be caft into a deep Pit with his Hands and Feet bound, and imme- diately fent hither to confult -^ one of thofe who have the Infpe^lion of Religious Matters, and Cafes of Confcience, to know what he fhould do with him, and in the mean time negle£led this poor Pri- foner, and left him without fuftenance, as anAflaflin whole Life was of no Conlequence ^ fo that he dyed : Hunger, Cold and the Weight of his Chains kiird him, before the Perfon my tather had fent re- turned. Upon this our whole Family falls upon me, becaufe I for the fake of an Affaffin, accufe my Fa ther of Murder, which they pretend he has not com- mitti;d •, and if he had, they maintain I ought not to jDrofecute him,becaufe the deceafed was a Villain and a Murderer,and befidcs they fiy 'tis an impious A8:i- on for a Son to prefer a Criminal Procefs againft his Father •, fo blind are they about divine things, and fo uncapable of difcerning what is Profane and Impi- ous, fi'om what is Juft and Holy. Soc. But, I pray, E/ayphro;?^ do you your felf think you fo accurately underltand all Divine things, and that you can fo precifely diftinguifh between what * In Greect there were Interpreters of divine things, who were puMick Ferfons, to whom the I'cople addrefs'd themfelves in aH weighty Cafes. Thofe who were any thing devout would aocun* dcrcakc the Icaft thing without having firft confulccd them, is Of HOLINESS. 177. is Holy, and what is Profane, that the State of the Cafe being as you fay, you can profecute your Fa- ther without fearing to commit an impious Aftion > Eut. Elfe I fhould be very uneafy ^ and Eufy- phron would fcarce have any advantage above other Men, if he did not underftand all tliefe things per- feftly well. Soc. O admirable Eutyphro?i^ I fee then the bell T^ th Courfe I can take, is to become your Difciple, and^''^'^^^^^^^* before the Determination of my Procefs, to let \^eivf!idto Melitm know, that I have hitherto look'd upon it le -^fH in, as the greateft advantage in the World, to have a ftuHd u good Underftanding in Divine Things, and to be ^ilkion. well inftru8:ed in Religion •, but now feeing he ac- cufes me of falling into Error, and of rafhly intro- \ ducing new Opinions about the Deity, I have put my felf into your School. So that, Melitus (I'll fay) if you acknowledge Eutyphron^ to be a Per- Ibn of Ability in thofe Matters, and that he has good Notions ^ I declare to you I have embrac'd the lame Sentiments. Therefore forbear to profecute me any farther. And if on the contrary, you think Euty- phron is not Orthodox, caufe the Matter to be caird in queftion before you meddle with the Scho- lar •, he is the caufe of all this Mifchief, 'tis he- that ruins both his Father and Me. He ruins me in teaching me a falfe Religion, and he ruins his Fa- ther in profecuting him by the Principles of this fame Religion, which you account fo pernicious ^ and if he continues to profecute me without any regard to. my Requeft, or leaves me to purfue you, you will not fail to make your Appearance, and to fpeak the fame thing which I (hall have fignilied to him. Eut. Upon my Word, Socrates^ if he is fo impudent as to attack me, I fhall loon find his weak fide, and fhall at leaft run but half the Danger. Soc. I know it very well, and that is the reafbn I am fo defirous of being your Difciple, being well alfur'd, that no Perfqn is fo bold as to, dare look T 3 you_ 178 EUirrB^^OK; ot, you in tlie face ^ no not Melitm himfclf ^ who looks fo intently, and who can fee fo well to the bottom of my Soul, that he accufes me of Impiety. In the mean time then, tell me, I befeech you what you juft now affirmed, and which you know fo well, VIZ. what is Holy and Juft, Impious and Unjuft, in refpeft of killing Men for Inftance, and fo in all other Subjeftsthat may offer themfelvesto us. Is not San£lity always like it felf in all forts of A£lions, and is not Impiety, which is it's conttary, always the fame too, fo that the fame Idea, the lame CharaQer of Impiety is always found in every thing which is impious > Em. Tis certainly fo, Socrates. Soc. What is it then that you call Pious and Ho- ly. Profane and Impious ? Eiit. I call that Pious and Holy, for Example, which I am doing to day, namely to profecutc eve- Vefnidon ^Y ^^2" ^^'^^^ commits Murder, Sacrilege, and fuch (vbich Other Crimes, w^hether it be Father, Mother, Bro- iprings jrom ther, or any other Perfon. And I call it an impious blind zui. thing to fuffer the Criminal quietly to enjoy his Crime. I pray, Socrates^ mind well what I fay •, ni give you very certain Proofs, that my Definiti- on is "^ conformable to the Law. I have already men- tion'd it to many Perfons, and have made 'em con- fels, that there is nothing more juft, than not to fpare a wicked Man, let him be who he will : All Men are convinc'd that Jupiter is the beft and mott juft of all the Gods, and all agree, that he put his father in Chains, becaufe he, contrary to all manner of Juftice devour d his Children. Saturn had before treated his Father with yet greater Severity for fome other Fault. And yet People cry out againft me, when I profecute my Father for an Atrocious A£l of Injullice ^ and they fall into a manifeft Contradifti- * Tisfo indeed ; but it is ill applied here j and is not true on all Occafions, as ir is not on this. That which Eutyphron here calls the Law, is the Law of Nature, which teaches us to imitate God in all we know of him. Of HOLINESS. 179 onT in judging fo differently of theA£lions ofthofe Gods, and mine, ^ in which 1 had no other defign than that of imitating them. Soc. Is this the thing, Eutyphron^ which has brought me to day to this Bar •, becaufe when I am told thele Tales of the Gods I can't hear 'em without Pain > Is this the Crime with which I am going to be charg'd > If you who are lb able in Matters of Religion a- gree with the People in this, and believe thsfe Sto- ries 'tis abfolutely neceflary that I (hould believe 'em too who confefs ingenuoufly that I know nothing of thele Matters -, fhall I pretend to be wifer than my Teachers, and make head againft them > Therefore I beg of you in the name of that God who prehdes over Friendfhip, do not deceive me, do you believe all thefe things you fay ? , r^ u, r . Eut. I not only believe thefe, but others too that D^j^j^^ , are more furprizing,of which the People are wholly J,;^;^^^_ ignorant. , ries which Soc You ferioufly believe then that there are great wm imjt>n auarrels, Animofities and Wars among the Gods ? oniyto^^^ You believe all thofe others Paflions reign among em, J^^ .^.^. which are fo furprizing, and are reprefented by roets ted, and Painters in their Poems and Pidures, which are expos'd to view in all parts of our Temples^ andt are wrought with variousColours in that myiterious Tapiftry, which is carried in proceffion to the Cita^ del every fifth Year, dmlng thQFanj!bs;2ea^ j.^^^^^^j^^ muft we receive all thefe things as io many great Minerva, Truths, Eutyphron. Eut. Not only thefe, Socrjtes, but a great many others befides, as I told you juft now, which i will * The imitation of thofcfalfeGois could only produce very ill Aaiom, as the Poets themfelves have acknowledged. + This Tapiftry was the Sail of A/i«msShip, on which the Principal Aftions of this Goddcfs were defcrib'd iri Ncedle-worki which after it had been expos'd in the Ship ac the beginning of the Feaft, was carried in Prcceffion. The Ship was roUd along on firm Ground to the Temple of Cms at EUu[mt, from vt hence it was brought back, and cariicd to the Citadel i and tlie:>:a.ue or she Goddcfs was at laft adorn'd with it, T 4 ^^- »8o EUTrfB^iONi ox, explain to you if you pleafe •, and upon my word they'll make you wonder. Soc. No, they will not make me wonder much, but you may explain 'em to me another time when you are more at leifure •, I pray endeavour now t6 explain to me what I ask'd you,a little more clearly •, for you have not yet fully anfwer'd my Queftion,you have not taught me what Holinefs is. You have only told nie that that is a holy thing which you do in r::ccufHig your Fatlier of Murder. Eia. And 1 have told you the Truth, Soc. It may be fo ^ but are there not a great ma- ny other things which you call Holy > Eia. Without doubt there are. Soc. I intreat you therefore to remember that what 1 ask'd you was not to teach me one or two holy "Things among a great many others that are fo too^ but to give me a clear and diftin£t Idea of the Nature of Holinefs, and of that which caufes ^11 holy Things to be holy. For you told me your ielf, that there is only one and the fame Charafter which makes all holy Things to be what they are ^ as there is one that makes Wickednels to be always Wickednefs : don't you remember it ? Em. O ho, yes, I remember it. S0C4 Then teach me to know what this CharaQer IS, that I may have it always before my Eyes, and may ufe it as the true Model, and real Original, that fo I may be in a Condition to affirm of every thing which I fee you or others do, that that which f efembles it is holy, and that xvhich does not refem- hie it is wicked. . . : Ei/t. If thafs it you defire,5(?rr^//greable to the Gods, and Wickednels is that which Jiii»nef:. is difagteable to 'em. ' Soc. .Very well, Ei(typh:on^ you have at lafl: an- fwef d me precifely according to my Queftion. ■ But I don't yet know whether you fpeak true : However ■■ V - ', furely^ Of BOLIKESS: lit furely you will know how to convince me of the Truth of what you advance. Eut. I'll anfwer you. Soc. Come then, Ifet us lay down what we fay plainly. A holy Thing, or a holy Man, is a Thing, or a Man that is agreable to God ^ a wicked Thing, or a wicked Man, is a Man, or Thing that is difa- greable to him ^ thus what is Holy and what is Wick- ed are dire8:ly oppofite ^ are they not ? Ei^t. That's beyond contradiction, . Soc. I think this is very well lay'd down. Eut. I think fo too, Socrates. Soc. But have we not alfo affirm'd that ^ the Gods have frequent Animofities and Contentions among themfelves, and are often embroil'd and divided one againft another ? Eut. Yes, without doubt. ^Soc. Therefore let us now examine what may be the Oecafion of that difference of Sentiments that produces thofe Quarrels and thatEnmity among, 'em. If you and I fhoulddifpute about Numbers, to know which was the greater, would this difference make us Enemies, and carry us to all manner of ExcelFes and Violences ? Should we not immediately fet our lelves to reckon, that we might prefently be of the fame Mind > Eut. Tis very true, we fhould fo. Soc. And if we fhotild difpute about the different bignels of Bodies, fhould we not prefently go about meafuring 'em, and would not that foon put an end to our Difpute ? Eut. It would fo. Soc. And if we fliould conteft about Weight , would not our Difference be foon determined by means of a pair of Scales? Eut. No doubt of it. Soc. Well then, what is there, about which, if we fhould come to difpute without having a cer- tain Rule to which we might recur, we fhould be- ^ Socrates refutes this Definition of Holinefs, by fliewing tha? k can'cfwbfift with ihcir, Theology. ■■ • '''■■ ■"'• ' - •- .;■ corns i8t EUrrfHIiONi or; come irreconcileable Enemies, and fall into an ex- travagant Paflion one againft the other > Perhaps none of thefe things at prefent occurs to your Mind. I'll tell you fome of 'em, and you Ihall judge whe- tlier I am in the right. Is it not what is Juft and Un- juft, Comely and Indecent, Good and Evil? Are not not thefe the things about which we every day dif. fer, and not finding a fufficient Rule to make us ac- cord, we fall into thegreateft Enmity > When I fay li^e I fpeak of all Mankind in general. Eut. That indeed is the trueCaufe of all our Law- fuites, and all our Wars. Soc. And if it be true, that the Gods are at Vari- ance among themfelves about any thing, muft it not necelTarily be fbme one of thefe ? Eut. It muft needs be fo. Soc. ^According to you then,Excellent Eutyphron^ the Gods are divided about what is Juft and llnjuft. Comely and Indecent ^ Good and Evil. For if they did notconteft about thefe things, they would have no occafion of wrangling, but would be always uni- ted ^ would they not ? Eut. You fay very right. S^. And the things which each God takes to be Comely, Good and Juft, are lov'd by him, and the contrary hated. Elut. Moft certainly. Soc. According to you then one and the fame thing leems Juft to fome of them and Unjuft to others, feeing Wars and Seditions are ftir'd up among 'em by fuch Difputes as thefe. Is it not fo ? Eut. 'Tis fo without doubt. Soc. Hence it follows, that one and the fame thing is the obje8: both of the Love and Hatred of the Gods, and is at the fame time pleafing and difpleafing to 'em. Eut. So ittfeems. Soc. And confequently, according to you, what is Holy and Profane are the fame thing. Eut. I grant, this confequence may be Juft. ^ Soffafwhandfomly ridicules thofc Gads, who know not what Juflicc and Injuflicc, Vice and Vcrtuc are. Soc. Of HOLINESS. 18} Soc. Than you have not anlwer'd my Queftlon, Jnconiparable Eutyphron ; for I did not ask you what it was that at the fame time was Holy and Profane, Pleating and Difpleafing to the Gods. So that I fore- lee 'tis poflible without a Miracle, that the Aftion you are about to day in profecuting your Father to bring him to Punifliment, may pleafe Jupiter^ and at the fame time may difpleafe Callus and Saturn ; may be approved by Vulcan^ and dilapprov'd by ///- no.^ andfoofthereftoftheGodswhomay beof dif ferent Sentiments. Eut. But Socrates., I fuppofe there's no difpute a- bout this among the Gods, nor does any one of 'em pretend, that he who has kill'd a Man unjuftly Ihould be fufFer'd to go unpunilh'd. Soc. Neither is there any Man that pretends to that : Did you ever fee any one that dar'd put the matter in Queftion, whether he that had willfully murder'd a Man, or committed any other A£t of In- juftice, ought to be punifh'd or not > Eut, We every where hear and lee fcarce any thing elie before the Tribunals but Perfons who have committed A£ls of Injuftice, faying and doing what they can to avoid Punifliment. Soc. But do the Perfons of whom you fpeak, Eu- typhron^ confefs that they have done thole A8:s of injuftice of which they are accus'd ^ and after this Confeflion maintain that they ought not to be puni(h'd> Eut. They have no Mind to confefs fo, Socrates. Soc. Then they do not fay and do all they can ^ for they dare neither maintain nor alTert, that when their Injuftice is manifeft, and fufficiently at- tefted, they ought not to be chaftiz'd for it. Is it not fo > Eut. 'Tis very true. Soc. They don't put the Matter in Queftion, whe- ther he that is guilty of Injuftice ought to be pu- nifh'd^ No body doubts of that ^ but that about which they difpute is the Nature of Injuftice, to deter- mine in what, how, and on what Occafion it is com- mitted. Eut. ^84 EUTYfpH Soc. For my part III not hinder it ^ but do you fee your felf if this fuites your Opinion ^ and if up- on this Principle you can inftruft me better in what you have been endeavouring to teach me. Eut. And for my part I lliall make no Difficulty of afferting, that that is Holy which all the Gods approve, and that Profane, which they all dilapprove. Soc. Examine this Definition to fee if it be true, or (hall we receive it without any Ceremony ? and * Seerates reproaches the Athenians, that they lov'd to hear fucH as could talk finely, and did not much trouble their Heads about the Truth of Things : W^e learn from the Sacred Hiftory that this was the Charafter of the Athenians) they fpcni their Time in hearing cither NovcUfts or Orators. lliaU 286 EUTTTHIlOli; or, fliall we have that refpe£l for our felves and others, as to give our Aflent to all our Imaginations and Fancies ^ fo that for a Man to tell us a thing is fo, (hall be fufficient to gain our Belief ; or is it necef- lary to examine what is faid to us > Eut. Without doubt we Ihould examine it •, and I am well afTur'd that what we have laid down is a good Pofition. Soc. That we (hall fee prefently. Hear me a lit- tle. ^- Is that which is Holy belov'd of the Gods, becaule it is Holy, or is it Holy,becaufe it is belov'd of 'em > Eui. I don't well underftand what you fay, Socrates. Soc. I'll endeavour to explain my felf Don't we fay, that a thing is carried, and that a thing carries? that a thing is feen, and that a thing fees - that a thing is mov'd,and that a thing moves it > and the like to Infinity > Do you conceive that they are different > and do you underftand in what they differ > Eut. I think I do. Soc. Is not the thing belov'd different from that which loves ? Eia. A pretty Queftion indeed ! Soc. Tell me then is the thing,which is carried,c3r- ried becaufe one carries it •, or for fome other Reafon ? Ent. Becaufe one carries it ^ without doubt. Soc. And the thing mov'd is mov'd becaufe one moves it •, and the thing feen becaufe one fees it? Em. Molt certainly, * This Thought is too high for Eutyphrm^ who conccirlBg Ho- lioefs as a thing diflinft from Cod* could not tell how to compre- hend that which is Holy is at the fame time lov'd of God, becaufe ic is Holy ', and Holy becaufe lov'd of God : For Holincfs comes from God, SanHitas primitiva ', and the Holinefs of Men is the effeft of the Divine Communion, which ^oa/iff^ underftood, and of which he elfewhere fpcaks. So that Socrates here fpcaks with reference to the grofs manner of conceiving the things of Religion which was to be found in ignorant Men ; who judged of this as of all other thing^s in which the Relatives are very different, as that which is lov d is difterent from that which loves, thac which is moved i» different from tlut which moves ir, &c. Soc. Of HOLINESS. 187 Soc, Then it is not true that one fees a thing be- caufe it is ieen, but on the contrary 'tis feen becaufe one fees it. 'Tis not true that one moves a thing be- caufe 'tis mov'd, but it is mov'd becaufe one mouses it : Nor is it true, that one carries a thing becaufe 'tis carried, but 'tis carried becaufe one carries it -. ) Do you underftand me now? Is this plain enough > My meaning is, that one does not do a thing becaufe it is done, but that it is^ done becaufe one does it ? that a Being which fufters does not fuffer becaufe it is paffive •, but is pafTive becaufe it fuiFers, Is not this true ? Eut. Who doubts it > Soc. Is not that which is lov'd lomething that is done, or that fuffers > Eut. Certainly. Soc- Then 'tis with that which is lov'd as 'tis with all other things ^ 'tis not becaufe it is lov'd that one loves it, but one the contrary 'tis becaufe one loves it that it is lov'd. Eut. That's as clear as the Light. 5"^^. What fhall we fay then of that which is Ho- ly, my dear Eutyphron } fhall we not fay, it is bc- lov'd of the Gods, as you have afTerted ? Eut. Yes certainly. Soc. But is it belov'd becaufe it is Holy, or is it for fome other Reafon ?j Eut. 'Tis for no other Reafon. Soc. Then it is belov'd becaufe it is Holy ^ but it U U belov'i is not Holy becaufe it is belov'd. ^ "^^ //?' Eut. So I think. ^j-^ j//' Soc. But is it not belov'd of the Gods becaufe the Quditjt'mt Gods love it > "rtnden it Eut. Who 'can deny it> '^^''»'^*^'- Soc. "^ Then that which is belov'd of God is not the fame with that which is Holy, nor that which * This is evident, fcing what is Holy is lov'd only becaufe it is Holy ; and that which is lov'd is lov'd only becaufe one loves ir^ there muft needs be a difference bccvveeo thcfe two, t»\. what h Lov'd and what is Noly. is { fiMTr'PH(?(ON; or," is Holy the fame with that which is beldv'd, as you lay i but they are very ditFerent. Eut. How then, Socrates ^ Soc. Becaufe we are agreed that that which is Holy is belov'd becaufe it is Holy, and that it is not true that it is Holy becaufe it is belov'd ^ are we not agreed in that ? Eut. I confefs it. Soc. We are farther agreed that that which is be- lov'd of the Gcds is belov'd of 'em only becaufe they love it •, and that it is not true, to fay th^y love it, becaufe it is belov'd. Eut. That's right. Soc. "^ But, my dear Eutyphron^ if that which is belov'd of the Gods, and that which is Holy were tha fame thing, feeing that which is Holy is belov'd on- ly becaufe it is Holy, It would follow that the Gods (hould love that which they love, only becaufe it is belov'd of 'em : And on the other hand, if that which is belov'd of the Gods were lov'd only becaufe they love it, than it would be true likewife to lay, that which is Holy, is Holy, only becaufe 'tis belov'd of them. By this therefore you fee that thofe two terms, belov'd of the Gods and Hofy are very diffe- rent. One is belov'd becaufe the Gods love him, and another is lov'd only becaufe he deferves to be lov'd. Thus, my dQ^x Eutyphron^ when you fhould have given me an exaft anfwer what it is to be Holy, to be fure you were not willing to explain to me wherein the Effence of it confifts by an accurate De- finition, but were content to fhew one of its Quali- ties, which is that of being belov'd of the Gods, but you have not givenmeanAccount of the Nature' of it. I conjure you therefore, if you think fit, dif cover this great fecret to me, and beginning with it fi-om its very Principle, teach me precifely to knoW what Holincfs is,without having refpeft to any thing * For if thcfetvvo Terms Btlov"d arid tioli wtre the fiiric tiling,' otie might be put forjc'othef, whence all that Abfurdity would fol- low whijh Suratss reprcfeacs here. mt ef HOLINESS. i8^ that is adventitious,, as whether it be belov'dof the P^r vphtk Gods or not. .For we ihall have no. difpute about H'^]^^^ that. Come then, tell me freely -^ what is it to be ^/^ ^Jj^^^ i/^e us the flip, as you lee very well. , . , ■ . , . . Eut. For my part, Socrates^ I need not leek any o- ther turn of Raillery : that fuites you perfe£lly well : for 'tis not I that infpire our reafonings with this Inftability, which hinders 'em. from fixing, but you are the Dedalus. If I were alone, I tfeU you they would continue firm and fteady. , , Soc. Then I am more expert in rriy Art than Deia- Ufs was, he could only give this Mobility to hi^ Own Works, whereas it feems I give it not only to my own, but alio to thofe of otiier Men : and that which is yet more ftrange is that I am thus expert againft my will •, for I Ihould much rather choole * D?// Eut. Youll oblige me in fo doing. Soc. I think 'tis not true that Shame always ac- companies Fear •, for I think we every Day fee Peo- ple in Fear of Sicknefs and Poverty, who yet are not at all afham'd of the things they fear. Don't you think fo too ? fjit. I am of the fame Mind. Soc. On the contrary Fear always follows Shame ; for is there any one who is alham'd, and put into Confufion by any Aftion, who does not at the fame time fear the difhonour that is the Confequenceof it ? Eui. It can't beoiherwife, he muft be affraid of it. Soc, Of HOLIliESS. 291 Soc. Then it is not true to fay, Shame every where kee^s company with Fear^ But we fhould fay, Fear every where keeps company with Shame. for 'tis falfe that fhame is continually found with iear, fear having more extent than ihame : indeed liiame is one part of fear, as the unequal is one part of Number. Wherever you find a number you do not necellarily find it unequal •, but wherever it is une- qual, there you necellarily find a Number. Do you underftand me now ? Eut. Very well. Soc. This is what I juft now ask'd you ^ viz. if wherever that which is Juft is to be found, there is alfo that which is Holy ^ and if wherever that which is Holy is to be found, there is alfo that which is Juft ? Now it appears that that which is Holy is not always found with that which is Juft •, for that which is Holy is a part of that which is Juft. Shall we then lay this down as a Principle, or are you of a different Sentiment ? Eut. 'Tis a Principle that can't be contefted. Soc. Now mind what follows : if that which is Holy is a part of that which is Juft ^ we muft find out what part of that which is Juft that which is Holy is. As if you fhould ask me what part of Num- ber is that which is equal, and what Number is it? I fhould anfwer, that it is * the Ifofcele^ and not the Scalene : Don't you think fo as well as I ? Eut. Yes certainly. Soc. Now do you in like manner fee if you can inform me what part of that which is juft that Vv^hich is Holy is ^ that I may let Meiitus know , that 'lis beftforhimto forbear to do me any farther Injuftice in accufing me of Impiety, me,w ho, I fay, have been perfeSlly inftru£ledby you what Piety andHolineis, and their Contraries are. * The Ifofcek fignifies that which has two equal fides, for the even Number divides it felf inco two equal parts. And the Scalent is chtt which has two unequal Sides. U 2 Eun Z9i EUTTfH^ON; or, A third ^^^^' ^^^ ^y P'^'-^' Socrates^ I think that Holinefs Definition ^nd Piety is t that part of what is Jull which coii- ■ivhich at cems the Care and Worfhip of the Gods, and that all bottom^ has ,-j^g ^^^ ^f [^ jsthat which properly refpe£ls Men. Skit, '^^^- "^''^'^■y ^'''^^^ • ^^^^ ^^^"^^'^ ^^ IbmelittleMatter ftill bur thffe ' wanting. For I do not well underftand what you faife Teach- mean by this Word [Ccire] Is this Care of the Gods ers hadnot ^\^q f^j^g y_^-\^\-^ ^\-^.^^ which We take about all other ^cmioHslf things ? For we every day fay, that none but a Quer- if. ry knows how to take care of aHorfe, and to look well after him, do we not > Ent. Yes doubtlefs. Soc. Then the Care of Horfes properly belongs to the Querry's Art. Eiit. It does fo. Soc. All Men are not fit to take care of Dogs, and to look after them, but only the HuntS-man. Eat. None but he. Soc. Then the Care of Dogs properly belongs to the Art of Hunting. Elut. Without doubt it does. Soc. And it belongs to the Grazier to take care of Oxen. Ent. True. Soc. Now Holinefs and Piety is the Care of the Gods j Is not this what you fay ? E/n. Yes, certainly. Soc. Flas nor all Care for its end, the good and ad- vantage of that which is taken care of? Don't you every day fee that the Horles which an able Q.uerry takes Care of become better, and more fit for fervice than others ? Eut. Yes, without doubt. Soc. Does not the care which a good Hunts-man takes of Dogs, and that which a good Grazier f This is rrue : but the Pagans had falfe Ideas of it i becaufe they d id not underftand dia: this care of God which confifts on our part in obeying him, in conforming to his hofy Will, and in rcfign- ing our fclves lo him, was preceded by his care of us in creating us, and in enlightening our Minds5and this is yAvktSocrMts teaches in other phccs. ta kes Of HOLinESS. 193 takes of Oxen make both the one and the other bet- ter > and may not the like be faid of all other Care > Or can you think that Care tends to hurt and fpoil that which IS taken care of > Eut. No certainly, Soc. Then it tends to make it better, Eut. That's right. Soc. Then Holinefs being the Care we take ol the Gods tends to their Advantage •, and fo the end ot it muft be to make 'em better. But would you dare ^^^ ^^^ ^^ to affert when you do any holy Mion, that you make ^^^^^^^ ,^- anv one of the Gods better by it ? ^ doing any Eut I am far enough from uttering fuch horrid thing to tht • '-' advantage S^^.^Nor do Lthinkyou have any fuch Thought // ^''^• I am very far from fuch a Suppofition : and tis tor this Reafon I ask'd you what this Care ot the Gods is b4ng perfuaded that was not your meaning. ' Eut. You have done me Juftice, Socrates^ Soc So much for that : But tell me then, what fort of Care of the Gods is Holinefs ? Eut. 'Tis of the Nature of that Care which Ser- vants take of their Matters. _ ^ TT r r • Soc I underftand you, that is to fay, Holmels i» a kind of Servant to. tliQ Gods, 'Eut. You hit it, ^. ^ • i. Soc Can you tell me what Phyficians operate by Means of the Art otMedicine which is their Servant > Do not they reftore Health > Eut. \ es. ^ Soc What do the Ship-Carpenters, who are in Ports do . and what do our Architefts pertorm by th| Miniftry of their Servant > Don't the former build SWps and the latter Houfes ?• Eut. Yes certainly. 1 1 xr Soc. ^ What then do the Gods perform. by the Mi- niftry of their Servant? For you muft certainly know * Socmesv^ould hereby infmuate what he fewhere teacher that God by the Miniftry of HohiKfs works the Conv"fioti ot Souls that thisConverfion produces Love, and that tH's Love en. gages us to render him that which appertains to hi.-n, and wMcn we cannot innocently refufe him. 294 EUTYPH^IION:, or, this,fince you pretend to know Religion better than any Man in the World befide. Eia.. And I have Reafon to make that pretence. Soc. Tell me then, I befeech you, what wonder- ful work is it that the Gods perform by making ufe of our Sendee ? Eut. They perform many very great and wonder- ful things. Soc. The Generals of our Army perform many- great Things too ; but yet there is always one thing that IS the Principal, and that is the Vidory they ob< tain in Battel ^ Is it not > Eur. 'Tis fo. Soc. And the Graziers do many good things, but the Principal is that of fupplying Mankind with Food by their Labour. Eut. I gnm it. Soc. Well then, of all thofe good Things which the Gods operate by the Miniftry of our Holinefs, what is the Principal > Eut.^ I juft now told you, Socrates^ that there needs more time and pains to arrive at an accurate know- ledge of all thefe Things. All that I can tell you m general, is, that to pleafe the Gods by Prayers and Sacrifices, is that which we call Holinefs. And ^ m this confifts the Welfare of Families and Cities , whereas to difpleafe the Gods, is Impiety which ut- terly ruines and fubverts every thing. Soc. Indeed, Euiyphro??^ you might have told me what I ask'd in fewer words,if you had pleas'd. 'Tis eafv to lee you have no Mind to inftrua me,for when you feem to be juft in the way to do it, youprefent- ly ftrike oiFagain • if you had but anfwefd me a Word more, I had very well underftood the Nature of Ho- linefs. But now, (for he that asks muft follow him who IS ask'd) don't you fay, Holinefs is the Art of facrificmg and praying > Eut. Yes that I do. Sec. lb facrifice, is to give to the Gods. To pray IS to ask of 'em. £'i/r. 'Tis right, Socrates. *_ In whiit the Safety cr Ruine of Families, Cities and States jonlifcs, tvtn by the ConfciTion of the bliadeft Pagaof. Soc. Of HOLINESS. 195 Soc. It follows then from your Difcourfes that ^fo!^ Holinefs is ^ the Science of giving to the Gods, and ^^.^^ ^ a skins of them. very true -y Ell Socrates, you perfeaiy comprehend my mea- ^^^^.rr.rfe ^^%c 'Tis becaufe I am in love with your Wifdom, ^/[^^f/ and give my felf up entirely to it. \ou need not did not m- fear that I (hall let one of your Words fall to the d^rfiand. Ground Tell me then what is this Art of pleahng ^ the Gods ? Do you fay itis to give to 'em and to ask of 'em > Eut. Moft certainly. , r 1, .t,- . Soc, To ask well, muft we not ask fuch things as we have need to receive of them ? Eut. And what then ? . • .u _ Soc And to give well, muft we not give them in exchange fuchTliings as they have need to receive of us > For it would be a Folly to give any one fuch Things as he does not want, but are entirely uielels to him. Eut. You fay very well. ^ _ Soc. Holinefs, my dear Eutyphron, is then a kind of Traffick betwixt the Gods and Men. _ Eut. Let it be fo, if you iviU have it fo. 5^.^ I would not have it fo,if it be not fo : But tell me what advantage do the Gods receive from the Fre- fents which we make 'em > For the advantage we de- ^^ ^,- rive from them is very evident fince we have not tlie Gfs of leaft Good, but what proceds ff-.^h.. Ube^^^^^^^^^ Of what advantage then are our Offerings to the Gods > J Are we fo crafty, as to draw all the Profit ol this Commerce to our felves, while they derive no Ad- "Sr frl! do you think the Gods can ever draw any advantage from the Things they receive from us ? =f Thisfourth Definition is admirable. So:ratii_ ^f^^Xl'l fhevv™Holincrskad3 us toaskof God, hisSpirit ^''^ AOiftance andGr ce^ ,nd to ask even our felves oth,m ^ ^"^ ^Hu Tdves very Being depends; and that ic alfo engages us to give our fdves tohl.ii. AQdchi^makesup the wha'e of Religion. U 4 ^^^- %^6 EUrrfH^ON; or, Soc. To what purpoie then do all oiir Offerings fewe> Eut, They ferve to fignifie our Veneration, and Reipe^: to 'em, and the defire we have to pleale 'em. Soc. Then Holinels does not profit, but pleale the Gods? ' Eut. Yes without doubt. Soc. Then that which is Holy is only that which pleaft'S the Gods. ^ -Eat. 'Tis t)nly that. Soc. When you Ijpeak thus to me, do you won- der that y9ur Difcourle is not hx'd and fteady : and dare youaccule me ot being the Dednlus^ tliat gives it this continual Motion ^ You, I lay, who are a thoufand times more ingenious than that great Artift, ind give your Words a thoufand diiierent Turns ? Don't you find that ypur Difcourle makes only a Circle. You remember very well, that that which is Hoiy and that which is agreable to the Gods were not counted the lame Thing by us juft now ^ but were' acknowledged to be very diiierent. Don't you remember this > Eut. \ do.; ■ Soc. Well, and don't you confider that you now lay, that which is Holy is that which pleafes the Gods. Is not what pleafes 'em agreable to 'em ? ■ Eut. Moil certainly. ' Soc. Then one of thefe two Things muft be grant- ed. Either that we did not well diftinguifhjutt now ^ or if we did, that we are now fallen into a falfe de- finition.' '■.'■■''■' liut. That's plain. Soc. Then we mull: begin all again, in our enqui- ry after Holinefs ^ for I ihall not be weary nor dif- courag'd till you have inform'd me what it is. I beg you would not defpifemei but bend your Mind with all the Application ' you (;an to teach me th^ truth,, for you know it, if any Man alive does ^ and I will not let you go, like another 'Brotcics^ till you have inltru61e'd me. For if you had not a perfect y. ;■; .; ..v.. • ... .:■■ .. / . . > Know-- 0/ HOLINESS. 297 Knowledge of what is Holy and Profane, doubtlefs you would never for the fake of a wretched Far- mer have undertaken to, accufe your Father of Mur- der, when the good old Man 'ftoops under the Bur- den of Age, and has already one Foot in the Grave : But would have been feiz'd with Horrour to fee your Wbat it is lelf about to commit (it may be) an impious Aft. tofearcod^ 3nd would have fear'd the Gods, and refpeaed Men! %i''^^'^ So that I cannot doubt but you think you know per- feftly well, what Holinefs, and its Contrary are. In- form me therefore, moft Excellent Etftyphron^ and do not hid? your Thoughts from me, Etit. We'll referve it for another time, ^ for now o^f^Jj^^^^^^ I am a little in hafte, and 'tis time tor me to leave you. ^\]sSuL' ■ Soc. Alas, my dear Eutyphron^ what do you in- ftkioiJ t^nd to do ! This hafty Motion of yours ravifhes ^^-^n> he h from me the greateft and fweeteft of all my hopes. {!'^ '^on^oun- For I fiattefd my felf, that after Ihad learn'd of ff^/^fyf' you, what Holinefs is, and its Contrary, I fhouldeafi- thhi^s bim- ly have got but oiMelitus his Clutches, by making M^'^l'^zW^ it plainly appear to him, that Eiityphron had per '^f ^^'^'^^j"s fe8:ly inftruftsd me in Divine Things, that Igno- ^^f ^'f^ ranee ihould never more prompt me to introduce {now Um- of my one Head new Opinions about the Deity •, and Uij- that my Life Ihould be more holy for the future. ^ The Ancients inform us that Eutyphron got fome advantage by this Converfation of Socrates: tor he drop'd his Profecution, anJ ict his Father alone. By which 'tis eafy to fee, that thefe Dia- logues of Plato were not made upon feign'd Subjeds, but had a very true and real Foundation, as well asthofc which Xemphon has prcfcrv'd to us. An 298 An Abridgment O F T H E Firft ALCIBIADES, O R Of the Nature of Man. Ahcihiadesvjds one of the moft ambitious and moft Haughty Men in the World. His Birtli, his Beauty, his Riches, and the Credit of his Tutor P^- r'lcles^ had fo puffed him up, that he thought no Perfon fo worthy as himfelf to command the A- thenians, and to go to their firft Affembly to get himfelf declar'd their Captain-General. His proud and arrogant Carriage had driven away all his Lov- ers, who being taken only with his Beauty, were at length difcourag'd by the cold Reception he gave 'em. Socrates was the only Perfon, who loving him more truly than the reft (for he lov'd him only to make him vertuous) could never be wearied out: This makes the beginning of this Dialogue. Socrates tells Alcibiades^ that he doubts not but he is furpriz'd to fee, that as he was the firft, fo he is alfo the laft of his Lovers : and that tho he was ne- ver troublefome to him, during his tender Youth,he Ihould now follow him every where to difcourfe with him, without fearing the fame difdainful Treat- ment which he gave his Rivals. Alcibiades contef fes, he thinks it ftrange that he (liould perfift in his Affetlion, and tliat he can't comprehend upon what Foundation he builds, that he fhould have any Hope remaining, after all his Rivals had loft theirs. 6'^- crates tells him hw'll give him an Account of his Rea- fons. Firjl Alcibiades. ipp fons, tho it be a difficult thing to fpeak to a Perfon whom one loves, and of whom one is not belov'd. He tells him then, that if he had feen him likely to fpend his whole Life in Softnefs, Lazinefs, and all the Amufements of Youth, he fhould have ceas'd loving him. But that as he faw him pafiionately afpiring after Glory, the love he bore to him was renew'd and augmented •, that he came to offer him all neceffary Helps,becaufe of all the Lovers he had had, he was the only Perfon who was able to lerve him in his Ambition •, and that by this means he might know the difference between fuch as love on- ly Corporal Beauty, that frail and withering Flow- er, and one that loves only the Beauty of the Soul, which being perfeQ: is the true Image of the Deity. This great Promife fixes the reftlels Humor of this ambitious young Man, and difpofes him to hear what he had to lay. Socrates immpdiatly throws him into the midft of that Aifembly, whether he was going to gethimfelf declaf d General of the Athenians ^ and with abun- dance of addrefs, fhowshim, that inftead of that great Ability with which he flatter'd himfelf, he had indeed nothing in him but the Prejudices of his Youth, accompanied with a great deal of Arrogance and Pre- liimption. When you are in that Aifembly (fays he) you'll rife up to fpeak without doubt of fuchThings as you know rather than any otherMatrers^ for other- wife how could you prefumeto fpeak? But a Man knows nothing but what he has either found out himfelf, or learn'd of forae other Perlbn. I don't know any tiling that you have found out your felf, your Knowledge is not by Infufion^ and all the Knowlege you have learn'd, is only to write, to play on the Mufick, and to perform your Exercifes, and none of thefe Things are talk'd of in the Coun- cil. Therefore when will you go ? and what will you go for> It muft not be when they difcourfe of Buildings •, the meaneft Brick-layer would fpeak better than you on that SubjeQ : Nor m\\i\ it be when ^00 ^« /Abridgment of the when they are confidering any Prodigies, or any Point of Divination, for that's the Bulinefs of the Diviners •, and fo of other Things. Alcibicides being prefs'd, anfwers, that he'll fpeak when the Athenians deliberate on their Affairs. The Matter then in Queftion, is how to explain what is meant by the Affairs of the Athenians. Akib'uides Hiys, 'tis Peace and War, and all that belongs to the higheft Politicks. Then, it muft be (replies 5^<:r^f^j) when they are confidering with whom, and at what time 'tis beftto be at Peace, or War. But as Matters in all Arts and Sciences feek what is heft and moft convenient ^ fo in Peace and War, that ought to be fought out which is belt and moft advantageous, that is to fay, moft Juft ^ and in order to find it, 'tis neceffary to know in what thefe confift. In wliat then do they confift > Aicibiddcs knows not what to anlwer. How ? (fays Socr cites,) Are you going totheAffembly of the Athenians to give 'em your Advice about Peace and War, and yet know not why War or Peace fhould be made ? A/cihiddesanrwQXS^ that War is made, either to repel fome Infult, or to recover fome Good. This is fomething(fays5^rrr//^j-)but'tis not all. For 'tis neceifary to know, whether the Evil that is done us, isdone juftly or unjuftly •, on this Knowledge de-« pends the knowledge of what is beftand moft advan- tageous ^ that which is Beft being always moft Juft^ So that on thefe Matters we ought to have an exaft Knowledge of Juftice, and to keep it always in view 5 and this is a thing of which you are ignorant, for of whom fhould you have learn'd it ? Juftice (replies A/cibiades) md.y be known without a Mafter. Yes,fays5'(?(r/*j/f:'j, provided it be fought after: But no Man feeks for what he thinks he knows ^ and at every Degree of our Age we think we know what Juftice ii, becaule we. fpeak of it throughout the whole fi>y? Alcibiades. joi whole courfe of our Life, and nothing is more com- mon than to hear Children complaining of the Wrongs and Injuriies that are done 'em. So that we continually fpeak of Juftice without having learn'd what it is either of our felves or others, and confe- : quently without knowing it. Alcibiades thinks to extricate himfelf out of this Difficulty by laying he learn'd it of the People. That's a very bad Mafter, {-^iys Socrates^ howfliould the People teach what they know not themfelves > They have no Knowledge of Juftice but by their Prejudices, as you have ^ and one certain fign that they are ignorant of it, is, that they are always at variance on this SubjeB:, and that 'tis this difference alone that caufes the Wars that defolate the World. For if the People would agree about what is Juft, and Unjuft, they would always live in Peace. Alcibiades endeavours to get rid of this Difficulty, in faying that 'tis rarely deliberated in Councils whe- ther a thing is Juft ortlnjuft, but only whether it be Ufeful ^ for Juftice and Utility (fays he) are not al- ways the fame things : Seeing fome notorious A£ls oflnjuftice have been very advantageous ^ and a great many Perfons have been deftroy'd for having a(Ei:ed juftly. Which is too true a Draught of the Poll- ticks of moft Princes. Socrates refutes this mifchie- vous Opinion, and fhews, that an AQion can't be ufeful and advantageous, unlefs it be Comely and Juft. He firfts tells him, he could prove to him, by the fame Arguments that he had us'd, that he knows not what is ufefiil any more than he does what is juft, fince he had neither learn'd it of any one, nor found it out of himfelf But not to offend a Perlbn fo nice and tender^ (for Alcibiades being accuftom'd to the diverfified and florid Difcourfes of theSophifts, did not like to hear the fame thing twice, but lov'd Change and Variety in Language as well as in his Clothes) Socrates x^kts another Courfe, and asks him, if that which is Comely or Honourable is always good, or whether it fometimes ceafes to be' fo. Alcibiades 2 02 ^n Abridgment of the Alctbiaicsw^WQXS^ that there are Comely and Ho- norable Things, which are fometimes Evil. For Ex- ample, in a Battle, when a Man fuccours his Friend and is kill'd in the A8:ion,this Aftion is Honourable but 'tis Fatal. Another abandons his Friend, ande- fcapes danger ^ this Aftion is Evil but 'tis ufefiil. Socrates anfwers, that the fuccour a Man gives his Friend is, that which is calFd Valour, which is a thing quite difterent tiom Death, and that there- fore tliefe ought to be confider'd feperately. So that the Queftion is whether Valour bea Goodor an Evil. Alcihiades anfwers, that 'tis a great Good, and that he would not prefen-e his Life upon the Condition of being a Coward. Then (fay s5^rrj/^j-)youconfefs that Cowardifeisa greater Evil than Death : So that Valour is a greater Good than Life, and confequently the Aclion of fuccouring one's Friend is good,confider'd as abftra£led from all its confequences ^ if it is Good it is Honour- able, and it can't be Honourable, without being ufe- ful ; for whatfoever is Comely is Good, and that which is Good is Ufeful •, there being nothing that is Comely and Honourable that can be Evil fo far as it is Honourable •, nor any thing which is Shamefiil, that can be Good fo far as it is Shameful , which he proves by this in\dncible Argument : Thofe that do good Aftions are happy : Men can't be happy but by the Pofleifion of Good\ the Poirelhon of Good is the Confequence of a good Life ^ therefore Happinels neceffarily attends thofe that do good Aftions ^ fo that Happlnefs is a Comely and Honourable Thing, and confequently that which is good, that which is comely, and that which is ufetul, are never diife- rent one from another. Therefore Juftice being Come? , ly and Good can't be oppos'd to Utility. A/cib fades not only grants all thefe Truths •, but is the Ferfon that affirms 'em •, for he is convinc'd by himfelf; and 'tis himfelf that makes the Anfwers. He therefore admires how it comes to pafs that the Things about which Socrates interrogates him, appear to Firji Alcibiadesi' joj to him with quite another afpeftthan they had done before : Hereupon he asks how it comes about, that upon the fame Subjeft he is forc'd to anfwer fofne- times after one manner, andfometimes after another. Socrates informs him that this proceeds from his Ignorance, becaufe we never contradiO: our felves in the Things we know ^ but 'tis impoflible for the Mind not to err in thofe Things o£ which we are ignorant. But this does not arife abfolutely from Ignorance ^ fince 'tis certain we never commit any Fault in Things of which we are ignorant, provided we know our own Ignorance^ but it fprings from a conceal'd Ignorance, when we think we know what indeed we do not underftand. And this was exact- ly the Cafe of Alcibiades^ who was going to inter- meddle with Affairs of State in which he had not been inftru£led. A deplorable Condition ! But fuch as was common to him with almoft all that had go- vern'd the Athenians, only Ver'icles perhaps may be excepted. A/dbiades obferves that Fericks did not arrive at fo great a Capacity of himfelf ^ but had acquir'd his great Abilities in the Converfation of Philofophers and Politicians. For ftill (fays he) as old as he is, he converfes with D^;w^;z the greateft of all our Po- liticians. Socrates^ who perceives the Tendency of this An- fwer of ^/a/'/W^j-, infinuates to him, that the Com- pany of thofe great Men was very ufeful for the Acquirement ot Vertue, in which true Accomplifh- ment alone confifts. And this he proves by the Ex- ample of Fericks himfelf, who had not been able to teach his own Children any thing, a fure lign that Vertue cannot be taught, and that he himfelf had not learn'd it from Men, becaufe 'tis the Gift ofGcd, and there is nothing of Good in us, but what he implants •, but this being too general a Queftion he referves it to be treated elfewhere,and confining him- felf to his Subjeft, he carries on his Defigri, which is to confound the Pride of Akibiades, Therefore 2 04 -^^ /Abridgment of the he asks him hoiV he intends to difpofe of himfelf ! Alcibiades anfwers, that hell endeavour to get himfelf inftru£l£d ^ but at the fame time gives him to underftand, that fince they who then concern'd themfelves in Affairs of State were moft of 'em ig- norant Perfons, he fhould not be obliged to give himfelf fo much trouble to excel 'em ^ and that fince he had gopd Natural Parts it would be an eafy matter for him to out-do 'em. Socrates amaz'd at the bafenefs of this Sentiment, which is but too common, gives him an admirable Leflbn upon it. He reprefents to him, that nothing is more unworthy of a great Mind, than for a Man to propofe to himlelf only to furpafs ignorant Peo- ple and Slaves : That a Scatefman will never fen^e his Countrey well, if he is not a greater Man, not only than the Citizens whom he governs, but alfo than their Enemies ^ that the Athenians being com- monly in War with the Lacedemonians, or the King ,o\:PerJia'j he ought to ftrive to excel thofe Enemies in Capacity and Vertue. Alcibiad'es like a young Spark full of Vanity, asks if the Kings K)f L(iccdc7?ionia^ and the King o^ Fcrjia ivere not made like other Men. Socnitcs fliews him, that if it were fo, he ought to form a great Idea of 'em in his Mind^ that fo he luight take the greater care of himfelf^ and render himfdf ff ill more Accomplifh'd. But that there was fo little Truth in this, vie. that they were made like other men,that no Perfons in the world feem'd fo great as they, either for Birth, or Education, or the extent of their Dominions. And to mortify Alcibiades the more, he oppofes the manner of his Birth and Education to that of the Kings oi Perjia. When a King of Per/ia is born (fays Socrates) all the People that are fpread over that vaft Empire celebrate his Nativity, and aftervi\ards that Day is annually kept as one of their greateft Feftivals, fo that in all the Provinces of Afia^ nothing is to be fe^n but Sacrifices and Feafts. Whereas (fjyshe) when we are born, my Dearil/- cibiadeq Ftrji Alcibiades. tibiades^ that Paflage cf the Cotnick Poet may be applied to us. The J^evosfcarce to our nearej} Ke'ighhoit/ j i,o^^u;s<. When the Child is born he is imrs'd und^r the Con- du£l of the moft vertuous E'ln^ chs, who' (hape and fafliion hisBody. When he is about feveii Years ofAge they begin to let him fee Horl'cs, and to put him under the Care of Querries. He penorms his Ex- ercifestill he is fouiceen, and from tnar hge rhey five him four of the greateft, and moft vcrtuoas .ords.of the Country. The firit teaches him Pie- ty J the fecond forms his Mind co Tmth and Jul- tice.j the third inftru8:s him to be tree, and to con- quer his Paillons •, and the laft reaches him to de- Ipife gangers and Death: For if a King fhould be fearfiil he would become a Slave. Whereas you Alcibiades^ have been brought up by a vile Thraci- ing an Eftate but like that of a private Man in com- parifon of the King of Verfia. In fine (fays he) there is fo great a difparity in every thing, betvveen thefe Kings and you, that if one rfiould go and rell the Mother of King Agis^ or the Mother of Artax- erxes^ that a Citizen of Athens^ nam'd Alcibiades^ was preparing to go and make War in their Coun- try, they would certainly imagine that long Exer- cife, great Experience, and a confummate Wifdom had infpir'd you with fo great a Defign. But how would they be furpriz'd, if they (hould be told that 'tis no luch Matter ! that you are young, ignorant and prefumptuous ^ that you never would take care to cultivate your Mind, and that you have no other Fund to carry on fo great a Delign, but your Beauty, your fine Shape, yout Extraftion, your Riches, and the Advantages of a happy; Genius ! They would look upon you a^ a Fool, bscaufe in all thefe things th;^ Lacedsmoni- X ani 5 0 6 ^n Jhridgment of the ans and Perfians infinitely furpafs us. Is it not a verv' fhameful thing, that the very Women among our Enemies kiiOw better than you you* ielf what you ought to be, to attempt to mak ' War againft 'em with any hope of Si;ccefs> Don't thuik there- fore that you have to do with ordinary Men. But imagine ^"on have the greateft Projeft in the World in your head ^ and either renounce your i^mbirion, or rouze Irom this Stupidity into which you have caft your felf. The Glory with which you are fo much charm'd is not acquif d without a great deal of Toil and Labour •, and if you would attain it youmuft take care of your felfj tliat is, youmuft endeavour to become very good. But fince the Word G^^^Sisa general Term, that fignifies leveral very different things, the Queftion is in what fuch a Man as Akibiades ought to endea- vour to become good. He anfwers, that 'tis in doing thofe things which the beft Citizens ought to do. The beft Citizens (he fays) are thofe whom we call wife and prudent ^ and Wifdom and Prudence are neceflary to all Arts : Thus the Anfwer of Al- cibiades is yet too indefinite. Who then -are the beft Citizens ? Akibiades again anfwers, that they are thofe who know how to command Men that live under the fame Government, who mutually affift each other ^ but what is this Science that teaches how to command Men who make one and the fame Political Body, and what is its end > Akibiades fays *tis good Counfel, and that the end of governing well is to procure the Welfare of the People. Socrates asks him what ought to be done to go- vern a State well. Akibiades anfwers, that Amity and Concord fliould be made to reign in it. The Queftion then is what Art produces this Ami- ty or Concord in States. Akibiades anfwers, that this is brought about when every Man minds his own Bufinels. This is not a fufficient Anfwer, and Socrates re- futes it with a great deal of Addrefs and Solidity, by Rry? Alcibiades, 307 by ihowing that when every Man only minds his own Affairs, Amity can't be among 'em, becaufe there's no Concord. For how ihould they accord about things which are known to ibme of cm, and unknown to others ? Alcibiades is fo embarrafs'd that he is oblig'd to deny a Truth which he had before acknowledged, and to confels, that wiien the Citizens do chat which is juft, yet they can't tell how to love one a- nother. He does not f^e what Socrates' aims at : His Defign is to fhew, that when Men only [nind their Affairs, they take care only of what belongs to themfelves, and fo confine themfelves co the knowledg of particular things, and don't afcend to that of the Eifence of univerfal things, the only knowledg that produces Charity the Mother of U- nion and Concord : Whereas the knowledg only of particular things, produces Dlibrder and Divilion. So that to make Concord reign in a Scace, 'tis not enough that every one takes care of what appertains to himlelf, he muft alfo take care of himfelf ^ tnele being two very different Arts. For the Art by which we take care of our felves is not the fame with that by which we take care of that which appertains to us. Now to take care of one's felt is to know one's felf : But what is it to know one's lelf i^ Juft as an Artificer ufes his Tools, fo a Man makes uf& of his Body. So that the Body is not the Man, for the Body can't ufe and govern it felf. Nor is the Compound the Man, for if one of the things of which we are compounded does not govern, 'tis impoflible they fhould govern both together i And confequently, lince neither the Body, nor the com- pound of Soul and Body together are the Man, it muft be the Soul alone : 'Tis then only necelfaiy that we know the Soul, and take care of tliat, if we would become truly wife. For to take care of our Bodies is to take care of what belongs to us •, but to take care of our Souls is to take care of our felves ; to be employed with the Care of amafling Riches, is X 2 to jo8 ^n Abridgment of the to be employ'd about things ftill more remote than thofe that appertain to us. Thus they who love Alcihiades his Body, don't love Alcibiades himfelf, but that which belongs to Alcibiades. To love Al- cibiades is to love his Soul, to love that which is him- ft4f, and not that which belongs to him. There- fore we lee thole that love only his Body,retire ftom him when the Beauty ot this Body is fading -, and thofe who love his Soul, do riot ceafe to love him as long as he is vertuous, and labours by this Means to render himlelf as lovely as poflible ^ and this (fays Socrates) is the Caufe of the Inconftancy of my Rivals, and of my Steadinefs. But what muft we do to come to the fight and knowledg of our Souls ? Socrates ipeaks dit^inely to Alcibiades on this occafion. As our Eye, (lays he^ can't fee it felf but in the Objeds that repre- fcDt it, or in another Eye j that is, in that part of the Eye, which is the moft excellent, namely that wherein the Sight is : So the Soul to fee and know it felf, muft view it felf in that part of the Soul in which Wifdom and Vertue are generated, or rather in that Soul, of which ours is but the Image, and in which Wifdom, Vertue and Prudence are found in their fovereign Perie^ion, that is, in God. For 'tis by this means only tliat the Soul can know God, and her Self, which is true Wifdom. When flie knows her felf, (he'll alio know what belongs to her ^ for we muft firft know our Selves before we can know what belongs to us. Shell likewife know whatever refpe£ls the things that belong to her, and v/hat refpe£ls the things that belong to others. For one Art is futficient for all this, and this Art is the true fort of Prudence. He therefore tliat is ignorant of himfelf, is igno- rant of that which appertains both to himfelf and o- thers, and not knowing what belongs to others, he knows not wliat belongs to the Common-wealth, and confequently can't be a good Minifter of State. Nay he is not capable to govern a Family, nor fo much as to Firjt Alcibiades. 3 05^ to condu£l himfelf,for becaufe he is ignorant, 'tis im- poflible but he muft commit faults ^ in commiting faults, he does ill, in doing ill he is miferable, and renders thofe miferable who obey him. Thus he who is not wife or prudent cannot be happy, and he who is wicked can't but be miferable. So that the happinefs of a City depends neither on its Riches, nor the ftrength of its Fortijicatioris, nor the great number of its Troops, nor its Galleys, nor the magni- ficence of its Arfenals, but on Vertue, without which there is nothing but Mifery in the World. Therefore to govern a State well, 'tis neceflary to provide Vertue for thofe that compofe it, and to en- deavour to communicate it to 'em. And con- fequently, Alcibiades^ to fatisfie your Ambition, you ought not to think of acquiring great Dominion and exorbitant Power, either for your felf^ or your Re- publick, but that Juftice and Prudence for which you have fo much occafion. For while you, and others a£l juftly and prudently, you'll pleafe God, who is the Source of true Felicity ^ and youll govern your felf after this Manner •, if (as I juft now told you) you conftantly look upon the Deity, that Light in which alone you can know your felf and all that be- longs to you. But if you govern your felf unjuffly, and turn away your £yes from the Deity to unite your felf to dark Objects, you'll neither know your your felf at all, nor the things that belong to you : And your A6:ions will be nothing but Works of Darkneis ;, and the more Power you have, the more unhappy you 11 be. Alcibiades can't diifent ftom thefe great Truths. But Socrates does not flop here ; but gives the finifhing ftroke to mortifie his Pride in asking him, whether it is not more for the Ad- vantage of thole who are not yet endued with Ver- tue,to obey fuch as are betterthan themfelves,than to be abandon'd to their own ConduB: : And (lays he) is not that which is moft profitable moft beautiful, and that which is moll beautiful molt becoming, and futable ? Alcibiades agrees to this... Then (fays X ^ Svcf\r } I o y4n Ahr'idgment of the Firjl Alcibiades. Socnites) 'tis becoming that vicious Perfons fhould be Slaves, and be made to obey •, and confequently Vice is a bafe thing, and fu table to a Slave, as on the contrary Vertue is beautitul, and futable to a Free-man. In what a Condition then are you > Alc'ihiades is fenfible what he means, and confeffes he is not worthy of any thing but Slavery, but hopes in a little time to get rid of his Vices, if Socrates pleafes. You don't ipeak well (replies 5^^r^7/fj';) you ought to fay, ii God pleafes, for we can do nothing with- out him. Well then (fays Alcibiades)\ fay (if God pleafes) and 1 add, let us for the future change Perfons ^ and as you have hitherto made your Court to me, Til for I he future make mine to you. FU follow you wherever you go, and I folemnly proteft to you, FU now caretuUy apply my felf to Righteoufnefs. I wifh you may (lays Socrates concluding the Dif couile.) But whatever good Opinion I have of you •, I am aftraid of the Contagion of our Republick, and can't but tremble at the Examples that reign in it, left they fhould be too ftrong for you and me too. ^ For 'tis a very difficult Matter to be wife in the midl! of fo blind and corrupt a People. And n\ An Abridgment O F T H E Second ALCBIADES, O R Of Prayer, S Derates mQQts Alcibiades going into a Temple ta pray, and feeing iiim very penfive, and with his Eyes fix'd on the Earth, he asks him on what he was thinking. What fhould I think on ? (r-plies Alcibiades very faintly) being mor^ concerned about his ambitious Defigns than his Prayers. It muft be on fome very important Matters, (lays Socrates) ioi lince 'tis certain, that the Gods often hear our Pray- ers, there's nothing that requires more Prudence and Wildom than to pray well ^ fo as not to requeft E- vils of 'em, while we think w'e are asking Goods ; or not to ask Evils of 'em willingly and knowingly as Oedipus did, whom Euripides brings in Praying that his Children might decide their rights hy the Sword. You tell me of a mad Man (fays Alcibiades) does any Man, who is in his fenfes make fuch Prayers.. as thofe to the Gods ? Hereupon Socrates asks Hm if being mad is not oppos'd to being Prudent : If Men are not wife or foolifh, as they are either in Health or Sick : for as tliere is no Medium between Health and Slcknels, neither is there any between Wifdom and Folly. To. which Alcibiades agrees. Since Madnefs then is oppos'd to Wifdom,fays Socra^ tesy Folly and Madnefs are but one and the faine thing. X 4 For Jit An Ahriigment of iht Jor one finglc Subject can't have two contraries oppos d to it, and confequently every Fool is Mad. And I'eeing there are always a thoufand Fools to one wife-Man in the World, while we live in it we are among mad Men. The only thing that can militate againft this Prin- ciple, is that it would be impoflible to live among ib great a Number of madMen^ and the wife, whole Number is but fmall, could never efcape their Fury. And yet wife Men live in Cities, therefore it feems not true to fay they live with mad Men. This is what Socrates obje£ls againft tlie Truth which he has made Alcibiades acknowledge : But he refolves this Difficulty in fhewing that there are divers De- grees of Fcily, as there are divers forts of Difeafes : The Fever is a Difeafe, but every Difeafe is not the Fever. 'Tis juit fo with Folly. All mad Men are Fools, but all Fools are not mad. A Difeafe is a Genius which comprehends many Species. Folly or Imprudence in like manner comprehends many Spe- cies, which differ in degree. As Men have divided Arts and Trades among 'em,fo they have fhafd Folly among them.felves too ^ thole who have the great- eft fliare of it are faid to be diftraftedandmad •, and they who I^n e fomewhat lefs are call'd Fools and ftupid. But becaufe Men feek to hide thefe Vices imder fpeci^us Names, they call the former Men of Magnanirnity, and of great Spirit •, and they call the others Simple , orelfe they fay they are harmlels Men, bht have little Experience and much Youth. There are l>efides thefe a multitude of Names with which ail forts of Vice are difguis'd. The next Qiieftion is in what Wifdom and Folly ■ confift. 'A wife Man is one that knows what ought t<) be faid and done, and a Fool is one that is igno- rant of borh; But is he that is thus ignorant, in this Condition without knowing it ? Yes certainly. 0- edjpus^ for Iniiance (lays Socrates) was in this Con- dition when he made that Prayer which we fpoke of before 3 but we ftiall find a great many otherj^, ■ ' ' ■ vyho. Second AlcibiadesJ 3 1 5 who without being tranfported with Anger like him will requeft real Evils of God while they think they are asking real Goods. For as tor Oedipus^ if he did not ask for what was good neither did he think he ask'd it i whereas others do the contrary. To be- gin with your lelf, Aldhiades : If the God to whom you are going to pray fliould fuddenly appear to you, and ask you, if you would not be willing to be iiing of the Athenians, of all Greece^ nay of all Europe^ or (if that feera'd too little for your Ambition) of the whole World, would you not be extremely pleas'd, and return home with abundance of Joy, as one who had receiv'd the greateft Good in the World > Who would not be tranfported with fuch a thing as this ? (replies j^ldb'tades. ) But (fays Socrates) would you give your Life for the Empire of the Greeks, or that of all the Barbarians together ? No certainly (lays A/cibiades) for then I could not enjoy it. But what if you could enjoy it, (continues Socrates) and this Enjoyment muft needs prove latal to you ? No (fays Alcibiadcs) I would not do it on that Condition. You fee by this therefore(fays Socrates) that it is not fafe to defire or accept what we know not. How many Men after they have paflionately defir'd to be Kings, and have left no Stone unturn'd to obtahi their End-, have become the Sacrifices of their extra- vagant Ambition ? The Story of ArcheLms King of Macedonia is yet frefli in Memory. He afcended the Throne by his Crimes, and was alTaffirated by \m Favourite, who could not maintain hhnfelf in it a- bove 5 or 4 days •, but was murder'd by a third who was ambitious to fill the fame Place. But without looking after foreign Examples, how many of tlie Generals of our Army have been condem^'d to Death in our own City! how many of '"em exil'd ! and how many others liave we \'i:<^\\ who aftt^r they had pafsU through innumerable Dan- gers, Toils and Labours, have fallen in themidft of their Triumphs, by the Calumnies of their Enemies! A g;;eatm:iny other Perfons. after thev have a^di.i^i- J 1 4 Jn Ahridgment of the ly defir'd Children, have been very unhappy in ob- taining 'em. And thus it is with the reft of our Defires ^ and tho' nothing is more common ihan Inftances of this kind, yet there's fcarce any Man who would refufe the Thing he defires, if God fhould oiFer it to him, or who would ceafe to ask it, if he were fure to obtain it. And we may every Day fee Perfons repenting their for- mer Prayers, and making fuch as are quite con- trary to 'em.- Therefore we muft acknowludg the Truth of what homer fays, viz. That nothing is more unjyft than the Complaints Men make a- gainft the Gods, whom they accufe of being the the Caufe of their Miferies, whereas they are the occafion of 'em themfelves, who by their Folly draw down Mifchiefs on their own Heads, which were not defign'd for 'em, A great Post who knew the Ignorance of Man- kind upon this Account, endeavour'd to cure it by giving 'em this Prayer, which I think is an admira- ble one. Great God^ who knowefl better than we what is necefjary for /^, give m the good things we need^ whether we ask ""em or not •, and keep evil things from //i", even when we ask ""em of thee. Then Ignorance is a very fatal thing (fays Alci- hiades) feeing it changes our Prayers into Curfes, and prompts us to beg of God our own Miferies. Hold a little, fays Socrates^ don't condemn Igno- rance in General •, if one lort of it is pernicious, there's another that is very ufefiil. For inftance, would not Orefies have been happy if he had not known his Mother, when he fought after her to kill her ? tor if he had not known her, he had not kill'd her, his defign being only againft her. So that this kind of Ignorance would have been very good for him : There is an Ignorance then (fays he) which ouglit to be commended ^ and this he proves with freat Evidence. And now he lays down this as a rinclple, that all the Sciences in the World with- out that by which we know what is very good, are not Second Alcibiades. j not only ufelels, but moft commonly extremely dangerous. "Tis not fufficient (fays he) that in the Council of a Prince, or of a Republick, there be Men of A- bility in every thing that relates to Peace, War, and and all other things belonging to Politicks, if they are not expert in the knowledg of what is very good ; that is if they are not under the Direftion of the Divine Spirit, and do not well underftand what is belt, and moft juft, they are incapable of govern- ing a State well ^ fo that nothing but Injuftice and Dilcord will be feen to reign in it. For while thele Minifters think they know what indeed they do not underftand, and continually fuffer themfelves to be led by Opinion, and not by knowledg, they never judg aright but by Accident. They are like Ships well ftor'd with every thing needtul for a long Voy- age ', but which for want of a Pilot can't choole but be loft in a little time. It would be much more ufeful for thefe Men to be ignorant of what they know, provided they were convinced of their Igno- rance i for then they would not intrude themfelves to give Counfel in things which they don't under- ftand, and yet think they do. Thereiore that Soul, that City or that Republick that would be happy muft acquire this Science, which alone makes o- thers turn to a good Account ^ without it, the greater Fortune either particular Men or States en- joy, the more impoifible it is for 'em not to commit very great Crimes, either in acquiring Riches or aug- menting their Forces, or the like. Without this Sci- ence a Man may have all others and yet never be the better for 'em : And to fuch a one that Verfe which Homer made againft Margites may be apply'd. He knew many things^ but knew them all am'ifs. For this wife and divine Poet does not mean by this, that he did not know 'em well, as if one could pro- perly know amifs what one knows ^ but figni- fies by tliis Enigmatical ExpreiTion, that he knew 'em all unhappily, or that it is was a great Unhap- pineJs Vi 6 An Abridgment of the pinefs to him to know 'em. For where the knowledg of God is not, there is no Good. And if thefe Scien- ces are unhappy to us, 'twould be better for us to be ignorant of 'em, and confequently there is a fort of Ignorance more ufeful than the Sciences. This is ftill more true in Prayer than in all the other Ani- ons of Life. And 'tis better to ask nothing of God, than to ask what is Evil of him, when we think we are asking Good , and confequently the Prayer I have been fpeaking of is the moft perfeft of all others. Upon this Model the Ptayer of the Lacedemoni- ans was form'd -, Who are content to fay, Lord^ grant us vohatfeems good and comely to thee. They never requeft any thing but this, and yet are the happieft People in the World. To this purpofe Socrates relates a Story which he had heard told by Ibme old People. He lays, the Athenians having been often overcome in the Wars they had with the Lacedemonians, refolv'd to fend to the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon^ to know the Reafon why the Gods rather favour'd the 'Lacedemonians than the Atheni- ans who offer'd 'em more Sacrifices, erefted more Temples and Statues in their Honour, and made 'em more Prefents, and more magnificent Oblati- , ons than all the Greeks together. Whereas the Lace- demonians were fo guilty of Avarice in their Wor- fhip, that they fcarcc facrific'd any Beafts but what were blemifh'd, and mutilated •, tho they were very Rich. The Ptophet anlwer'd 'em in a few Words. "^Xhe henedtUions of the Lacedemonians are more a- grecahle to Jupiter than all the Sacrifices of the Greeks, He calls their Prayers Benediffions. So that the Lacedemonians were belov'd of God, be- caufe they knew how to pray •, whereas the reft of the Greeks were hated of him, becaufe they did not underftand how to offer Sacrifice. And Homer (fays he) fignifies the liime thing, when he fays the Trojans^ when they built a Fort, ojfcr'd whole He- cat ombes to the Qods.^tlye Jjnoke ofv^hich afcendedto Heaven, S^OM^ Alcibiades. p7 Heaven^ but the Gods refused to accept ''em becaufe they hated the f acred City of Tioy^ King Priamus, ^;7i bps People, The Occafion of this hatred, was be- caufe the Trojans knew not how to pray, but would have oblig'd God by their Sacrifices to do, not his own Will, but theirs. But God fuiFers not himfelf to be corrupted by Gifts like a Ufurerj and that man muft be a Fool, who thinks to obtain his Favour by fuch Sacrifices as the Wicked are better able to offer than the Righteous. God only regards the Sandity and Purity of the Soul, and efteems nothing but Juftice and Wifdom. Now none are truly Juft and Wife but thofe who know how to perform their Duty toward God and Men both in their Words and A8:ions. What do you think of all this, A/ci- blades ? Alcibiades ftruck with the Evidence of thefe Truths, anfwers, that he is not fo fenfelefs, as to oppofe his weak Underftanding to that of God, and to contradift his Oracles. Then don't be in fo much hafte, Alcibiades^ (con- tinues Socrates) to offer your Prayers, left God to punifti you, ftiould anfwer the Imprecations you are going to utter againft your felf : For you are not a Man likely to ufe the Prayer of the Lacedemoni- ans ^ you are too proud, for that is the fofteft name I can give your Imprudence-, therefore wait till you arebetter inftru8:ed hovv to demean your felf,both to- ward God and Men. Alas ! When fhall I be inftru£led in this? (replies Alcibiades) and who fhall be my Mafter? what Pleafure I fhould take in obeying him ! It muft be he who takes care of you(fay&S^. but 'tis becaufe rhey naturally envy all fuch as we are. My dear Eutyphron^ (replies Socrates) perhaps 'tis no fuch great Misfortune to be laugh'd at. The Athenians don't much trouble their Heads about a Man's Ability, provided he concerns not himfelf to teach others what he knows •, but if any one makes a Profeflion of teaching, they are downright angry ^ith him, either out of Envy, as you lay, or for fome other Reafon which we know not. I don't at all defire (fays Eutyphron) tomjke tryal (as you have done) to my Coll, what Sentiments the Athenians have of me. There's a great deal of difference (replies Socrates^ improving this Confefiion of Eutyphron to (how, in the Perfon of this Diviner, the Charafter of thole that prefided to teach Religion, viz. that they taught nothing, but through fear left the People in igno- rance) perhaps you are very relerv'd and refule to teach what you know ^ whereas 1 fear the Athe- nians will think the love I bear to all Mankind in- duces me to tell 'em too freely all I know, with- out asking yny Reward of 'em. But if they would only The Abridgment of Eutyphron. 311 only laugh at me (as I faid juft now) as you fay they do at you, it would be no very troubleibme or un- pleafant thing to pafs a few hours in laughing and jefting. But if they take up the Matter in earneft ^ then 'tis only for fuch Diviners as you to know what will be the Event. It may be (fays Eutyphron like a great Diviner) youll fuftain no Damage, by it, and I hope you'll have a happy Ilfueof your Bulinefs, as well as I of mine. Then you have fbme Bufinefs here, (replies So- crates) are youPlaintift or Defendant ? lam Plaintifl^ lays Eutyphron. Whom do you profecuie (fays So- crates) I profecute my Father (fays th'other) your Father, good God ! (fays Socrates) and what is the Accufation then ? Of what do you accufe your Fa- ther/* I accufe him. of Murder, (replies Eutyphron.) Of Murder ! .(lays Socr cites) That indeea is an Ac- cufation above the reach of the People, who will ne- ver comprehend that it can be Juft. For this is not an Attempt for an ordinary Man, but for one who is arriv'd to theutmoft pitch of Wifdom. You fay true, Sorrates^ (replies Eutyphron) de- luded by this Commendation. But (fays the other) is it any one of your Relations that your Father has killed > without doubt (continues he) it m.afc be fo, for you would not bring your Father beiore a Court of Juftice, if he had only kill'd a Stranger. . What anAbfurdity is that(viys Eutyphron)to think there's a difference in this reip;^8: between a Relati- on and a Stranger: The Cafe is equals the only thing to be regarded is the Juftice or Injuftice of the A£lion ^ for if the Action be evil you are oblig'd to profecute the Anthor of it, whatever Friendlhip or Relation is betvyeen you ^ for you render your felf an Accom.plice of his Crime ro have the leait Fami- liarity with him, and not to endeavour to bring hnn to punilhment, which alone can purge and expiate you both.. But to apprize you of the Faft, tlie De- ^eafed v/as one of our Farmers, when we liv'd at y J//j- had engag'd him j and earneftly conjures him to teach him what is pro- perly holy, and vvhat profane; and to give him fuch a The Alridgmmt of Eutyphron . 3 2 j a juft Idea of both, as may always enable him to diftinguifh 'em with certainty. Eutyphron here ftill keeps his Character very well. That is holy (fays he) which I am doing, namely to profecute in a Court of Judicature every one that commits Murder, Sacrilege, or any other unjuft ASt of the like Nature, without any diftin£li- '' on •, Let it be Father, Mother, Brother^ &c, 'Tis the fame thing. This Definition, which fprings rather from blind Zeal, than theknowledg of Holinefs, not fatisfying Socrates^ Eutyphron attempts to prove it by Authori- ty. He maintains that all Religion confifting in imitating the Gods, he could not do a more pious and holy thing than to profecute his oAvn Father, feeing Jupiter put Saturn in Chains becaufe he de- voufd his Children j and Saturn himfelf had treated Qxlm with yet more Rigour for fome other Fault. Socrates infinuates that he doubts of the tiuth of thefe Stories, becaufe even Reafon teaches us not to attribute any unworthy thing to the Deity. How- ever (fays he Ironically to Eutyphron after his ufual manner) if you, who are fo able a Man in Religious Matters, agree with the Common People in this, and believe thefe Traditions as well as they, 'tis ab- folutely neceffary that I Ihould believe 'em too, I who am but ignorant in thefe things. Therefore I entreat you in the Name of that God who prefides over Friendlhip, do not deceive me, but tell me if you believe that tliere ever wxrefuch things, as you have been relating. This Bigot who is always credulous and conceited, makes no fcruple not only to fay, that he believes it, but adds that he believes things yet more furprizing, of which the Common People are ignorant, mean- ing without doubt the Myfteries that were knowiit only to thofe that were Initiated ^ and maintains all the Fables of Poets and Fancies of Painters as fiinda- mental Points of Relii^ioii. Y 2 ^ocra- } 14 The Ahnigmnt of EutyphtonI Socrates does not trouble himfelf with the Confu- tation of 'em ^ that would finilh the Difpute too foon, and he is not willing to offend him. There- fore he proceeds to ask him, as if he were willing to be inftruQed by him, what it is tliat he calls pious and holy,' and delires him to give a clear and diftinft Idea by which he may judg of every thing that is pious and holy. For a true Definition aught to; mak^ known the EfTence and Nature of that which is iitin'd. Eiityphron anlvv^ers, that it is that which is plea- iing to rheGods,and confequently that that is profane and impious which is dilpleafing to 'em. Sccfiites takes advantage of this Definition, and fhows that the Gods being often divided among themlelves, their Quarrels mutt neeas arife from their dilagreement about what is juft or unjuft^ pro- fane or holy. And that according to this, one and the fame thing is holy and profane, feeing it pleafes fome of 'em and difpleafes others. Therefore the Definition of holy and profane can't fublift with the Plurality of Gods. ■ This Confequence is certain, and would be fuffi- clent ,to reclaim a wife Man from that Error, and to convince him tliat there is but one God. But Eiityphrcn preferves his Character better than ^o. 'Tis no fuch eafy matter to undeceive a fuperftitious Man. To elude this Confequence he engages to prove that the Adion of his Father was difpleafing to all the Gods, and that his was agreable to 'em. Socnncs does not prefs him with theAbfurdity of this Ferfuaiion, which is rather a Suppofition than a Certainty. For fince their Theologie acknowledges tjiat the Gods are very often contefting about Mat- ters of this Nature, how could Eutyphro/i be cer- ' tain that they agreed about the A£lion he was going TO ur.dertake > In an Affair of this Confequence a greater Certainty is requifite than that which arifes jiom Opinion : It was very ealy by this Means to ^ reduce him to an Abfurdit}^ : but Socrates takes ano- ther The AbrMgmento fEntyi^hron. 525 ther courft to expofe the Ignorance of the Man ftill more ^ and thereby to overthrow aReligion \vhichhad no better Props than thele. Therefore he convinces him that this Definition is not pt-rfeQ:. Etityphron thinks to reftifie it by faying, that which is Holy is what pleafes all the Gods ^ But Socrates anlwers, that this is only to explain one of the Properties of a holyThing,inltead of difcovering the Effence of it. He does not ask if that which is Holy is belov'dof the Gods, no Body doubts of that: He would know why it is lov'd, and what it is that renders it worthy of Love. For if that which is ho- ly, and that which is belov'd of the Gods were the lame thing ^ lince tlie Gods love that which is holy only becaufe it is holy, they would love tliat which they love only becaufe it was belov'd of 'em. And on the other hand, if that which is belov'd of the Gods were belov'd of 'em only becaufe they love it, it would follow that the Gods love without reafon, and that that which is holy would be holy only be- caufj it was belov'd. In a word, (he fays) there is a ^rcat deal of difference between thefe 2 Terms, Holy and Belov'd of the Gods^ and they are entirely oppo- iite. For one Man is lov'd only becaufe they love him, and another is lov'd, becaufe he deferves to be lov d. That is to fay, That which isirloly is belov'd of the Gods only becaufe it is Holy, but 'tis not Ho- ly becaufe 'tis belov'd of them. The Matter in hand theretore is to explain the Nature of that which is Holy, and not its. Qualities, and to define what it is and why the Gods love it. This is very perplex- ing to a fuperftitious Man,who continually takes up' things without Examination, and believes a tiring on- ly becaufe he believes it. Eutyph'o;2 does not diffemble his Trouble but con- fefles that his Thouglits are tiu£iuating, and that lie knows not how to fix 'era. Socrates to make the Matter (which is very feri- ous) alittlepleafant, takes occafionirom it to fpeak of the Works of JD£'aW//i', who made moveable Sta- -. ' tues, jafi T/;e AhrUgment of Eutyphron^ tues, which never flood ftill but when a certain ^ring which they had was tyed and ftop'd. H^ let's Eutyphron know that his Principles are as moveable as thefe Statues. The Governing Spring is not yet ilop'd, but is continually going, his meaning is, that Eutyphron fpoke by Opinion, and not at all by Sci- ence. To help him out therefore he asks him if he does not think that which is Holy is Juft. To this Eutyphron agrees : Next to this the Queftion is, whether that which is Holy is a part of that which is Jufl, or that which is Juft a part of that which is Holy. ''Tis foon decided that what is Juft is the Ge- nus and what is Holy the Species. For there are many things Juft which are not Holy ^ but none Ho- ly which are not Juft. So that what is Juft has a larg- er extent than what is Holy. Nothing now remains but to know what part of that which is Juft that which is Holy is -, Eutyphron £iys, 'tis that part of Juftice which refpe£b the Gods, and the Care of their Worfhip, and that the other part concerns Men only. This Anfwer throws 'em into another Difficulty, and that is how to know in what this Religious Care confifts, and whether it be of the Nature of all other Cares, which tend to the Profit of that which is car'd for. For if fo, our Holinefs muft render the Gods better and more excellent, which would be an impious Thought. Eutyphron anfwers,that'tisaCarelike that which Servants take of their Matters : Holinefs then (fays Socrates) is a kind of Servant to the Gods : But what do the Gods do by the Miniftry of this Ser- vant > For as Phyficians operate Health by the Mi- niftry of their Art ^ the Gods muft needs operate fomething by the Miniftry of our Holineis. Now what is it that they operate ? Eutyphron anfwers, that they engage us to pleafe them by our Pray- ers and Sacrifices, and that Holinefs and Piety conlift in this on vvhich the Welfare oF Fami- lies and Rcpublicks depends. As on the contra- ry The Abridgment of Eutyphron? 3 27 ry Impiety is the niin, both of particular Perfons and States. Socrates coUeElsfrom this indefinite Anfwer, that Holinefs is the Art of facrilicing and praying. To lacrifice is to give, and to pray is to ask. So that Holinefs confifts in giving and asking. Such things only are ask'd as are wanted, and fuch things only given as are neceffary to thofe to whom they are given ^ for it would be ridiculous to give a thing which they have no occafionfor. From hence he draws this Conclufiori, that Holi- nefs is a Traffick between God and Man. But what profit can God receive from our OiFerings .<* For as for us 'tis very vilible what profit we receive from him, fince we have not the leaft Good but what pro- ceeds from his Bounty ; Are we then fo crafty (fays he) to draw all the Advantage of this Commerce to our felves only, fo that God gets nothing by it ? Eutyphron prefs'd with this Argument •, fliuts up all in laying, that God leaves what is profitable to us, and contents himfelf with that which is plea- fant •, and that 'tis our Refpe£l, and Gratitude that is fo pleafant to him •, which returns exa£l:ly to the former Definition ^ that that is Holy which is plea- fjng to the Gods. Socrates (hows him, that he has hitherto only made a Circle, and entreats him not to refufe him the knowledg of fo great a good. But Eutyphron like a true Votary of Superition, who is always prefumptuous, and never confeffes his Ignorance, feeks only how to get rid of him, and refers this Enquiry to another time, telling him fome urgent Bufinefs calls him elfewhere. Thus ends this Dialogue, which deftroys the falfe Opinions which then reign'd in the World, without eftablifhing the true. The Death of Socra- tes occafion'd Flato to write thus imperfectly and fparingly. Befides this is his Method, he always retiites before he teaches. But his manner of re- futing fails not to make a difcovery by way of An- ticipa- 518 Tfe Ahriigment of Eutyphron. ticipation of what he defigns to eftablifli, and does maintain elfewhere. Here we fee the fuperftitious Man is always near the Truth, but never reaches it. Tis certain that Holinefs is plealing to God, 'tis certain likewife that it produces a l^ind of Commerce between God and Men, and that this confifts in Giving and Askings but the ignorant Athenians con- ceiv'd this after too grofs a manner. Holinels can't be in us without Converfion, nor Converlion without Love, and this Love engages us to give our felves entirely God, and to ask ot him to give himfelf to us, that he niay keep alive in us that divine Flame which purifies our SouLs, and itiakes us refemble him. In this confifts that Com- merce between God and Men, which makes up the vVhole of Religion, as Socr^ncs and FLito both acknowledged^ The END. THE WORKS o r P L A TO A B R I D G ' D. WITH An Account of his Life, Philofo- phy. Morals, and Politicks. Together with a Tranflation of his choiceft Dialogues, vi^. C What one ought to do. ^^ ) Immortality of the Soul ' ^^<)Va/our, L Phi/of ophy. In Two Volumes. " Illuftrated with Notes. hyM. DJC IE R. 4 ' Tranllated from the Fremk V 0 1.. 11. L 0 N D 0 N; ^ Printed for A. Beli^ at the Crofs-Keys ani Bible Qornh'ill^ Xi^-^i Stocks-Market^ 1701. ■ -J _A^; THE INTRODUCTION T O S OCR AT ES's Apology. IN Eutyphron we faw how Socrates attack'd the Superftition of the Atheniam and the plurali- ty of their Gods, by expofing the ridiculoul- nefs of the Fables with which their Divinity was ftufF'd ^ and by that means endeavouring to bring 'em to the knowledge of the true God. They were a People devoted to Idolatry, and always up- on their guard againft Innovations^ witnefs the Ath of the Apoftles^ where we lee the Athemans^ who were difturb'd at the preaching ofSt. P^/^/, cry'd out, He feemeth to be a fetter forth of ftrange^^'^7'^^^ Gods. Now a People thus dilpos'd, could not but be alarm'd by a Doftrine fo oppofite to their Er- rors. But that was not the firfl: Ipring of their ha- tred of Socrates. The Vertue and generous Liberty of that wile Man procur'd him many fecret Ene- mies, who, in order to get rid of a publick Cenfor that always twitted them with their Vices, deery'd him underhand, as being an impious Fellow, that meddled with fufpeQed Sciences, and taught the way of promoting Injuftice. Arjflophanes was the molt fervieeable Inftrument in fpreading that Calumny,- His Comedy of the Clouds bad fuch an abiblute in- fluence upon the People, that it mov'd them to re- ceive the Acculation brought againft thisPhilofophef more than twenty Years after^ branding him for a profligate Wretch that kittoduc'd new Deities. The ht i Caufe 4 Tihe lntrodu5liott to Socrates'i Apology. Caufe being formally brought to a Trial, Socrates was oblig'd to appear before his Judges, and anfwer thofe two forts of Accufers. 'Twas above all upon this Occalion, as being !the laft a8: of his Life, that he admirably ke^Tup^ the CharaQer of an ancient Philofopher, ' endow'a with a divine Spirit, and a cohfummate Wifdom •, who never did an unadvis'd A8:ion, nor fpoke fo much as one Word amifs. Even Death it lelf, when threatned and prefented to his view, could not oblige him to depart one mi- nute from the Paths of Verf ue and Jultice. He fpeaks downright of his Innocence, and does not ftoop to the cowardly bafe methods of begging Votes, that were then in ule. He employs neither the Artifice nor Varnifh of human Eloquence : He has no recourfe to Supplications and Tears, he do's " not bring his Wife and Children to foften the Judges with their Groans and Lamentations. His Defence do's not favour of any thing that's cringing, cowardly, bale or little : His Difcourfe is high, maf culine, generous, and becoming the liberty of a Phi- lofopher. He gave in his Defences with fomuch plainnefs and fimplicity, that fome of the Ancients took occafion from thence', to fay. That he did not clear himfelfof the Charge. 'Tis true, he did not fpeak as' Perfons' upon their Trial us'd to do. He contented himfelf with fpeaking to the Judges as he us'd to do' in'common difcourfe, and with propo- fing fome Queftions to his Accakrs. So that his Part was rather a familiar Difcourfe, than a fludy'd Harangue, which did not fuit with his Geniu.?. How- ever, even this his carelefs Apology, was true and to the purpofe. F/dto^ who was then prelent, afterA^ wards gather'd it into a Body ; and without adding any thing to the Truth, form'd it into a Difcourfe, fet off with an Eloquence, almoft Divine^ which, to my mind, do's infinitely furpals all the Ma fter- Pieces of that nature yet known. No other Work can ihew fo much Candor and Ingenuity, joyn'd with lb much Force. But, after all, the molt admirable thing 7he IntYoduBlioH to Socrates / Apology, thing in this Difcourfe, is not its Eloquence, but the fine Sentiments 'tis full o£ Here Generofity, Rea- fon, Piety and Jultice, ate difplay'd with all their Splendor j and the Maxims fcatter'd here and there may juftly be reckon'd Sacred. , Who would not Wonder ac this Leflbn of Socrates ? viz. That a Pri- foner arraign' d ought not to make it his hufinefs to raife the Yity of the Judgei, that he ought to affeti him by his Reafons^ and not by his Requefls ^ and procure an Abfolution by JujVice and not by Favour : For a Judge is not plac'd on the Bench to oblige People by violating the Laws ; but to do Juftice purfuant to them. He /wears to this purpofe ; and his Oath ought to be inviolable. Now an honefl Manjhould notfoli^ cit his Judge to be guilty of Perjury -.^ and a Judge Jhould not fujfer himfelj to be inveigled. Elfe^ two innocent Perfons will become tzw Criminals. He teaches that an honeft Man ought always to ftand to his Poll, let the impending Danger be never fo great-, that he ought to obey his Superiors, and part with his Life when they demand it. For^ fays he, there^s nothing more critninal and fcandalous^ than to difobey Superior Powers^ whether God or Man. He teaches us not to fear Death j but Shame, which purfues Men more fwiftly than Death it lelf He is of Opinion that our ordinary Exercile (hould be, difcourfing of Vertue,, and putting our felves to the teft ot its Rules ^ for a Life without examination., is no Life at all. In one word, this Apology is a per- fe8: Model of the due Condu8: of an honeft Man in all the Conditions of Life, and efpecially of the manner how a Perfon unjuftly accus'd ought to de- fend himfelf. Several Perfons who aififted in the Court upon this Occafion , drew up Socrates's Apology y in which every one produc'd the Arguments '•hat oc- curr'd to his memory, or thofe that afte£ted him ipoft •, and all of 'em kept true to the lofty and magnanimous Temper ot this Philofopher. After all the reft, Xenophon compifd one upon the rela- '■ Aa 3 • tion ^ T^e Introdu^ion to Socrates*/ Apology. tiono^Hermogenes^thQSon o^ Hippomcus^ioihe him- felf was not then at Athens. Time has robb'd us of 'em all, except Fldtc\ and Xenophon\\ But 'tis apparent, that the one of thefe is much fhort of the other. In the firft we meet with all the force pf the greateft Difciple of Socrates^ a Difciple that was prelent, and comes near to the true Original •, Whereas the other prelents us with the hand of a frm thence Dilciple that was abfent, and goes upon an imper- »f« eVtdent^ ^^Q. ^opy. Howevet, even this imperfe^: Copy, is •ft'^^^J^^^ evidence that the Paflages related by ?lato are true 5 Socrates tor Xenophon do's not only go upon the fame Idea's of things, but likewife afTures us that 6'^^:;'^/^^ Ipoke as he fays he did. Do but obferve^ fays Montagne^ by what Reafons Socrates roufes up his Courage to the hazards ofWar-^ with vohat Arguments he fortifies his 'Patience againft Calumny^ Tyranny and Death. T<)u will find nothing in all this borrowed from Arts j/7^ Sciences. Thefim- fleft may there dijcern their own Aleans and Power, ^Tis not pojfible mote to retire^ or to creep more low. He has done human 'Nature a great kindnefs.^in fhew- ing it how much it can do of it f elf His Flea is plain and puerile^ but of an unimaginable height.^ and of- fered in the laft extremity. His noay of arguing is equally admirable for its Si?nplicity and its Force. *Tis an eajier matter to /peak like Ariitotle, and live like Cefar, than to f peak and live as Socrates did. Here lies the greateft Difficulty^ and the laft degree of Per- fe^lion^ that no Art can improve. But before I launch into the Apology ,'twill be ne- ceflary to fay fomething of the Familiar Spirit that govern'd Socrates, which has made fo much Noife in ^he World. Some look'd upon it as Chim^era and Fiftion-, others gave very difterent Accounts of it. Tis needlels to obferve that the Opinion of P/j- iOf alTigning to every Man from his very Birth a particular Genius or Angel to take Care of him, is a Ray of the Truth taught in the Holy Scriptures,, where we hear of Men conduced by Angels, and the Intmiutim To Socrates i Apologf. j andJefusChrirthimfelffaying,that^/;^ angels of little Children do fee the face of God in Heaven withoat in- terruption. That cannot be queftion'd. Upon which Account Origen ules thofe as Calumniators, \Nh.o in the 6th would brand the Familiar of Socrates for a Fable. Bookagainfi A certain Proof, that he was truly guided by a good Celfus, Genius, is that all his Life long he was Pious, Tem- perate, and Juft 'j that in all Cafes he always joyn'd in with the right fide ^ that he never injured any Man -, that he always proclaim'd War againft Vice, and attack'd falfe Religions ; that the whole Bufi- nels of his Life was to make Men more Honeft, and acquaint 'em with Truth and Juftice. The only Difficulty is, to know how this Fami- liar gave him to underftand its meaning, and what was the nature of that divine Voice. Doubtlels In- fpiration was the manner of conveyance. And P//^ ^"r^^'^f tarch naturally leads us to that Thought, where he nus.^"° ^' fpeaks of the Miracles recounted in Uomer^ who oftentimes introduces Deities coming to luccour Men, and to infpire them with the knowledge of what they ought to do or avoid. His words are thele. We muft either deny the Deity the Title of a Here Vln- moving Caufe^ or any Principle of our Operations-^ or^^^chi^ou-t. Hi It^ytnt elfe own that it has no other way offuccouring Men ''* ^* and co-operati?7g with thern^ than by calling up and l^^^.^^^^J^ determining the Will; by the Idea's it conveys into tcs. to the means for it do's not pujh or all upon our Bodies ; it influ- h ^/^'V/^ ences neither our Hands ?ior our Heet : But by Ver- ^, ^'^^ ^ . tue of certain Principles and Idea's^ which it calls up See "the^^e- within us^ it jiirs up the ASive Faculty of our Soul^ mark upon and either pu/hes on our Will ^ or elfe checks it and*^^'^^'^'^^- turns it another way. ^'^^^' But fome will objeEl, That at this rate it was not a Voice. It was a Voice ^ that is, an impreflion upon the imaginative Faculty of the Soul : Such as happens often while one's afleep, and fometimes when awake ^ when one fanfies that he hears and fees, tho' at the fame time he hears notiiing and fees as little. This was the Opinion that Flutarch A a 4 enter- S the IntYodu^ion u Socrates*/ A^dogjf, ^'hisTrea. entertained. For he favs, that Socrates was a Man "'^'^' ot a clear Head, of an eafie and calm Tem- per ^ that is, he was not mov'd bv Trouble nor dif- quieted by PafTion ^ and, confequentlv, was entirely difpos'd to liften to the fuggeftions of that G^;?;/^, ivhich by Verrue of its Light^alone intiuenc'd the un- derlbnding part of the Soul, and maae the fame Im- preiP.on upon ir, that a Voice do's after it has pals'd through the Organs of the Body. 'Twas this Voice that UorKcr fo admirably defaibes, when, fpeaking of the Dream that came upon Agdinemnon^ he fays, that a dw'ir.e Voice fur rounded him. ' There is yet another Difficultv behind. Tis,why this Voice had only the Power of diverting S^r/v/^j from things, and never egg'd him on to any things for ^lJr:iUus Yicinus is certainly out, in pretending to give fuch a royfterious Account of the mitter, as if the Genius of Socrates never pufh'd him on, be- cause he was not of a Martial Spirit, and always c^ffuaded bim becaufe he was naturally heavy ^ as if the Divine Being had onlv given him' the Light to deny, and not to affirm, this is the wav to elude the Argument by fplitting upon greater Difficulties, pr phining the Controverlie upon idle and frivolous diftiiKtions. The more realbnable and natural ac- count of the matter, is, that Socrates ivas vertuous to the laft degree, and always bent to take up with whatever he took to be fair and honeft ^ that upon other fcores he had no bufinefs to mind but to live a fimple and uniform Life, and confequently bad no ether occafion but to be referv'd and backward, when his Reafon offefd to folicit him either to pafs a falie Judgment or to ftep a wTong Step. Lt the Latin Iranflations this Apology is cover'd with Obfcurity, becaufe the Tranflators have not ta^en care to divide ir, and did not perceive that it was made at three fever"!! times, which are diftinaiy pointed to, in the Tianflation I now prefent you with. THE THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES. I Know not, Athenians, what Impreffion the Harangues of my Accufers have made upon you. For my part, I own, that they have al- moft made me forget my felf; fo artfully are their Reafons colour'd and fet off And yet, I can aflure you, they have not fpoke one word of Truth- But of all their Calumnies,that which furprizes me moft, is, That they counfel you to beware of being feduc'd by my Eloquence, * and endeavour to work you into a great Opinion of it. For certainly it is the height of Impudence, not to fear the fha me of having the Lye given them ^ which I am about to do, by (hewing that I am not at all Eloquent,unlefs they call him Eloquent who can fpeak nothing but the Truth. If that be their Plea, I own my felf a great Orator, but not after their fafhion j for I once more tdl you, that they have not fpoke one word of Truth : And I am now about to difcover to you the naked Truth, in common and fimple ExpreiTions, without the Ornaments of the quaint Turns and pick'd Terms that fet off their Difcourfes. For I have this confidence in my felf, that I fpeak the * They cry'd up his Eloquence, -in order to aggravate the In-uihce they charg'd upon him ; alledging, that £e confound- ed the Idea's of Juilice, and taught thcVay of putting a good face upon bad Caufes. ] . . Truth, fhe Apology of Socrates; Truth, and none of you ought to expeSl: any thing elfefrom me-, and it wou'd be very unfuitable for one of my Age to come before you,like a School-Boy, with a ftudy'd Harangue upon a fabulous SubjeQ:. Wherefore the only Favour I delire and beg qF you, is, that when you find my Defencesi^given in the moft ordinar)r and common terms and ways of expreffion, fuch as I am always wont to make uls of in my ordinary Interviews with you on the Ex- change and publick Banks, and the other Places where I us'd to meet you often ^ my requeft is, that when ye find it fo, ye wou'd not be lurpris'd or incens'd againfi: me, for I am about to tell you the mattei of Fa£t juft as it Itands. Tho' I am now leventy Years old, yet this is the firlt time that ever I enter'd this Hall : I am a ftranger to it, unacquainted with its Language and Cutioms. Now were I a Foreigner, you wou'd rea- dily grant me the favour of giving in my Defences in the language and manner of my own Country. In like manner I now beg of you, as a (Granger to this Hall, and I think my Petition is juft, that you'd grant me the lame Favour, and overlook my ways of exprefhon, which perhaps are not fo good as others^ tho', after all, it is poilible they may be bet- ter, and only to mind whether I fpeak juftly or not ^ for that ought to be the chief view of a Judge, as the greatett Vertue of an Orator coniifts in fpeaking nothing hut the Truth. ■ Tis but reafonable that I (hou'd firft begin to an- fwer the Charges of my firft Accufers, and afterwards come up with the latter in their order : For I have had a great many Accufers before this Court thefe feveral Years, and all of 'em have advanced nothing but what's falle. I am more afraid of my old Ac- culers, than of Anytus and his Complices. It is true, the latter difplay a great deal of Eloquence ^ but the others are the more to be redoubted, lince they accofted you from your Infancy, and wheedled you into a belief of what Calumnies they pleafed. " They the Apology of Socrates. if. They told you, there was one Socrates^ a wile Man, that inquired into the anions of the Heavens and the hidden Treafures in the bofom of the Earthy who has luch a dexterous way of perplexing the Ide'as of Juftice and Truth, that he can make a bad Caufe a good one. The Men who fpread thofe falle Rumors are my moft dangerous Enemies ^ for thole who liiten to their Surmifes, are over-perluaded that Philofophers taken up with luch Inquiries, believe no Gods. Be- fides, thefe Accufers are very numerous, and they have had a long while to concert their Plot; they are now very ancient, and took occalion to prepot- fefs you with that Opinion, in an Age that generally is too credulous : For you were then but Infants for the molt part, or at moft in the firft Years of your Youth, when they laid their Accufation againft me before you, and carried it on at their own leifure, without any oppofition : And, which is yet more un- juft, I am not allowed to know my Acculers. They get off with fetting up a Comoedian at the head of the Charge, while all thole who through Envy or Malice have wrought you into a belief of thefe Fvaldioods, and continue if ill underhand to throw the fame Calumnies about ; thele Men, I lay, are al- lowed to lie concealed : So that I have neither the power of calling them to Account before you, nor the pleafure of refuting them in your prefence •, and . the only way of defending my felf, is, to fight with a Shadow, and fpeak againft I do not know whom. Wiiereforeconfider, Athenians, that I am now to encounter two forts of Acculers, thole who ar- raign'd me a great while agone, and thele who fum- mon'd me lately ^ and I entreat you to believe that I lie under a necellity of giving in my Anfwers im- mediately to the firft fort. Now is the time then, that I am to defend my felf, and in fo fhort a fpace of time I am to endea- vour to root out of your Minds a Calumny that you feave entertain'd a long while, and which has ta- ken up The Apology of Socrates, ken deep root in them. I wifh with all my Heart that my Defences could promote your Advantage as well as my own, and that my Apology might ferve Ibme more important Defign, than that of juftifying my felf : But I perceive the Difficulties that lie in the way ^ and am not fo blind, as not to lee, wherq all this Buftle will terminate. God's Will be done. My bulinefs is to obey the Law and defend my f^l£ To return to the firfl: Original of the Charge, up- on which I am fo mu^ch decry'd, and whicji inipir'cj Meliti/s with a boldnels to arraign me before you j let's lee what was the Plea of thefe my firft Accu- fers : ^ For their Charge muft be put into Form, as if it were writ, and Affidavits made. 'Tis this: So- crates is an impious Man : With a criminal curiofity he pretends to penetrate into all that pafjes in the Heavens^ and to fathom whafs contained in the Bow- els oj the Earth. He has the way of giving the Af- cendant to Injuflice ^ and is not content to referve thefe Secrets to him/elf but communicates them to others. This is the Accufation : The Heads of which you have feen in the Comedy of Afiftophanes^ where one Socrates is reprelented as hung up in a Basket, gi- ving out that he walks upon ihe Winds ^ with many other fuch fbolifh Advances. Now thefe are Se- crets that I am altogether a ftranger to ^ I never gave my Mind to thefe fublime Sciences : Not that I delpile therii, or contemn thofe who are well vers'd in 'em^ if any fach there be, left Melitus fhou'd thereupon charge rne with new Crimes : I wou'd only give you to know that I never meddled with ihefe Sciences, as moft of you can witnels. Since ye have lb often ponvers'd with me, and that * Socrates treats the Calumnies of Arifiofhanes and his firll Enemies, as it" it were a juft Charge formally prefented npon Oath j for both the Accufer and the Prifoner were oblig'd to fwear, that they wou'd advance nothing but Truth •. And this tfcey cail'd dyTto^xo^na., there 'the Apologf of Socratesr i| there is fo great a number of you who know me, I conjure you to declare if ever ye heard nae fpeak of thefe things, either directly or indire£tly. This may furnifh you with certain Evidence, that all the other Articles of my Indiftment are of a Piece with this, as being downright Untruths. And ifeveryoo heard that I either taught, or requir'd a Reward for fo do- ing, III juftifie it to be a downright Calumny. Not that I difparage thofe, who are capable to irt- ftrufl and teach Men, fuch d.s Gorgia^ of Leonti^ Vrodicus of Ceos^ and Hippias of E/iCa. For thefe great Men have a wonderiul Talent of perfuading and retaining all the Youth of whatever City they go to ; young Men that might apply themlelves to which of their own Country-men they have a mind to, without any Charge, are fo influenc'd by them, that they quit their own Country-men, and adhere to them only, paying round Sums, and acknowledg- ing infinite Obligations befides. I have likewife heard, that there's yet another very ingenious Matter in this City, who came from Pavos ^ for 1 met him to'ther day in the Houfe of a Man thatipends more upon Sophifters, than all the other Citizens put to- gether, 1 mean Callias : Where happening to fpeak of Callias's two Sons, I addrefs'd my felf to him in this fafhion^ Had you two young Horfes, wou'd not you want to put them into the Hands of fome skilful Man, and pay him well, for making them handfom, and giving them all the good qualities they ought to have ? And would not this skiltiil Man be fome good Groom or an expert Husbandman ? Now you have twoChildren, what Mafter have you pitched upon for them ? Whom have we in Town, . that's well vers'd in human and political Vertues ? For doubtlefs you have confider'd that Queftion al- ready, upon the account of your Children. Tell me then if you know of any ? Yes, doubtlefs, reply'd Callias. Who is it, laid I ^ what Country is he of j and what are his demands ? 'Tis Evenus^ reply'd he, from ?avos : He demands t 5 Minx, Whereupon I t^'Tb* told^"^'"' jt4 '^^^ Apology of SocratesJ told him, Evem^ was happy, providing it was true that he knew the Art, and cou'd impart it to others. As for me, Gentlemen, were I poffefs'd of fuch Endowments, I fhou'd be proud of 'em, and glory in them : But fuch is my misfortune, I have no Title to them. I perceive you'll be ready to reply, ^ But what have ye done then^ Socrates, and what occafion'd thefe Calu?nmes you are chared with? Had you ne^ ver done more than your fellow Citizens^ nor meddled with further bufinefs^ thefe Reports of you wou^d ne- ver have had a being. Tell us therefore how the matter fiands^ that we may not pafs an unadvifed Sen- tence. This, I take it, is a juil Objeftion : Where- fore rU endeavour to lay before you the occafion of my being fo much decry 'd and talk'd of. Give ear to me, and affure your felves that 111 Ipeak nothing but Truth. The difrepute I lie under, is only occafion'd by a ibrt of Wifdom within me. But what is this Wif dom ? Perhaps 'tis merely human Prudence, for I run a great risk of being poiTefs'd of none elfe 5 whereas thofe Men I mention'd but now, are wile above above a human pitch. I can fay nothing to this laff fort of Wifdom, be- caufe lama ffranger to it ^ and thofe who charge it upon me, are lyars, and mean only to injure my Re- putation. But I beg that you Athenians wou'd not be ftartled, if I feem to fpeak a little favourably of tny felf: I (han't advance any thing upon my own Authority, but fhall produce an unexceptionable Au- thor to vouch on my behalf For awitnels of my Wildom, fuch as it is, I reter you to the God him- * Tims the words T!3ff>> 77 t^ 'Tr^jl.yua.iixt to be render 'd; and not as de Serrcs d^s, I'/z,. £hi^>iam hxc efi tua res ? What's your bhfiuefs that ? Tne Judges knew very weJI ^\'hat was Sotratis's bniinefs, and confequently can't be fuppos'd to put that Qnellion to him. Biit it is very probable they might ask him wiiat it was that brcught him thither, or \\hat he had done to merit thole CaiUninies.- ALtrdlius Ticinus was better acqn.'inted widi tne Spirit of the Greek Language, for he • rendered it, QuodtMin tunica efi opus ? felf Ihe Apology of Socrates. jfy- felfthatprefidesatD^//^/. You are all acquainted " ' with a/r^^/;^j? who was my Companion f?om mv Infancy, and had the like Intimacy with moft of you He accompany d you in your Exile, and returned a- long with you. So that ye cannot but know what lort ot a Man Cairephon YJ2iS, and how eager in all had the boldnefs to ask the Oracle (once more I fceg you wou'd not be furpris'd with what I am a- 1 \i?u^^? ^ l^^^' ^^ P^t t^^s aueftion to the Ora- cle, Whether there was ever a Man in the World more wife than I. The Prieftefs made anlwer,That there was none. His Brother, who is yet alivl can aflure you that this is true. Wherefore I intreat you , Athemans, to confider ferioufly the Reafon why 1 prefent you with an account of all thefe thofefalfe Rumours that have taken Air againft me- Wffen I heard the Oracle's Anfwer, I puf he q^e: ftion to my fclf , What does the God mean > Xt is the hidden Senfe that lies couch'd under thefe W?f^oL^'\/ am fenfible, that I am intitled tonp Wifto, neither fmall nor great. What then does ^e God mean m giving me out for the wifeft of ^lon^ ^;;!?fn?T^''""t^ ^^'' Thuslcontinued^c..^^ i^Zl i-n " [""J^"? ^^°"t the meaning of the h^ Oracle, till at laft after a great deal of trouble it c^e m nny mind to make this trial. I went to one tr' ^^"zens that pafTes for one of the wifeft Men S^ \ ^?.^?" ""^'^ ^'^^ than I, I ihould refute the Oracle. When I examined this Man, who was one of our greateft Politicians, and whofe Name I know L'STo ^^"'"''u^''^'"- ^ ^^""^ that all I. ^A : ^^?^ ^ "P'^" ^'"^ ^s a ^i^e Man, and that was no 'f .^'^1^'^^""^!^? "^ ^^"^^^If' but in eifea was no fuch Man. After this difcovery I made cafion whtf ^'?^f '^ ^'- N^^ this was the oc- alUhn^P l! ''".r^A .^ "'^ ^^^^"^ to this Man, and to ail thofe who afllfted at that interview. When 1$ the Apology of Socrates. When I parted with him I reafon'd within my fetf, dnd faid to my lelf, I am wifer than this Man. Tis poflible that neither he nor I know any thin^ that's good or valuable : But ftill there's this difterence ^ he is poffefs'd with an Opinion of his own know- ledge, tho' at the fame tiipe he knows nothing ^ but I, as 1 know nothing, fo I pretend to know as little. So that upon this Icore, I^ thought my felf a little wiler than he, becaufe I did not think that I knew what I did not know. After that I vifited another that pafs'd for a wi- fer Man than the former ^ but found him in the fame Circumftances, and by that difcovery gain'd new Enemies. However this did not difcourage me. I continued to make the fame Experiment upon others. I was lenfible that by fo doing I drew hatred upon my felf, which gave me fome trouble, becaufe I dreaded the conlequencesof it. But I wascoavinc'd that I was bound to prefer the Voice of God to all Confiderations, and to apply my felf to the moft *Tts a com- reputable Men, in order to find out its true meaning. ZfeZhf' AndnowthatI muft tell you, O^/^m^z/j, the truth, Jre leafi the whole refult of my Inquiry was this. All thofe ejieemM are who pafs'd for the wifeft Men, appeafd to me to be *{?'''^T^ infinitely lefs difpos'd to Wifdom, than thofe who ^/vT ^^^^ ""^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ ef^eem'd. To continue the Account of all my Adventures, in order to refute the Oracle. Having vifited all the great Statefmen, I addrefs'd my felf to the 'Poets^ both Tragedians,"^ Dithyrambicks and others •, I made no qiitftion, but I wou'd be catch'd napping, as the faying is, by finding my lelf far more ignorant than they. I took up fome of their moft elaborate Perfor- mances, and put the queftion to 'em, what was their meaning, what Plot or Delign they carried on in * The Poets who compil'd Hymns to the Honour oiBac- thus were fo called. Theie Dithyrambs were full of a fub- lime Rage, and confilled of hoJd and new-coin'd Words. And accordingly, in order to l^c fnccefstnl in compihng 'emjthere was aneceiHty of bemg tranfported with Fury and Enthufi- afm. See our Remarks upon the id Ode of the 4th Book of Hor. thefe Ih Apology of Socvdtesi 17 thefe Pieces ^ as if I mean'd to be inftrucled. In- deed, Athenians^ I am aOiam'd to tell you the truth : but after aU,fince I mult out with it,there was not one Man ot the whole company that was not more capa- ble to difcourle of, and alTign Realbns for the Poems, than their refpeftive Authors, ^hus in a. little Ipace of time, I difcover'd that t Poets do not carry orr their Work by the meafures of Wifdom, but by a fort of Enthufialm, and certain impulfes of Nature, like Prophets and Divines, that Ipeak of a great ma- ny fine things which they do not underftand. The ^^J'^ ^^^^^^ Poets leem'd to me to be call: in the fame Mould 5 pjato'^ and at the fame time I perceiv'd, that by reafon of r*>W; j'o/^- their Poetry, they look'd upon themfelvesas the wi-^f^''^'»/"' fell of Men, and admirably well vers'd in all other ^'^''' things, that have no relation to their bufiiiels, and which they do not at all underftand. Then 1 turn'd my back upon 'em, being convinced that I was a- bove them upon the fame fcore, that entitled me to a preterence before the great Politicians. Having done with the Poets, to conclude my In- quiry, I addrefs'd my felf to the Tradefmeii. When I accofted them, I was fully convinced that I under- flood nothing belonging to their Profelfion, and that I fhou'd find them to be Men of clear Underftand- ings and ready Parts : And indeed I was not deceiv'd. They knew all that I was ignorant of, and upon that fcore were infinitely wifer than I. Bat after all, O Athenians^ the wifeft among them feem'd to fall foul upon the fame Shelve with the Poets. ^ For every Man of 'em prefum'd fo far upon his fuccefs in the way of his bufinefs, that he fanfied himfelf to be admirably well vers'd in greater Matters : And this extravagant Fancy alone obfcur'd their o- ther commendable Qualities. t Poems are nrt made by human Wifdom, but by a'^fort of Divine Infpirution j as Socrates makes it out, in the Dialogue cali'd Ion. *This Prerumptionofthe^^/je«;rf« Tradefmenjis a fuificient Evidence of the Spirit: of the People of Mhens. They lov'd to nieddie with and judge of every thing. B b Then 1 8 T^h^ Apology of Socrates. Then I put the queltion to my felf^as arguing on the behalf of the Ojacie ; whether I (hou'd rather chufe to continue fuch as I was, without either the Know- ledge of that fort of Men, or their Ignorance-, or to be entitled to both, and to be reduc'd to the fame Category with them ? I anfwer'd, both for my felf and lor the Oracle, That it was infinitely preferable to continue as I was. This, Gentlemen, is thefource of that dangerous and mortal Hatred and Enmity, which rais'd all the Calumnies I am now chargd with, and chriften'd me The Wife, For all who hear nie, believe that I know all things ^ and by Vertue of that Knowledge am enabled to difcover and ex- pofe the Ignorance of others. But I am of Opinion, Cod Jons that there's none fruly Wife but God himfelf ^ and ti Wife. that the Oracle mean'd fo much, in giving us to know that the utmoft extent of human Wifdom is no great matter ^ or, rather, that it is jufi: nothing. And as for the Oracle's mentioning Socrates^douhtlQis my Name was only propos'd as an Inftance ^ fignifying ^'^%'rt'^f ^^ ^^^ Mqu^ that the wifefl: among them, is he, who, ■'/^^ ° like 5^rr^/^j-,dif claims all Wifdom in himfelf. Having fix'd upon this Truth, 1 purpos'd to fortifie the Idea yet more, and to obey God, in carrying on my Inquiry, not only among my own Country-men but likewife among ftrangers-, in order to try if I could meet with any that were truly wife •, and, in cafe I found none, toaO: the Part of an Interpreter to the Oracle, and convince the World that they are ftrangers to Wifdom. This my Defign does fo en- grols both my Time and my Thoughts, that I have not leall]re,either to meddle in publick Bufinefs, or to take care of my private Affairs, and thus my Cir- cumftancesare lb narrow in the World, by reafonof that continual Service and Worfhip ^ which I render to God. Befides, a great many young Gentlemen, who are * By the Worfhip and Service done to God, he means the Pains he took in convincing the World that they have no Wifdom, and that God alone is entitled to it. come 7he Apology of SocrateSi" i^ come of rich Families and have Time at command, do willingly engage to follow me, and take fo much pleafure in obferving the Method in which I confute ^11 other Men, that they afterwards endeavour to imitate me in baffling thofe they engage with : And it is not to be doubted, but that they meet with a plentiful Harveft, by reafon of the infinite number of thofe vain Men, who fanfie they know all things, tho' at the fame time they know nothing, or at leaft very little. • All thofe whom they convince of their Ignorance^ have their Eye upon me and not upon them ^ and give it out, that there's one Socrates, a profligate and infamom Wretch^ who corrupts the Touth : And if any Body asks them what Socrates does, or what he teaches^ they know nothing of the matter: But to avoid being at a ftand, they have recourle to thele frivolous Reproaches that are commonly cafi: upon Philofophers, viz. That he dives into the Heavens and the bofom of the Earth ^ that he believes in no God, and colours bad Caufes with a good Counte- nance. For they dare nbt tell the true matter of Fa£i:, that Socrates is too hard for them, and expofesthem for making a (hew of knowing what they do not know. Thus it came io pafs that my ambitious, violent and numerous Enemies, fupported by a mu- tual Union, and back'd by an Eloquence capable to ieduce men, did a great while ago Itiggeft to you, the Calumnies they had torg'd againfl me •, and now have taken off and inveigled Melitus^ Anytus and Lycon. Melitus ftands by the Poets •, Anytus reprefents the Politicians and Tradefmen j and Lycon appears for the Orators. So that you fee I had reafon to tell you in the beginning of my Dilcourfe, That I (hou'd look upon it as a great Miracle, if in fo IhOrt a time I cou d unhinge a Calumny, that has had fo much time to take root and fortifie it felf in your Minds. This, Athenians^ is the whole and the naked truth. i conceal nothing ftgiii you, and I difguife as little ; B b 2 Tho' 20 ^ The Jpdogy of Socrates. Tho' at the fame time I am not ignorant, that all my advances upon this Icore do but exafperate the Wound. But even that is fufficient evidence that I fpeak theTruth,and point to the true fource of thefe Imputations. As often as ye'U take the Pains to can- vals them, whether now or at another time, you'll be fully convinc'd that it isfo. And this, I take it, is a Ilifficient Apology, againft my firft Acculers. I am now com^e up with the latter, and fhall en- deavour to anfwer yl'W////j ; who, if the World will take his word for't, is a very honeft Man, and very affeftionate to his Country. To draw up the In- diftment in form, as I did in anfwer to the firft ^ the Purport of it is this : Socrates is guilty of unjufi things, lie corrups the Tcuthy by not believing the Gods received by his Country^ and introducing new Deities. To examine every Artkle apart. His Plea is. That I am guilty of Injuftice in cotr rupting the Youth. And I, on the other hand, al- ledge x\i2it Melitus is 3. very unjuit Man, for arraign- ing Men, on purpofe, to make a fhew of taking much Care of things that he never troubled his head with. This Charge I am about to make good. ., 1 challenge you then. Me/it us^ tell me, is there no> thing you mind fo much as the promoting the Good and Integrity of young Men as much as is poflible ? Melitus. No, fure there's nothing. Socrates. But pray tell our Judges, who it is that can render the Youth better ? For it is not to be ; queftion'd, but that you can tell who, fince you ; make that lb much your bufinels. In effeSl, fince • you have found out and impeach'd the Perlbn that I corrupts them, you ought to tell who is able to fet - them right. Pray fpeak You fee, Melitus^ you are put to a Nonplus, and know not what to anfwer. Does not this cover you with fhame ? Is , not this a convincing Proof that you never minded the Education of Youth ? But once more, Who is it that's able to better the Youth ? - - Melitus, The Apolo^ of Socrates. zi Melitus. The Laws. . : Socrates. That is not the thing, my Friend. I ask you who 'tis > Who is the Man ? For it is a plain Cafe, that the chief thing that the Man muft be vers'd in, is the Laws. Meliti^. I tell you, Socrates^ that thefe Judges are the Men. Socrates. How do you mean, Melitus ? What • Are thefe Judges the only Men capable to inftru£|: and better the Youth } Melitus. Moft certainly. Socrates. But, are all thefe Judges capable lb to do ? Or, is it only a particular number of them ? Melitus. All of 'em. Socrates. You talk ftrangely. You have found out a great number of good Preceptors for us. But pray is the whole Audience capable likewife to bet- ter the Youth:, or not ? Melitus. They are all likewife capable. Socrates. And what do you fay of the Senators ? Melitus. The Senators can alio do it. Socrates. But, my dear Melitus^ do thofe who ha- rangue the publick Affemblies corrupt the Youth •, or are they capable in like manner to better them ? Melitus. They are all likewife capable. Socrates. It will follow then, that all the Atheni- ans are capable to inftruQ: the Youth without me ^ and that it is only I who corrupts them. Is not this what you mean ? Melitus. It is juft ib. Sacrates. I muft needs own, that by this means you faften a very great misfortune upon me. How- ever, pray go on, and anfwer me. What do you think ? Are Horfes in the fame condition > Can all Men make them better, and is it only one Man that has the fecret of fpoiling them? Or, is it not juft a contrary Cafe *, that is, that only one Man, or a fmall number of Jockies, know how to better them, and the reft of Mankind, when they make ufe of "lem, do only Ipoil them ? Now, is not the Cafe of B b 3 all 2^ ^he Apology of Socrates. all other Animals juft the fame ? It is certainly fo, whether Anytus and you agree to it, or not: For it would be an infinite happinefs and advantage to the Youth, if there were only one Man in the World that could corrupt them, and every Body befides were able to redrefs their Errors. But indeed. Me- lit us ^ you have given fufficient Proof, that the Edu- cation of Youth did never much difquiet you : And upon this occalion you have plainly given the World to know, that you never minded it. However, pray, Melitus^ anfwer me as to this Point : Whether does a Man benefit more by living with honeft Men, or with Knaves ? Return me an Anfwer, my friend ; for 1 put no difficult Queftion to you. Is it not true that \\ icked Men do always give fome bad Tinfture to thole who frequent their Company, and that good Men do always benefit thofe that live with them > . • • . • Me lit us. Yes^ doubtlefs. Socriites. 'Is there any Man, who had rather chufe to beprejudic'djthan to be benefitted by thole he fives with? Anfwer me-, for the Law enjoyns you fo to do. Mel. No z, there's none. Soc. But now that you charge me with corrupting and debauching the Youth ^ whether do you alledge that I do it willingly and knowingly, or againft my will ? ". . Mel. Willingly and knowingly. Soc. How then. Me lit us ^ does your Wifdom, in the Age you are now of, furpals mine at this Age fo far, that you know very well that wicked Men do always prejudice, and good Men benefit thole who frequent their Company •, and yet that I lliou'd be fo ignorant as not to know, that if I debauch any of my Followers, I run the risk of being piejudic'd f y them, and at the fame time continue to draw that Evil upon my felf both willingly and know- ingly ? In this Point, Melitus^ I do not believe you at all 5 neither do I think that any Man in the World can the Apology of SocratesT 25 can believe you. For one of thofe two things muft be true •, namely, either that I do not corrupt the Youth at all^ or, if I do, that it is againft my will and without my knowledge. Now turn the Cafe upon which of thefe two you will ^ it is plain that you are a Calumniator and a Lyar. Put the Cafe, that I corrupt the Youth againft my will j the Law does not arraign Men for involuntary Crimes. But it orders that fuch Men as are guilty of them, fhou'd be taken afide,inform'd of 'em,and privately reprov'd for their Errors-, for 'tis plain, thac ir I be inftru8:ed to the full, ril ceafe to be guilty of what I have committed againft my Will, Now you have nei- ther counfelfd me nor inftru£l:ed me •, but have ar- raign'd me before a Tribunal, which the Law has provided for thofe who deferve Punifhment, and not . for thofe who ftand only in need of Remonftrances. This, Gentlemen, is a convincing Proof of v\-hat I alledg*d before ^ namely, that Melitus never minded or thought of thefe things. But after all, pray tell, how it is that I corrupt the Youth. According to your Information, 'tis, by teaching them to difown the Gods acknowledged by their Country, and to honour ft range ones. Is not this your Plea > Mel. It is juft fo. Soc. Then, ill^/ir///, I conjure you in the Name of all thofe Gods, whole Intereft is now concern'd, to explain your meaning more clearly, both to me and to our Judges. For I am at a lofs to know, whe- ther you allow that I teach the Youth to believe in any Gods, and only turn their Refpe^l from the Gods of their own Country to Foreign ones ^ or, whether you charge me with believing no God at all, and (hiking the Belief of others > Tho' at the bottom I am effectually perfuaded that there ore Gods ♦, fo that Atheifm is none of my Crime. Mel. I charge you with owning no God. Soc, You are a ftrange Man ! How can you B b 4. talk 24 ^^^ Apology of Socrates". talk fo > What ! Do not I believe as other Men do," that the Sim and Moon are Gods ? * McI. Certainly, Athcnidns^ he believes in no God ♦, for he fays the Sun is a Stone, and the Moon a piece of Earth. Soc. My dear Melitus^ you think you are fpeak- ing to Anaxagora^ ^ and treat our Judges very con- temptuoully, in thinking them fo void of Letters, as not to know that the Books of Ajinxagoras and Cla- zomeman are ftuff'd with fuch Stories. Befides, wou'd the Youth be at the trouble of learning from rce fuch things as are contain'd in the publick Books which are lold every day in the Orchejira for a Drachma ? This wou'd furnifh them with a fair opportunity of deriding Socrates^ for attributing to himfelf fuch things as are not only none of his, but likewife abfurd and extravagant. But pray tell me, do you alledge that 1 own no God ? • Me/. Yes, I do. Soc. You advance incredible things, my dear Me- liius ^ and are not confiiient with your felf Suffer iTie to tell you, A^thcjiians^ that Me/it us feems to me to be very infolent,and thai: he has laid this Accufa- tion againll: me, out of a youthful prefumption to infult ever me : For he's come hither, as it were, to try me, in propofing a Riddle, and faying within himfelf, Til fee if Socrates^ who paffes for fo wife a Man, will be able to difcern that I'm upon the Banter, and advance contradi8:ory things ^ or, if I Can gull him and all the Audience. In efteft his Information prefents us with a palpable contradi6:ion. As if he had faid, Socrates is gu'tlty oj Injitfiice iri ovoribig no Gods ^ and in owning Gods. And this is Banter all over. That's the Notion I have of it, I beg you would liflen to me^ and, purfuant to iXij firft Requeft , wou'd not be incens'd againft * Socraees threw in this Ircnical Eypreflion, in order to ex-* pofe theridiculonrnefs of the Rehgionof the Athenians, who . iookM upon the Sun and Moon as Gods_, which are only tlie "VV'ork of God's Hands. ^ . - .... me I 7he Apology of Socrates.^ '^fy me, for addreiling you in my ordinary way of i^eaking. ■ Anfwer me, Melitus ^ Is there any Man in the World that believes that there are human things, and yet denies the being of Men ? Pray anfwer, and do not make fo much Noife. Is there any Man who believes that there are certain Rules for managing of Horfes, and yet believes there is no fuch thing as a Horfe? Is there any Man that troubles himfelf with Tunes for a Flute, and yet believes that no Man can play upon it ? There's no fuch Man, to be fure •, for fince you will not anfwer your felf, I'll anfwer for you. But pray anfwer me as to this Point : Is there any Man that believes divine things, and yet denies the being of a God ? Mel. No, certainly there's none. Soc. What pains have I taken to wreft that word out of you ! ^ You acknowledge then that I believe and teach the being of Deities. So that whether they be new or old, you ftill own that I believe in Deities. And to this purpofe you fwore in your In- formation. Now, if I believe that there are Dei- ties, I muft neceffarily fuppofe that there are Gods. Is not it fo ? Yes, doubtlefs. I take your filence for confent. But thele Deities or Demons, do not we take them for Gods, or the Children of Gods I Anfwer me. Mel. Yes, doubtlefs. * Thefe Paffages are more important than at firft view they feem to be. Whoever believes, that there are fuch Creatures as the Children of Gods, believes that there are Gods. The acknowledging of Angels implies the belief of Gods ; which is the thing that Socrates points to. Thefe inferior Gods are Children and Minifters of the Supreme God, the God of Gods: Now Socrates own'd an infinite number of thefe fubordinate Beings, which he look'd upon as a continued Chain defcend- ing from the Throne of Gcd to the Earth, and as the Bonds of Commerce between God and Men, and the Medium which unites Heaven and Earth. This Notion of his might be ta- ken from Homer's myfterious Chain ; or, perhaps he had heard of facob's, Ladder, the top M'ereof reach'd to Heaven, when the foot flood upon the Earth ^ upon which the An- gUsof Godafcended and defcended;, Ge?f. 28. IS. '•'••' ' " Soc. i6 *^ ^poloiy of Socrates; Soc. And by conlequence you acknowledge that I believe there are Demons, and that thefe Demons are Gods ; you have now a fair Proof of my Alle- gation -, namely, that you propos'd to me a Riddle, in order to divert your felf to my coft-, in alledg- ing that I own'd no Gods, and yet believe there are Demons. For if Demons are Children of ^ God, or Baftards, if ye wilf, fince they are faid to be born of Nymphs or other Women, who is the Man that owns the Children of Gods, and yet denies the Be- ing of the Gods themfelvcs ? This is as great an Ab- furdity, as if one fpoke of Colts and Eaglets, and yet deny'd the Being of Horles or Eagles. So that, Melitus^ 'tis a plain Cafe that you laid this Accufa- tion againft me, in order to make trial of my Parts 5 or elfe you muft own that you have no lawful pre- tence for citing me before this Tribunal. For you will never convince any Man who has one grain of Senfe, that the fame Man who believes that there are fuch things as relate to the Gods and to De- mons, will yet believe that there are neither De- mens, nor Gods, nor Hero's. That's altogether im- poflible. But I need not enlarge my Defences be- fore you, Athenians : What I have already faid will fuffice to make it out, that I am not guilty of In- juftice, and that Me/itus's Charge is groundlefs. The Hatred As for what I told you in the beginning, about <»wi£»Tj of drawing the Hatred of the Citizens upon me ^ you the Teople j^gy j-g^ fatisfied that it is jnft fo : And that,if I die, Liw ^ ^^^ ^y death, not to Melitus^ nor to Anytus^ but tThonefi to that Spirit of Hatred and Envy that reigns among ^n. * Socrates fpeaks thus in compliance with the Opinion of /: the People, \\ ho believ'd the Demons ow'd their Being to the Correfpondence of the Gods with their Nymphs or Wo- men. Now upon this occafion, it was not his bnflnefs to at- tack that Error. 'Tis certain, that Socrates was not of that Opion ; for he had learn'd of Vytlmgoras, that Demons or An- gels and Hero's, that is, devout Men and Saints, are the Sons of God, becaufe they derive from him their Being, as Light owes it's Original to a luminous Body. And in his Tim£ut^ fpeaking of tlie Generation of Angels or Demons, he fays, 'tis above the reach ot human Nature'". the the Apology of Socratesi 27 the People, which has ruhi'd fo many honeft Men, knd will Aill continue to bring others to the like Fate. For it is not to be hop'd that my death will conclude the Tragedy. Were it fo, my Life would be but too well ipent. But perhaps feme will fay. Are not you aJham^J^ Socrates, that you. applfdyonrfelfto afludy that mm ■puts you in danger of your 'Life ? To this Objection ril give a fatisfying Aniwer : Whoever is the Man that puts it to me, I muft needs tell him, that he's much out, in believing that a Man of any Valour or Vertue ought to regard the Confiderations of Death or Life. The only thing he ought to mind in all his Enterprifes, is, to fee that his Anions be juft, and fuch as become an honeft Man. Otherwile it wou'd follow from your Propofition," that the Demigods who dy'd at the Siege of Tr^, were all of em im- prudent, efpecially the Son of Thetis^ who was in- finitely more careful to avoid Shame than Death ^ infomuch that his Mother feeing him impatient to \!i\\\He^or^ accofted him, as I remember, in thele Terms-, My Son, if you revenge the death of Fatio- in tUsd,^ht clus by killing He£lor, you''// certainly die yourfe/f.^ookoft])& Now her Son was fo little mov'd by her Threats, ^^^^^s* and contemn'd Death fo much, that he was infi- nitely more afraid to live like a Coward, and not relent the death of his Friends. May I die immedi- at e/y^fk'id he, providing I do but punijh the Murderer of Patroclus ^ providing I do not /ie exposed to Con- tempt^ and accounted an ufe/efs Burden to the Earth, Now, what do ye think > Does he ftand upon the confideration of Danger and Death ? It is a cer- tain Truth , Athenians^ that every Man who has pick'd out to himfelf an honourable Poft, or is put into it by his Superiors, ought to ftand up fteddily, ^^'"^^^ ''^ maugre all the Danger that furrounds him, without J^I/.'^j^" confidering either Death or what is yet more terri- than Deaths iible, but bending his whole Care to avoid ftiame. So that I fhou'd be guilty of a monftrous Crime, if, after the faithful Services I have done, in expo- fing 2^ The Apology of Socrates.' ling my Life fo often in the Polls I was prcfer'd to by our Generals, at Fotidxa^ AwphipoHs^ and Deli- nm^ I fhould now be fo tranlported with the tear of Death, or any other Danger, as to abandon the Polt in which God has now placed me, enjoyniug me to fpend my life-time in the ftudy of Philofophy, in examining my felf and others. That indeed would . be a criminal Defertion, and wou'd juftly occafion the Arraignment of me before this Tribunal, as be- ing a profligate Man that owns no Gods, difobeys an Oracle, fears Death, and believes himfelf Wife. For to fear Death, is nothing elle, but to believe mat {.< the one's Iclf to be wife when they are not •, and to fan- ^^ »/ fie that they know what they do not know. In ef- fe£l: no Body knows Death •, no Body can tell, but ji- -^ ^/,^ it may be the greatelt Benefit of Mankind ^ and yet ^reatej} Be- Men are afraid on't, as if they knew certainly that »'> toju^ it were the greateft of Evils. Now is not this a ^"' Icandalous Ignorance, for Men to fanfie they know what they do not know > For my part 1 differ in that Point from all other Men, and if in' any thing I feem more wife than they, it is in this. That, as I do not know what palTes in the Regions below, fo I do not pretend pjfoledi. to know it. All that I know is this, That there's encc to OUT nothing more criminal or fcandalous, than to be SH^cnorsts guilty of an unjulf thing, and todifobey thole who rrimuili ^^^ better than we, or placed above us, whether Gods f^tt flume- or Men. So that I ffiall never dread or endeavour M to avoid thole Evils that I do not know •, and which, for any thing I know, may really be good. But I fliall always dread and avoid thole Evils which I certainly know to be fuch. Now, after all the folicitations of Anytm^ in re- prefenting to you the neceffity of bringing me to a Trial, and now that I am upon it, that you cannot difpenfe with my Life, left your Sons who are al- ready fo much addiQed to my DoSfrine, Ihould be entirely corrupted : Suppofing, I fay, that after alt thefe itemondrances, you fhou'd lay to me, Socrates^ -. . :. ' . vi'e l-he Apology of Socrates: 2^ tve have no regard to the Allegations q^ Anytim We difmifs and abfolve you, but upon this Condi- tion, that you fhall give over the proper fuit of your Philolophy and wonted Enquiries -, and in cafe you be found guilty of a relapfe, you fhall certainly die. If you caft nny Abfolution upon thefe Terms, I anfwer you, Athenians^ That I honour and love you, but that I'll rather obey God than you ^ and that while I live III never abandon the exercife of Philofophy, in admonilhing and checking you ac- cording to my ufualCuftom, and addrefling my felf to every one I meet in this falhion : Since you are fo honefl: a Man^ and a Citizen of the famoufeft City in the World^ equally renowned for Wifdom and Valour^ are not you afhanidto make it your whole bufinefs to amafs Riches^ and to ■purchafe Glory ^ Credit and Ho- nour •, and at the fame time to flight the Treafures of Prudence^ Truths and Wifdom^ and not to think of improving your Soul to the higheft Perfection, it is ca- pable cj ? If any Man denies this to be his Cafe, and maintains that he minds the Concerns of his Soul, ^'^'^'"/^ ^ I will not take his word foft^ but III interrogate, ^/^'^^o^^f/, examine and confute him ; if I find that he is not a felf can- truly Vertuous, bat makes a fhew of being fuch. 111 w^t rab «< make him alham'd, and twit him with his ignorance, "■^• in preferring vile and peiifliing things, to thole which are infinitely more valuable, and will never part from us. In this falhion will I difcourfe the Young and the Old, the Citizens and Foreigners ^ but above all, you Citizens, for whom I ajn moft concerned. For, be it known to you, that 1 am commifiion'd by God fo to do^ andi I'm fully perfuaded that your City ne- ver enjoy'd fo great an Advantage, as this my con- tinued-Service to God. All my bufinefs is to per- \fuade you, both Young and Old, that you ought not to doat fo much upon your Body, your Riches, and ^ ^^^ , other things you are fond of, butfhould love your J"",^" Souls. I ever tell you, that Vertue does not flow f/;/;^^ ^re from Riches j but on the contrary, that Riches ^^^^ /"•''«?»^ fpring'/"^^'"^'*'- '^6 Tihe Apology of Socrates. Ipring from Vertuc ^ and that all other Advantages accruing to Men, whether in publick or private fta- tions, take rife from the fame Fountain. If by Ipeaking thefe things I corrupt the Youth, then, of neceflity, the Poyfon muft lie in thole Ma- xims. For if they allege that I advance any thing different from thefe, they either are miftaken, or impole upon you. After that, I have only to lay, that whether you do as Anytus defires or not : Whe- ther you difmifs me, or detain me, I fhall never a£l contrary to them, tho' I were to die for it a thou- land times. Be not difturb'd, Athenians^ at what I've faid, but vouchfafe me the favour of a patient Hearing : As I take it, your Patience will not be iri vain, for I have leveral other things to acquaint you with, which may be of ufe to you. You may affure your felves, that if you put me to death, me who loves your City fo palfionately, you'll preju- dice your lelves more than me. Neither Anytm nor Melitus can hurt me ^ 'tis impoflible they fhould, *ill Men ^ For God does not permit that the better fort of M»»ot jo Men fliould be injur'd by thofe who are worfe. All jury'^to tbT ^^^ may kill us, or put us to flight, or belpatter us with Calumnies : And queftionlefs Anyti^ and the reft look upon thefe things as great Evils, but for my part I am not of their Opinion. In my mind, the .greateft of all Evils, is the doing }N\i2X Anytus does in perfecuting an innocent Perion, and endeavouring to take away his Life by flagrant injuftice. So that upon this occafion, Jithemans^ 'tis not but of love to my lelf, but out of love to you, that I make this Defence. Do not fin againlt God by your Sentence, and prove unmindful of the Prefent he has made you. For if you condemn me to death, ye will not eafily light upon iuch anotiier Citizen, whom God has united ro your City, t like a Fly fWhen Socrates lays, Tiyey vpould look upon his Campari fon a-s rh diculous ; he twitr. rhe Athenians with y.ht delicacy and nicenefs of t]..e:r-Ears andTalle : For the Comparilbn is not at all ri- tliciKouSjas being ir.uch the lame with that made ufe of by thfi Prophet Jeremiah^ 46. 20. J^gypt is like (ty try fair Heifer^ but de~ firttction (ometh wp of the ISfirth, tO the Apology of Socrates. H to a Horle ( tho' perhaps you 'may look upon the Comparifon as ridiculous) the Horfe being generous and fprightly, but heavy by reafon of his &tnefs,and ftanding in need of fomething to rouze and awaken him. As I take it, God has pitch'd upon me, to rouze and fpur you up,and to be always among you : And upon my word, you'll fcarce light on another that will perform his Office as I have done. So, if you believe me, you'll difmils me. But perhaps, like Men awaken'd when they haue a mind to fleep, you'll be uneafie, and rejeO: my Ad- vice, and in compliance with Anytus^ Paffion will condemn me upon very flight grounds. Let it be fo. But then you'll pafs the remainder of your Life in a profound Lethargy, unlels God take a particular Care of you, and fend you another Man like me. But to make it out that 'tis God who united me to your City, I prelent you with an infallible Proo^ VIZ. That there's fomething more than human in my negle£ling my own private Affairs for fo many Years, and devoting my felf wholly to your Intereft, by taking you afide one after another, like a Father or an elder Brother, and incelfantly exhorting you to apply your felves to Vertue. Had I reap'd any Benefit or Advantage by my Ex- hortations, you might have fomething to fay : But you fee my very Accufers, who revile me with ^o much Impudence, have not had the face to charge me with that, nor to offer the leaft evidence of my demanding any Reward : And beiides, my P-overty is an Evidence for me that cannut lye. Tis poflible fome may think it ftrange and unac- countable, that I fhould have meddled in giving pri- vate Advices, and yet had not the Courage to ap- pear in the Conventions of the People to aflift my Country with Counfel. The thing that hinder'd me fo to do, Athenians^ was this Familiar Spirit, this Divine Voice, that ye have often heard me fpeak ofj and that Melitus has endeavour'd fo much lo ridi- cule. This Spirit has ftuck by me from my infancy i 'Tis ^x Ihe Apology of Socrates, 'Tis a Voice that does not fpeak but when it means to take me off from fome Refolution -, tor it never prelles me to undertake any thing. It always thwarted me, when I mean'd to meddle in the Af- fairs of State, and that very feafbnably ^ for had I imbarked in fuch matters, I had long ere now been 'out of the World, and had, neither benefitted yoii nor my lelf Pray, be not, dilturb'd if I fpeak my Mind without difguife. Whoever offers frankly and generoufly to oppofe the whole Body of a People, whether yoii or others, and means to hinder the commiflion of Iniquity in the City •, will never efcape with impunity. 'Tis abfolutely neceffary that he who ftands up for Juftice, fhould live a plain private Life, remote from publick Stations. This Til make good, not by Words, but by matter of Fa8: ; iipon which I know ye lay much ftrefs. Give ear to the relation of my Adventures, and you'll find that I am iincapable of yielding to any Man, for fear of Death, in an unjuft thing ^ and that by reafon of my not complying, I mult unavoidably fall a Sacrifice to Injuftice. I am about to talk of things that indeed are difagreeable , but at the fame time are very true, and fuch as have been tranfa£ted in your own Councils. You know, Aihenians^ that I never bore any Ma- giftracy (^), but was only a Senator. Our Antio- chian Tribe was juft come in their turn to the Fry- tanaum^ when contrary to all the Laws, you at the fame time refolv'd to indiO: the ten Generals, for not taking up and interring the Corps of thofe who were kill'd or drown'd in the Sea Fight at the Ifles (b) Q'i.Arginuftz ^ and would not condefcend to try them leparately : A piece of injuftice that you afterwards (a) The People o^ Athens -^-trt divided into Tribes, nnd ?o Men were cholen by turns out of each, who govern'd 5 % Daysj and were call'dl^'-jtviw/, or Senators.- (h) This Battel was fought by Callicratides the Lacedemo- nian General, againft the ten Athenian Generals, who ob- tain'd the Vidory. Fid. Xmo^h. lib. i. Hijior, Grxc, wefe 7he Apology of Socrates.' ^ 5 were fenfible 01, and {a) regretted. Now I was the only Senator who upon that occafion dar'd to ftand up and oppofe the v'iolation of the Laws. 1 pro- tefted againlt your. Decree, and nocwithitanding all your Menaces and Our cries, and the Advances ot'the Xenophon Orators thar were preparing an Accufation agamti<^''^" '^^'^ me, I chole rather to endanger my felfon the ii^^^'refiimZl of the Law and Juftice, than to fuffer my felf to o/Socri- be frighted by Chains or Death into a tame compli- t:es. ance with fuch horrid Iniquity. This happen'd under the popular Form of Govern- ment ; but after the eftablifhment oi Oligarchy^ the thirty Tyrants (b) fent for me and 14 more to the (c) ThoUis^ and order'd us to bring Leon from Sa- ^'^ ^^'^ ^'^ lamina^ in order to be put to death ^ for by luch Or- ^^ifjh' ders they meant to caft the Odium of the ill A£li- ^^ ' ons upon leveral Perfons. Upon this occafion I gave>'em to know, not by Words but by Deeds,that, tofpeak coarlly, I made no account of Death, and that my only Care was to avoid the commiflion of Impiety and Injuftice. Notwithffanding the great- nefs of thefe 30 Tyrants, all their Power did not move or influence me to violate the Law and be- tray my Confcience. Upon our departure from the Tho/us^ the other four went to Salamina and brought o^Leon ^ and as for me, 1 retir'd to my floule •, and doubtlefs my Difobedience had been puniih'd by death, had not that Form of Government ten eftablifli'd foon af- , ter. There are Witnefles enough to vouch for the Truth of all that I advance. Now judge your lelves if I could have iiv'd fb many Y"ears, had I embark'd in the Affairs of State •, 'Tis fo far from that, Athenians^ that neither 1 nor (d) They afterwards repented of what they had done, and order'd the Seducers of the People to be profecuted tor De- famation. (^) The 30 Tyrants were fet up in the firft Year of the 514th Olymp. being the (?4th or 6 jth of Socr/rte/s Age. . (f) The rhoLus was a fort of Clerks Office, where the Pr/- tmi dirtedj and the Clerks fate. . G c any J 4 7he Apology cf Socrates. any Man living could have done it. However, you fee the only thing I always aim'd at, whether in pub- lick or private, was never to go along with any Man, no, not with Tyrants themfelves, in an unjult thing. As for the young People, whom my Accufers would have pals for my Difciples, I affirm that I never made a Trade of teaching. Indeed, if any Per- Ibns, whether young or old,were at any time defirous to fee me and hear my Principles, I never declined to give 'em fatisfa£tion ; for as I do not fpeak for Money, fo I will not hold my peace for want of it. I am at all times equally free to the Rich and the Poor, and willing to give 'em all poflible leifure for asking their Quertions ^ or, if any ot 'em chufe ra- ther to hear me, I give 'em fatisfi8:ion by anfwering my own Queiliions : And if any of thelebe found, either good or bad, I am neither to be praifed nor blamed J for I am not the Author either of their good or bad (> ;alicies. I never engag'd to teach 'em any thing, and in efte8: 1 never did teach 'em. If any of 'em boalfs that he ever heard from me, or was pri- vately taught any thing befide what I avow pub- lickly to the whole World, you may alTure your felveshe does not fpeak the Truth. Ye have now heard, Athenians^ the realbn why moft People love to hear me, and converfe fo long, with me. I have told you the naked Truth, v'tz^ that they take a fingular Pleafure ii: feeing thofe Men baffled who pretend to be wife and are not. And that you Vnow is not at all difagreeable. / have likewife iiold you, that ireceiv'd my Orders fo to do from God himfelf, by Oracles, Dreams, and ■ all the other Methods which the Deity makes ufe of to make known his Pleafure to Men. If /did cot fpeak Truth, you might eafily convi£t me of a Lye. For, had 1 debauch d the Youth, of neceflity thofe who now are old, and confcious that J perverted their Youth, would rile up and profecute me; Or, if they did not, to be furs their Fathers, Un- cles, Ihe Apology of Socrates.^ ^ j cles, or Brethren, would find it their Duty to de- mand Revenge upon the Debaucher of their Sons, Nephews or Brethren. Now, J fee many of thole here prefent, particularly Crito the Father of this Critohulus^ a Man of the fame City and Age with my ielf" Lyfania^ the Sphecian^ Father to this Ef- chines^ Amypho a Citizen of Cephijia and Father to Ep'tgenesy and leveral others whole Brethren aflift at this Meeting, as Nicoftratits Son to Zotidas and Brother to Theodotus. 'Tis true Theodotus is dead^ and lb has no occafion for his Brother's afliftance; Befides thole, I fee Faralus the Son of Demodocus and Brother to Theages , Adimantus Son to Ar'ifto and Brother to FUto who is now before you, Aiantodorm Brother to * Apollodorus^ and a great many more, of whom Mel'itus was oblig'd to have pitch'd upon one ortwo at leaftfor Witnefles. If it was an overfight in him, there's yet time enough •, J allow him to do it now. Pray let him name them, if he can. But you'll find, Athenians^ 'tis quite otherwile ^ all thefe Men, whole Children, , whole Brethren Meiitus and Anytus alledge /have debauch'd and entirely ruin'd ^ thefe very Men, / lay, are all on my fide. I do not offer to take lliel- ter under thole whom J have debauch'd : Perhaps they might have Reafons for defending me. But I put the Cafe upon thofe, whom / have not at all le- duc'd, Men advanc'd in Years, and near Relations to thefe young Men : What other Reafon fhould move them to proteO: me, but my Innocence and rightful Title ? Do not thev know that Melitus is a Lyar,and that /advance nothing but what is true ? Thefe, A- thenians^ are Arguaieiiis that may be urg'd in my Defence: And the others, which J pals over in li- lence, are of the fame force and weight. * This A^oUoiorm 'vvas likewife prefent. He was a Man of a very weak Head, but o(ie chat lov'd Socrates entirely. When ' Socrates was ccndemn'd, and going to Prifon, he cry'd cut. That which affltils me mofi^ Socrates, is- to fee yott die in. itmoccnce. Socrarej ftroaking his Head with his Hand, fniii'd andfaid. My Friend f would j/oa rnthiyfse me die in guilt ? C C 2 Bul g^ the Apology of Socrates. But perhaps there are fome among you, who cal- ling to mind their being formerly arraign'd in the £nne Place where I now ftand, will be incens'd a- gainft me, upon the account, that when they were in much lefs danger they made fuppliant Addrefles to their Judges with Tears, and to move their Com- panion more efFe8:iially, prefented their Children, with their Friends and Relations in this Place ^ whereas I have no recourle to fuch Reiuges, not- withftanding that in all probability I run the moft dangerous Kilque that can be. 'Tis pofiible, I fay, that the confideration of this Difference may whet their Paffion againft me, and move them to caft me with Indignation. I am unwilling to believe that there are any fuch here •, but if there be, the moft reafonable Excufe I can plead, is this : I have Relarions as well as they have. To ule if(?;;?f;''sExprefrion, I am neither fprung jrom Oak nor Slone^ hut am bo?-n like other Men. I have three Sons,' the eldefl: of whom is yet young, and the other two are but Infants : And yet I fhall not bring 'cm hither to get my felf clear'd upon the Confideration of them. Now, what is the reafon that I won't do it ? 'Tis neither a proud liiffnels of Humour, nor any con- tempt of you i and as for my fearing or not fearing Death, that is another Quettion : Tis only with re- fpeO: to your Honour and that of the whole City, that I decline it. For 'tis neither handfom nor cre- ditable, either for you or me, to make ufe of fuch means at my Years, and under fuch a Reputation as I have •, 'tis no matter whether it is merited or un- merited ^ fince 'tis fufficient that by an Opinion gene- nerally receiv'd, Socrates has t'ciQ advantage of moft Men. If thofe who pals among you for Men of an uncommon Rank, preferable to the relt tor Wifdom, Courage, or any other Vertue, (hould ftoop to fuch unaccountable bafe and mean Anions, as if they were apprehenfive of fome great Evil accruing to them upon your condemning them to die, cind expefted • Im- 7he Apology of Socrates, 37 Immortality by vertue of your Abfolution : If thele Men, I fay fhould be guilty of fuch meannels, they'd affront the City extreamly ^ for they'd give (hangers occafion to imagine that the moft vertuous Men among the Athenians^ thofe who are in i [led to Ho- nours and Dignities, by way of preference to all others, are nothing different from the loweft-lpirited Women. Now this, Athenians^ you ought to be- ware of ^ you that are poffefs'd of fome Reputation and Authority : And fuppofing I defign'd to do any fuch thing, you would be obliged to flop me, and give me to know that you'd looner condemn one that means to excite your Compadion by thefe Tra- gical Scenes, and by that means to expole your City to be ridiculed ; than one that with Tranquility and Repofe expeds what Sentence you* pleale to pro- nounce. But to wave the Topick of the City's Glory,which is fenfibly wounded by fuch Indignities •, Jaftice it felf forbids fupplicating the Judge, or extorting 'an Abfolution by Requefts. A Judge ought to be per- ^^'^ '^"^j fuaded and convinced. He is not plac'd upon the "■' ** ^^' Bench to oblige Men by violating the Laws, but to do juftice purfuant to the Laws. He is fworn fo to do by an Oath that ought to be inviolable. Tis not in his Power to favour whom he pleafes: He is o- blig'd to do Juftice. We ought not therefore to bring you into a cuftom of Perjuiy, asd you ought to hiiT- der thofe who attempt it. For both thofe wh^o tempt you, and you who comply, do equally wound Juftice and Religion, and both are involv'd in the guilt. V^hQiQ^oxQ^ Athenians^ do not youexpe8: that III have recourfe to fuch things, as I take to be neither ■ Creditable, Juft, nor Pious, efpecially upon this Oc- cafion where I ftand arraigned of Impiety by Mel'itm. Should I move you by Prayer,and force you ro break your Oath, that would be evidence that I taught you to believe no Gods ^ and thus in offering to ju- ftifie my felf, I ftiould entangle my fell in the very C c 3 Charge 3 8 ^^ Apology of Socrates. Charge of my Adverlaries, and prove againft my felf* that 1 believe in no Gods. But I am very far, A- ihenians^ from being of that Principle. I am more convinced of the Being of a God, than my Accufers are-, and am fo well fatisfied in the Point, that I refign my felf to you and to God, that ye may judge as ye think fit, both for your felves and tor me. Socrates haying ffoien m this manner ^ the fuiges put it to the Vote^ and, he was fou'nd guilty by ^3 f^oices : ^fter which So- crates begun again to fpeak. I Am not at all troubled, Athenians^ at the Sen- tence ye have now pronouncU Several things keep me from being diflurbM, elpecially one things viz. That I was fully prepar'd before- hand, and have met with nothing more than I expefted. For I did pot think to have come fo near to an Abfolution, but expe£led to be call: by a greater majority of Votes, I finding now that I am only caft by 33 Votes, I fan- fie I have efcap'd Melitus^s Profecution •, and not on^ ly fo, but I think 'tis evident, that if Anytus andLy- Jon had not joyn'd in the Accufation, ^ he had loft his 1000 Drachms, fince he had not the fifth part of the Votes on his fide. lAelitus then thinks I deferve death, in a good time ! And as for me, what Punifh- ment t Aiall I allotto my felf? You fhall fee plainly, * An Accnfer wasoblig'd to have one half of theVotes,and 9 fifth part more, or elfe was fin'd in 1000 Drachms, i. e. loo; lErOWns. Theophrafl. in his Book of Laws j and 'Demojihenes a-. gainft ^ndrotion. t To iinderftand this, wemuft know, that when the Crimi- nal was found guilty, and the Accufer demanded a Sentence of death ; the Law allow 'd the Prifoner to condemn him felf to one of the fe three Punilhments, t/z.. perpetual Impnfon-' ment, a Fine, or Banifhment. This Privilege was call'd -visra- vuJ'<^cti ; and was firit enacted on the behalf of the Judges, tliat they might not fpruple to pafs Sentence upon thofe who by condemning themfelves own'd their guilt. Socrates was catch 'd in this Snare i but Xe»oj;/7o;» tellihes that he did not condemn himfelf at ail, and would not allow his Friends to do it, becaufc 'twas in effect an acknowledgment of the Crime. Only, in obedience to the Laws, and m order to pro- ciaiju his Innocence, inftead of 9 Puniflimcnt, he demanded a Keward worthy of himfelf. Atheman:^ 'ihe Apology of Socrates^ "59 Athenians^ that Pll pitch upon what / deferve, Now, what is't that 1 muft condemn my felf to, for not concealing what Good I've learn'd in my life-time, for flighting what others court very earneftly, I mean, Riches, care of Domeftick Affairs, Officcs,Dig- nities j and for never embarking in a Party or en- gaging in any Office, which things are commonly praftis'd in this our City > / always look'd upon my felf as a Man of more Honefty and Goodnefs, than to preferve my Life by fuch pitiful fhifts. Be< fides, you know, 1 never would engage in any Pro- feffion that did not enable me at once to promote your Advantage and my own •, and that my only Aim was, to be always in readinefs to procure to each of you in private the greateft of all good things, by perfuading you not to fet your Mind up- on your Poflefhons, till you had taken Care of your ielves in ftudying Wifdom and Perfeflion ^ juft as a City ought to be taken care of, before the things that belong to it -, and in like manner every other principal thing is intitled to a preference in our Thoughts, before its Appurtenances. After all thefe Crimes , what is my demerit > Doubtlefs, Athenians^ if you proportion the Reward to the Merit, 1 deferve fome confiderable Good, fuitable to fuch a Man as J am. Now what is't that's fuitable for a poor Man that's your BenefaQor, and wants leifure and opportunity for Exciting and Exhorting you ? Nothing fuits better with fuch a Man, than to be entertain'd in the Frytan^um ^ that's more due to him than to thole of you that have brought oiFtbe Trophies of Vi£tory from the Horfes and Chariot Races in the Olympick Games. For ^hofe vu thefe Vi£lors purchafe you a feeming Happinels by aors were their Vi£lories •, but as for me, I make you really ^^o/^'^ t^^on happy by mine. Befides, they ftand not in need of'*'" ^'"^^' fuch a iupply, but I do. In juftice therefore you ought to adjudge me a Recompence worthy of my felf i and to be maintain'd upon the Publick is no more than I deferve. C c 4 Perhaps ^o the Apology of Socrates. Perhaps you may charge me with Arrogance and Self-conceit in Ipeaking thus to you, as you did but now, when I Ipoke againli the Supplications and Prayers of Priloners* But there's nothing of that in the cafe : Pray hear me. 'Tis one of my Maxims, That knoimngly and wiU Vingly we ought not to do the leap: harm to any Man^ My time is fo fhort that I cannot upon this Occafion ftay to recommend it to you. If the fame Law pre- vaild here that is obferv'd elicwhere, enjoyning that a Trial upon Life and Death (hould la(t not one but feverai days, i am perfuaded 1 could make you feniible of its importance. But how is it poflible to wipe ofFfo many Calumnies in fo fhort a fpaceof time > However, being convinced that I ought to in- jure no Man, how (hould I behave towards my felf if I own'd my felf worthy of a Punifhment, and paffed Sentence againft my felf } What ! Should I be afraid of the Punifhment adjudg'd by Melitus^ a Punifhment that 1 cannot pofitively fay whether 'tis Good or Evil \ and at the f ime time pitch upon' another fort of Punifhmcne, that I am certain is E- vil ? Shall I condemn my fell to perpetual Imprifon- ment > Why fhould 1 live always a ilave to the eleven Magiftrates? Shall it be a Fine^ and continu- ing in Prifon till / pay it ? That is much at one, for J have nothing to pay it with. It remains then that J fhould chule Banifhment, and perhaps you will confirm my choice : But indeed, Athenians^ I muft needs be much blinded by the love of Life, it" 1 did not perceive that, fince you who are my fellow Citizens could not brook my Converfation and Prin- ciples, but were always fo gall'd by them, that you were never at eafe till you got your felves rid of me ; much more will others be unable to brook 'em. That would be a pure way of living for Socrates^ at thefe Y'ears to be expcll'd Athens^ and wander from City to City like a Vagabond in Exile ! 1 am very well fatisiied, that vvherever i went the younger fort would iiifen to me jufl: as they do here : if I thwart' 'Xhe 'Apology of SocratesJ 41 thwart 'etn, they'll folicit their Fathers to expel me-, and if I do not, their Parents and Kinfmen will ex- pel me upon their Account; But perhaps Ibme Body will fay •, Why^ Socrates, whe/i you go from hence ^ cannot y on hold your peace and live quietly ? I fee plainly, that to perfuade you to any thing, is a moft difficult Enterprife ^ for if 7 tell you that my filence would be difbbedience to God, and upon that account ^ I cannot hold my -^ ^^»'^ peace ^ you will not believe me, you'll look' uponf^'^^'^^^ the whole Story as a myfterious Irony. And if on confi/h'L the other hand /acquaint you, that a Man's greateft ^«Tco»r/»g Happinefs confifts in difcourfing ot Vertue all the ofFenne, days of his Life, and entettaining nimlelf with all ^//^e»>/f/,, the other things you have heard me fpeak of, either out Self- in examining my ielf or others, fince a Life without exammati- examination is no Life : You'll believe me yet lels.""''""^'^^* However, 'tis juft as I tell you, tho' you cannot be- lieve it. But, alter all, /am not accultom'd to think my fell worthy of any Punifhment. Indee-d, if J were rich, / would amerce my felf in fuch a Sum as I might be able to pay. But / am not in a Condi- tion, unl8ls you would allow the Fine to be propor- tion'd to my Indigency ^ and fo perhaps 1 might make fhift to pay a Mina of Silver. Indeed Flato^ who is here prefent, and Crito^ and Critobulus^ and 3^^» Crowm, Apollodorus would have me flretch it to ^oMina's^ which they'll anfwer for. And accordingly I amerce my felf in thirty Mind's^ and I give you them lor sooCrowm. .very creditable Surety. Socrates haying amerced himfclf in obedience -o the Lan>s, the fudges took the Maeter into Confideration^ dnd ^}:itlioHt any re- gard to f/?e F;»e, condemn d him to die. lifter the Sentence was fronounc'dj Socrates began again^ thus. INdeed, Athenians^ your impatience and precipi- tancy will draw upon you a great Reproach, and give the Envious occafion to ccnfuie your City, for _ * 'Twere impofTible in Sccrutes to difobey God, and conceal the Truths he was oblig'd to reve;si. What a nobk Example • is this in a Pagan ! COB"' Ji the Apology of Socrates: condemning that wife Man Socrates : For to highten tlie Scandal, they'll call me Wiie, the' / am not. Whereas had you ftaid but a fhort while, my death had come of it felf, and thrown into your Lap what you now demand. You fee my Age has run the moft of its round, and draws very near to a con- clufion. I do not make this Addrefs to all my Judges, but only to thofe that voted my Condemna- tion. Do you think that I had been condemn'd, if I had thought it my Duty to try every means for procuring my Abfolution ^ and if fo, do you think I had wanted perfuafive and touching ExpreiTions > 'Tis not fuch words that 1 have been wanting in, but in Boldnefs, in Impudence, and in a defire to gratifie you by telling you fuch Stories as you love to hear. Doubtlefs you had been infinitely well plealed, to iee me cry, groan, whine, and ftoop to all the other mean fhifts that are commonly made ufe of by Pri- Ibners at this Bar. But upon thisoccalion, /did not think it my Duty to ftoop to any thing 16 bale and. icandalous^ and now that the Sentence is paft, / do not repent of avoiding the Indignity, for I chufe rather to die upon the Defence I've now made, than to live by iuch Prayers and Supplications as you require. Neither Civil nor Military Juftice allows an honeft Man to fave his Life any how. For in Du- els it happens often that a Man may eafily fave his Life by throwing down his Arms, and begging quar- ter of his Enemy : And in like manner in all other Dangers, a Man that's capable of faying or doing any thing, may hit upon a thoufand Expedients for . . avoiding Death. To elcape dying, Athenians ^'isnox iZfe^d^-^^^ greateft Difficulty ^ fhame falls in upon us more ficttlt to fwiftly, and is much harder to avoid. And accord- a^id Shame ingXy in this juncture, / who am ftiffand old, am than Death. Qjjjy attack'd and overtaken by the floweft of the two •, whereas my Accufers, who are vigorous and ftrong, are catch'd by the fwifteft^ I mean. Infamy. Thus am Jf about to be deliver'd up to Death by your the Apology of Socrates. 45 your Orders, and they {a) are furrender'd to Infa- my- and Injviftice by the Orders of Truth. / am very well contented with my Sentence, and fo are they with theirs. * Thus things are as they ought to be, and our Shares could not have been more juftly or better divided, ^ ' ' In the next place J have a mind to foretel you, who have eondemn'd me, what will be your fate % for I am now juft arrived at the Minute, {b) that af- fords a Man the fteddieft Thoughts, and enables him to Prophefie, upon the approach of Death. J tell you then, that no fooner (hall you have put me to death, but {c) the Vengeance of God will purfue you with more Cruelty than you have fhewn to itie. By ridding your felves of me, you defrgn'd only to throw off" the troublefome Task of giving an Ac- count of your Lives ^ but I tell you before-hand, you ihall not compals your End. > - ■ A greater number of Perfons will rife up and cenfure you. Tho' you perceived it not, 'twas my prefence that has hitherto reftrain'd 'em. But after my death, they will make you very uneafie -, and foralmuch as they are younger than J, will prove more troublefome and hard to be rid of For if you fanfie to your felves, that putting fuch Perfons to death is an efte£lual way to reftrain others, and prevent their upbraiding you,you are muchmiftaken. {a) Socrates is condemn'd by the Injuftice of Men, but his Judges are condemn'd by the Orders of Truth. Thus were tiie Athenians only criminal, both withrefped: to Godindif- Owning Socrates's God; and trampling under foot the the Ora- cle of Apollo J and \vith refped to Men in debauching the Youth, particularly Mcibiades^ Hipponicm, CrlhaSj and an infi-' nite Number of others. Max. de Tyr. (b) At the point of Death Mens Thoughts are fteddier,than in the career of Life ; becaufe at that time Paflion is de- thron'd, and the Soul begins to retrieve its Liberty. This was Homer's Opinion j and there's no difficulty in tracing a higher fource for it, than that Poet. , (c) This Predidion was fulfill'd in a raging Plague that foon after laid Athens defolate j and all the Misfortunes that over-run this mjuft Kepublick, and indeed all Greece, were ta- ken for a certain Mark of Divine Vengeanceo Th^t ^4 ^^^ apology of Socrates.' That way of ridding your felves of your Cenfors, is neither honeft nor prafticable. A better way, which is at once very eafie and honeft, is, not to ftop their Mouths, but to amend your Lives. So much for thofe who voted my Condemnation. As for you, Athenians^ who gave your Votes for my Ablblution, / would gladly difcourle you, while the Head Magittrates are bufie, till / be carried to the Place of Execution: / beg therefore a Minute's Audience, for fince we have lb much time, why may not we confer together. / mean to reprefent to you a thing that happened to me but now, and give you to underftand what it imports. 'Tis a marvellous rhevnjkji thing, my Judges ( for in calling you my Judges I do not de- ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^|[ miftakeu ) that / met with but now. 2iIme^of The Divine Law, that has advis'd me fo often, and Judges, upon the lead occafion never faiFd to divert me from whatever I m^aifd to purfue, that was not fit for me ^ this Law has not given me any fign this day, on which J have met witn what moft Men take to be the greateft of Evils : It did not difcover it lelf to me, neither in the morning when I came (d) from my Houfe, nor when I enter'd this Hall, nor when I began to fpeak. At other times it fre- quently interrupted me in the middle of my Di- Icourfe -, but this day it has not thwarted me in any thing that 1 defign'd, either to fay or to do. Now I am about to tell you what this means. It is very probable that what I am now to encounter is a ve- ry great Good •, for certainly 'tis a miftake to look upon Death as aji Evil. And for an evident Proof of the contrary, let's conlider,that, if I had not been to meet with fome good thing to day, God, under whofe Care / am, would not have fail'd to accjuaint me, purfuant to his ufual Cuftom. Let's fathom the depth of this Matter, in order to demonftrate that the belief of Death's being a good thing, is a well-grounded Hope. (4) For Socrates was not Imprifoned till after his Condem- jiation. One *Ihe ^Apologf of Socrate^r 4f , One of thefe two things muit be true, (a) Either Death is i privation of Thought, or it is the Soul's Paflage from one Place to another. If it be a pri- vation of Thought, and, as 'twere, a peaceable Sleep undifturb'd by Dreams, then to die is great gain. After one Night ot fuch Tranquility, free from di- fturbance,Care,or theleaft Dream ^ I'm confidenr,if a Man were to compare that Night with all the other Nights and Days oi his paft Life, and were oblig'd to tell in Confcience and in Truth, how many Nights or Days of his whole Life-time he had pafled more happily than that one : I'm confident, I fay, that not only a private Man,bat the great King himfelf,wou'd find fo fmall a Number, that it would be very eafie to count 'em. Now if Death does in any meafiire refemble fuch a Night, I have juftly given it the Ap- pellation of great gain •, iince its whole time is only a long continued Night. If Death be a Paffage from this Place to another,' and the Regions below are a Place of Rendezvous for thofe who liv'd here ^ pray, my Judges, what greater Good can a Man imagine ? For if a Man quits his counterfeit Judges here, for true ones in the Regions below, who, they fay adminifterjufticewith fo much Equity, fuch as Mi/ios^ Rhadamanth/^^ Ma- ci46^ Tripto/emus^ and all the other Demi-Gods, who were fo juft in this Life;, will not that be a happy {a) By tkis Dilemma Socrates does not call in queftion the Immortality of the Soul, but points to the two Opinions of Philofophers, fome of whom thought the Soul fell with the Body ; and others, that the former lurviv'd the latter. Now he offers to prove that Death is not ill in either of thefe Opi- nions : For, fays he, if the Soul dies, 'tis annihilated, and con- fequently void of Thought; and if it furvives, we are happier after Death than before." Some decry Socratei's Ratiocination, in alledging a third ilate of the Soul, where after death it ftays to undergo the Punifliment due to its Crimes. But that's a meer Qiaibbie; for Socrates fpeaks only of good Men, who having obey'd God, may expect a blefled Immortality : For he likewife taught that the Wicked fuifer eternal Punifliment in the World to come ; as we fliall fee in his Vhedon -. And he did not in the leaft pretend that thofe Wretches had no occa/ion to fear Death. change ? '^6 the Apology of SozvdtQsy change > At what rate would not you purchale a He ranh Conference with Mujeus^ Uef.od^ and Homer ? ¥ot thefetiTree j^y p^^t, if fuch 3 thing be practicable, Td die a fb^'alfe- thouland times to enjoy ib great a Pleafure. What jffg \heyitP' tranfports ot Joy (hall I encounter, when / meet Pa- thorsofthe lamedes^ Ajax the Telajnonian^ and all the other He- Tagan The- jq^^ Qf Antiquity, who in this Life were Vi£lims of * '^' Injuftice ! How agreeable will it be to put my Ad- ventures in the Balance with theirs ! But the infi- nitely greateft and moft valuable Pleafure will con- iili in Ipending the time in putting Queftions and Interrogatories to thofe great Men, {b) in order to ftrike out the diltin8;ion between the truly Wile, and thole who falfly fanfie themfelves to be fuch. Wh6 would not give all he has in this World for a Con- ference with him who led the numerous Army a- gainft Troy^ or U/yffes or Sifyphi^^ and looooo o- ther Men and Women, whofe Converfation and Dif coveries would aftord an inexpreffible Felicity > ThefeMen are infinitely more happy than we, and inverted with Immortality. Upon which Account^ my Judges, you ought to encounter Death with fted- dy Hopes, as being perfuaded of this certain Truth, Tiotyilcanif) 'hat 3n honeli Man needs fear no Evil, either in betide the thls Of the f ututc Lite, and that the Gods take Care fufi either q{ all his Conccms : For what has now happen'd fiitureLife ^^ "^^"» ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^"§ ^^^ eftcO: of Chancc, that J am fully convinc'd, tis infinitely better for me to die, and be rid of the encumbrances of this Lite. And for that reafon, God who regulates my CondnQ:, did not thwart me to day. So that / (b) By interrogating them npon all the Adtions of their Life, and the Keal'ons that infliienc'd 'em : For Socrates here fpeaks of the Wifdcm they were really poiTefs'd of, or fan- lied themfelves to pofTefs in this World ; and does not at all imply that ny in a hitlfcd Sta':e are capable of.believing themfelves Wife when they are not. (c) This vas rht prcinii.pnoj-. of a Heathen, who was ig- lior^nt of the tatal crilvi? o' Sin ..nd corruption j for which tht; julief ougi.t aiv\..v to vrembie. So that this Maxim of Socratci is on.v applicable to thofe, whofe Siiis through God's Mtrcy ate not ijnputed to theiii,- ihe Jpotogy of SocratSS. 4% have no Refentment againfl: my Accufers or thole who voted my Condemnation 5 notwithftanding that they mean'd, not to do me any Kindnels, but to prejudice me, which might afford me juft grounds of Complaint. One thing I have to beg of 'em is this 5 That when my Children grow up, if they make you uneafie, as / did, that you * would punifh 'cm fe- verely. But if you find that they prefer Riches to Vertue, and take themfelves to be fomewhat, when in effeQ: they are nothing •, pray be not wanting in checking them, and expofing them, for not minding thofe things which deferve all their Care, and be- lieving thqnfelves to be what they are not. But now, 'tis tfie^^e fhould all retire to our refpe£live Offices, you to live, and I to die. But whether you or I are going upon the better Expedition , t 'tis known to none but God alone. ^ * Socrates is Co content to die for the fike of Juftice, that he defir'd his Judges to treat his Children m the fame fafhion, if fo be they prov'd fo happy as to give 'em the lame trouble that he did ; that is, if, they made it their bufinefs to corred their Injuftice, their Idolatry, and aU their other Vices. t Socrates did not fpeak this out of" Ignorance, for he knew very well that the Juft were happier in their Death, than the Wicked in their Life. But the People that had but juft con- demn'd him, were not in a Condition to relifh that Maxim ; upon which account Socrates tells 'em,that God aione knew 3 and accordingly God quickiv gave 'em all to know the iifterence between the Fate of Socrates and that of his Judges. The Athenians repented their putting to death an innocent Perfon, and publickiy lamented tnt lofs of him, whom they had condemn'd by a publick Sentence. The Schools and Places for Exercife were fhut up j Socrates'^ Statue was erected, and a Chappel confecrated to his Memory 3 and his Accufers pro- fecuted. Melitus was torn in pieces, Anjtits was expeli'd the Heraclea where he fhelter'd 5 and ail the Abettors of the Con- fpiracy, were look'd upon as cur fed, and excommunicated, and reduc'd to fuch a pitch of Defpaii, that moft of 'em laid violent Hands on thenuelves. THE THE INTRODUCTION TO c R I r 0. ^ S Derates^ in his Apology, has furnifh'd us with an admirable Model of an honelt Man's Defences, when unjultly arraigned. And in this Dialogue, which is Intituled, O/w^^/ is to be done^ he gives us a yet more perfe£l Plan of the Conduct of a good Man, and the Obedience he owes to Juftice and the Laws, even in dying when they require it, tho' at the lame time 'twere eafie for him to elcape. While Socrates lay in Prifon, his Friends being more con- cern'd for his Life than himfelf, had retained the Coa- ler. Every thing was in readinefs for accomplifh- ing his Efcape ^ and Crito goes into the Prifon be- fore day, to tell him the good News, and perfuade him not to flight the precious Opportunity. 5^- crates hears him, and commends his Zeal : But be- fore he would comply, Itarts rhe Qaeftion, Whe- ther it was juft for him to depart the Prilbn, with- out the Conlent of the Athtnians. So that the Point to be decided in this Dialogue, is, whether a Man unjuftly condemn'd to die, can innocently withdraw himfelf from the hand of Juftice and the Law. Secrates was the only Man of the Age he lird in, that call'd that in Queftion j and, which is yet more furprifing, were he now alive, he would be the only Man in this our Age. All that we lee before our Eyes, or read of in our Hiftories ^ in a word^ all the Inftances of what Men have done through , Ihe IntroduBion to Critb. 4P through the love of Life and the fear of Death, have ib debauch'd our Judgments, .that we are fcarce ca- pable to judge of what true Juftice requires, and are apt to call every thing Juft, that's univerfally pra- £lis'd. Now there cannot be a more capital Error. However, fince the ConduQ: of a Heathen, that chofe rather to die than to break the Courle of Juftice, would feem to us the efFe£t of Folly or ftrong Pre- judice ^ let's try if we can hit upon any folid Rule that may reclaim us by its Authority, and convince us by its Light. The Chriftian Religion affords a great many fuch : But we fhall confine our felves to one, which in a fovereign degree is juftly intitled to both thefe Chara£ters. St. FW being in Prifon in Macedonia^onQ Night the Prifon Doors open'd and his Chains dropp'd off";, and he was fo far from ma- king his Efcape,thathe hindered others to do it. Ve- ter being imprifon'd hy Herod^ who had refolv'd to put him to death after the Paffover, made his Efcape the Night before the Day of Execution. But how did he do it ? God did not content himfelf with un- locking his Chains, and opening the Prifon Doors, but fent an Angel who pulh'd him on, and forc'd him to go along. This was the Cqndu8: of the Saints. Tho' the Prifon be open, they do not offer to make their Elcape. Nothing lels than an Angel can oblige 'em to deparr the Prifon. Socrates^ who was no Saint, but follow'd as clofe as poffible the fame Light that guides and illuminates the Saints, obferves the fame Condu8: : They open'd the Pri- fon and unty'd his Chains, but his Angel was filenr, and he would not ftir. He preferred an innocent Death before a criminal Life : But before he came to a Refolution, he heard the Realbns of his Friend, who Ipeaks with a great deal of force, and omits nothing that could move him : And after that, with a Divine Eloquence, confronted him with incontefta- ble Maxims, grounded upon Truth and juftice, in which one may trace the Rays of the Evangelical Dodrinej viz. That we ought to jlight the Opmions. 0d of 50 ^-^^ IntroduSlioH to Crito. of Me/J, and regard only the Judgment cf God ^ that it k not livings hut living well^ that Jhould he our wifhiy that jfujiice is the I'lfe^ and Injuftice the death of the Soul •, that we ought not to injure our Ene- mes^ or rcfent the Injuries voe receive \ that ^tis better to die^ than to fin ^ that we mufi obey the haw of our Country ^ that the Injuftice of Men cannot ju- fiifie our difrefpell to the haws ^ and that the Laws of- this World have Sifter-haws in the other^ which re- venge the Affronts put upon "em here. Thefe were the Principles that Socrates went up- on. Thole who t;ike the pains to examine 'em and weigh their Confequences, will be fully fatil^ fied, not only that Socrates afted the part of an ho- neft Man in refufing to make his Elcape, but like- wile that he could not be a good Man if he did otherwife. And 'twas with this view, iXwi^in- t'llian laid, This Philofopher, by quitting the fmall remainder of his Life, retriev'd all the former Part of his Life, and likewife gain'd a Life to all Ages. 'Tis fuch Thoughts as thele that our Soul fhould always have in view, in order to keep out Vice ^ for if once we relent and allow the Enemy to gain fome ground, under a fpecious Pretence and a ta- king Appearance, it will quickly mafter all, and overrun all the Banks that Ihould flop its courie. CRITO: 5« C R I T O : Or, 6/ what we ought to do. Socrates and Critb. ' Soc. \ J\ THat's the matter you come here fo fbon^ Y V ^''^^^ ^ As I take it,'tis yet very early, Crit. 'Tis true. Soc. What a Clock may it be then ? Crit. A little before the break of Day.' Soc^ I wonder the Goaler let you in. Crit. He is one I know very well. I have* been with him here often ; and he is in fome meafure oblig'd to me. Soc. Are you but juft come ? Or, is it long fines you came ? Crit. I have been here a pretty virhile. Soc. Why did not you awaken me then, when you came in ? Crit. Pray God forbid Socrates. For my own ^^'^.J!*''*'*' part I would gladly (hake off the Cares and Anxiety socra?eso» that keep my Eyes from doling. But when I en- fkiw/'re- ter'd this Room, I wonder'd to find you fo found a- ceeding his fleep, and was loth to awaken you, that I might ^^*^''* not rob you of thefe happy Minutes. Indeed, So- crates^ ever fince I knew you, I have been always ^^rfaiT charm'd with your Patience and calm Temper ; but Tathna, in a diftinguilfiing manner in this jun8:ure, fince in the Circumftances you are in, your Eye looks fo ea- fie and unconcern'd. Soc. Indeed, Crito. it would be a great indecency in one of my Age to be apprehenfive of Death. Crit. Ay ! And how many do we lee every day, under the like misfortunes, whom Age doe's not ex- empt from thofe Fears ! Soc. That's true. But after all, what brought yoti hither fo early > Crit, I cam? to tell you a troublefome piece of D d ? ^ Mews-j 5i Crito : Or, Of what we ought to do. News, which, tho' they may not Item to afFe£l you, yet they overwhelm both me and all your Relati- ons and Friends with unfufFerable Grief! In ftne, / bring the molt terrible News that ever could be brought. Soc, What News ? Is the Ship arrived from De/os^ upon the return of which / am to die > Crit. It is not yet arriv'd ^ but without doubt it will be here this day according to the Intelligence we have from fome Perfons that came from Suniam ■ and left it there. For at that rate, it cannot fail of being there to day, and fo to morrow you muft un- avoidably die. Soc. Why not, Cnto ? Be it fo, fince 'tis the Will of God. However, 1 do not believe that VefTel will arrive this day. Crit, What do you ground that Conje£lure upon > Soc. I'll tell you. I am not to die till the day af ter the arrival of the Veffel. Crir. At leaft thole who are to execute the Sen- tence, fay fo. Soc. That Veffel will not arrive till to morrow, as I conjecture from a certain Dream 1 had this Night, about a Minute ago. (a) And it feems to me a happinefs that you did not awaken me. Cr'it. Well, what is the Dream > Socrates'i Soc. I thought, I law a very handfbm comely Wo- Yemarkable j^^n, clad in white, come up to me, who callmg me vnam. ^ Name laid, (/;) In three days thou fhalt be in the Phthia rf^^ fertile Phthia. Achilles i "^ C't Country, 00 He fpeaks on this fafliion, becanfe the Dreams of the morning were look'd upon as more diftind and true. Certiora & cvlatiora fomniari affirmant fttb extimis nofUbus, qiiajl jam emer- gtjite auimariim yigore^ prodiifho fopore. Tertul. de Anima. {b) In the i»th Book of the Iliads, Achilles threatning to re- tire, fays to VlyJJts^ .After to morrow you^ /f)a/l fee the HellefpOHt coyer d with my Ships^ and if Neptune afford me a happy f^oyage^ III, three days I fl>all arrive at the fertile Phthia. 'Twas this lall[ V^erfe that Socrates had from the Mouth of the Woman in his Dream; for our Dreams aJ\\ays bear a proportion to our Ge- h n-s\ HabitSy ;ind Ways of thinking. Nothing can be aitronger Evidence Grito : Or, Of what we ought to do] 5^5 Crit. That's a very ftrange Dream, Socrates, Soc. 'Tis a very fignificant one, Crito. Crit. Yes, without doubt. But for this time, pri- thee, Socrates take my Advice, and make your Ef- cape. For my part, if you die, befides the irrepara- ^^'« yi^lgar ble lois of a Friend, which I will ever lament, I am ^^"^^^ '"'"' afraid that a great many People, who are not well cdyet7,aU acquainted neither with you nor me, will believe Man con- that I have forfaken you, in not employing my in- ^^^wW to tereft for promoting your Efcape, now that 'tis in ^^^'j^- "°^ my Power. Is there any thing more Icandalous, ^rtL^X:- than to lie under the difrepute of being wedded to he can, my Money more than my Friend ? For, in ffiort, the People will never believe, that 'twas you who re- fus'd to go from hence when we prefTed you to be gone. Soc, My dear Crito^ why fhould we be ^o much concern'd for the Opinion of the People ? Is it not enough, that the more fenfible part, who are the only Men we ought to regard, know how the Cale Ifands > Crit. But you lee, Socrates^ there's a neceflity of being concern'd for the Noife of the Mob ^ for your Example is a fufficient inftance, that they are capa- ble of doing not only fmall but the greatelf of Inju- ries, and dilplay their Paflfion in an outragious man- ner, againft thole who are once run down by the vul- gar Opinion. Soc. ^ Would to God, OvV^, the People were ca- pable to do the greateft of Injuries ! Were it lb, they Evidence of the gentle. and eafie Thoughts that Socrates had of Death, than his Apphcation of this Paflage, by \vhich here- prefects Death as a fortunate Voyage to one's own Country. The Grammarians^ who are always ty'd up to the Letter,were never able to point out the Beauty andDehcacy of this Paf- fage .- For they only turn'd it into a coarfe Idea of Death, upon the refeniblance of the word,Ththia with (p^mvy to eor^, rttpt^ as if a Grecian could ever have miflaken(pSintor(p3i'(nrf. * This is a noble Principle of Socrates's. None can do the greateft Harm, but thofe who are able to do the greatell Good. And this can only be attributed to God, not to Men. Dd 3 would yj. Crito : Or, Of what we ought to do, would likewife be capable of doing the greatefc Good. That would be a great happinefs. But nei- ther the one nor the other is poffible. For they cannot make Men either wile Men or Fools. Crit. I grant it. But pray aniwer me. Is it not out of Tendernefs to me and your other Friends, that you will not ftir from hence ? For fear, left upon yourEfcape we fhould be troubled and charged with carrying you ofF^ and by that means be oblig'd " to quit our FofTeffions, or pay a large Sum of Mo- ney, or elfe fufFer fomething more fatal than ei- ther ? If that be your Fear, fhake it off, Socrates^ in the naift of the Gods. Is not it highly reafonable that we fhould purchafe your Efcape at the rate of expofing our felves to thefe Dangers, and greater ones if there be occafion ? Once more, my dear So- crates^ believe me and go along with me. Soc. I own, Crito J that I have fuch Thoughts and feveral other befides in my view. Crit. Fear nothing, I intreat you -, for in the firft place they require no great Sum to let you out. And on the other hand, you fee what a pitiful con- dition ^ thofe are in, who probably might arraign us : A fmall Sum of Money will flop their Mouths, my Eftate alone will ferve for that. If you fcruple to accept of my ofter^ here is a great number of grangers, who defire nothing more than to furnilh you with what Money you want. Simn'uti theT^^- ban^ himlelf, has brought up very confiderableSums, Cehes is capable to do as much, and fo are leveral others. Let not your Fears then ftitie the Defire of making your Elcape. And as for what you told me t'other day, in the Court, that if you made youf( Efcape, you fhould not know how to live •, pray let not rhat trouble you : Whither foever you go, you'll be belov'd in all Places of the World. If you'll go to Thejjaly^ I have Friends there who will honour )ou according to your merit, and think themfelves '* Thofe who made a Trade of acciifing zx. Mhms^ were a poor fort of People, ^^ hofe Mouths were eafily llopp'd with Money, •. hap- Crito : Or, Of what we ougU to do: 55 happy in fupplying you with what you want, and covering you from all occafions of fear in their Country. Befides, Socrates^ without doubt you are guilty of a very unjuft thing in delivering up your lelf, while 'tis in your Power to make your Efcape, and promoting what your Enemies fo paffionately wilh for. For you not only betray your felf, but likewife your Children, by abandoning them when you might make a fhift to maintain and educate 'em : You are not at all concerned at what may be- fall them. Tho' at the fame time they are like to be in as difraal a Condition, as ever poor Orphans were. A Man ought either to have no Children, or elfe to expofe himfelf to the Care and Trouble of breeding them. You feem to me to a8: the fofteft and molt infenfible Part in the World ^ whereas you '^^^'^T^^^tU ought to take up a Refolution worthy of a generous f,"^!^^"'; Soul • above all, you who boaft that you purfued^e^^L/} 0/ nothing but Vertue all the days of your life. I tell Socrates you, Socrates^ I am afham'd upon the account o^M^'^ fir you and your Relations, fince the World will be- ^^'Ziinft- lieve 'twas long of our Cowardlinels that you did tuity. not get off. In the firft place they'll charge you with ftanding a Trial that you might have avoided ^ secaufe he then they'll cenllire your ConduS in making yom "^''^"otfioop Defences ^ and at laft, which is the moft fhameful ^ f' of all, they'll upbraid us with forfaking you through /;:;fi,t^ fear or Cowardice, fince we did not accomplifhA/^e^»^c- your Elcape. Pray confider of it, my dear Socrates ^ c^/«»; than a if you do not prevent the approaching Evil, you'll ^'■'^'''"^'■• bear a part in the Shame that will cover us all. Pray advile with your felf quickly. But now I think on't, there is not time for advifing, there's no choice left, all muft be put in execution the next Night, for if we delay longer , all our Meafures will be broke. Believe me, I intreat you, and do as I bid you. Socrates^ my dear Cr'ito^ your good-will is very commendable, provided it agrees with right Reafon : But if it fwerves from that, the ftronger it is, the D d 4 more %f Cf ito : Or, Of rvhat we ought to Jol more Is it blame-worthy. The firft thing to be con- j{eafo>i and iider'cl, IS, whether we ought to do as you fay, or y«7?/cfi j^Qj. > Yq^ yQ^ know 'tis not of yefterday that Tve Vhntl\Z' accuftom'd my felf only to follow the Reafons that Ejtimateof appcat moft juft after a mature examination. Tho* theKindnefs Fottune ftowns upon me, yet I'll never part with cf Friends, ^j^g Principles I have all along profeis'd. Thefe Principles appear always the fame, and I efteem them equally at all times. So, if your Advice be not back'd by the Itrongeft Reafons, aflure your felf I will never comply, not if all the Power of the People Ihould arm it felf againft me, or offer to trighten me like a Child, by laying on frefh Chains, and threatnirig to deprive me of the greateft Goodj and oblige me to fuffer the cruelleft Death. Now, how (hall we manage this Enquiry juflly > To be- fure, the faireit way is to refume what you have been faying of the vulgar Opinions ; that is, to en- quire, whether there are fome Reports that we ought to regard, and others that are to be flighted ; or, whether the faying fo is only a groundlefs and childlels Propolition. I have a ilrong deiire, upon this occafion, to try in your prefence, whether this Principle will appear to me in different Colours from what it did while I v;as in other Circumf^ances, or whether I fhall alVvays find it the f ime s in order to determine me to a Compliance orRefufal. If I miftake tiot, 'tis certain, that feveral Perfons who thought themfelves Men of Senfe, ^ have of- ten maintaiivd in this Place, that of all the Opinions of Men, fome are to be regarded, and others to be flighted. In the name of the Gods, C>/>^, do not you think that was well laid? In all humane appearance you are in no danger of dying to morrow , and therefore 'tis prefum'd that the fear of the prefent Danger cannot work any change upon you. Wherefore, pray coniider it well. Do not you think they fpoke juftly who faid, that all " This probably had been maintain'd in fome of the foi- nier Couferences in Prifon, tor Socrates'';, Friends met eve^y day la the Priibn to keep h^m Coinpany. the Crito : Gr, Of what we ought id do, ^^ the Opinions of Men are not always to be regarded, ^^^^^ ^^^^^.^ but only fome of 'em •, and thofe not of all Men, Jc ow^/'t'ta but only of fome ? What do you fay } Do not you make of think 'tis very 'true ? opnims. Crit. Very true. Soc. At that rare then, ought not we to efteemthe good Opinions and flight the bad ones ? Crir. Ay, doubtlefs. = Soc. Are hot the good Opinions then thofe of wife Men, and the bad ones thofe of Fools ? Crir. It cannot be other wife. Soc. Let's fee then, how you will anfwer this : A Man that makes his Exercifes, when he comes to have his Leffon, whether (hall he regard the Com- mendation or Cenfure of who ever comes firit, pi only of him that is either ^^ a PhylicianoraMafter? Cr/>. Of the lafl: to be fure. Soc. Then he ought to fear the Cenfure, and va- lue the Commendation of that Man alone; and flight what comes from others. ' Crit. Without doubt. 5"^^. For that Reafon, this young Man muft nei- ther eat nor drink, nor do any thing, without the Orders of that Matter, that Man of Senfe, and he is not (at all to govern himfelf by the Caprices of others; Crit. That's true. Soc. Let's fix upon that then. But fuppofe he dif obeys this Maftet, and difregards his Applaufe oi' Cenfure ; and fufFers himfelf to be blinded by the Ca- refles and Applaufes of the ignorant Mob 5 will not he come to fome harm by this means ? ^ Crit. How is it pofhble it Ihould be othetwife> Soc. But what will be the nature of this harm that will accrue to him thereupon •, where will it terminate, and what part of him will it affeO: ? Crit. His Body without doubt, for by that means he'll ruine himfelf. * For they perform thofe Exercifes either for their Healthy or eKe to improve their Dexterity and Strength : For the firfi they foUow'd the Orders- -of a Phyfwians and for th6 ©thi^r^ they were differed by a Mailer, Soc, j8 Crito ; Or, Of what we ought to dol Soc. Very well ^ but is not the Cafe the fame all over ? Upon the point of Juftice or Injuftice, Ho- nefty or Difhonefty, Good or Evil, which at prefent are the fubjeQ of our Difpute, (hall we rather re- fer our felves to the Opinion of the People, than to that of an experienc'd wile Man, who juftly chal- lenges more Refpe£l and Deference from us, than all the World befides? And if we do not a8: con- formably to the Opinion of this one Man, is it not certain, that we fhall ruine our felves, and entirely lofe that which only lives and gains new ftrength by Jultice, and periihes only through Unjuftice ? Or, mult we take all that for a thing of no account ? ' Cnt. I am of your Opinion. liyes Zly ^^^' '^^^^ ^^^^i ^ intfcat you i if by following ly Jttfiice. the Opinions of the Ignorant we deftroy that which is only preferv'd by Health and wafted by Sicknefs j can we furvive the Corruption of that, whether it be our Body or fomewhat elle ? Cnt. That's certain. 5"^^. Can one live then after the corruption and dell:ru£lion of the Body > Cnt. No, to be fure. Soc. But can one furvive the Corruption of that which lives only by Jullice, and dies only through Injuftice > Or, is this thing ( whatever it be ) that has Juftice or Injuliice for its ObjeQ:, to be lefs va- lued than the Body ? Cnt. Not at all. Soc. What, is it much more valuable then > Crit. A great deal more. Soc. Then my dear Gv';^, we ought not to be con- jff all our cern'd at what the People fay -, but what that fays, anions we vvho kuows what's juft and what's unjult •, and that Zt'^rlfd 2^^"^ is nothing elfe but the Truth. Thus you lee, tCrruth ; you eftablKh'd falfe Principles at firft, in faying that i. e. Goi ' we ought to pay a Deference to the Opinions of the who alone People, upon what is juft, good, honeft, and its con- }eifT^' '^ traries. Some perhaps will objeO", that the People is able to put us to death. Crit, Crito : Or, Of what we ought to do, J9 Crit. To be fure, theyll ftart that Objeaion. Soc 'Tis alfo true. Bat that does not alter the 7*0, /*>« « nature of what we were faying -, that's ftill thQ^^/f/^J^^/^ fame. For you muft ftill remember, that 'tis not ^^//,-„^//, Life, but a good Life that we ought to court, Crit. That's a certain Truth. Soc But is it not likewife certain, that this gbod-^W ^'/^ Life confifts in nothing elfe but Honefty and Jultice ? ;;;f ^^^^^ Crit. Yes. andji^fttce^ Soc. Now, before ws go further, let's examine up- on the Principles you've agreed to, whether my de- parture from hence without the permiffion of the Athenians is juft cr unjutt. If it be found juft, we muft do our utmoft to bring it about ; but if 'tis un- juft, we muft lay alide the Defign. For as to the ' Confiderations, you alledg'djuftnow, of Money, Re- putation and Family : Thefe are only the Thoughts of the bafer Mob , who put innocent Perfbns to ^ charaaer death, and would afterwards bring 'em to life ifoftheMob, 'twere pofiible. But as for us who bend our thoughts another way, all that we are to mind, is whether we do a juft thing in giving Money, and lying un- der an Obligation to thofe who promote our Ef cape ? Or, whether both we and they do not com- pl^fJrMe mit a piece of Injuftice in fo doing ? If this be anv^ the com- unjuft thing, we need not reafon much upon the ?w#o» qf Point, lince 'tis better to abide here and die, than to'^''.^ undergo fomewhat more terrible than Death. ^""■^' Crit. You are in the right of that, Socrates : Let's fee then how it will fall. Soc. We ftiall go hand in hand in the Enquiry, If you have any thing of weighrto anfwer, pray do it when 1 have fpoken, that fo I may comply -, if not, pray forbear any further to prefs me to go from hence without the Confent of the Athenians. I fhall be infinitely glad, if you can perfuade me to do it ^ but I cannot do it without being firft convinc'd. Take notice then whether my way of purfuing this Enqui- ry fatisfie you, and do your utmoft to make anfwer t3 my Queftions, Criti 6o Crito : Or, Of what n>e eugk to dol Crlt. I will. piference Soc. Is it ttuc, that wc ought HOt to do an unjuft "^'dVe^Con ^^^"§ ^^ ^"y ^^" ^ ^^' ^^ ^^ lawful 111 any mealure ^/// wot >- 1^ Or, is it not abfolutely true, that all manner inginjuflke of Injuftice is neither good nor honeft, as we were ioanjMan. faying but now ? Of, in fine, are all thefe Sentiments which we formerly entertain'd , vanifh'd in a few days ? And is it poflible, Cnto^ that thofe of years, our molt ferious Conferences, fhould relemble thofe of Children, and we at the fame time not be lenfible jnjuflict: is that 'tis fo > Ought we not rather to ftand to what fcandatotts ^g jj^vc faid, as being a certain Truth, that all In- ^/^^^^^^Juftice is icandalous 4nd fatal to the Peri^n that J^Iz/tj."* commits it •, let Men fay what they will^ and let «/'>. our Fortune be never fo good or bad ? Grit. That's certain. Soc. Then we mult avoid the leaft meafure of Injurticei Crit. Moll certainly. Soc. Since we are to avoid the leaft degree of it, then we ought not to do' it to thofe who are unjuft to us, notwithftanding that this People thinks it lawful. ' Crir. So I think. Soc. But wh^t ! Ought wie to do Evil or not ? Crit. Without doubt we ought not. Soc. But is it Jultice, to repay Evil with Evil, ^t^o^dTt^i P^i^f"^^^ ^^ ^^^ Opinion of the People, or is it un- for Eyil. jurt ? Crit. 'Tis highly unjuft. Soc. Then there's no difference between doing Evil ' and being Unjuft > ' Crit. I own it. Soc. Then we ought not to do the leaft Evil or Injuilice to any Man,lethim do by us as he will. But take heed, Crito^ that by this Conceflion you do not Ipeak againft your own Sentiments. For I know i-ery well, there are few that will go this length : And 'tis impoifible for thofe who vary in their Sen- ments Crito: Ot^Ofwhdm ought to dol 61 timents upon this Point, to agree well together. Nay, on the contrary, the contempt of one another's Socrates Opinions, leads 'em to a reciprocal contempt of one T^^^'^ anothers Perfons. Confider well then, if you are of J,^„f^/,^ the fame Opinion with me •, and let us ground our Tmth, That Reafonings upon this Principle, That we ought not »<^ o'^gin' to do Evil for Evil, or treat thofe unjuftly who are 'T^l°J"^^ unjuft to us. For my part, I never did, nor never repay^IliT will entertain any other Principle. Tell me then /or £W. if you have chang'd your Mind-, if not, give ear to what follows. Crit. I give ear. Soc. Well; a Man that lias made a juft Pronflife^ ought he to keep it or to break it ? Crit. He ought to keep it. Soc. If I go from hence then, without the Con- it is a yiji^ fent of the Athenians^ (hall not I injure fome Peo- ^^« ^^"«s pie, and efpecially thofe who do not deferve it ? ^°„J^",/,f "'^ Or, Ihall we in this follow what we think equally J"^fg/^ juft to every Body ? Crit. I cannot anfwer you, for I do not under- ftand you. Soc. Pray take notice : When we put our felves in a way of making our Efcape, or going from hence, or how you pleaie to call it, fuppofe the Law and the Republick fhould prefent themfelves in a Body before us, and accoft us in this manner : Socrates, Socrates what are your voins^ to do ^ to put in execution what 'f^"/"^'^ you now dejign^ were wholly toruine the Laws and ^nX the the State : Do you thi?ik a City canfuhfift when Ju~ State ffeak- ftice has not only loft its force.^ but is likewife per- ^"Z *'> ^"'w. vci'ted^ overturn' d^ and trampled under foot by pri- vate Perfons ? What Anfwer could we make to fuch and many other Queftions > For, what is it, ^^'^ <"*^'''w- that an Orator cannot fay upon the overturning oi^^^f^S^who that Law, which provides that Sentences once pro- trample tm- nounc'd ihall not be infringed ? Shall we anfwer, «^c'-M>- That the Republick hasjudg'd amifs, and pafled-^''^^ '^"'^ an unjuft Sentence upon us ? Shall that be our An- ""'"• fwer ? Crit. 6i Crito : Or, Of what we ought to do, Cr'it. Ay, without any fcruple, Socrates. Soc. What will the Laws fay then ? Socrates^ ia It not true^ that you agreed with m to fubm'it your felf to a publick Trial ? And if we fhould leem to A T{efu.tati- jjg furpris'd at fuch Language, they'll continue per- y/ff ^'"'^ haps; Be not furpris'd^ Socrates, but make anfvoer^ for you your felf usd to i.yijl upon ^leflion and An- fwer. Tell then what occajion you have to complain of the Republick and oj lis^ that you are Jo eager up- on defircying it ? ^ Are not zve the Authors of your Birth ? Is not it by our means that your father mar- ried her who brought you forth f* What fault can you, fmd with the Laws we eJtabiijFd as to Marriage ? Nothing at all, fhould I anfwer. As to the nourifh- ing and bringing up of Children^ and the manner of your Education.^ are not the Lawsjufi that zve enabled upon that Head^ by which we obliged your Father to bring you up to Mufick and the Exercifes ? Very juft^ Fd lay. Since you were born, brought up, and educated under our Influence, durft you maintain that you are not our NurreChild,and fubje8: as well as your Father ? And if you are, do you think to have equal Power with us, as if it were lawful for you to infli8: upon us all that we enjoyn you to un- dergo ? But fince you cannot lay claim to any fuch Right againfl: your Father or your. Mafter, fo as to repay Evil for Evil, Injury for Injury ^ how can you think to obtain that Privilege againft your Country and the Laws, in fo much that if we endeavour to put you to death, you'll counter- a£l us, by endea- vouring to prevent us, and to ruine your Country and its Laws ? Can you call fuch an Aftion juft, you that are an inleparable follower of true Mqx- The Regard tue ? Ate you iguoraut that your Country is more we ought to confiderable,and more worthy of Refpeft and Vene- \Zm° "'"' ^3tion before God and Man, than your Father, Mo- «"-« O'- ^YiQY^ and all your Relations together ? That you * This is an admirable way of making out the Obhgation of all Men to obey the Laws of their Country; by Virtue of the Treaty mr.dc between 'em. ought Crito : Or, Of vphai we ought to do, 6} ought to honour your Country, yield to it, and hu- mour it more than an angry Father > That you mull either reclaim it by your Counfel, or obey its In- junftions, and fufFer without grumbling all that it impofes upon you ? If it orders you to be whipp'd or laid in Irons, if it fends you to the Wars, there to fpend your Blood, you ought to do it without demurring -, you muft not fhake off the Yoak, nor 'flinch or quit your Poft ^ but in the Army, in Prifon, and every where elle, ought equally to obey the Orders of your Country, or elfeaflift it with whol- fom Counfel. For, if offering Violence to a Father or a Mother is a piece of grand Impiety, to put a force upon one's Country is a much greater. What (hall weanfwer to all this^Crito ? Shall we acknow- ledge the Truth of what the Laws advance > Crit. How can we avoid it ? Soc. Do you fee then, Socrates^ continue they, what reafon we have to brand your Enterprife a- gainrt us as unjuft ? Of us you hold your Birth, your Maintenance, your Education ^ in fine, we have done you all the Good we are capable of, as well as to the other Citizens, Indeed, we do not fail to make publick Proclamation, that 'tis lawful for eve- ry private Man, if he does not find his Account in the Laws and Cuftoms of our Republick, after a mature examination, to retire with all his Effects whither he pleales. And if any of you cannot comply with our Cuftoms, and defires to remove and live elfewhere, not one of us (hall hinder him, he may go vvhere he pleafes. But on the other hand, if any one of you continues to live here, after he has confider'd our way of adminiftring Juftice, and the Policy obferv'd in the State j then we fay he is in effe8: oblig'd to obey all our Commands, and we maintain that his Difobedience is unjuft on a three- fold account, for not obeying thole to which he owes his Birth, for trampling under foot thole that educated him, and for violating his Faith after he engag'd to obey us, and not taking the Pains to make 69{ Crito : Or, Ofn>hat we ought to do} make Remonftrances to us, if we happen to do an unjuft thing. For notwithftanding that we only propofe things without ufing any. Violence to pro- ^ cure Obedience, and give every Man his choic,e ei- ther to obey us or reclaim us by his Counfel and Remonftrances, yet he does neither the one nor the other. And we maintain, Socrates^ that if you ex- ecute what you are now about, you will ftand charg'd with all thefe Crimes, and that in a much higher degree than if another private Man had com- mitted the fame Injuftice. If I ask'd. 'em the rea- fon, without doubt they'd li:op my Mouth by, tel- ling liie that I fubmitted my felf in a diftinguifhing manner to all thefe Conditions ^ and we, continue they, have great Evidence that you were always pleas'd with us and the Republick j for, if this. City- had not been more agreeable to you than any other, you had never continued in it, no more than the other Athenians, None of the Shows could ever tempt you to go out of the City, except once that you went to fee the ^ Games at the Ifthmus : You never went any where elfe, excepting your Military Expeditions, and never undertook a V oyage, as o- thers are wont to do. You never had the Curiofity i. e. So 04 to vifit other Cities, or enquire after other Laws, as Hem being always contented with us and our Republick : You always made a diftinguifhing choice of us, and on all occalions teftified that you fubmitted with all your Heart to live according to our Maxims, Be- lides, your having had Children in this City is an Pcrifbehad infallible Evidence that you lik'd it. In fine, in this fentenc'd Very laft jan£lure you might have been fentenc'd to himfeif to Banilhment if you would, and might then have done theA^c-' w^^h f^^^ Conlent of the Republick, what you now nians had attempt without their PermifTion. But you were fc/;j^r»jV /f. fo ftately, lb unconct;rn'd at Death, that in your own Terms youpreterr'd Death to Banifhnaent. But * Thefe Games were celebrated ar tlie iflbmn* of Corinth t® the Honour of THs^tmi every three Years, after they were re- ceiv'd by Thefetts, . , you Crito : Or, Of what we, ought to do. 6$] fiow you have no regard to thefe fine Words, yon are not further concern'd for the Laws, fince you ^// our are going to overturn 'em : You do juft vyhat a piti- ^ct,ons^ ful Slave would offer to do, by endeavouring to make confirmai/e your Efcape, contrary to the Laws ^ of the Treaty J" '^'^^J^* you have fign'd, by which you oblig'd your ^^l^toZy[arTfa live according to our Rules. Pray anfwer us ^ did many i^ati^ not we lay right in affirming that you agreed to this fii^^tmis of Treaty, and ■ fubmitted your felf to thefe Terms, ^'^J*^^^^ not only in Words but in Deeds ? What lliall we fay ,vf '^ *^"^' to all this, Crito ? And what can we do elfe but ac^ knowledge that 'tis fo > Crit. How can we avoid it, Socrates ^ Soc. What elfe then, continue they, is this A£lion of yours, but a violation of th^t Treaty and all its Terms ? That Treaty that you were not made to fign either by force or furprile, nor without time to think on't : For you had the whole courle of your 70 Years to have remov'd in, if you had been dif iatisfied with us, or unconvinc'd of the Juftice of our Propofals. You neither pitch'd upon Lacedemon nor Creet^ notwithftanding that you always cry'd up their Laws •, nor any of the other Grecian Ci- ties or ilrange Countries. You have been lefs out o^ Athene ^ than the Lame and the Blind, which is an invincible Proof that the City pleas'd you in a diftinguifhing manner, and conlequently that we did, fince a City can never be agreeable if its Laws arq not fuch. And yet at this time you counter-a£l the Treaty. But, if you'll take our Advice, Socran% we would have you to ftand to your Treaty, and not expofe your felf to be ridicul'd by the Citizens, by ftealing out from hence. Pray confider what ad- vantage can redound either to you or your Friends, by petfifting in tliat goodly Delign. Your Friends will infallibly be either expos'd to Danger, or ba- nifh'd their Country, or have their Eftates forfeited. And as for your felf, if you retire to any neigh- bouring City, fuch as Thebes or Megnra^ which are admirably well govern'd, you'll there be look'd E e upon 66 Crito : Or, Of vphat roe ought to do: upon as an Enemy. All that have any love for their Country, will look upon you as a Corrupter of the Laws. Bcfides, you'll tortifie in them the good Opi- nion tliey have of your Judges, and move 'em to approve the Sentence given againft you: For a Cor- rupter ot the Law will at any time pals for a De- baucher of the Youth and of the vulgar People. What, will you keep out of thele well-govern'd Cities, and thele Aflemblies of juft Men? But, pray will you have enough to live upon in that Condition > Or, will you have the face to go and live with them > And pray what will you lay to 'em, Socrates ? Will you preach to them, as you did here, that Ver- tue, Juftice, the Laws, and Ordinances, ought to be reverenc'd by Men? Do not you think that this will found very ridiculous in their Ears ? You ought to think fo. But perhaps you'll quickly leave thele well-govern'd Cities, and go to ^ ThejJ'aly to Critd's Friends, where there is lels Order and more Licen- tioufnels •, and doubtlels in that Country they'll take a lingular Pleafure in hearing you relate in what Equipage you made your Efcape from this Prifon, that is cover'd with fome old Rags, or a Beafts Skin, or difguis'd fome other way, as Fugitives are wont to be. Every Body will lay. This old Fellow, that has fcarce any time to live, had fuch a ftrong Paffion for living, that he did not ifand to purchafe his Life b) trampling under foot the moit lacred Laws. Such Stories will be bandy'd about of you, at a time when ybu offend no Man ; but upon the leaf!: occafion of Corrsplaint, they'll teafe you with a thoufand other Reproaches, unworthy of you. You'll fpend your time in fneaking and infinuating your lelf into the Favour of all Men, one after ano- ther, and owning an equal fubje6lion to 'em all. For, what can you do > Will you fealt perpetually "" Theffaly was the Country wlierc Licentioufncfs and De- bauchery reign'd. And accordingly Xenofhon oblerves that 'cwas there that Critic was ruin'd.' m Crito : OVyOfwhatwe oaghttodo, 6j^ in Thejfafy^ as if the good Cheer had drawn you thi- ther ? But what will become then of all your hne Dilcourfes upon Jufticeand Vertue? Befides, if you defign to preierve your Life for the fake of your Children •, that cannot be in order to bring 'em up in Thejjaly^ as if you could do 'em no other Ser- vice but make them Grangers. Or, if you defign to leave 'em here, do you imagine that during your Life they'll be better brought up here, in your ab- ience, under the Care of your Friends ? But will not your Friends take the fame Care of 'em after your death, that they'd do in your abfence > You ought to be perfuaded, that all thofe who call themfelves your Friends, will at all times do theni all the Service they can. To conclude, Socrates^ fubmit your felf to our Reafons, follow the Advice of thofe who brought you up ^ and do not put your Children, your Life, or any thing whatfoever, in the Balance with Juftice •, to the end, that when you arrive before the Tribunal of Fluto^ you may be able to clear your felf before your Judges. For^"^.-^'***'^ do not you deceive your felf ^ if you perform ^^^^f,^i%'^ you now defign, you'll neither better your ovsjn "oZe/frum Caule nor that of your Paity ^ you will neither Men, enlarge its Juftice nor SancHty, either here or in the Regions below. But, if you die bravely, you owe your de-ib to the liijuitice, not of the Laws^ but of Men ^ whereas if you make your Eicape, by repulfing fo (bameiiilly the Lnjuftice of your Ene- mies, by violating at once both your own Faith and our Treaty , and injuring lb many innocent Perfons, as your ielt!, your Fr'ends, and your Coun- try together with us j we wiil (till be your Ene- mies as long as you live. And when you are dead, our Sitters , the Laws in the other World, will certainly afford you no joyful reception , as knowing that you endeavoured to ruine us. Where- fore do not prefer Crito' s Councel to ours, B e 2 M§= ^8 Crito : Or, Of what v^e ought to do, Methinks, my dear Crito^ I hear what I have now fpoke, jurt as ^ the Priefts of Cybele fanfie they hear the Cornets and Flutes : And the found of thele Words makes fo ftrong an imprefTion in my Ears, that it flops me from hearing any thing elfe. Thele are the Sentiments I like; and all you can fay to take me off ot them, will be to no purpofe. How- ever, if you think to fucceed, I do not hinder you to Ipeak. Crit. 1 have nothing to fay, Soerates. Soc. Then be eafie, and let us bravely run this Courfe, fince God calls and Condu£ls us to it. Socrates means that all thefe Truths make no flight Im- prefTion upon him, but pierce him , and infpire him with an Ardour, or rather a holy Fury, that llops his Ears from hearing any thing to tlie contrary. The found of the Cor- nets and Flutes of the Priells of Cyheie infpir'd the Audience with Fury, and w hy fhould the found of Divine Truths fall Ihort of the fame Vertue, and leave their Hearers in a luke- warm indilferency ? This Temper of Socrates juftifies and ex- plains what Diogenes fa id of him ; when Ibme Body ask'd Diogoies, what he thought of Socrates ? He anfwer'd. That he was a mad. Man-^ for Socr.itcs fliew'd an incredible Warmth in purfuing whatever he took to be juft. THE 6^ THE INTRODUCTION T O ? H E D 0 N. S Derates in his Apology and in his C?'ito teaches us, how we ought to form our Lives ; and here he inftru8:s us how to die, and what Thoughts to en- tertain at the hour of death. By explaining his own Views andDefigns, which were the Springs of all his A£lions, he furnifhes us with a Proof oiP the moft irtiportant of all Truths,and of that which ought to regulate our Life. For the ImtTiortality of the Soul is a Point of fuch importance that it includes all the Truths of Religion, and all the Motives that ought to excite and dire£l us. So that our ifirft Du- ty is to fatisfie our ielves in this Point: Self-Love, and meet human Interefi: ought to fpur us up to underftand it ^ not to fpeak, that there is not a more fatal Condition than to be ignorant of the nature of Death, which appears as terrible as unavoidable : For according to the Notion we have of it, we may draw Confequences dire£lly oppofite, for managing the Condua of our Lives and the Choice of our Pleafures. Socrates fpends the laft day of his Life in difcour- fing with his Friends upon this great SubjeO: : He unfolds all the Reafons that require the belief of the Immortality of the Soul, and refutes all the Ob- je£lions they mov'd to the contrary, which are the very (ame that are made ufe of at tliis day. He de- monftrates the Hope they ought to have of a hap- E e 3 pier 70 the IntYodu^ion to Phedon^ pier Life ^ and lays before them, all that this blef^ fed Hope requires, to make it folid and lafting, to prevent their being deluded by a vain Hope, and af- ter all meeting with the Punilhment allotted to the Wicked, inftead of the Rewards provided for the Good. This Conference was occafion'd by a Truth that was cafually ftarted, viz. That a true Philofophet ought to defire to die, and' to endeavour it. This Pofition taken literally, feem'd to infinuate that a Philofopher might lay violent Han\^' ■ • The the htYodu5lion to Phedon.^ The fourth Argument is taken trom the nature of the Soul. Deibudion reaches only compounded Bodies. But we may clearly perceive, that the Soul is llmple and immaterial , and bears a refeniblance of fomething divine, immortal and intelligent : for it imbraces the fpure Efience of Things, it meafures all by Idea's which are eternal Patterns, and unites it fjf to them when the Body does not hinder it ; So ihat 'tis Spiritual, IndiiToluble, and confequently Immo u, as being not capable ofdiflblution by any other means than the Will of him who created it. Notwithftanding the force of thefe Proofs, and their tendency to keep up this hope in the Soul, 5^- crates and his Friends own that 'tis almoft impoflible to ward off Doubts and Uncertainties. For our Rea- fon is too weak and degenerate to arrive at the full knowledge of Truth in this World. So that 'tis a wife Man's bufinels, to chufe from amongft thofe Arguments of the Philofophers, for the Immortality of the Soul, that which to him feems belt and moft forcible, and capable to conduQ: him fately through the dangerous Shelves of this Life, till he obtain a full Afllirance either of fome Promife, or by fome Divine ReyelaticJi ^ for that is the only Veffel that's iecure from danger. By this the moft refin'd Paga- nifm pays Homage to the Chriftian Religion, and all colour or excuie for Incredulity is took off. For the Chriftian Religion affords Promifes, Revelati- ons, and which is yet more confiderable, the Accom- plilhment of 'em. : They mov'd two ObjeQ:ions to Socrates ^ one, that the. Soul is only the Harmony refulting from the juft proportion of the qualities of the Body ^ the other, that tho' the Soul be more durable than the Body, yet it (Jies at laft after having made ule of feveral Bodies •, juft as a Man dies after he has worn feveral Suits of Clothes. Socrates^ before he makes any Anfwer, ftops a little, and deplores the misfortune of Men, who by hearing the Difputes of the Ignoiant, that con« •.V V* ' ' ■ tradia n 74 '^^^ IntYodu^ion to Phedon. mdi£l every thing, perfuade themfelves, that there's no fuch thing as clear, folid and fenfible Reafons, but that every thing is uncertain. Like as thoie who being cheated by Men become Men-haters ; fo they being impoled upon by Arguments, become ha- ters of Reafon ; that is, they take up an abfolute hatred againft all Reafon in general, and will not hear any Argument. Socrates makes out the Inju- ftice of this Procedure. He fhews that when two Things are equally uncertain, Wifdom directs us to chufe that which is mojR: advantageous wirh the ieaft danger. Now, beyond all difpute, fuch is the Immortality of the Soul ^ and therefore ought to be embraced. For if this Opinion prove true alter our Death, are not we confiderable Gahieis > And if it prove falle, what do we lofe > Then he attacks that Objection which reprelents the Soul as a Harmony, and refutes it by folid and convincing Arguments, which at the lame time prove the Immortalicy of the Soul. His Arguments are thefe. Harmony always de- pends upon the Parts that confpire together, and is never oppofite to them •, but the Soul has no de- pendance upon the Body, and always Hands on the oppofite fide. Harmony admits of lefs and more, but the Soul does not : From whence it would fol- low, that all Souls ihould be equal, that none of "em are vicious, and that the Souls of Beafts are equally good, and of the fame nature with thole oi Men : Which is contrary to all Reafon. in Mufick the Body commands the Harmony ^ hut m Nature the Soiil commands the Body. In Mu- fick, the Harmony can never give a found contra- ry to the particular Sounds of the' Parts that bend 01^ unbend, or move •, but in Nature the Soul has a contrary found to that pf the Body : It attacks all its Paifions and Defires, it checks, curbs and punifhes the Body. So that it muft needs be of a very dif- ferent and oppofite nature ^ which proves its Spiri- tuality and Divinity. For nothing but what is Spi- ' ritual *ihe Introdu^ion to Phedon. 75* tual and Divine can be wholly oppofite to what is Material and Earthly. The Second Obie£lion was. That tho' the Soul mjght o'Jtlive the Body, yet that does not conclude its Immortality : Since we know nothing to the con- trary, but that it dies at laft, after having animated the Body feveral times. In anfwer to this Obje£lion, Socrates lays we muft trace the firft Original of the Being and Coiruption of Entities. If that be once agreed upon, we fhall find no difficulty in determining what Things are corruptible and what not. But what Path fhall we follow in this Enquiry ? Muft it be that of Phylicks > Thefe Phyficks are fo uncertain, that inftead of be* ing inftruSlive , they only blind and miflead us. This he makes out from his own Experience. So that there's a neceffity of going beyond this Sci- ence, and having recourfe to Metaphyficks, which •alone can afford us the certain Knowledge of the Reafons and Caufes of Beings, and of that which conftitutes their Effences. For Effe£ls may be difco- ver'd by their Caufes •, but the Caufes can never be known by their EffeQs. And upon this account we muit have recourfe to the Divine Knowledge, which Anaxdgoras was fo fenfible of^ that he ufher'd in his Treatife of Phyfigks by this great Principle, That Knowledge is the Caufe of Being. But inftead of keeping up to that Principle, he fell in again with that of fecond Caufes, and by that means de- ceiv'd the Expeftation of his Hearers. In order to make out the Immortality of the Soul, we muft corre£l this order of Anaxagoras^ and found to the bottom of the above mentioned Principle: Which if we do, we fhall be fatisfied that God placed every Thing in the moft convenient State. Now this beft and moft fuitable State muft be the Obje8: of our Enquiry. To which purpofe we muft know wherein the particular Good of every particu- lar Thing conlifts, and what the general Good of all Things is. This difcovery will make out the Im- mortality of the SouL In 7< 7!he IntrodnSiion to Phedon. In this view Socrates raifes his Thoughts to imma- terial Qualities, and eternal Idea's ^ that is, he af- firms that there's fomething that is in it felf good, fine, juft and great, which is the firit Caufe : And that all Things in this World th:u are g-'^od, fine, juft, or great, are only fuch by the communication of that firft Caufe : Since there is no other Caufe of tlie Exiftence of Things, but the participation of the Effence proper to each Subjeft. This Participation is fo contriv'd, that Contraries are never found in the lame Subjeft : From which Princijple it follows by a neceffary Confequence, That the ^ul,which gives Life to the Body, not as an acci- dental Form that adheres to it, but as a fubilantial Form, fubfifting in its felf, and living formally by it felf, as the corporeal Idea, and eiFe6lually enlivening the Body, can never be liibjeft to Death, that being the Oppofite of Life : And rhat the Soul being unca- pable of dying, cannot be worfied by any attack of this Enemy ^ and is in effeft imperilhable, like the immaterial Qualities, Juftice, Fortitude and Tempe- rance ♦, but with this difference, rhat thefe imma- terial Qualities fubfift independently andofthem- felves^ as being the fame Thing with God himfelf j whereas the. Soul is a created Being, that may be cliffolv'd by the Will of its Creator. In a word, the Soul ftands in the fame relation to the Life of the Body, that the Idea of God does to the Soul. The only Obje8:ion they could invent upon this Head,was,that the greatnefs of the Subje£l:,and Man's natural Infirmity , are the two Sources of Man's di- ftruft and incredulity upon this Head. Whereupon Socrates endeavours to dry up thofe two Sources. He attacks their Diftruft by fhewing that the Opinion of the Soul's Mortality ,fuits all the Idea's of God. For, by this Mortality, Vertue would be pre- judicial to Men of Probity, and Vice beneficial to the Wicked ^ which cannot be imagin'd. So that there's a neceflity of another Life for rewarding the gQod and puaiihing the bad. And the Soul being- VXk- Ihe Introduction to Phedon.' 7^ Immortal, carries along with it into the other World, its good and bad Anions , its Vertues and Vices, which are the occafion of its eternal Happinefs or Mifery. From whence, by a neCefiary Confequence we may gather, what care we ought to have of it in this Life. To put a flop to the torrent of Incredulity, he has recourfe to two Things, which naturally demand a great deference from Man, and cannot be denied without a vifible Authority. The firft is, the Cere- monies and Sacrifices of Religion it felf, which are only Reprefentations of what would be put in ex- ecution in Hell. The other is, the Authority of Antiquity, which maintained the Immortality of the Soul : In purfuit of which, he mentions fome anci- ent Traditions, that point to the Truth publifh'd by Mo/es and tlie Prophets, notwithftanding the Fa- bles that overwhelm 'em. Thus we lee, a Pagan, fupplies the want of Proof, which is too natural to Man, and filences the moft obftinate Prejudices, by having recourfe to the Oracles of God, which they were in fome meafure acquainted with ^ and by fo doing makes anfwer to Simmia^^ who had ob- jeSled that the Do£lrine of the Immortality of the Soul, ftood in need of fome Promife or Divine Re- velation to procure its reception. Tho' fome blin- ded Chriftians rejeG: the Authority of our Holy Writ, and refufe to fubmit to it ; yet we fee a Pa- gan had fo much Light as to make u(e of it to fup- port his Faith, if I may fo fpeak, and to ftrengthen his fweet Hope of a blelTed Eternity. He Ihews, that he knew how to diftinguifh the fabulous Part of a Tradition from the Truth, and affirms nothing but* what is conformable to the Scriptures, parti- cularly, the laft Judgment of the Good and the Bad ; the necelTary Purgation of thofe who depart this Life under a load of Sin-, the eternal Torments of thofe who committed mortal Sins in this Life •, the Pardon of Venial Sins after Satisfaftion and Repen- tance j the Happinefs of thofe who during the whol& courfe 7? the Introdu^ion to Phedon. courfe of their Lives renounc'd the Pleafures of the Body, and only courted the Pleafure of true Know- ledge i that is, the knowledge of God ^ and beauti- fied their Souls with proper Ornaments, fuch as Temperance, Juftice^ Fortitude, Liberty and Truth. He does not joke upon the groundlefs Metempfychofis^ or return of Souls to animate Bodies in this Life ♦, but fpeaks ferioufly, and fhews that after Death alFs over, the Wicked are thrown for ever into the bottomlefs Abyfs, and the Righteous convey'd to the Manfions of Blils : Thofe who are neither righteous nor wicked, but committed Sins in this Life, which they always repented of, are committed to Places of torment, till they be fufliciently purified. When Socrates made an end of his Difcourfe, his Friends ask'd what Orders he would give concerning his Aftairs. The only Orders Igive you^ reply 'd he, is to take Care of your felves^ and to make your felves as like to God as pojjible. Then they ask'd him, how he would be interred > This Queftion of- fended him. He would not have himfelf confounded with his Corps, which was only to be interred. And tho' the Expreflion feems to import little, he Ihew'd that fuch falfe Expreihons gave very dangerous Wounds to the Souls of Men. He goes and bathes. His Wife and Children are brought to him. He talks to 'em a minute, and then dilmiiljs 'em. Upon his coming out of the Bith, the Cup is prefented to iiim. He takes it, recolIe£ls his Thoughts within himlelf, prays, and drinks it oft wlih an admirable rranquilUcy of Mind. Find- ing that he approached his End, he gave 'em to know that he reiign d his Soul into the hands of him who gave it, and or the true Phyfician who was coming to heal it. This was the exit of Socrates. Paga- nifm never afforded fuch an admirable Example. And yet a certain modern Author is fo ignorant of its Beauty, that he places itinnnitely odow that of 'Fetromus^ the-, famous Difciple ot Epicurus. He did not e7nploy the left hours of his Life^ fays that Aurhof/ 7he Introdu^hn to Phedoru ^ j Author , in difcourfwg of the Immortality of the Saul^ Stc. but having chofen a more pleafurable and natural fort of Death^ imitated the fweetnefs of the Swans ^ and caufedfo7ne agreeable and touching Verfes to be recited to him. This was a fine imitation : It feems Fetronius fung what they read to him. But ^is was not all. Nevertheless continues he, he re- ferv'dfome Minutes for thinking of his Affairs^ and difir'tbuted Bxwards tofome of his Slaves^ andpunifh'd others. Let them talk of Socrates, fays he, and boaft of his Conftancy and Bravery in drinking up the Foy- fon ! Petronius is ndt behind him ^ nay^ he is juftly entitled to a preference upon the f core oj hisforfaking a Life infinitely more delightful than that of the Sage Grecian^ and that too with the fame Tranquillity of Mind^ and Evennefs of Temper. We have no need ot long Comments, to make out the vaft difference between the death ofSocrates^ and that of this Epicurean, whom Tacitus himlelf, not- withftanding his Paganifm, did not dare to applaud. On one iide, we are preiented with the view of a Man, that fpent his laft Minutes in making his Friends better, recommending to them the hopes of a bleffed Eternity, and Ihevving what rhat Hope re- requires of them : A Man that died with his Eyes intent upon God, praying to him, and blefiing him, without any retleccions upon his Enemies who con- demn'd him fo unjuitly. On the other fide we meet with a voluptuous Perfon, in whom all Sentiments of Vertue are quite extinguifh'd ^ who, to be ric' of his own Fears, occafion'd his own Death, and in his exit would admit of no other Entertainment but agreeable Poems and pleafant Verles-, who ipent the laft Minutes of his Time in rewarding thofe of his Slaves, who doubtlels had been the Minifters and Accomplices of his Seniualities, and feeing thole puniih'd, who perhaps had (hewn an averfion to his Vices, and diflerv'd him in the way of his Pleafiires. A good Death ought to be ulher'd in by a good Life 8o "the lntrodu6lion to Phedoil, Life. Now, a Life fpent in Vice, Effeminacy inA Debauchery, is much fhort of one entirely taken up in the Exercife of Vertue, and the folid Pleafures of true Knowledge, and adorn d with the venerable Ornaments of Temperance, Juftice, Fortitude, Liber- ty, and Truth. One of Socrates's dying wc is was, that thofe who entertained bad Difco-;:rleS upon Death, wounded the Soul very dangeroully. And what would not he have faid of thofe who Icruple not to write *'em ? But 'tis probable this Author did not forefec the Conlequence of this unjuft Preference. He wrote like a Man of this World, that never knew Socrates, Had he known him, he had certainly form'd a jufter Judgment. And in like manner, if he had known Seneca or Vl-utarch^ he had - never equall'd or pre- fer'd Fetron'ms to them. Had he made the beft ule of his Underftanding, he would have feen Rea- fons to doubt that the Fetronius now read, is not the Vetronius of Tacitus^ whole Death he fo much admires, and would have met with fome juft Ob- jeftions, which at leaft give occafion to fulpeft its being fuppofitious. But to return to Socrates. His Doftrine, of Death's being no Affliction j but on the contraiy, a Paffage to a happier Life, made a confiderable Progrefs, Seme Philofophers gave fuch lively and forcible Demonftrations of it in their Leftures, that the greateft part of their Difciples • laid violent Hands on themlelves, in order to over- take that happier Life. FtoIo7n Who was with him ? Did the Judges order him to be kept up from Vifits ? And did he die without the Afliftance of his Friends ? Vhed. Not at all ^ feveral of his Friends ftay'd with him to the lafl: Minute. Echec. If you're at leifure, pray relate the whole Story. P/t^. At prefent I have nothing to do, and lb fhall endeavour to latisfie your Demands. "^ Befides, I take the greateft Pleafure in the World, in fpeak- ing, or hearing others Ipeak of Socrates. * Thedon had been infinitely oblig'd to Socrates ; for b^ing taken Prilbner in War, anJ ibJd to a Merchant that bough: Siavts ; Socrates^ who was mighty fond of his Genius, obhg'd ^f/ciO.'ades or C^ito to ranfom him ; and receiv'd him into the Number of his Friends and Difcipies. Echec. of the Immortality of the Soul, Sjf Echec, Affure your felf, l^hedon^ you fliall not take more pleafure in ipeaking, than I in hearing. Begin pray, and above all, take Care to omit no- thing. Tided. You'll be furpris'd when you hear what a Condition I was then in. I was fo far from being lenfibly touch'd with the misfortune of a Friend whom I loved very tenderly, and who died before my Eyes •, that I envy'd his Circumftances, and could not forbear to admire the Goodnels, Sweetnefs and Tranquillity that appear'd in all his Difcourfes, and the Bravery he (hew'd upon the approach of Death. Every thing that Ifaw, furnifh'd me with a Proof that he did not pafs to the Shades below with- out the affiftance of fome Deity, that took Care to conduB: him and put him in pofleffion of that tran- fcendent Felicity of the BlelTed. But, as on one hand, thefe Thoughts ftifled all the Sentiments of Compailion, that might feem due at fuch a morti- fying fight : So on the other hand, they I'eflen'd the Pleafure I was wont to have in hearing all his other Difcourfes, as afte£ling me with that forrowful re- flexion, that in the fpace of a Minute this divine Man would leave us for ever. Thus was my Heart tois'd with contrary Motions, that I could not de- fine. 'Twas not properly "either Pleafure or Grief, but a confufed mixture of thele two Pallions, which produc'd almoft the fame efFe8: in all the By-fian- ders. One while we melted into Tears -, and ano- ^'"^ -^"^ ther while gave lurprifing Signs of real Joy and fen- y^^i^^^r"^ fible Pleafure. Above ail, xlpollodorus diftinguifh'd hen of in himlelf upon this Occafion j you know his hu-^/'^Apcn mour. ^^Si^ Echec. No Body knows it better. "Phed, In him v^jas the difference of thefe Moti- ons moft obfervable. As for me and all the reii, our Behaviour was not fo diftinguifhing, as being- mix d with the Trouble and Confufion I fpoke 6^ juft now, F f a ^'•/>^' " $4 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue Echcc. Who was there then befides your felf > Yhed. There were no other Athenian?^ but Apol- lodorus^ Cr'itobiihis^ and his Father Crito^ Uermogenes^ Epigenes^ Efchmes^ Antifthenes^ Qejippus, Menexe- wus^ and a few more. Plato was fick. Echcc. Were there no Strangers ? Vhed. Yes \ Smw'ias the Thehan^ with ^ Cehes^ and Fhedo/2des'j and from Megara^ Euclidcs and Terpjion. Echec. What! Were not Arijiippm and Oeom- brotus there ? P/;^^. No, fure •, t for 'tis faid they were at ^^ gina. Echec. Who was there befides ? Vhed. I believe I have named molt of thofe that were there. Echec. Let's hear then what his laft Difcourfes were. '* 'Tis the fame Cehes who made the Table that we now have 5 which is an Exphcation of an Allegorical Table, that he fuppofes to have been in the Temple of Saturn at Thebes j and contains a very ingenious Scheme of a Man's whole Life. It hints at all the Doctrines of Socrates^ and the Style refem- bies that of T/ato. t The Delicacy and Salt of tins Satyr is thus expl.-'in'd by Demetrms Thalerxta. Tiato, fays he, had a mind to fiipprefs the Scandal that ^nfiifpHs and Cleombrotm drew upon them- felves, by feafting at ^'¥.gina, when Socrates their Friend ajid Mafter was in Prifon, without daigning to go to fee him, or even to aflift on the day of his Death, tho' they were then at the entry of the Athenian Harbour. Had he told the whole Story, the Invettive had been too particular. But with an admirable Decency and Artfulnefs he introduces The- don, giving a Lift of thofe who aflifled at his Death, and making Anfwer to the Qiicftion, (Whether they were there or not } ) That they were at Mgi»a ; pointing at once to their Debauchery and Ingratitude. This ftroalc is the more biting, that the Thing ic felf paints out the Horror of »he Aition-^ and not he tHat fpeaks. Tlato might fecurely have ziii4i^^\Arifiifpus and cleombrr.tus -^ but he' chof^ ratner to make 'n^t of this Figure, which in effect gives the greater Blow. This is a notable Piece of delicate Satyr, ^thm^m by charging 1?laio with llandcr upon this fcore prejiidic'd hinifelF,' more than Tlate^ who will always be cr)*'d u]) tot having this Zeal for his M?lkr. ?hcd. of the Immortality of the Soul, Z^ Thed. I Ihall endeavour to give you a full Ac- count : For we never miffed one day in vifiting So- crates. To this End we met every morning in the Place where he was tiy'd, which joy n'd to the Pri- fon i and there we waited till the PiiP.t n Doors were open^ at which time we went ftraighc to him, and commonly pafled the whole day with him. On the day of his Execution, we came thidier i.)o- ner than ordinary, having heard as we came out of the City that the Ship was return'd from De/os. When we arriv'd the Goaler that ufed to let us in, came out to us and defir'd we fhould flay a little and not go in till he came to conduct us. For, fays ^^'-^^ ^'^' he, the eleven Magiftrates are now untying So- ^^J^'fJ^l q_ crates^ and acquainting him that he mufi: die, as ^^erfeers of this day. When we came in we found Socrates theVrifm ^ unty'd, and his Wife Xantippe ( you know her ) ^''"^ ^*'" fitting by him with one of his Children in her Arms iV/J^er"- and as foon as Ihe fpy'd us, file fell a crying and tors of the making a noife, as you, know Women commonly Scntauss of do on fuch Occafions. Socrates^ faid he, //;/> is the ^^'^ 7"^^^^' /aft time your friends Jhall fee you. Upon which Socrates turning to Crito^ fays, Crito., pray fend this Woman home. Accordingly it was done. Crito's Folks carry'd Xantippe ofii, who beat her Face aiid cry'd bitterly. In the mean time Socrates^ fitting up- on the Bed, fofrly ftroaks the place of his Leg wheie ^^^ -pi^^^ the Chain had been ty'd^and fays, To my mind what /?■•;.- ,,.= ^?,j Men call Pleafure, is a pretty odd fort of a Th).rig,w/* ''•?'»'"». which agrees admirably well with Pain ^ tho' Peo- ple believe it is quite contrary, becauie they carlnot meet in one and the fame Subje£l. For whoever enjoys the one, mufl: unavoidably be poflels'd of vhj other, as if they were naturally joyn'd. Had ^fop been aware of this Truth, perhaps he had made a Fable of it •, and had told us ' that * At Athens^ after the Sentence was pronounc'd to the Cri- minal, they unty'd him, as being a yictim to Death, which it was not lawful to keep in Chains, F f 3 God S6 Vhedon: Oi'y A Dialogue Socrates God defigning to reconcile thefe two Enemies, and femjing ^Q^ being able to compafs his End, contented him- Gods ty'd ^^^^ ^^^^ ^y^"S t^'^^rn to one Chain •, fo that ever •pleafiire fincc thc onc follows the other, according to my rt»:/p.r'"«/o Experience at this Minute. For the Pain occafion'd enechahi, \^y r^y Chain, is now follow'd by a pjeat deal of makes that pL^/:"^-^ i ^ of a Fable. 1 am infinitely glad , replies Cebes interrupting him, that you have mention'd ^fop. For by lo doing you have put it in my Head to ask you a Que- ftion that many have ask'd of me, of late, efpecially Evenus of EvsNus. The Quefticn relates to your Poems in ^Je^hcT ^^f'ii"S ^hs Fables of ^fop into Verfe, and making Toft, the a Hymn to Apollo. They want to know what firfi\hat mov'd you, that never made Verfes before, to turn faii Habit Poet fince you came into the Prifon ? \i Evenus asks ^Ittir^"^ the fame a^eftion of me again, as I know he will, what would you have me to fay > You have nothing to do, fays Socrates^ but to tell What moy'd him the plain matter of Fa£l as it rtandsj vis. That Socrates to I ^\(^ ^q^ ^^ all mean to rival him in Poetry, for I feTIfter^'jns^^^''^ fdch au attempt was above my reach •, but condcmna- ^nly to ttacc the meaning of feme Dreams, and put tion. my felf in a capacity of obeying , in cale Poetry happen'd to be the Mufick that they allotted for myExercife. For you mult know, that all my life- omJT^*^^ time I have had Dreams, which always recommend- himto'^^ap- ed the fame Thing tome, fometimes in one Form fly himfeif and fometimes in another. Socrates^ faid they, ap- toMujich. ply your felf to Mufick. This I always took 'for a fimple Exhortation, like that commonly given to Wifdvm « thofe who run Races, ordering me to purfue my the perfea- woHted coutlc of Life, and carry on the ftudy of efiMilfick. Wifdom, that I made my whole Bufmels, which is the moft perfeQ Mufick. But fince my Trial, the Feifival of Apollo having retarded the execution of my Sentence, I fanfied thele Dreams might have fJon?/ op;»-order'd me to apply my felf to that vulgar and Hifie oner commoH ibrt of Mulick : And fince I was departing •f/.l t> this World, I thought it fafer to fanaifie my felf by of the Immortality of the Souh 87 by obeying the Gods, and eflaying to make Verfes, than to difobey them. Purfuant to this Thought, '7-,-^„of my firft Eflay was a Hymn to the God whofe Fefti- Ferfe but val was then celebrated. After- that I confider-d ^^^^^^ f'^^f that a true Poet ought not only to make Difcourfes J'''^^'''.^^' in Verfe, but likewiie Fables. Now findingm.y felf -jL^yj^'^y not difpofed to invent new Fables, I apply'd my at length ;« felf to thofe of ^fop^ and turn'd thofe into Veile Anftotle'i that came firft into my Mind. Poeticon. This, my dear Cebes^ is the Anfwer you're to give Evenus. AfTure him, that I wilh him all happinels ^ and tell him, that if he be wife, he'll ioUovv.; me. For in all appearance I am to make my Exit this Day, fince the Athenians have given Orders to that effea. What Ibrt of Counfel is that you give to Evenus^ replies Symjnias •, I have feen that Man often : And by what 1 know of him, I can promife you he'll ne- ver follow you with his Will. W^hat, fays Socrates^ is not Evenus a Y\^Aoio- ^Ltt^tTu pher ? _ #j^ a vhUofo- I think fb, fays Symmias.^ , p^er ; or Then, replies Socrates^ he',^ and all others that are */-^^ ^'^'^ ^ worthy of that Profefiion, will be willing to fd- •^"'"''-^ ^''^^* low me. I know he will not kill himfelf, for that, ^eif-murdef they fay, is not lawful. Having fpoke thefe words fj'^'"^^' he drew his Legs off the Bed, and late down upon the Ground ^ in which Pofture he entertain'd us the whole remaining part of the Day. Cebes put the firft Queftion to him,which was this. How do you reconcile this Socrates^ that 'tis not law- ful to kill one's felf, and at the fame time that a Philofopher ought to follow you ? What, replies Socrates, did neither you nor Sym- mas ever hear your Friend "^Phi/o/aus difcourfe that Point .^ * Thilolata was a Pytha;:;orean Philofopher, who could not_ fail to affert his Mafter's Dodlrine, of the iinlawfulnefs of Self-murder. He wrote only one Volume, which Tlato pur- chafed at 400 Crowns. F f 4 No, 88 Phedcm: Or, ^ Dialogue No, reply'd they, he never explain'd himfelf clear- ly upon that Point. As for me, replies Socrates^ I know nothing bu t what I have heard, and fhall not grudge to com- municate all that I have learnM. Befides, there's no Exercife fo fuitable for a Man upon the point of Death, as that of examining and endeavouring tho- rowly to know what Voyage this is that we muft all make, and making known his own Opinion up- on it. What is the ground of that Aflertion, fays Cebes^ that 'tis not lawful for a Man to kill himfelf ^ I have often heard Fhilolaus and others fay that it was an ill A8:ion , but I never heard 'em fay more. Have Patience, lays Socrates^you fhall know more prefently, and perhaps you'll be furprifed to find it an eternal Truth that never changes •, whereas moft ^ZltZZ ^^^^^ Things in this World alter according to cheir feif,bwt Circumftances ^ this i^. ftill the fame, even in the mttfi wait Cafe of thole to wHofti Death would be more a- tiii God de- greeable than L,ife. Is it not a furpriiing thing that /Tfj- him. ^^^j^ y^^^ ^^^ ^^^ allow'd to poflefs themfelves of the Good they want, but are oblig'd to wait for another Deliverer > Jupiter only knows that, replies Cebes fmiling. r/;e mf' f his may feem unreaibnahle to you, lays Socrates^ 7.ZZ but after all it is not fo. The Dilcourles we are the People . , , . , , . ,^ . , .intiyeCere- entertain d With every day in our Ceremonies and monies and Myftcties, vtZ. That God has fut US in this hife^as Myfierics jj^ a Pofi which we cannot quit without his (eave, &c. S'S?^" Thele 1 fay, and fuch like ExpreiTions, may feem "", ' ^ hard, and furpafs our Underftanding. But nothing God'sVro^ Ts eafier to be underftood, or better faid, than this, ferty^ is a ihdt the Gocfs take Care of I\\en^ and that Men are Vroof that one of the FoJJ'eJfiGns that belong to the Gods. Is riot he Us no tJiis f j-ue > . ri^h*^ii'^ I u ^ • *^ IJ u'^ hU ^without to what IS told him. amfoUd^t:,. Indeed, replies 5/V«;^/rfi-, I muft fay I find a great deal of reafon in what Cebes advances. What can the Sages pretend to gain, by quitting better Ma- ilers than themlelves, and willingly depriving them- felves of their Aid ? Do you mind that •, 'tis you alone that he addreffes himfelf to, meaning to re- prove you for your Infenfibility, in being fo willing to part withus, and quit the Gods, who, according to ^6 Phedon ; Or, A Dialogue to your own Words, are fuch good and wife Go- vernors. You are in the right of it, fays Socrates : I fee you mean to oblige me to make formal Defences, fuch as I gave in at my Tryal. That's the very thing, replies Simmies. Socrates Then, fays Socrates^ you mull fatishe your felves, ref(ttes Cc- fo that this my laft Apology may have more in- €ih)» ^ iw ^^^"ce upon you, than my former had upon my f roves, that Judges. Fot my part, ccntinues he, if I thought I the wife fhould not find in the other World Gods as good and /hotiU de- as wHq, and Men infinitely better than we, 'twould The Gods' ^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^ Injultice in me not to be troubled at uke Care o/death. But be it known to you Shnm'ms and to you Men in the Cebes^ that I hope to arrive at the Affembly of the ttherWorld. j^fl-^ Indeed in this Point I may flatter my felf ^ He means but as for my finding in the other World Matters feV'^^m^ infinitely good and wife, that I can aflure you of, as Goodnefs'"' much as things of that Nature will bear ^ and enough to therefore it is that death is no trouble to me, hoping makegood that there's fomething relerv'd for the dead after ^"J'"^" "-^this Life, and that the good meet with better Treat- clh^/'ljto ment in the World to come than the bad. the^jjemb/y efthefufi. How, replies Simmias, would you have quitted rhe Good |.j-^js Ljfg^ without communicating thole Sentiments Treated 'L ^^ "^ ^ 1"^^^ methinks will be a common Good ^ and the other if you convince us of all that you believe with re- Worid, than fycncQ to thls Point, you have made a fufficient A- tf the Im- Tin y o mortality of That's what I defign to try, ikys Socrates-^ but 1 the Soul would firft hear what Criio h-is to fay : I thought he fhould be Yi2i^ a mind to offer fomething a pretty while ago. 7€dto"^othns I h^ve nothing to lay, replies Crito, but what your Executioner has been pulhing me on to tell you this great while, that you ought to Ipeak as little as you can for fear of over-heating your lelf, fince nothing is more contrary to the Operation of Poifon i inlbmuch that if you continue to fpeak fo (j) you'U b/ the Immortality of the Soul, 91 (a) you'll be obliged to take two or three Dofes. Let him do his Office , fays Socrates •, let him make ready two Doles of Poifbn,or three if he will. I knew you would give me that anfwer, replies Crito i but ftill he importunes me to Ipeak to you. Pray let that alone, fays Socrates^ andfuffer me to explain before you who are my Judges, for what Reafons, a Man enlightned by Philofophy, ought to die wicii Courage and a firm hope that in the other World he fhall enjoy a Felicity beyond any thing in this. Fray do you S'mmias and Cebes liften tb my Arguments. True Philofophers make it the whole bufinels of ^'''J^ ^.^''^'^ their lite- time to learn to die. Now 'tis extream-^^i;^^ J^**" ly ridiculous for them, after they run out a whole theh iife- Courle inceiTantly in order to compals that one end, f''»»e. tohinch and be afraid when it comes up to them, when they are juft in a Capacity of obtaining it after a long and painful Search. Whereupon Swm'ias laughed and told him, in ear- iiefi: Socrates you make me laugh, notwithltanding the fmall occafion I have to laugh in this Jun£lure. For I am certain the greateft part of thole who hear you talk fo, will lay you talk much better of the Philofophers than you believe. Above all, i\iQ-^^/ityrical Athenians would be glad that all the Philofophers ^^^ JK;, would learn that Lellbn fo well as to die in EiFe8: ; ans, who and they'l be ready to tell you,death is the only thing could mt they are worthy of tr!)7rs'' Sim?nias^ replies Socrates^ our Athenians would °J''^''"* fo fpeak the Truth, but without knowing it to be fuch : For they are ignorant in what manner Philo- fophers delire to die, or how they are worthy of it. But let us leave the Athenians to themfelves 5 and (a) Probably the Executioner mean'd by this Advice to keep fair with Socrates^ and fave his Money ; for he was to fnrnifh the Hemlock, of which a pound (the common Dofe) coll 12 Drachms, i. e, 5 Livres and 12 d. See Tlutarch upon the death of Thocion, who was obliged to pay his Executioner for a Dofe of Poifon. talk 9* Phedon ; Or, A Dialogue talk of things within our own Company. Does Death appear to be any thing to you > Yes, without doubt •, replies Simmias. Is it not, continues Socrates^ the Separation of Soul and Body -, fo that the Body has a leparate ^e- Mat is i^g ^n^ the Soul ano ther > Death. Juft {6^ fays Simmias. Let's try then, my dear Simmias^ if your Thoughts and mine agree. By that means we fliall fet the Ob- jeft of our prefent Enquiry into a clearer light. Do Thilofophers you think a Philofopher courts what the World do not court calls Fleafute, as that of Eating, Drinking, ^c, Tleaftms.^ Not at all, Socrates. Nor that of Love ? By no means. Do you think they purfue or mind the other Plea- fures relating to the Body, fuch as good Cloths,hand- fome Shoes, and the other Ornaments of ihc Body ? Whetlier do you think they value or flight thofe |hings when neceffity does not inforce their life > " In my mind, repViQS S immids^ a true Philofopher muft needs conteirn them. Then you believe, continues Socrates^ that thq Body is not at all the Object of the Care and Bu- finefs of a Philofopher : But on the contrary, that his whole Bufinefs is to feparate himielf from it, and mind only the concerns of his Soul. Moil certainly. ' 4U tUvhi- '^^^^1 continues Socrates.^ 'tis plain upon the whole /oy;,^/',^r^ "' that a Philofopher labours in a more dillinguifhing Bu-jinefs is minnet, than other Men to purchafe the Freedom ?oc«to/rtfz of his Soul, and cut off all Commerce between it Commerce ^^^ ^^^ g^^ j ^^ Hkewife of the Opinion, Simmias Soni and ^^'^^ ^'^^ ^^" ^^^^ g^^"^ ^^at whocveravoids thofe Body. Corporeal Things, and takes no pleafure in them (^) is not worthy to live j and that he who does (a) 'Tis a Truth acknowledged by almofl all the World, That he who doe's not enjoy the Pieafures of the Body, is not worthy to live. So that 'tis a true Saying, That a Phi- lofopher Is worthy of nothing but deathc not of the Immortality of the Soul. pi^ hot ufe the Pleafures of the Body is near to death. You fpeak Truth, Socrates. But what ihall we fay of the acquiring of Pru- 7/,^ Bodies dence ? Is the Body an Obftade or not, when Qm- being an ob- ploy'd in that work ? Ill explain my meaning \yjfiMieintha an Example : Have Seeing and Hearing any thing ZVdmcf of Truth in them, and is their Teftimony faithful ? J'l ^^o/ Or are the Poets in the right in finging that we nei- ofthistmh ther fee nor hear rhings truly ? For if thefe two Senfes of Seeing and Hearing are not true and 37?^ unter^ trufty, the other, , which are much weaker, will be *^'^^p "A** far lefs fuch. Do not you think io > ^"^"' Yes, withouc doubt, xq^Uqs Simmias. When does the Soul then, continues Socrates^ find out the Truth > We lee that while the Body is join'd the Body de- in the Enquiry, this Body plainly cheats and ih- ceives the duces, it. ^'"'^' That's true, lays Simmias, Is it not by reafoning that the Soul embraces r/w Soui Truths ? And does it not reafon better than before, ^'4°"^ ^«A when 'tis not encumber'd by Seeing or Hearing, Pain J^X/"f ' or Pleafuie > When Ihut up within it felf, it bids theBody,and adieu to the Body, and entertains as little CoiXQi^- feparatk pondence with it as is poihble ^ and purfues the/*"'"''* ''"• knowledge of things witliout touching them > That's incomparably well fpoken. Is it not efpecially upon this occaiion that the Soul of a Philofopher defpiles and avoids the Body, and wants to be by it felf > I think fo. What Ihall we fay then, my dear Simmias^ of all the Objects of the Soul ? For inftance, Ihall we call JuRice fomething or nothing? We muft certainly givt; it the Title of Something' Shall we not like wife call it Goodzn^Vine ? Ay, doubilefs. But did you ever fee thsfe Objsfts with the Eyes of your Body? No, to be fure. Of g^ Phedon : Or, A Dialogue The Ejfence Or With any other Senfe ? Did you ever touch of things is 2py Qf ti^Qfe things I novv^fpeak of, fuch as Mngni- *"X'5"l!tude, Health, Fortitude, and, in a Word, theElTence fes^ btit by of all Other things ? Is the truth of them difcover'd thl operati- by the Body ? Or is it not certain, that whoever en of the py^5 himfelf in a condition to examine them more Soul alone. ^^^^^^^^^ ^nd ttace them to the bottom, will bet- ter compafs the end, and know more of them ? That's very true. The more the ^^^v the fimpleft and pureft Way of examining sLi is Aif- things, is to purfue every Particular by Thought engaged, alonc, without offering to fupport our Meditation from the ^y feeing, or backing our Reafonings by any other Zrepier. Corporeal Senfc •, by employing the naked Thought cing are its without any mixtute, and fo endeavouring to trace Timigbts. the pure and genuine Eflence of things without the Miniftry of the Eyes or Ears ^ the Soul being, if I inay fo fpeak, entirely difengaged from the whole ISdafs of Body, which only cumbers the Soul, and cramps it in the queft of Wifdom and Truth, as often as it is admitted to the leaft Correfpondence with it. If the Eflence of things be ever known, muft it not be in the manner aT^ove-mention'd ? Right Socrates •, you have Ipoke incomparably well. ■ Is it not a neceflary Conlequence from this Prin- '^,^/t'^;^g ciple, continues Socrates^ that true Philofophers Thtiofophers (hould have fuch Language among themfelves. among This Life is a Road that's apt to miflead us and *ri^^ff}'"/ ^"^ Reafon in all our Enquires ^ becaufe while we s-aifedbythe ^^^^^ ^ Body, and while our Soul is drown'd in lb Body in the much Corruption, we (hall never attain the Obje8: fearch of of our Wilhes, /'. e. Truth. The Body throws a Tn^th. thoufand Obftaclesand Crofles in our waybydeman- J^'^^/^^'/ding neceflary Food: And then the Difeafes that with Di- enlue do quite diforder our Enquiry : Befides, it fills feafes,^ but US wich Love, Defoes, Fears and a thouland fooliih often fwks Imaginations ; infbmuch that there's nothing truer "mmts' and ^^^^" ^^^^ common Saying, 'Xhntbe Body will never s.-nfes. conduit US to Wifdom, What is it that gives rife to Wars of the ImmortaUty of the Soul 9% Wars and occafions Sedition and Duelling > Is it not the Body and its Defires ? In efFe8:, all Wars take rife from the Defire of Riches, which we are forc'd to heap up for the fake of our Bodie, in order to fupply its wants, and ferve it like Slaves. 'Tis this ^''^ ^"'^y that cramps our Application to Philofophy. And XTLT the greateft of all our Evils is, that when it has wifdm, " given us fome refpite, and we are fet upon Medita- tion, it fteals in and interupts our Meditation all of ^''^ ^"^J »* a fudden. It cumbers, troubles and furprizes us in ^'j^ X"^// fuch a manner that it hinders us to defcry the Truth. "Irder^n til Now we made it out, that in order to trace the World, Purity and Truth of any thing, we fhould lay afide the Body, and only employ the Soul to examine the Obje8:s we purfiie. So that we can never arrive at the Wifdom we court, till after death. Reafbn is on our fide. For if it is impoffible to know any ^>i -Argi*-] thing purely while we are in the Body, one of two """^ ^'"''*'" things muft be true: Either the Truth is never known, "Jtlrthl or it is known after death •, becaufeat that time the ufetheSoul Soul will be left to it lelf and freed of its burden, w'^^ ^^ow and not before. And while we are in this Life, we f^ "^^"f can only approgch to the Truth, in proportion to our 11%! i^^- removing from the Body, and renouncing all Cor- refpondence with it that is not of meer Neceifity, and keeping our felves clear from the Contagion of its Natural Corruption, and all its filth, till God him- felf comes to deliver us. Then indeed being freed from all bodily Folly, we fhall converle in all pro- bability with Men that enjoy the fame Liberty 5 and (hall know within our lelves the pure Eflence of things, which perhaps is nothing elfe but the Truth. But he who is nor pure, is not allow'd to Tmth is the approach to Purity it felf. This, my dear Simmias hiowUdge as I take it, (hotild be the Thought and Language ^-^^^j'f^ >'J^ of true Philofophers. Are not yom of the fame ^X^, mind? . . "^ ' Moft certainly, Soaai^.:. g6 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue Then, my dear Slmmias ^ whoever Ihall arriv^ where I am now going, has great reafon to hope, that he will there be poiTefled of what we look for here with fo much Care and Anxiety, fo that the Voyage I am now fent upon, fills me with a fweet and agreeable hope. And it will have the fame Ef- fect upon all who are perfwaded that the Soul muft be purged before it knows the Truth. Now the 37« iPurga- Purgation of the Soul, as we were laying but juft timof the Y[ovi^ is only its feparation from the Body , its 2iQ' rlm^Jnlt^^^'^^^^^ 1^ ^^If to retire and lock it felf up , re- from the nouncing all Commerce with it as much as poflible, correfpon- and Hving by its felf, whether in this or (a) the other dence with World, without being chained to the Body. the Body. All that's true, 5^^r^/^j-. Well ! what we call Deaths is not that the dilen-. engagement and ieparation of the Body from the Soul > Moft certainly. Are not the true Philofophers the only Men that leek after this Difengagemenr, and is not that Se- paration and Deliverance their whole Bufinefs ? So I think, Socrates. .. . Is, it not a ridiculous fancy, that a Man that has lived in the ExpcQation of Death, and during his whole lite-tim>i has been oieparing to dye, upon his arrival at the Point ofdefir'd Death, fhould think to retire and be afraid of it? Would not that be a ve- r/;n-.-5U'Wj-y feandalous Apoftacv > teS" How fhould it be otberwife > poye. lis certain then, Si/nmias^ that Death is lo far from being terrible to true Philofophers, that 'tis (a) The Obftacles rais'd in the purfuit of Wirdom,infpir'd tlie true Philcfophers with fuch an averlionto the Body, that they pleas'd thcmfelves with the fancy, that after death they flioiild be rid of it for ever. They knew no better ; and though they had fome Idcaof the Kefurredtion, yet they were abfoliitely ignor.int that the Body will be likewife pur- ged and glorified, that this corruptible Body would put on Incorruptibility^ and the mortal t*art be inverted with Ln- nfiortality, their of the Immonality of the Soul, ^f their whole bufinels to die. Which may be eafily infer'd thus. If they flight and contemn their Bo- dy, and paffionately defire to enjoy their Soul by it felf, is it not a ridiculous way of belying them- felves, to be afraid and troubled when that Minute comes? And is it not a piece of Extravagance to decline going to that Place, where thofe who get to it, hope to obtain the good things they have wifh'd for all their life-time ? For they deiir'd Wifdom and a De- liverance from the Body, as being their Burden and the Object of their hatred and contempt. Do not many upon the lofs of their * Miftrefles, Wives or Children, willingly cut the Thread of Life , and convey themlelves into the other World, meerly upon the hope of meeting there and cohabiting with the Perfons they love ? And (hall a true lover of Wif- dom, and one that firmly hopes to attain to the Per- fe8:ion of it in the other World, fhall he be ftartled by Death, and be unwilling to go to the Place that will furnifh him with what his Soul loves ? Doubt- lels, my dear Simmias^ if he be a true Philolbpher^ he'll go with a great deal of Pleafure •, as being per- fwaded that there's no place in the Regions below, that cannot furnilh him with that pure Wifdom that he's in queft of Now if things ftand thus, would it not be a piece of extravagance in fucH a Man to fear death > . To be fure, fays S'mm'ias^ it would be fo with a witnels. And confequently , continues Socrates , when a Man (brinks and retires at the Point of death, 'tis a certain Evidence that he loves not Wifdom, but hia * The greatefl part, though fcarce convinc'd of the Im- mortality of the Soul us'd to kill themfelves upon the lofs of what they lov'd, hoping to retrieve it in the other .World: And is it not reafonable that the true Philofophers, who are fully_ convinced of that Truth, and fully perrwaded that true Wiidom is to be enjoy'd in the infernal World ? is it not reafonable that thofe Men ihould give Death a welcome Re- ception ? H imn ^8} Pheddn : Or, A Dialogue rhe three owH Body, or Honour, or Riches, or perhaps all the common ^YivQc together. [Z%tto 'Tis lb, Socf'citcs. Tcltiir " Then, Shmmas^ does not that we • call fortitude Tortitude bclong iH 2l pecuUar manner to Philofophsrs > And and Tcmpe- does noi TcmptTdncc^ or that Ibrt of Wifdom that rdiice are confifts in controuUng our Defires, and living foberly peculiar to ^^^^ modcflly, fuit admirably well with thole who ^Mojophers ^^^^^^^^ their Bodies and live Philofophically > That's certain, Socruies. Were you to inlpeft into the Fortitude and Tem. perance of other Men, you'd find 'em very ridicu- lous. How fo, Socrates ? You know, fays he,all other Men look upon Death as the greateft Affliftion. That's true, replies Simmias. rhe Courage When thofe you call Si out ^ fuffer Death with andvaior of ^Q^Q Courage, they doit only for fear of fome is often the That! mutt grant. ejfefhffear- And by Confequeuce, all Men, bating the Philo- Ibphers, are only flout and valiant through Fear. And is it not ridiculous to believe a Man to be brave and valiant, that is only influenced by Fear and Ti- meroufnefs > You are in the right of it, Socrates. Men are Is not the Cafe the fame with your temperate Per- tcmperate fous ? 'Tis ouly Intempcrauce makes 'em fuch. thro' Intern- Xhough at firft view this may feem impoifible, yet peuuice. -^ -g ^^ ^^^g ^^^^ \^\\'3it daily Experience fhews to be the relblt of that foolifh and ridiculous Tempe- rance. For fuch Perfons dilclaim one Pleafure, only for fear oi" being robb'd of other Pleafures that they cover, and which have an Afcendant over them. They 11 cry out to you as long as you will, that In- temperance contiits in being rufd and over-aw'd by our Pafiioasv but at the fame time that they give you this tint; Dehnivion, 'tis only their Suhjeftion to fome predominant Pieaiiiies, that makes them difcard others. of the Immortality of the Soul, gg others. Now this is much what I faid but now, that they are only temperate through Intempe- y,^^^ r^nce. change of That's very clear, Socrates. Tajjions^ is Let us not be imposed upon, my dear Simniias. "^^^ t^^e tmz Theftraight Road to Vertue, does not lye in fliifting^^'^;'^'"''^"'"- Pleafures for Pleafures, Fears for Fears, or one Me- ^vFif^^y^i h lancholy Thought for another, and imitating thofe f/;eo«/jtr«e who change a large piece of Money, for many 9"* '■> ''^ fmall ones. But Wifdom is the only true and un- ^^ff^'J ^^^ alloyed Coin, for which all others muft be given in rkiFvearl Exchange. With that piece of Money we purchafe that ou^ob all. Fortitude, Temperance, Juftice. In a Word, that ^^ ^^ /"*»•-- Vertue is always true, which accompanies Wifdom,* jJ^-^'^^J'^ without any dependance upon Pleafures, Grief , o^'ol'^-'^f/g Fears or any other Paffions. Whereas all other Ver- Efiate. tues ftrip'd of Wifdom, which run upon a perpetual J-'^^tHc vpith Exchange, are only fliadows of Vertue. True Ver- '"ijff'^^' tue is really and in efFe£l a purgation from all thele 'dowlfF^r- forts of Paifions. Temperance, Jultice, Fortitude and tue. Prudence or Wifdom it feU, are not exchanged ^'"'^^ ^^r- forPafiions^ but cleanfe us of them. And it \syj^''l\ pretty evident, that thofe who inftituted the Purifi- aliPfli.-c^ cations, calfd by us Telctes^ i. e. Ferfeci Expiations^ thns mt ex- were Perlbns of no contemptible Rank , Men of ^''-^"5"- great Genius's, who in the h'rft Ages mean'd by fiich ^^\l^^^^~^_ Riddles to give us to know {a) that whoever enters fous^^drc? the other World without being initiated and purified, 2/;e ''ancient fhall be hurled headlong into the vaft Abyls ^ and "p'^^-ificati- that whoever arrives there after due purgation and °^^^^^ ""^^ expiation, fliall be lodged in the Apartment of the ^, ifi^hai Gods. For, as the Difpenfers of thole Expiations ^'^ju/, many fay. There are many noho bear the Thyrfus^hut jew'^'''^ deyoi^t, that are pojjefid by the Spirit of God. Now thofe ^''"{^^/'''*- who are thus poflefs'd, as I take it, are the true Phi- r/Zr Thyr- Ui?, was a (a) There's a pleafant Paffage to this purpofe in the fecond fpe^_r wrapt oook of his RepubJ. They fay, Thar l-.y vertue of thefe Pn- /„ Fines or n/ications and Sacrifices, we are dehvcr'd from th.e Tornients jyy carried of Hell J but if we neglect 'em we Ihr.Il be hable to all the by the fol- Horrors of the fame. lowers of G g 2 lofophers. Bacchus, ICO Phedon : Or, A Dialogue lofophers. I have try'd all means to be lifted in that number, and have made it the bufinefs of my whole life-time to compafs my end. If it pleafe God, I hope to know in a Minute, that my Efforts have not been ineffectual, and that Succels has crown'd my Endeavours. This, my dear Simmias^ and my dear Cebes^ is the Apology with which I offer to juftifie my not being troubled or aftliCled for parting with you and quitting my Governours in this Life ^ hoping to find good Friends and Rulers there, as well as here. This, the vulgar cannot digeft. However, I fhall be fatisfied if my Defence take better with you, than they did with my Judges. Socrates having thus fpoke ^ Cebes took up the Difcourfe to this purpofe : Socrates^ I fubfcribe to the Truth of all you have faid. There's only one thing that Men look upon as incredible, viz, what you advanced of the Soul. For (a) almoft every Body fancies, that when the Soul parts from the Body, it is no more, it dies along with it ^ in the very minute of parting it vanifhes, like a Vapour or Smoak, which flies off and difperfes and has no Ex- iftence. For if it fubfifted by it felf, were gather'd and retired into it felf, and freed from all the above* mentioned Evils ; there were a fair and promifing Profpeft, afcertaining the Truth of what you have faid. But, that the Soul lives after the death of a Man, that it is fenfible, that it a8:s and thinks, that I fay, needs both infinuation and folid proofs to make it go down. (a) This ^vas the Imagination of thofe -who denied the Immortality of the Soul. The Author of the Book of Wif- dom, has fet 'em in their true Colours. Our Life ffays hej is Lut n Breath j after death it yaiiipjes like a Fapour^ and pajjes as a Cloudy or a Mifi difperfed by the l{ays of the Sun. Then he tells US, that thofe who entertain 'emfelves with fuch Language, were not acquainted with the Secrets of God, for God created Man incorruptible, after his own Image, and the hope of the I{ighteous i$ fall of Immortality. Now this is juft Socrates^ Doclrine. You of the ImmohaUty of the Soul, loi You fay right, Cebes, replies Socrates : But how fhall we manage this Affair ? Shall we in this inter- view examine whether that is probable or not ? I fhall be mighty glad, fays Cebes^ to hear your Thoughts upon the Matter. At leaft, fays Socrates^ I cannot think that any ^ Satyrkal Man hearing us, tho' he were a Comedian, would J^moTha- upbraid me with Raillery, and charge me with not nes, So ?« fpeaking of fuch Things as concern us very much, hu comedy If you have a mind that we (hould trace this Affair ofthecUu^s to the bottom •, my Opinion is, that we Ihould pro- socrtS ceed in the following Method, in order to know ^/t/, ami*^ whether the Souls of the Dead have a being in ths fing bimjeif other World, or not. ""^y «""^'' ^ (^) 'Tis a very ancient Opinion, That Souls quit- ^'''^^^* ting this World repair to the Infernal Regions, and return after that to live in this World. If fo be, that Men return to Life after Death, it follows ne- ceffarily that during that interval their Souls are lodg'd in the lower Regions: For if they had not a Being, they could not return to this World. And this will be a fufficient Proof of what we affirm, (c) if we be convinc'd that the Living fpring from the Dead : If otherwile, then we muft look out for other Proofs. (h) The firfl Argument grounded on the Opinion of the Metempjychofis '^ which Socrates only makes ufe of to fliew that • it fuppofed the future Exiftence of Souls for a certain Truth. (c) Since all Things take rife from their Contraries 5 Life cannot fwerve from the common Rule. Now if Life come from Death, then the Soul has a Being. This is a certain Truth, but can only be made out by the Hefurreftion. Where- fore St. Tattl tells the Oppofers of that Truthj T/jow Fool^ that vphich thou fowefi is not qmckm'd except it die ^ I Cor. I J. 3 ^- •^0- crates goes upon the fame Principle, but 'tis only the Chri- ftian Religion that can explain it. "Plato and Socrates had fome Idea of the Refurredion j but they fpoil'd it by min- gling it with the grofs Dodrine of Tythagoras. They drew falfe Confequences from a Principle that's very true in it felf. Belldes this Principle has a very dangerous Error couch'd under it, which we refuted in the Prelace. Gg 3 That's loz. Phedon : Or, A Dialogue That's certain, fays Cebcs. But to aflure our Iclvcs of this Truth, replies So^ crates-^ 'tis not fufficient to examine the Point up-^ on the Comparifon with Men ^ but likewife upon that with other Animals, Plants, and whatever has a vegetable Principle. By that means, we'll be con- vinc'd that all things are born after the fame manner ^ that is, whatever has a contrary, owes its firlf rife to its contrary. For inftance handfome Js the con- ti"ary to itgly^ and ;>//? of unjufl. And the lame is the Cafe of an infinite number of other Things. Now let's fee if it be abfolutely neceffary, that what- ever has a contrary, fhould fpring from that contra- ry : As when a Thing becomes bigger, of necefiity it mult formerly have been lefler, before it acquir'd that magnitude. And when it dwindles into a lefler form, it muft needs have been greater before its di- minution. In like manner, the j?r^/7^^^ arifes from the weakeft^ and the fwiftefi trom th^ fioweji. That's a plain Truth, lays Cebes. . And. pray, continues 6>aY//^j-, when a Thing be- comes worle, was it not formerly better j and when it grows juft, is it not becaufe it was formerly more unjufti . i .■ Ves, furely Socrates. Then 'tis fufficiently prov'd that every Thing is generated by its contrary. * Sufficiently, Socrates. Buxfeentm But, is hot there always a certain medium between Contraries thefe two Couttaries ? There are two Births, or two there If d- Proceffions, one of this from that^ and another of v^y a me- ^1^^^ {iQ\xi this. The inedium between a greater and which'rve a leffer Thing, iS;increafe and diminution. The fame may call IS the Cale of what we call mixing, leparating, the -Point heating, cooling, and all other Things /// infinitum. fer t'io,'^'' "■^^^' ^^^' ^^ fometimes falls fo out, that we have not '', ' Terms to expre^ thole Changes and ill^^///;«j, yet Experience (hews that by an abfolute neceifity,Things take rile from one another, and pals reciprocally from one to another through a medium. There's of the Immortality of the Soul, 103 There's no doubt of that. And what, continues iS^^rr^/^x, has not Life like- wife its Contrary, as awaking has fleeping ? Without doubt, fays Qehes, What is that Contrary ? Death. Since thefe two Things are contrary, do not they TheVroc^.f. take rife one from the other ? And between thele/*""" "/z/y^ two, are there not two Generations, or two pj;o-/'"°f ^«'«^'^ CeffionS^ Death from Why not ? Life. But, fays Socrates^ I am about to tell you how the now-mention'd Combination ftands, and to ihew you the Original and Progrefs of each of thefe two Things which make up the Compound. Pray tell me how awaking and fleeping are related. Does ^/jf^^<^/«»i; not lleep beget watchfulnefs, and watching fleep ; /,"f '^" and is not the generation of fleep, the falling afleep ^ '^* and that of watching, the awaking ? All very clear. Now, pray view the Combination of Life and Death. Is not Death the contrary of Life ? Yes. And does not one breed the other ? Yes. What is it that Life breeds ? Death. What is it that Death breeds ? It muft certainly be Life. Then, fays Socrates^ all living Things, and Men ^fdi Proof are bred from Death. ef^^^^ ^^- So I think, fays Cdes. f^neaion. And by Confequence, continues (S^^r^/^j, our Souls are lodged in the infernal World after our Death. The Confequence feems juft. But of thefe two Generations, one, viz. Death, is very palpable ^ it difcovers it felf to the Eye, and is touched by the Hand, Moft certainly. G g 4 Shall le/^ Phedon : Or, A Dialogue IF Death Shall not we then attribute to Death the Virtue did not pro- Q^ producing its contrary, as well as to Life? Or, uZy^n^' ^^^^ ^^ %5 ^^^^ Nature is lame and maim'd on tme "rvouU that fcote ? be defeaiye. Therc's an abfolute neceflity , replies Cebes^ of afcribing to Death the Generation of its Contrary. What is that Contrary ? Reviving, or returning to Life. If there be fuch a thing as returning to Life, 'tis nothing elfe but the Birth of the Dead returning to Life. And thus we agree, that the Living are as much the Produ8: of the Dead, as the Dead are of Living. Which is an inconteftable Proof, that the Souls of the Dead muft remain in fome Place or other, from whence they return to Life. That, as I take it, fays Cebes^ is a neceflary Con- fequence from the Principles we have agreed on. -/ yVj' And as I take it, C^^Z'^j, thefe Principles are well J grounded : Confider 'em your felf (a) If all thefe ' Contraries had not their ProduQions and Generati- ons in their turns, which make a Circle, and if there were nothing but one Birth and one direft Pro- du8:ion from one to the other. C'ontrary, without the return of the laft Contrary to the firft that pro^ duc'd it •, were it not fo, all Things would termi- nate in the fame Figure, and be afte&d in the fame manner, and at laft ceafe to be born. ^ How do you fay, Socrates ?*. There's no difficulty in conceiving what I now Vn^ilt ^'^f' ^f ^^^^^ ^^.^^ nothing but fleep, and if fleep Tropofition. did nor produce watching, {b) 'tis plain that every thing would be an Emblem of the Fable of Endy- m'ion^ and nothing would be feen any where, becaule tiie lame thing muft happen to them that happen'd (a) It Death did not give rife to Life, as Life does to peath, all Things would quickly be at an End, and tufnb|e into their Primitive Chaos. {h) If Life did not fpring from Death, all Things would at jaft fieep like Endjmion^ whom the Moon lull'd eternally a- jleep, according to the Fable. •> . to of the Immortality of the Soul 105 to Endymion^ viz. thsy mutt always fleep. If every thing were mingled, without any fubfequent repa- ration, we fhould quickly fee Anaxagoras's Do£l:rine fulfiU'd, and all Things junibled together. At the fame rate, my dear Cefh^ if all living Things died, ^'^^'f ^ f» and being dead, continued fuch without reviving, •^J'->';*^ would not all Things unavoidably come to an end ^'*^fj at laft, in fo much that there would not be a living qmckiy Thing left in being ? For, if living Things did (^)/'*'»^/e»»*a not arife from dead ones, when the living ones die, ^^'f''^ ^*"*- of neceffity all Things muft at the laft be fwallow'd ^^JJ^* up by Death, and entirely annihilated. It is neceifarily fo, replies Cebes •, all that you have faid feems to be unconteftable. As I take it, Cehes^ there can be no 0\i]QQi\on"TU certain made againft thofe Truths ^ neither are we miftaken '^^'''^ ^^j'f^' in receiving them -, for 'tis certain there is a return y^j!J\yfg to Life ; 'tis certain that the Living rife out of the it has fivai- Dead ^ that the Souls departed have a Being, and low'd. upon their return to this Life, the good Souls are ^ in a better , and the bad ones in a worfe Condi- th^^Ue" tlOn. feems only What you now advance, fays Cebes interrupting to own. one. qA Socrates^ is only a neceffary Confequence of another return ta ^ i Principle that I have often heard you lay down, viz. ^'/^^^fj^' % ^* That {a) all our acquir'd Knowledge is only Re^ thlt If the membrance, For, if that Principle be true, wq Kefwredi- muft neceifarily have learn'd at another time what^"** we call to mind in this. Now that's iiiipoffible, with- out our Soul had a Being before it§ being inverted with this human form. So that this fame Principle concludes the Immortality of the Soul. But Cebes^ fays Simmias interrupting him, what Demonftrauon have we df that Principle ? Pray re- (c) XVe correfted this Paflage, by reading (xjj j4c(j How do you fay, replies Shnmias ^ (b)' Socrates's Proofs only conclude a remembrance of things once jknown, and afterwards forgot in this Life ; not of things iearn'd in the other World, for the Soul is not created before the Body. This Dodlrine of Kemembrance is of admirable life for making out Original Sin, as 1 fliew'd m the Intro- duction. I fay 1 1 of the MkoTfialify of the Soul. 107 Ifay, replies Socrates^ for Example, that we know a Man by one fort of Knowledge, and a Harp by another. i' " That's certain, quoth Simm'ias. ■': Well -then, continues Socrates^ do not you know what happens to Lovers, when they fee the Harp, Habit, or any other Thing that their Friends or Mi- ftreffes us'd to make ufe of? It is juft, as I faid but now. Upon feeing and knowing the Harp, they form in their Thoughts the Image of the Perfon to whom the Harp belongs. This is Remembrance. Thus it often falls our, that one feeing S'mmias^ ■ thinks of Cehes. I could cite a thoufand other In- f^^^'l^^^^ ftances. This then is Remembrance, efpecially when %l^2l. '"' the Things call'd to mind are fuch as had been for- >j,/„v/, 'oc~ . got through length of time or being out of fight. caftm^d,^ That's very certain, c^oikiSmmias, theirbems. But, continues Socrates^ upon feeing the Pi8:ure ""J^i^^^ "' of a Horie or Harp, may not one call . to mind the Man ? And upon feeing the Pifture of Simmias^mdy not one think of Cebes ? Sure enough, fays Simmias. . Much more, continues Socrates^ upon feeing the Pi£lure of Simmias^ will he call to mind Simmias himfelf - Ay, with teafe. . From all thefe Inftances we infer, that Remem- brance is occafion'd fometimes by things that are like the thing remembred ^ and fometimes by things that are unlike. But when one remembers a thing by virtue of a likeneis, does it not neceffarily come to pals, that the Mind at firft view difcovers whe- ther the Pi£lure does refemble the thing defign'd, lamely or perfeclly. It muft needs be fb, replies Simmias, Then pray mind whether your Thoughts of what Hefpeah of I am about to fay agree with mine. Is not there an intdU- fomething that we call Equality ? I do not fpeak f ^{.^',""5 *"' of the equality obferv'd between one Tree and ano--^"^^/fj, ' ther, one Stone and another , and feveral other things gp8 Phedon ; Or; A Dialogue things that are alike. I fpeak of abtoaed equa^ hty of things. Shall we call that lomethinff or no- thing ? ° Surely, we fhould call it fomething ♦, but that WUl only come to pafs when we mean to fpeak Phi- lofophically and of marvellous things. But then do we knpw this Equality > Without doubt. t^TZl\ !^^^ ^'^i" ^^^"^^ ^^ we derive that Knowledge? tin know- J£,f^ nottrom the things we mention'd but now > iedgeofthU lis upon feeing equal Trees, equal Stones, and fe- intdliphU yeral other things of that nature, that we form the ^^tl ^^^\ ^^e^^^^ Equality, which is not either the Trees ^ By no means, Socrates, otherwife Then Equality and the thing which is equal are Pqttaltty two diiterent things. andineu to tlie Soul. (<:)Ex- of the Immortality of the SoUl. tii (c) Exiftence. So that of neceffity we muft have known all thefe things before we came into this World. That's certain. And being pofTefs'd of that Knowledge, if we did not forget apace every Day, we fhould not only be born with it, but retain it all our life-time. For to know, is only to preferve the Knowledge we have received, and not to lofe it. And to forget, is to lofe the Knowledge we enjoy'd before. That's certain, Socrates. Now, if, after having poiFefs'd that Knowledge before we were born, and having loft it fince, we come to retrieve it by the miniftry of our Senfes, which we call Learning, fhall not we juftly entitle it Remembrance ? With a great deal of reafon, Socrates. (d) For we have agreed upon this ^ That 'tis very poffible, that a Man feeing, hearing, or perceiving one thing, by any of his Senles, fhould frame to himfelf the imagination of another thing that he had forgot ^ to which the thing perceiv'd by the Senles has fome relation, whether it refembles the other, or not. So that one of two things muft ne- ceflarily follow. Either we were born with that Knowledge, and preferv'd it all along •, or elfe re- triev'd it afterwards byway of remembrance. Which of thefe two, do you pitch upon, Simmias ^ are we born with that Knowledge ^ or do we call it to mind after having had it and forgot it ? Indeed Socrates^ I do not know which to chuie at prefent. (f) The Greek Expofition is very remarkable ; it runs thus ; Things upon which We haye put this Stamp, That 'tis fo. That is, to dirtinguifh Things that have a true Exiftence, from fenfi- bJe Things that have no true Exiftence. (d) 'TM'as agreed before, that upon feeing one thing we call to minri another unfeen 5 as upon feeing a Lute we think of a Miftrefs j upon feeing equal Trees, we Ciiil to mind Equality, But ill Phedon: ©r, A Dialogue^ But mind what I'm about to fay to you, and theri let's fee which you'll chufe. A Man that knows any thing, can he give a reafon of his Knowledge or not ? Doubtlels he can, Socrates. "^ great And do you think all Men Can give a Reafon Tanegyrick J^j. ^j^^j. y^Q J^^yg ]^qq^ fpeaking of > tT^map I wi^ ^^^y co^^^' ^^P^ ^^5 Sk^mias j but I'm afraid Modefiy to motrow we fliall have none here that's capable rvas this to do it. in Plato? Then you think all Men have not this Know- ledge > No fure. (a) Do they call to mind then, the things they have known ? That maybe. At what time did our Souls learn that Know- ledge ? It cannot be fince we were Men. No fure. Then it muft be fome time before that ? Yes, without doubt. Sttt tins is - And by confequehce, Smm'ias^ our Souls had a «/^(/"e Being before that time-, that is to fay, before they "Prmcifie, ^^^^ invefted wiih a humane Form, while they were without the Body, they thought, they knew and un- derftood. Unlels you'll allow, Socrates., that we learnM it in the Minute of our Birth, There's no other time left. Be it fo, my dear Shnmiai^ Qi) but at what other time did we lofe it > For we did not bring it into (a) If they are not then born with that Knowledge 3 theft they muft have forgot it, and recover'd it again by way of remembrance. A talfe Confequence. (b) All the Heathen Philofophers are at a lofs to find out the time of thus forgetting. They were fenlible that God crated the Soul full of Light ana Underftanding, but did not perceive that the lirlt Man loft that Light and Know- ledge by his Rebellion ; and that if he had continued inno- cent, he had tranfmitted to us thofe valuable Qiialities togcr ther with his Innocence; as well as now he is jfallen, he tjranfmittcd to us Obfcutity and Sin. M i of the hnmortdiiy of the Sdul, ii^ the World with us, as we concluded but now. Did we lofe in the fame Minute that we obtained it > Or, can you affign any other time ? No, Socrates ^ I did not perceive that what I faid was to no purpole. ^ Then, Smmta^f^ this muft be a ftanding Truth ^ That if the Obje£ls of our daily Converfation, have a real Exiftence •, I liiean, if Juftice, Goodnels, and all that Eflence with which we compare the Obje8:s of our Senles-, [and which having an Exiftence before us, proves to be of the fame Nature with our own Eflence, and is the Standard by which we meafure all things ^ I fay, if all thefe things have a real Ex- iftence, our Soul is likewife entitled to Exiftence, and that before we were born •, and if thefe things have no Being, then all our Dilcourfes are ufelefs. Is it not a ftanding Truth, and withal a juft and necella- ry Confequence, that the Exiftence of our Souls before our birth, ftands and falls with that of thole things > That Confequence, replies Simmias^ feems to me The Pardl- to be equally juft and wonderful : And the refult of ^^^ '' "°^ the whole Difcourfe affords fomething very glorious ^J^* ^^jj^ and defirable on our behalf, fince it concludes, that lililhL- before we were born our Souls had an Exiftence, as ings are no- Well as that intelligible- ElTence ycfi mention'd but ^'''"S ^^fi now. For my part, I think there s nothing more /^^Sr . evident, and more fenfible, than the Exiftence oi^y^^ljlsml all thele Things, Goodnefs, Juftice, 6^<;. and you have is mtGod, iulficiently made it out. '^" the work Now tbiCehes^ ikys Socrates ^ for Cebes muft like- "^ ^°'^' wife be convinc'd. I believe,replies5'/>;,w^,tho' he is the ftiffeft Man upon Earth, and very much proof againft Arguments, * Socrates means to prove, that as Goodnefs, Juflice, and all thofe intelligible Beings, which are the Patterns ot the fenfi- ble and real Beings, fiibiift intelligibly in God from all Eter- nity 5 fo onr Sonl exifts by it felt, and has an eternal Being in the Idea of Godj and from this Idea it derives all its Knowledge, H h yet 1 14 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue yet he'll own your Proof to be very convincing. In the mean time, tho' I am fufficiently convinced that our Souls had a Being before we were born : I have not yet heard fufficient Proof, for its continuing af- ter our Death. For that popular Opinion, which Cebes mentioned but now, remains in all its force, viz. That after the death of Man, the Soul dilperfes and ceafes to be. And indeed I cannot fee why the Soul Ihould not be born, or proceed from fome Part or other, and have a Being before it animates the Body in this Lite ^ and when it removes from the Body, ceaie to be, and make its exit as well as the Body. You fpeak well, 5/;;/«?i^j, fays Cebes -^ to my mind, Socrates has only prov'd the half of what he pro- pos'd. 'Tis true, he has demonftrated that the Soul has a Being before the Body ^ but, to compleat his Demonftration, he fhould have prov'd that our Soul has an Exiftence after Death, as well as before this Life. But I have demonftrated it to you both, replies Socrates •, and you'll be fenfible of it, if you join this laft Proof with what you acknowledge! before, viz. That the Living rife from the Dead. ^ For if 'tis true, that our Soul was in being before we were born ; then of neceffity when it comes to life, it proceeds, fo to fpeak from theBofom of Deaths and why fhould not it lie under the fame neceffity of be- ing after Death, finceitmulf return to Life? Thus what you fpeak of is made out. But 1 perceive both of you defire to found this Matter to the bot- tom i and are apprehenlive, like Children, that, when the Soul departs the Body, the Winds run away with it and difperfe it, elpecially when a Man dies in an open Country in a place expos'd to the Winds. * Tho' our Son] has no being before onr coming into the \yorld, yet it continues after Death, fince it mTilt rerurn to Life by the Kefnrrection, and the Living taice rife from the Dead.^ The defeat of Death is the triumph Oi Life. This Proof of tlie necelTary nfe of the Living from the Dead, is an admirabie lupport for ourChrilhan Hope. Where- of the Immortality of the SonL ilj Whereupon Cebes fmiling, replied, Pray then So- crates^ try to difcufs our Fears, or rather convince us, as if we fear'd nothing : Tho indeed there be ibme among us who lie under thofe childifli Appre- henfions. Perfuade us then not to fear Death, as a vain Phantome. r/ r c As for that, fays Socrates^ you muft employ ^pdlsl'lf^^'l_ and Exorcifms every day, till you be cuf d. dfms muji But pray, Socrates^ where (hall we meet with ^e/oo-^W for that excellent Conjurer , fmce you are going to ^"-J^'^ ^"^^ leave us ? . "f^'^' Greece is large enough, replies Socrates , and well "Twos from ftor'd with learned Men, Befides, there are a great ^^'"-^^ ■^''^*" many barbarous Nations, which you muft Icour in /" fd^/w- order to find out the Conjurer, without fparing either Wo«*, that Labour or Charges : For you cannot imploy your ^'« deriVd . Money in a better Caufe. You muft likewife look ^jl' ^^^ "f for one among yourfelves; for 'tis poflible there ^J^^^^/^g^'^ may be none found more capable to perform thoib Soui u m- Enchantments, than your felves. mortat. We (hall obey your Orders,5^cr^/-?j", in looking out for one : But in the mean while, if you pleafe, let's refume our former Difcourfe. With all my Heart, Cebes. Well faid, Socrates. ^ The firft Queftion, we ought to ask of our felves, iays Socrates^ is, what forts of Things they are that are apt to be diflipated ^ what Things are liable to that accident, and what part of thofe Things? Then ive muft enquire into the nature of our Soul, and form our Fears or Hopes accordingly. That's very true. Is it not certain, that only compounded Things, If there are any uncompounded Be- Will of God i"S^i ^^^y ^lone are iree from this Accident, and na- may con- turally uocapable of diffipation. tro'-^l T{a- That I think is very clear, replies Cebes. '^'"■^- Is it not very likely, that Thmgs which are al- chanre, a woys the fame, and in the fame condition, are not j%» of com- at all compounded ^ and that thofe which are liable fofition. X.Q perpetual changes, and are never the fame, are certainly compounded ? 1 am of your mind, Socrates. jnteiieaHcil L^^t US betake our felves to the Things we were Bemgs^ ^c. fpeji^jng of but now, the Exiftence whereof is ne- ver contefted either in Queftion or Anfwer-, are , thefe always the fame,or do they fometimes change? Equality, Beauty , Goodnefs , and every lingular Thing ^ 7. e. the EfTence it felf ^ do thefe receive the leaft alteration , or are they fo pure and fimple that they continue always the fame, without under- going the leaft change ? Of neceffity, replies Cehes^ they muft cotinue llill the fame without alteration. And all thefe fine things, fays Socrates^ fuch as Men, Horfes, Habits, Movables, and a great many other things of the fame nature, are they entirely oppolite to the former, that they never continue in the fame condition, either with reference to them- felves, or to others-, but are fubjeO: to perpetual alterations. They never continue in the fame condition, re- plies Cebes. Now thefe are the things that are vifible, touch- able, or perceptible by fome other Senfe j whereas the former, which continue ftill the fame, can only be reached by Thought , as being immaterial and invifible. That's true, Socrates. If you pleafe, continues Socrates.^ I'll inftance in two things, one vifible, tlie other invifible ; one ftill the fame, and the other betraying continual altera- tions. With of the Immortality of the Soul, 117 With all my Heart, fays Cebes. Let's fee then 5 are not we compounded of a Bo- / dy and a Soulj oris there aBy other Ingredient in ; our Compofition ? No, fure. Which of the two kinds' of things does our Body moft refemble ? All Men own that it is moft conformable to the vifible fort. And pray, my dear Cebes^ is our Soul vifible or invifible > At leaft, 'tis invifible to Men. He adds to But when we fpeak of vifible or invifible things, ^^"» 'J"" we mean with reference to Men, witliout minding yS/^ any other Nature. Once more then ; is the Soul to God. vifible, or not ? Tis not vifible. Then 'tis immaterial and invifible > Yes. And by Conlequence the Soul is more conforma- ble than the Body to the invifible kind of things ^ and the Body fuits better with the vifible ? There's an abfolute neceflity for that. When the Soul makes uie of the Body in confi- dering anything, by feeing, hearing, or any other 2"/?? cW;- Senfe, (that being the fole function of the Body to^'^y/^J^ confider things by the Senfes ) Ihould not we then eZjn-'dh^ lay that the Body draws the Soul upon mutable Matter. things. In this condition it ftrays, frets, ftaggers, and is giddy like a Man in drink, by reafon of its ^J,'^"^,r!'"* being engag'd in matter. Whereas when it purfues en^ag'd. things by it felf, without calling in the Body, it betakes it felf to what is Pure, Immortal, Immuta- ^i^'ffT I' . ble i and, as bein^ of the fame Nature, dwells con- \he slti, ftantly upon it while it is Mafter of it felf Then when it ], its Errors are at an end, and it is always the fame, <^'^^'>rc'd as being united to what never changes : And xms^^'Z^f/^^^ r Paflfion of the So«l is what we call Wifdom otth! Boly% Prudence. united cm- fiantly to Hh 5 That's ^'"^' iig Phedon: Or, A Dialogue That's admirably well ipoke, Socrates^ and a very great Truth. After all, then, which fort of things does the Soul feem to refemble moft > To my mind, Socrates, there's no Man fo ftupid and ftifF, as not to be o^Ug'd by your Method of Arguing, to acknowledge that the Soul bears a grea- ter relemblance and conformity to the immuta- ble Being, than to that which is always upon the change. Afid as for the Body > It bears a greater refemblance to the other. 7lx Soul Let's try yet another way. During the conjun8:i- bein^tbe ou of Body and Soul, Nature orders the one to Image of ^j^gy ^r^^ \^q 3 Siavc, and the other to command and Toclmmlld 1^0^^ ^^^ Empire. Which of thefe two Charaaers and the Bo- IS moft fuitablc to the Divine Beings and which to dy to obe;}. that that is Mortal ? Are not you lenlible, that the Divine is only capable of commanding and ruling ^ and what is Mortal is only worthy of obedience and flavery ? Sure enough. Which ot thele two then agrees heft with the Soul? 'Tis evident, Socrates^ that our Soul relembles what is Divine, and our Body what is Mortal. You fee then, my dear Cebes,t\[Q neceifary refult The nature of all, is, that our Soul bears a ftriO: refemblance to oftheSoui. ^j^gj. jg Divine, Immortal, IntelleQual, Simple, In- diflblvable -, and is always the fame and always like it : And that our Body does perfe8:ly refemble what '^f^i^'Tr ^^ buman, mortal, lenfible, compounded, diffolva- o/f^'^ 0 J- ^i^^ always changing, and never like it lelf Csm^ any thing be alledg'd, to deftroy that Confequence, or to make out the contrary ? No, fure, Socrates. Does not it then fuit with the Body to be quickly diffblv'd, and with the Soul to be always indilTolva- i)le, or fomething very near it ? That's a ftanding Truth. Ac- of the Immortality of the Soul, 1 19 (a) Accordingly you fee every day, when a Man dies, his vifible Body, that continues expos'd to our view, and which we call the Corps ^ that alone admits of diffolution , alteration and diffipation ; this, I fay, does not immediately undergo any of thefe Accidents, but continues a pretty while in its entire form, or in its flower, if I may fo fpeak, (b) efpecially in this Sealbn. Bodies imbalm'd after the manner of thofe in Egypt, remain entire for an '"^■"'^ 'f ^^ infinity of Years : And even in thofe that corrupt, {^J^'^^'j"^"' there are always fome Parts, fuch as the BonQS, ^y i^g^^^X, Nerves, or the like, that continue, in a manner im- mortal. Is not this true ? Very true. Now as for the Soul, which is an invifible Being, that goes to a Place like it felf, marvellous, pure, \ and invifible, in the infernal World ^ and returns to a God full of Goodnels and Wildom ^ which I hops will be the fate of my Soul in a minute, if it pleale God ; Shall a Soul of this nature, and created with (a) Socrates is about to fhew the ridiculoufnefs of the Opi- nion of the Souls diffipation after death. What ! (hall the Body, a compounded Being, fubfill: a pretty while after death j and the Soul, a iimple Being, be immediately difli- pated ? After what has been faid, the ridiculoufnefs is very plain. (b) This Paffage is enough, to ftunthe Criticks,who make a great buflle toh'nd out the precife time ofSocrates's death ; and after Uraining hard in demonlirating the Attick Calender, and computing its Months, alTure us he died in the Month of yu/y. Here, to their great misfortune, Socrates himfeif I'ays he died in the Seafon in which Corps keep beft. The Month of July is not entitled to that Character, efpecially in Greece. $0 that they muft make a new Computation. But how came this Paffage to efcape their view ? The reafon is plain. Molt of 'em do not read the Originals. When they look for any thing, they content themfelves with running over a Tranfla- tion. Now the tranflation of this Paffage is very fnilty. Nei- ther Marfii'ms Ficinus, nor de Serres underffood it. They tOok eo'es^ for the good Condition and entirenefs of the Parts ; whereas it lignifies the Seafon. Upon which milbke the one renders \v roistwA «g$«, cttm (juadam msderatione j and the Other corfore perbelle ajfeCio, H h 4 all 120 Phedon: Or, A Dialogue all thefe Advantages, be diffipated and annihilated, as foon as it parts from the Body, as molt Men be- lieve ? No fach thing, my dear Simmias and my dear Cebes. Til tell you what will rather come to pals, and what we ought to believe fteddily. If the Soul retain its Purity without any mixture of filth from the Body, as having entertain'd no volun- tary Correfpondence with it ^ but on the contrary, having always avoided it, and recolledcd it felf within it felf in continual Meditations •, that is, in ftudying the true Philofophy, and effeftually learn- ing to die J for Philolophy is a preparation to death : I fay, if the Soul depart in this The State of the de- Condition, it repairs to a Being like it farted Souls ofthofe who f^^^^ ^ ^^- ^^at's Dlviue, ImmottaL fery a God in nncerity all -.^ r- n A^-ixT-r-j • i • i • their life time. ^"^ tull Ot Wlldom -, lU whlch It Cn- joys an unexpreflible Felicity, as being The initiation into My- fiecd ftom its Errors, its Ignorance, its fieries^ was only a sha- Fcats, its Amouts that tytanuiled over dow of what was to be j. ^^^ y|^ ^^^ ^^j^^^ £^,^3 retaining to com^leatea tn the other . ' x ^ ^ o • i- • V <- ^■orlcl, human Nature ^ and , as tis laid or thoie who have been initiated in holy Myfteries, it truly paflcs a whole courfe of Eternity with the Gods. Ought not this to be the Matter of our Belief ? ' . Sure enough, Socrate:. The future But if the Soul depart full of Uncleannefs and •Z^'"''' '/'J"" Impurity, as having been all along mingled with pure Souls. ^^^ gody, always employ'd in its Service, always poflefs'd by the love of it, wheedled and charm'd by itsPlealures and Lulls-, infomuch that it believ'd there was nothing real or true beyond what is Cor- poreal, what may be feen, touch'd, drank or eaten, or what is the Obje£l: of Carnal Plea- impwre Souls believe furc •, that it hatcd, dteadcd and avolded there's no reality in any ^^j^^^ j-J^^ £^2^ of f|^g ^^^y ^ould nOt .V^W what is Cor- ^^^^^.y^ and 'all that is intelligible and !.// intelllsible things ^^^" ^"^7,^^, I'^MI^ ^y l^^l^^f^^P^^^y '' ^^ are only obfcurity to the yO" thuik', I fiy,that a Soul IT] thlS COn- i>5 of the Body. diuou cju dc'pait puic' aud limple from :. the J3ody > No of the Immortality of the SottL lii No fure, Socrates, that's impoflible. On the contrary, it departs ftam'd with Corporeal -^ ^o»^ M- PoUution, which was rendred natural to it by its ^^JL"^ ^"^ continual Commerce and too intimate Union with Jjf^^rJ]^/,^ the Body, at a time when it was its coiiftant Com- panion, and was ftill employed in ferving and gra- tifying it, Mort certainly. This Pollution, my dear Cebes^ is a grofs, heavy, earthy and vifible Mafs, and the Soul loaded with fuch a weight, is dragg'd into that vifible Place, not only by the Weight, but by its own dreading th$ Light and the invifible Place-, and, as we commonly impi^re Sft^ fay, it wanders in the {a) Church-yards round the •''>^ f^^- Tombs, where dark Phantoms and Apparitions are l^^'^J^'^^^^ often feen ^ fuch as thefe Souls that did not depart ^^'"''^^'° the Body in purity of Simplicity, but polluted with .««A-i.-*- jhat earthy and vifible Matter that "makes them ' ' ' degeneratelrito a vifible' Tofm. That's very likely, Socrates. Yes, without doubt, Cebes ^ and 'tis alfo likely that 'tis not the good but the bad Souls that are ^ fofc'd to wander in thofe Places of Impurity^ where they fuffer for their former ill Life, and continue ^„ Error to wander, till, through the love they have to lYiis taken from corporeal Mafs which always follows 'em, they en- Pythago- gage again in a new Body, and in all probability [f;^;n^V plunge themfelves into the lame Manners and ?3.i^ taken ma fions, as were the Occupation of their firft Life. grofs Senfe. '■ How do you fay, Socrates ^ I fay, Cf/'^j-, that, for Inftance, thofe who made their Belly th^ir God, and lov'd nothing but Info- lence and Impurity, witliout any Shame, and with- (a) Socrates fpeaks here of the impure Spirits that dwelt among Tombs in Church-yards, fuch as are mention'd in the theGofpel, Mattb. B. zS. Mark $. 2. Li*ke 8. i6. which wan- der'd Night and Day round the Tombs and upon the Moun- tains. He alledges they were corrupt and polluted Souls, which bore the Pollution they had contra<^ed by Sin, in plun- ging themfelves too deep in Matter. ... out 121 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue out any Referve ; thofe (b) enter into the Bodies of Afles or fuch like Creatures. Do not you think this very probable > Yes, lure, Socrates. \ And thofe Souls which lov'd only Injuflice, Ty- 1 ranny 2tnd Rapine, are employ'd to animate .the \ Bodies of Wolves, Hawks and Faulcons. Where ' elfe fhould Souls of that ftamp go ? No where elle, Socrates. The cafe of all the reft is much the fame. They go to animate the Bodies of Beafts of different Spe- cies, according as they refemble their firft courfes. According to thefe Principles, it cannot be other- wile. rhe Tate of The happieft of all thefe Men, whofe Souls are thofe who ^gj^j. ^Q ^.|,g j^qj^ agreeable Place, are thofe who TaVZ' h^ve always made a profufTion of Popular and Civil ju.fi by Ua- Vertues, which are cdilVd Temfera/ice 2ind Juftice -, hit, voithowt to which they have brought themlelves only by Ha- I'fThUoT' ^"^^ ^^"^ Exercife, without any afliftance from Philo- ]>hy. " fophy and the Mind. How can they be fo happy then > 'Tis probable, that after their death, their Souls are join'd to the Bodies of politick and meek Ani- mals, fuch as Bees, Wafps, and Ants; or elfe return to human Bodies, and become temperate and wile Men. But as tor approaching to the Nature of God, that is not at all allow'd to thofe who did not (b) In the Life of VUto, we took notice of this Opinion of Souls pafTing into other Bodies, whether of Men or Beafts > and endeavour 'cl to difcover its Source 5 I fliall only add, that by Socratcs's Way of expreffinghimfeJf, one would believe that • this imaginary Tranfmigraticn of Souls was grounded upon thofe impure Spirits tha^t enter 'd into Men and Bealls. Wc are not to doubt, bit that in thofe Times of Obfcurity, un- der the real Empire of the Devil, there were a great many People poifefs'd in that manner j and that was a fufficient Ground for forming the Idea of the Tranfmigration of Souls, that being moii apt to frighten 'em. They fanlied that thefe impure Spirits took to themfelves Bodies in the Sepulchers where they dwelt. ... live iU'- of the Immortally of the Soul. 12^ live Philofophically, and whole Souls did not de- part with all their Purity. That great Privilege is referv'd for the Lovers of true Wifdom. And 'tis upon the confideration of this, my dear Simmias and my dear Cehes^ that the true Phi- lofophers renounce the Defires of the Afinecharaneroftrm Body, and keep themfelves up from its ^W^^^^" •• T^^y fear T ,-,•' nn, 1 r c neither Toyerty . Irce of their Soul tied and chain'd to the Body, and by that '"'!' ^°!"^ . \, means oblig'd to employ the Body in the putfuit V^^^^)^"'£^}' of Objecls which it cannot follow alone •, fo that confifis in it flill floats in an Abyfs of Ignorance ^ are VQiy its own De- lenfible that the fbi'ce of this Bond lies in its own-^''"*^- Defires, infomuch that the Prifoner it felf helps to lock up the Chains : They are lenfible that Philo- fophy coming to feize upon the Soul in this Condi- tion, gently inftruds and comforts it , and endea- 7,, c / • vours to difengage it, by giving it to know that the X^^r '^ Eye of the Body is full of Illufion and Deceit, as headed by well as all its other Senfes, by advertifing it not the Body. '• . . . . , to i?4 Phedon: Or, A Dialogue to ufe the Body further than Neceflity requires ^ and advifing it to recoUeO: and Ihut up it felf within it felf; to receive no Depofition but its own, after it has examin'd within it felf the intrin- Wmteyer fick Nature of every thing, and ftripp'd it of the *aLfm!C Covering that conceals it from our Eyes ^ and to theZdUy continue fully perfuaded that whatever is tried by Senfes^ is all its Other Senles, being different from the for- falje. nier difcovery, is certainly falfe. Now whatever is tried by the corporeal Senfes, is vifible and fenlible. And what it views by it felf without the miniftry of the Body, is invifible and intelligible. So that the Soul of a true Philofopher, being convinced that it ^2 j/r fliould not oppofe its own Liberty, dilclaims, as far claims' all ^s is pofTible, the Pleafures, Lufts, Fears, and Sor- tie Tajpons rows of the Body : For it knows that when one has of the Body, enjoy'd many Pleafures, or given way to extream Grief or Timoroufnefs, or given himfelf to his De- iires 'j he not only is affli£led by the fenlible Evils known to all the World, fuch as the lols of Health OF Eftate, but is doom'd to the lart and greateft of Evils ; an Evil that is fo much the more dangerous and terrible, that it is not obvious to our Senles. What Evil is that, Socrates ^ 'Tis this •, that the Soul being forc'd to rejoyce or ihegreatefi ^^ afflicled upou anv occanon, is perfuaded that and mop r • n\ r r^ ■ r - i j terrible af- what caulcs its rleaiure or Griet, is a real and true i^iaion. of thing, tho' at the lame time it is not : And fuch is a Soul gi- the nature of all fenlible and vifible Things that ar«j '^"'°J"' capable to occafion Joy or Grief eftbeBody. That s Certain, bcerates. Are not theie Paflions then the chief Inftruments particularly thqt imprifon and m.9W up the Soul within the Body ? How's that Socrates ? Every Taf- Evety Pleafute, cvety melancholy Thought, being fion'has a atm'd wlth a ftrong and keen Nail, nails the Soul Sl/'X ^^ ^^^ ^^^y ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^'^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ becomes mate- Sot/i'to the ri^l and corporeal, and fanfies there are no real and Body, true Objects but luch as the Body accounts fo. ~ For of the Immortality of the SoaL ji$ For as it entertains the fame Opinions, and purfues the fame Pieafures with the Body, fo it is oblig'd to the fame AQ:ions and Habits : For which reafon it cannot defcend in Purity to the lower World, but is daub'd all over with the pollution of the Body it left, and quickly reenters another Body, where it takes Root as if it had been fown, and puts a Period to all Commerce with the Pure, Simple, and Divine Elfence. That's very certain, Socrates. Thefe are the Motives that oblige the true Phi- lofophers to make it their bufinefs to acquire Tem- perance and Fortitude, and not fuch Motives as the Vulgar think of. Are not you of my Opinion, Cebes ? Yes, fure. All true Philofophers will ftill be of that mind. Their Soul will never entertain fuch a Thought, as if Philofophy fhould difengage it, to the end that when *tis freed, it fhould follow its Pieafures, and give way to its Fears and Sorrows j that it fliould put on its Chains again , and always want to begin again, like Pene/ope^s Web. On the contrary, it^he Bufinefs continues in a perfe£l: tranquility and freedom from ^j^iil^^py^ Paflion, and always follows Reafon for its Guide, d^rilg Ms ' without departing from its Meafures ^ iC' ineeflantly whole life-^ contemplates what is true, divine, immutable, and ^''"*« above Opinion, being nourifh'd by this pure Truth j it is convinced that it ought to follow the fame courfe of Life while it is united to the Body j and hopes that after Death, being furrendef d to that Immortal Being as its Source, 'twill be freed from all the Afflictions of the human Nature. After fuch a Lite, and upon fuch Principles, my dear Sitnmids and Cebes^ what fhould the Soul be afraid of? Shall it fear, that upon its departure from the Body, the Winds will diffipate it, and run away with it ; and that annihilation will be its fate ? Socrates^ having thus fpoke, he ftop'd for a pret- X A A I ty while, feeming to be altogether intent upon what he J 26 Phedon ; Or, A Dialogue he had faid. Moft of us were in the fame Condi- tion ^ and Cebes and S'lmm'ias had a (hort Conterence together. At laft Socrates perceiving theit Confe- rence, ask'd 'em what they were fpeaking of ^ do Socrates you think, fays he, that my Arguments are lame ? defires \m J x^y^-^ indeed there is room left for a great many Xmom^ Doubts and Objedions, if any will take the Pains that"]ns to retail 'em out. If you are fpeaking of any thing ^rgnmenti elfe, I have nothing to fay. But tho' you have wight be j^o Doubts, pray do not ftand to tell me freely if €onfivrnd. ^^^ ^.j^-^j^ ^^ ^j^y j^g^^-^j. Demonftration, and make me a Companion in your Enquiry, if you think I can aififl: you to compafs your End. I'll tell you, fays Smmias^ the naked Truth. It is a pretty while fince Cebes and I thought of fome Doubts ^ and being defirous to have 'em refolv'd, pufh'd on one another to propofe 'em to you. But we were both afi:aid to importune you, and propofe difagreeable Qiieftions in the unfeafonable hour of your prefent Misfortune. O! my dear Shnmias^ replies Socrates fmiling' certainly I Ihould find great difficulty in perfuading other Men that I find no misfortune in my prefent Circumrtances •, fince I cannot get you to believe it. e ». . . , You think that upon the fcore of '^oxq- Socrates tsanirry With , , J 1 -tT- • • T • - • i his Friends, for reckoning knowledge aud Divining 1 am intiiiiuely his prefent Condition an Infetlour to the Swans. When tiiey unfortunate one. pctceive apptoaching Death, they ling ..^:;^:w:;.;1L: more merrlly than before, (a) becaufe he rechon'd no Misfortune of the Joy they havc in going to the in his Death, than this of God they fetve. But M;in, through the rallying '^pcn the Vulgar f^^LX of Death, teproach the Swans, in ^ndvythagorean^eligun. jayingtiiat they hment their Death, T mon Mafter the Art of Divining, as well as they, and I am as little concern'd for making my Exit as they are. So that you may freely propofe what ' Doubts you pleafe, and put Queftions to me, as long as the eleven Magiflrates fufFer me to ba here. You lay well, Socrates^ replies Simmias j fince it is fo, I'll propofe my Doubts firft, and then Cebes fhall give in his. I agree with you, that it is im- poffible, or at leaft very difficult, to know the truth in this Life ^ and that it is the property of a lazy and a dull Head, not to weigh exaftly what he fays, or to fuperfede the Examination before he *has made all his Efforts, and be oblig'd to give over by unfurmountable Difficulties. For one of two things ^f"^^^ ^^'*r muft be done : We muff either learn the Truth from T^^^Xi others, or find it out our felves. If both ways fdXl fi,ouid pick us, amidft all humane Reafons, we mult pitch up- out the befi^ on the fhrongeftand moif forcible, and truft to that '^"'^ '""■/^ as to a Ship, while we pafs through this ftormy ^2«S him Sea , and endeavour to avoid its Tempefts andfafe in this Shelves ^ till we find out one more firm and fuxG^fiormy Sea. fuch as (a) Promife or Reveiatiou, upon which we may (a) This is a very remarkable PafTage. Here the Philofo- phers acknowledge that we (hculd endeavour to make out the Immortality of the Soul by our own Keafon ; and that as this Reafon is very weak and narrow, fo it will always be aflanlted bv Doubts and Uncertainty 3 and that nothing but a Divine Pronjife or Kevelation can difperfe the Clouds of Imorance iiS thedon : Gr, A Dialogue TljeTromife may happily accomplifh the Voyage of this Life *'^^(uhhJ ^^ ^" ^ V efTel that fears no Danger. I fhall there- >mW \T f^^^ "0^ ^s afham'd to put Quetlions to you, now ^Hanger, that you allow me ^ and fhall avoid the Reproach I might one day caft upon my felf, of not having told you my Thoughts upon this occafion. When I furvey what you Ipoke to me and to Qehes^ I muft own I do not think your Proofs fufficient. y/ y Y* y Perhaps you have reafon, my dear Simmias j but '^ ' ' where does their infufficiency appear ? Simmias'i ^" ^^i^ ' ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ things might be aflerted firfiobjem-of the Harmony of a Harp. - For one may reafona- cn-^ that the hly fay that the Harmony of a Harp, well ftring'd ^^tof'Ha ^"^ ^'^^^^ tun'd, is invifible, immaterial, excellent mLyofthe ^"d divinc •, and that the Inftrument and its Strings fxme date ate the Body, the compounded earthy and mortal andftand- Matter. And if the Inftrument were cut in pieces, 'l^BoT ^^ ^'■^ Strings broken, might not one with equal ° ■^' reafon affirm, that this Harmony remains after the breaking of the Harp, and has no end > For, fince it is evident, that the Harp remains after the Strings are broken, or that the Strings, which are likewife mortal, continue after the Harp is broken or dif- mounted ^ it muft needs be impoflible, might one iay, that this immortal and divine Harmony fliould perifti before that which is mortal and earthy •, nay, it is neceflaiy that this Harmony fliould continue to be without the leaft damage, when the Body of the Harp and its Strings are gone to nothing. For, without doubt Socrates^ you are fenfible that we hold the Soul to be fomething that refembles a Har- mony J and that as our Body is a Being compofed Ignorance and infidelity. Now the jChriflian Religion is the only thing that fnrniflies us, not only with Divine Promifes and Keveiations, but likewife with the accomplifliment of 'em by the Kefurredtion Ot Chrill, who became the firji- fruits %>f them that Jlept^ I Cor. 15. zo. And tlius according to the Philofophers themfelves, the Church is the only Vellel that fears no Danger, in which we may happily accomplilh the Voyage o; this Life. of of the Immortality of the Soul, up ef hot and cold, dry and moift ; fo our Soiil is no- thing elfe but the Harmony refulting from the juft proportion of thele mix'd Qualities. Now, if our ^^^^J /^^^^^ Soul is only a fort of Harmony ^ 'tis evident, that ^ ^^0"^,-^ when our Body is over-llretch'd or unbended by ref,titing Difeaies, or any other Diforder, of neceffity our SoulA'"^ the with all its Divinity muft come to an end, as vidl^^fJ^^J'Pj^'^ as the other Harmonies which confift in Sounds, oxfoZ ^^Z are the effe8: of luftruments ^ and that the Remains Uties. of every Body continue for a coniiderable time, till they be burnt or moulder'd away. This you fee, Socrates^ might be alledg'd in oppolition to your Arguments^ that if the Soul be only a mixture of the Qualities of our Body, it perifhes firft in what we call Death. Then Socrates look'd upon us all, one after ano- XXX ^ fl ther, as he did often, and began to fmile. Simmias fpeaks with reafon, fays he, His Qpeftion is well put, and if any of you has a greater dexterity in an- swering his Objeftions than I have, why do yoii not do it ? For lie feems thoroughly to underftand both my Arguments and the Exceptions they are lia- ble to. But before we anfwer him, 'tis proper to hear what Cebes has to objscl, that while he Q)eaks we may have time to think upon what we are to, iay •, and after we have heard 'em both, that we may yield if their Reafons are uniform and valid, and if otherwife, may fland by our Principles to the out- moft. Tell us tiien, Cehei\ what it is that hinders you to agree with what I have laid down. . cu i rtl tell you, fays Cebes ^ your Demonflration j.^j^^tLl ieems to be lame and imperfetl ^ it is faulty upon tholheSoui the fame Head that we took notice of btfore. That "^^y^^ ^ore the Soul has a Being before its entrance into the 'f-^'^/''*'' Body, is admirably well faid^ and, 1 think, fuffici- ^J^rZy'a^ ently made out j but I can never be perluaded that «/»r Since you fee with your Eyes, that when a Man is dead, his weakeft Part remains ftill •, is it not therefore abfo- lutely neceffary that the more durable Part ftiould laft yet longer > Pray, take notice if I anfwer this Obje£lion right. For to let you into my meaning, I mult ufe Refemblance or Comparifon as well as Shnmias. Your Allegation, to my mind, is juft the fame, as if upon the death of an old Taylor, one lliould fay this Taylor is not dead •, he has a Being ftill Ibmewhere or other ^ and for Proof of that, here's the Suit of Clothes he wore, which he made for himfelf ^ ^o that he is ftill in being. If any one ftiould not be convinced by this Proof, he would not fail to ask him, whether the Man or the Clothes he wears is moft durable ? To which of neceflity he muft anfwer, that the Man is : And upon this foot, your Philofopher would pretend to demon- ftrate, that fince the lefs durable polfeffion of the Taylor is ftill in being, by a ftronger Conlequence he himfelf is fo too. Now, my dear Shmnias^ the Parallel is not juft j pray hear what I have to an- fwer to it. 'Tis evident at firft view, that the Obje£lion is ri- diculous.- For the Taylor, having us'd feveral Suits of Clothes, died after them, and only before the laft Suit, which he had not time to wear ^ and tho* this Suitfurviv'd the Man, if I may fo fpeak, yet we cannot fay that t he Man is weaker or lels du- rable than the Suit of Clothes. This Simile is near enougji, for as the Man is to his Suit of Clothes, fo is the Soul to the Body ; and whoever applies to the Soul and Body what is laid of the Man and his Suit of Clothes, will Ipeak to the purpofe. For he'll make the Soul more durable, and the Body a weaker Being, and lels capable to hold out for a long time. He*ll add, that every Soul wears feve- ral Bodies, efpecially if it lives feveral Years. For the Body walks while the Man is yet alive, and the of the Immovtality of the SouL i^t the Soul ftill forms to it felf a new habit of Body out of the former that decays •, but when the \3S\.rheSoui're- comes to die it has then its laft Habit on, and dies j^''^'^^" *» before its confumption •, and when the Soul is conmBo^ dead, the Body quickly betrays the weaknels of its Ty. Nature, fince it corrupts and moulders away very fpeedily. So that we cannot put fuch confidence in your Demonftration as to hold it for a ftanding Truth, that our Souls continues in being after Death. For fuppofing 'twere granted that our Soul has not only a Being antecedent to our Birth, but that, for any thing we know, the Souls of fome con- tinue in being after Death •, and that 'tis very pof fible they may return again to the World, and be born again, fo to fpeak, feveral times, and die at laft ; for the Strength and Advantage of the Soul beyond the Body confifts in this, that it can undergo feveral Births, and wear feveral Bodies one after ano- ther, as a Man does Suits of Clothes : Suppofing, I fay, that all this were granted, ftill it cannot be denied but that in all thofe repeated Births it decays and waftes, and at laft comes to an end in one of the Deaths, However, 'tis impoflible for any Man to difcern in which of the Deaths 'tis totally funk : Since Things ftand thus, whoever does not fear Death, muft be fenflefs •, unlefs he can demonftrate Uofe who that the Soul is altogether Immortal and Incoim^n- hoiitheSoul ble. For otherwife every dying Man muft of uq-^'^ f^ "^°^' ceffity be afraid for his Soul, for fear left the Body 'f/f^X'" it is a quitting be its laft Body, and left it perifh lamn. without any hopes of return. (jg Having heard 'em propole thefe Obje£lions we Phedon «-;(^; were very much troubled, as we afterwards told-^!^" *^'^ 'em •, that at a time when we were juft convinc'd ani'^ai- by Socrates's Arguments, they ftiould come to amule dreffes h'tm- us with their Objeftions, and throw us into a fit o^Mf to E- Unbelief and Jealoufie, not only of all that had been checrate^. faid to us by Socrates^ but likewiie of what he might fay for the future^ for w^e would always be apt to believe that either we were not proper Judges of li i the' ^2 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue the Points in debate, or elfe that his Propofitions were in themfelves incredible* Echec. Indeed Fhedon^ I can eafily pardon your trouble upon that account. For I my felf, while I heard you relate the Matter, was a faying to my lelf, what fliall we believe hereafter, fince Socrates's Arguments, which leem'd fo valid and convincing^ are become doubtful and uncertain > In efFe8:, that Obje£lion of Shnmias\ that the Soul is only a Har- mony, moves me wonderfully, and always did fo. It awakes in me the memory of my being formerly - of the fame Opinion. So that my belief is un- hing'd ^ and I want new Proofs to convince me that the Soul does not die with the Body. Wherefore, prithe tell me Phedon^ in the Name of God, how Socrates came oif^ whether he leem'd to be as much nettled as you •, or, if he maintain'^d his Opinion with his wonted Temper ^ and in tine, whether his Demonftration gave you full fatisfa8:ion, or feem'd chargeable with Imperfeftlons. Pray tell me the whole Story, without omitting the minuteft Cir- cumftance. Phed. I proteft to you, Echecratcs^ I admir'd Sa- crates all my life-time, and upon this occafion ad- mir'd him more than ever. That fuch a Man as he had his Anfwersin a readinefs, is no great furprifal; but my greateft admiration was to lee in the firft pice with what Calmnefs, Patience and good Hu- m3ur he received the Obje£lions of thefe Young- fters •, and then how dexterouily he perceiv'd the '^}. Impreffion they had made upon us, and cur'd us Y^^us'. of the fame. He rallied us like Men put to tiight 7 after a Defeat, and infpir'd us with a frefli Ardor to turn our Heads and renew the Charge. Echec. How was that } Fhed. I am about to tell you. As I fate at his Right-hand upon a little Stool lower than his, he drew his Hand over my Head, and taking hold of my Hair that hung down upon my Shoulders, as he was wont to do for his Diverfion •, Phedon^ fays he of the Immortality of the Soul, 133 he, will not you cut this pretty Hair to morrow > Tis probable I fliall, faid I. If you take my Ad- vice, faid he, you will not ftay fo long. How do you mean ? laid I. Both you '^m^^^ ^ ci^fl<»n among and I, continues he, ought to cut our theGtt&kyoct,tofftbeii^ It . .1^ r\ ' • 1 I- r J J ^1 ^ rlatr at the death or their Hair if our Opinion be fo far dead that f,/,„^,^ ^„^ ,yji, -„,, we cannot raife it again ; were I in the Tombs. your place and defeated, I would make ^/'^ belief of the im- 2i Vow, (a) as the Men of Argos did, '^°''''fy "f '''' Y> '' ' 5 V / TT • Ml T "^ --J /" Zood- a Friend, that we never to wear my Hair till I conquer d '„^.|;,, ,, ,^, „^',^^ ^lair thele Arguments of Simmias and Cebes, when it dies. But, faid I, Socrates you have forgot the old Proverb, that Hercules himlelf ^^ Hercules caiiei is not able to engage two. And why, ^f^'.ZH^dJ"'" '" ""' fays he, do not you call on me to aflift ^^^'' ^'^ ^ '^'^* you as your lo/as^ while 'tis yet time > j^ ^^ f^/„/g j ^^ ^.j, And accordingly I do call on you, faid aiiye. I, not as Hercules did Mas., but as lolas (iid Hercules. Tis no matter for that, lays he, 'tis all one. Above all, let us be cautious to avoid ^'rf /'/ one great Fault. What Fault, faid I ? That, faid he,' of being Reafon-haters •, for liich there are as well as Man-haters. The ^.J^Jflf^^fu m former is the greateft Evil in the World, f/^^"; oLfZ4 ' ^"m- and arifes from the fame Source with fpntes. the hatred of Man. For the latter comes from one Man's plighting his i,Jnm^''Jol!l?I^^^^ Faith for another Man, without any Pre- /,'^/,^t/' "" K^ajon- caution or Enquiry, whom he always took for a true-hearted, folid and trufty Man, but finds him at laft to be a falfe, faithlefs Clieat ; And thus being cheated in leveral fuch Inftances, by thofe whom he look'd upon as his beft Friends, and at laft weary of being fo often noos'd , he equally {a) The ^rglyes being routed by the Spartans, with whom they waaj'd War for feifing the City of Thyre^cut their Hair, and fwore folemnly never to fufter it to grow, till they had re-taken the Town that belong'd to 'em ; which hap- pen'd in the 57th Olympiad, when Croefw was befieg'd at5^r- dis, Herodot, lib. i, I i 3 hates J 34 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue hates all Men, and is convinc'd there is not one that is not Wicked and Perfidious. Are not you fenfible, that this Man-hating is form'd at this rate by de- grees ? Yes, fure, faid I. Is it not a great fcandal Kc who then , continued he, and a fuperlative Crime to vpoMcon- converfe with Men, without being acquainted with withMeJ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ trying them and knowing them ? For if ought to u one were acquainted with this Art, he would fee acquainted how Things ftand, and would find that the Good TPPith the art ^^^ ^.j^g Wicked are very rare, but thofe in the them°^'"^ middle Region fwarm in infinite Numbers. How do you fay, Socrates ? The Ex- I fay, Fhedon^ the Cafe of the good and bad is tream^ of all ^luch the fame with that of very large or very little «™!J!« Men. Do not you fee that there's nothing more ri«^f/;e me- uncommon than a very big or a very little Man > dium is ve- The Cafe is the fame with reference to Dogs, Horfes, rj common, and all Other Things ^ and may likewife be apply'd to fwiftnefs and flownels, handfomnefs and defor- mity, whitenefs and blacknele. Are not you con- vinced, that in all thefe Matters the two Extreams are very uncommon, and the medium is very com- mon ? I perceive it very plainly, Socrates. Vcw Men jf ^ Match Were propos'd for Wickedneis, would ZTiat "^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^y ^^^ ^^^^ Q.o\i\.^ pretend to the ptch If firft Rank ? vpidednefs. Thafs vcry likely, Socrates. Tis certainly fo, replies he. But upon this fcore, the Cafe of Reafon and Men is not exa6lly the The progrefs f^me. I'll foUow you ftep by Hep. The only re- X^^-f"'"' femblance of the two lies in this, that when a Man "''"'■^' unskill'd in the Art of Examination, entertains a Reafon as true, and afterwards finds it to be falle, whether it be fo in it felf or not ^ and when the fame thing happens to him often, as indee4 it does to thole who amule themfelves in deputing with the Sophifters that Gontradi8: every thing •, he at laft believes himfelf to be extraordinary well skill'd, and taniies he's the only Man that has perceiv'd that? i of the Immortality of the Soul. i j 5 that there's nothing true or certain ei- ther in Things or Reafons, but that rhofe who fa»fe that So- all is like Euryp^ , in a continual «ates W pjato ta^ht r, -1 n '^ 1 1 ^i-- >^o pottiye Truths, but flux and reflux, and that nothing con- ,,,^M^ ,^,,^ j^/„-„^ ,^,,. tinues fo much as one Minute in the cenam , may undeceive fame ftate. themfelyes by reading tins That is the pure Truth, 5^^r^r^j. ^'^^^5^- Is it not then a very deplorable mif- „, . -, , riT / 1 1-1 There are fome true, fortune, my dear Phedon, that while ,,,,^i„^ ^„^ ^,,^ ,,„,^,,: there are true, certain, and very com- bmfiye i^eafons. prehenfible Reafons, there fhould be Men found, who after they have fuffer'd 'em to pafs, call 'em again in queftion upon hearing thefe fri- volous Difputes, where fometimes Truth and fome- times Falftiood comes uppermoft ; and inftead of charging themfelves with thefe Doubts, or blaming ^^'^ ^'^^'^ »/ their want of Art, caft the blame at laft upon the'' '"^''*'^"' are wont to Reafons themfelves ^ and being of a fowre Tqvci- dij},aewith per, pafs their life in hating and calumniating all crofs and Reafon, and by that means lob themfelves both "'''"''''^'^^'^- of Truth and Knowledge. '^ ^"'^ That's certainly a moft deplorable thing, fiid I. We ought to be very cautious, continues he, that X'X. ^^'^^ this misfortune be not our lot •, and that we are not prepolfefs'd by this Thought, that there's nothing folid or true in all Arguments whatfoever. We fhould rather be perfuaded that 'tis our felves who are wanting in Solidity and Truth •, and ule our ut- For the he- moft Efforts to recover tiiat Solidity and juftnefsof^'V"/'^/'^ Thought. This is a Duty incumbent upon you, who J^XT^ /^ have time yet 10 live ; and likewife upon me who "t^njifj" am about to die : And I am much afraid, that upon loth for ii- this occafion I have been fo far from afting the ^'"'?> ^"'^• Part of a true Philofopher, that I have behav'd my^;/-^'"'^ felf like a Difputant overborn with Prejudice ^ as all thofe Ignorants do, who in their Difputes do jue chara- not mind the perception of the Truth, but mean chr of an only to draw their Hearers over to their Opinions. '^"'"-"'^ The only difference between them and me, is, that 1"^l^;fl'_ convincing my Audience of the Truth of what 1 4;/-. ' ^'*' I i 4 advance 1^6 Phedon: Or, i Vialogue advance is not my only aim •, Indeed, I (hall be in- finitely glad if that come to pafs ; but my chief fcope is to perfuade my felf of the truth of thefe things-, for I argue thus, my dear P/Wc?;:, and you'll r/;e rffifrrfw- find that this way of arguing is highly ufeful. If *dEnimf the Truth, and therefore pleaie the People beft 5 but as for me , I am of Opinion that all Di- fcourfes proving their Point by Similes^ are full of vanity, and apt to feduce and deceive, unlefs one be very cautious, whether it relate to Geometry or any other Science : Whereas the Dilcourfe I made for proving that Knowledge is Remembrance, is ground- ed upon a very creditable Hypothefis : For 1 told you that the Soul exilts as well as its Eflence before it comes to animate the Body. By Eflence I mean (a) Marfdiui Flchius and de Serves have flrangely mifunder- ftood this Pallage, not only in making SimmLts I'peak ail this j but what is more confiderable, in putting a favourable Con- ftrudion on thofe words, im^ eiv.orQ- rim i^ 'ei/TpiWctf, which the one renders, yerifimi/u tantum ■venufiltjit.e exempli in- dicAtione -^ and the other, ex yerifimi/i qttadam convenientia-y and in feparating the words a.v 'I'J'^t S'mmias anfwerd. It could not. Then, fays 5^- crates^ a Harmony does not precede, but follows ^'^^*^°'^y « the Things it is compoled of. And it cannot have "l^ry 'tTlts Sounds, Motions, or any thing elfe contrary to Tans ; hut its Parts. theSouiu No fure, replies Simmias. But what, continues ^^ •^* Socrates^ is not all Harmony only fuch in propor- tion to the Concord of its Parts ? I do not well underftand you, lays Simmias. . I mean, according as the Parts have more or lels of Concord, the Harmony is more or leis a Harmo- ny. Is it not ? Yes, fure. Can we fay of the Soul, at the fame rate, that a ^^ ^^^^ ^ fmall difference makes a Soul to be more or lels ^ fuch, u not Soul ? capable of No, fure, Socrates. receiying How is it then, in the Name of God > Do not^'-^*'*""""""^ we fay, for Example, that fuch a Soul endow'd with Underftanding* and Vertue, is good ^ and another fiU'd with Folly and Mifchief, is wicked ? Is not this right > ' Yes, fure, quoth Simmias. But thofe who hold the Soul to be a Harmony, what will they call thefe Qualities of the Soul, that Vice and that Vertue ? Will they fay, the one's Harmony, and the other Difcord ? That a vertuous and good Soul, being Harmony in its Nature, is en- titled 140 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue titled to another Harmony ^ and that a vicious wick- ed Soul wants that additional Harmony. I cannot be pofitive, replies Simmias ; but indeed 'tis very probable the Patrons of that Opinion may advance fome fach thing. But v^e concluded, that one Soul is not more or lefs a Soul than another ; that is, that it is not more or lefs a Harmony, than another Harmony. I own it, fays Simmias. And fince it is not more or lefs a Harmony then, it has not more or lefs Concord. Is it not fo ? Yes, fure, Socrates. And fince it has not more or lefs of Concord s^ can one have more Harmony than another, or muft the Harmony of 'em all be equal ? Queftionlefs it muft be equal. 'M Souls Since one Soul cannot be more or lefs a Soul rri/-^' than another, by the lame reafon it cannot have mill? « a'l r"o^^ or lefs of Concord than another. abfurdity. That's ttuc. Then it follovys neceffarily that one Soul pannot have either more Harmony or more Difcord than another ? I agree to it. And by conlequence, fince the Soul is of that Nature, it cannot have more Vertue or Vice than another ^ if fo be that Vice is Difcord, and Vertue Harmony ? That's a ftanding Truth, fays '"""'^^ f'^ There's no other Part can pretend to it. 2t«i?" Does it Command by giving way to the faf^^onsfick the Body of the Body, or by refifting them > As for Exam- conmanis pie, when th';; Body is feiz'd with Thirft in the cold ^''^ ^'"- Fit of a Fever, does not the Soul reftrain it from ""'"■^* drinking ? Or, when 'tis hungry, does it not re- ftrain it from eating ? As well as in a thoufand other Iiifta nee-?, which manifeftly fhew that the Soul curbs the Paffions of the Body, Is it not fo ? Without queftion. But we agreed above that the Soul being a Ibrt of T'/'e Soul Harmony , can never found contrary to the found ^^'"^^^^ ^^'f of thofe things which raife, or lower, or move it •, J,f^o7y. nor have other Paffions, different from thofe of its which it Parts ♦, and that it is neceflarily oblig'd to follovi coMmt them, as being uncapable to guide them. ^°^ 'f '^ Tis certain we agreed upon that, f^^y^Simmias :^^^^ How could we avoid it ? But,fays5(?^rj/^j-, isit not evident that the Con- duQ of the Soul is the downright contrary ? That it governs and rules thoie very Things which are alledg'd for Ingredients in its Compofition •, that it thwarts and attack's 'em almoft all its life-time •, that is every way their Miftrefs, punifhing and repref" fing feme by the harder meafures of Pain, Schooi- Exercifes and Phyfick-, and treating others more gently, as contenting it (elf with threatning or in- fulting over its Lufts, Paffion and Fear. In a word, we fee the Soul fpeal^s to the Body as fomething of 142 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue oF a different Nature from it felf ^ which Homer was fenfible of, when, in his Odyjjes he Homer ^»ew *''^«- ^^« tells that U/yffes beating his Breaft^ re- TiatureoftheSoHlis 'dif- jy^ji^y j^'^ Heart, and faid to it, fup- t:^"« Yes, Socrates-, I fwear I am perfuaded Homer knew that Truth. And by Confequence, my dear Simmias, continues Socrates, there is not the leaft Colour of Reafon for the Souls being a Harmony -, fhould we aflert it to be fuch, we fliould contradi£l both Homer, that di- vine Poet, and likewife our felves. Simmias yielded 5 and Socrates proceeded thus. I think we have fufficiently tempet'd and mode- rated this {a) Theban Harmony, fo that it will do Wi)y Cebes US no harm. But Cebes, how Ihall we do to ap- was caird peafg and difarm this (b) Cadmus ^ How ftiall we /fe iSm ^^^ ^" ^ Difcourfe, duly qualified with a perfuafive force ? If you'll be at the pains, Socrates, you can eafily find fuch a Difcourfe. The laft you had againll the Harmony of the Soul, mov'd me mightily, and (a) He calls Slmmtas*s Opinion a Theban Harmony^ alluding to the Fable of Am^hion^ who by the Harmony of his Harp built the Walls of Thsbes. In like manner Simmias with his pretended Harmony rear'd up the humane Body. (b) He calls Cebes another Cadmus^ becaufe as Cadmuf by Tow- ing the Teeth of the Dragon he had kill'd, fetch 'd out of the Bofom ot the Earth a Race of fierce Men that liv'd but one Minute : So Cebes by the Opinion of the Mortality of the Soul, a thing more poyfonous than the Teeth of a Dragon, made all Man earthly and beaftly, and left 'cm but a very fhorc Life. indeed' of the Immortality of the Souh 14$ indeed beyond my expeElation : For when Simmlas propos'd his Doubts, I thought nothing Ihort of a rrodigy or Miracle could folve 'em : And I was mightily furpris'd when I faw he could not ftand your firft Attack. So that now it will be no fur- prifal to me to fee Cadmus undergo the fame fate. My dear Cehes^ replies Socrates ^^o not you fpeak too big upon the matter, left Envy fhould overturn all I have faid, and render it ufelefs and ineffedual. But that's in the Hands of God. As for us, let us approach one another, as Homer lays, and try our Strength and Arms. What you want comes all to this Point •, you would have the Immortality and Incorruptibility of the Soul demonftrated, to the end that a Philofopher, who dies bravely in the hopes of being infinitely more happy in the other World than in this, may not hope in vain. You fay, the Soul's being a durable and divine Subftance, exifting before its joyning with the Body, does not conclude its Immortality; and the only Inference that it will bear, is, that it lafts a great while longer, and was in being many Ages before us, during which it knew and did feveral things ^ but without Immortality : For on the contrary, the firft Minute of its delcent into the Body, is the Commencement of its Death 5 or, as it were a Difeafe to it : For it paffes this Life in Anguifti and Trouble, and at laft is quite Iwal- low'd up and annihilated by what we call Death. You add, that 'tis the fame thing, whether it animates -j-j^^p^ ^f^^ a Body only once, or returns to it leveral timQS^ beUeye the fince that does not alter the occafion of our Fe^rs, Mortality forafmuch as all wile Men ought ftill to fear Death, °-^;^J'^ -^""^a while they are uncertain of the Immortality of ^'Jp^'^^z^ their Souls. This, I take it, is the Summ of what its annihi- you faid-, and I repeat it lb often, on purpofe, ^'^^'''w « <« that nothing may efcape my view, and that yp^^"£rl'"/f may have the opportunity of adding, or impairing 'to JaJifT as you pleafe. Mm. At prefent, fays Qks^ I have nothing to alter : That 144 Phedon : Or, J Dtllogue That is the juft Summ of all I have yet faid. Socrates was filent a pretty while , as being drown'd in profound Meditation : At laft, Cebes-^ iays h6, 'tis truly not a fmall matter that you de- mand •, for in order to a juft fatisfaQion, there's a neceflity of making a narrow Enquiry into the caufe of Generation and Corruption. If you pleafe I'll tell you what happen'd to me upon this fame very matter •, and if what I fay feem ufeful to you, you fliall be at liberty to make ule of it to fupport your Sentiments. With all my heart, fays Simmins. Pray give ear then, fays Socrates : In my youth I Socrates in had an infatiable defire to learn that Science, which his yoMh is call'd Natural Hijiory ^ for I thought it was IXerff"^^ fomething Great and Divine to know the Caufes of Thyficks. every thing,of their Generation,Death,and Exiftence. And I fpar'd no Pains, nor omitted any Means; for trying in the firft place, if {a) a certain corruption of hot and cold, will, as fome pretend, give Being and Nourifhment to Animals ^ if the Blood makes the Thought ^ if Air or Fire, or the Brain alone is the caufe of our Senfes, of Seeing, Hearing, Smel- ling, ^c. if Memory and Opinion take their rile from thefe Senfes, and if Knowledge be the refult of Memory and Opinion. Then I wanted to know the caules of their Corruption, and extended my curiofity both to the Heavens and the cavities of the Earth,and would fain have known the C'aufeofall xhQFhdsnome- na we meet with. At laft, after a great deal of trou- ble,! found my lelf ftrangely unqualified for fuch En- quiries ^ and of this I am about to give you a fcnfi- ble Proof Qi) This fine ftudy made me fo blind in {a) Socrates faid he was ignorant of all thefe Things, be- caiife he knew nothing btit Second Caufes. Now to know them jiiflly, one ought to know God, and the Vertue he di- fpJays in Nature. (b) Its urmoll reach amounts to no more than an impcr- fed Knowledge of Second Caufes. Now thefe Second Caufes ' do not lead us into the knowledge of theEflence of Things. A of the ImmoYtAlity of the Soul, i^^ in the Things I knew more evidently before, accord- -^ Aange ing to my own and other Perfons Thoughts, that I'^'f °0^'^ quite forgot all that I had known upon feveral Sub- TlyficL .♦ jefts, particularly that of a Man's growth. I thought it blind's 'twas evident to the whole World , that a Man {»^^^^ «/ grows only by eating and drinking : For Flefh ^^^^^'j^: being added to FlelTi , Bone-s to Bones, and all the filncuJl" other Parts joyn'd to their fimilar Parts by Nourifli- ^' itient, make a fmall Bulk to fwell and grow, fo that a little Man becorties large. This was my Thought. Do not you think 'twas juft ? Yes fure, replies Cebes. - Mind what follows , fays Socrates : I thought likewife that I knew the Reaion why one Man is taller than another by the Head, and one Horfe higher than another : And with reference to plainer and more fenfible Things, I thought, for Inftance, that ten was more than eight, becaufe two were added to it -, that two Ctibits were larger than one, becaufe they contain'd one half more. And what are your prefent Thoughts of thole Things, fays Cebes ? - I am fo far, replies Socrates^ from thinking that I know the Caufes of all He afterwards giyes thele things i that, when one is added t^^^ ^^4°'^ of thefe Doubts. to one, I do not believe I can tell whe- ther it is that very one to which the , ^f^'^^^'H, ^''' ^'^h ^, . 1 J J 11 mijma7ia'r d yvhen they other IS added that becomes two ^ or coM noffhlwhoworrt^hy whether the one added, and the one to one and one make two. which the addition was made make two together ? For in their feparate ftate, each of 'em was one and not two; and after their being A Man is fo far from improving his Knowledge by them, that he mull: needs own his Ignorance of the Things he pre- tended to know. All Philofophers at this day. know that Nourifliment by the means of Heat is the caiife ot the growth' of any Animal. But they're all at a lols to know by what Virtue it grows or ceafes to grow, and what are the Jimita of Its growth. What misfortune is it for a Man to plod all his iife-tirae for the knowing of nothing ! t.k i)lac'd 146 Phedon: Or, A Dialogue plac'd one by the other, they became two. Neither can I tell how, upon the divifion of any thing, what was formerly one becomes two, from the very mi- nute of divifion : For that Caule is quite contrary to that which makes one and one become two. There this one, and this one become two, by reafon of their being plac'd near and added, the one to the other : But, here this one Thing becomes two by leafon of its divifion and reparation. Far lels do I pretend to know whence this one Thing comes, and by this Method ( /. e. by Phyfical Reafons ) I can- not find out how the leaft Thing takes rile or pe- He means rifhes, or how It exifts. But without fo much Ce- tlTourfeto rsrnony, I niix another Method of my own with thefirfi ° this, for by this I can learn nothing : Having one Caufejor day hcatd fome Body reading a Book of (^) Anaxa- expUining goras\ who faid the Divine Intellect was the caule 'xnthe°vhy- ^^ ^^^ Beings, and drew 'em up in their proper ficks. ^ Ranks and ClafTes •, I was ravilli'd with Joy. I 7wbte begin- percciv'd there was nothing more certain than this «/«5/cr A- Principle, that the Intelleft is the caufe of all Be- naxagoras. j^g^^ ^or: I juftly thought that this Intellea having methodised all Things and rank'd 'em in their Clal- fes, {c) planted every Thing in the Place and Con- (h) ^naxagoras was the firft that faid the Intelled or Spirit of God rank'd the Parts of Matter, and put 'em in motion. And 'twas that Principle that ufher'd in his Phylicks. This fair Exordium gave Socrates occafion to think that he would ex- plain all the Secrets of Nature,by unfolding the divine Vertue difplay'd upon it, and afTigning the Keafons why every Thing was fo and fo. But that Philofopher did not keep up to his firll: Principle j fur he wav'd the firft Caufe, and iniifted on fecond Caufes, and by fo doing fruftrated the expectation of his Keaders. (r) Here Socrates recals us to the firft Truth, that God cre- ated all Things good, and in their beftftate; according to Mofts^ who fays, God fuw all Things that he had made^ atU be- hold they were yery good. Now in Order to know why Things are thus good, we muft enquire into the Nature of this Ori- ginal Goodnefs, and furvey the fttate they were created in. What a forry thing is Phylkks then , that knows nothing but fecond Caufes, or rather, that doe* not ceitaiiiiy know tliefc ftcond Caufes ? dition if the Immortality sfih Aft/. 147 dition that was belt and moft uleful for it, in winch it could beft do aiid fufFer whatever the Intelle£l had allotted to it j and I apprehended that the re- fult of this Principle, was, that the only Thing a Man ought to look for, either for himfelf or others; is this better and more ufeful thing : For having once found what is beft and moft ufe^l, hell neceflarily know what is worft, fince there is but one Know- ledge both for the one and the other. Upon this feore I was infinitely glad, that I had found fuch a Mafter as Anaxagoras^ who I hop'd would give a fatisfaQory Account of the Caufe of all Things -, and would not only tell me, for In- ^^'^^ ''|*'»e ftance, that the Earth is broad or round, but like- ^^J^^^Vj. wife aflign the neceiTary Caufe obliging it to be ^0 : ought h Who would point out to me what was beft, and at teach, the fame time give me to underftand why it was io. In like manner, if he affirm'd the Seat of the Earth to be in the Centre of the World, I expeSted he would give me a Reafon why it was fo : And, after I ftiould have received fumcient Inftruftion from him, defign'd never to admit of any other taufe for a Principle. I prepare Ibme Queftions to be put to him con- cerning the Sun, Moon, and other Stars, in order to know the Rcafons of their Revolutions, Motions, and other Accidents, and why what each of them does is always the beft : For I could not imagine, that after he had told me, that the IntelleO: rank'd them, and drew them up in order, that he cou'd give W?e I am. I proteft, cotinues Socrates^ I cannot well under- 2^^'« ^^ tn. ftand all the other learned Gaufes, that are common- ^""""^ ly given us. But if any Man ask me what makes a thing fine, whether the livelinefs of its Colours, or the juft proportion of its Parts and the like ; I wave all thefe plaufibleReafons, wtiich lerve .. r / only to confound me 3 and without Ce- ,,j,TcoZLuJeslf Z rdmony or Art, make anfwer, and per- jirfi fine being, i. e. ac- haps too fimply, that its finenels is only cording to the proportion of owing to the prefence, or approach, or ^'^co^ormitytothe idea ' ' ^ c ^^ • • ^ n o '^w Dejizn of God , the communication of the original fine Be- ^^^ cailfiofill Things! ing, whatever be the way of that com- munication. For I am not yet certain in what man- ner it is : I only know certainly, that all thele fine Things are rendered fuch by the prefence of this fine Being. While I ftand by this Principle , I reckon I cannot be deceiv'd^ and I am perfwaded, that I may fafely make anfwer to all Queftions whatfoever, that all fine Things owe their Finenefs to the prefence of the above-mentioned Being. Are not you of the fame mind > Yes, fure, Soerates. Are not great and fmall things render'd fuch in like manner? If one told you, that fuch a thing is K k 4 larger * . 1^2 Phedon: Ox, A Dialogue larger than another by the Head -, (a) would not you thnik the Expreflion tar from being exaft j and would hot' you make anfwer, that whatever is larger is renderM fuch by magnitude it felf, and what is fmal- ler owes its littlenels to littlenefs it felf? For if you faid, that fuch a thing is greater or fmaller than ano: ther by the Head , I fancy you would fear being cenfuf d , for making both the greater and lefle? thing to be fuch by the fame caufe -, and befides^ for ufing fuch an Exprelhon as feems to imply, that the Head, which is a fmall part, makes the largnefs of the greater, which in efFe£l is a Monfter j for what can be more abfurd than to fay, that a fmall Matter makes a thing large > Would not you fear fuch Ob- je8:ions ? Yes, fure, replies Cebes^ fmiling. By the fame reafpn would not you be aff^aid to fay, that ten is more than eight, and furpaffes it by two ? And would not you rather fay, that ten are more than eight by quantity ? In like manner, of two Cubits would not you fay, they are larger than one by magnitude, rather than by the half? For ftill there's the lame occafion of fear. You fay well. But when one is added to one, or a thing divided into halfs, would not you avoid faying, that in the former Cafe addition makes one and one two, and in the latter divifion makes one thing become two? Of .iK !m- And would not you proteft, that you know no other ^^'J-'"'"'^^^-^-^' caule of the exiftence of things, than the participa- fendL'rZp. ^i*^^^ ^^ ^he eflence that's peculiar to every fubjeft ^ cnthcfirfi and confequently no other reafon why one and one Truth, viz. makes two, but the participation of dudity^ as onq SjIi r ^^- ^"^ ^-"y ^^^^ participation of unity ? Would not yoii fiihiijis ani^^^'^-^'^^ ^^^^ additions, divifions and all the'qther //•ojw'rrWe fine anfvvers, and leave 'em to thofe who knov? more it proceeds. (a) Socrates does not condemn the receiv'd Expreflions, but mcnns to fliew, that they do not reach the Nature and Effence 6t" Things • and, being always ty'd to Matter, cannot bear up to the true Efi^nce that does aJl. ■ . • . • than of ^he Immortality of the Soul 15 j ^han you do ? And, for fear of your own Shadow, as the Proverb goes, or rather of your Ignorance, would not you confine your fclf to this Principle > And, if any one attacked it, would not you let it ftand without daigning him an anfwer, till you had furveyed all the conlequences , to fee if they are of a piece or not ? And if afterwards you fliould be obliged to give a reafon for theirj, would not you do ^ tme way it by having recourie to fome of thefe other J^/?(?/^^-''//»'^'"»S fes^xh^it fhould appear to be the beft ^ and fo proceed °^Jjl'^ from Hypothefis to Hypothejis^ till you lighted upon fomething that fatisried you, as being a fure and rnnding truth I At the fame time you would be loth Tor the Ef- to perplex and confound all tilings as thofe Dilpq- /^^^^ ^''^ "''^ tants do, who call all things in queftion. 'Tis tius/lff^^ ^^ theie Difputants perhaps are not much concern'd for ^Jure and the truth ^ and by thus mingling and perplexing all E^ence of things by an effect of their profound knowledge, ^««/'^^- they care fure to pleafe themfelves. But as for you, if you are true Philofophers, you'll do as I fay. . Simmia^ and Gf^fj- jointly replied, that he fa id well. Echec. Indeed, Fbec/0/7^ I think it no wonder -, for to my mind, Socrates explain'd his Principles with a wonderful neatnefs, fufficient to make an impreifion ypon any Man of common Senfe. . Phcd. All the Audience thought the fame. Echec. Even we, who' have it only at fecond hand, find it fo. Bat what was faid next ? Fhed. If I remember right, after they had granted, ^j Species, that the Species of things have a real Subliftance • ['^^^^'''^''""'"' and that the things participating of their Nature, 2LTo/" take their denomination from them ^ then, I fay, So- things , c/ates interrogated Cebes^ as follows : vphkhfubjlji If your Principle be true, when you fay Simmia^ I'^^i'^'n'a is larger than Socrates and leffer than Fhedon ^ do \fGoL ^ not you imply, that both Magnitude and Litclenefs :^re lodged at the fanae time in Smmim ^ Yes, replies (.eVes. " ' But 154 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue Tis only But do Hot you owH, that this Propofition, Sim- CmpSh^'^ «?/^ is bigger than Socrates^^ is not abfolutely and in j f'Mt^njo». .^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^ P^^ Simmia^ is not bigger becaule he I is Sm7nias^ but becaufe he is poflefled of magnitude. Neither is he bigger than Socrates becaufe Socrates is Socrates^ but becaufe Socrates has littleneis in the comparifon viit\i S'mmias's magnitude.Neither isSim- mas lefier than Fhedon , becaule Phedon is fhedon^ but becaufe Phedon is big, when compared to Sim- tnias^ who is little. That's true. Thus, contiues Socrates^ Simmtas is called both big and little, as being between two : By partaking of" bignefs he is bigger than Socrates^ and by parta- king likewife of littlenefs he is lefler than Phedon. Then he fmil'd and faid, Methinks I have inlifted too long upon thefe things ; but I fhonld not have amus'd my felf with thefe large Strokes, had not it been to convince you more efFe£lually of the truth of my Principle : for, as I take it, not only magni- tude it felf cannot be at the fame time big and fmall : iSrwwjBx re but befides, the magnitude that is in us does notad- VwTcm'** ^^^ ^^ littlenefs, and has no mind to be furpalTed •, y,^^^^^^" for either the magnitude flees and yields its place yermeetin whcn it fccs iis Enemy approaching, or elfe it va- tJx fame nifhes and perifhes entirely, and, when once it has SiibjeOr, received it , it defires to continue as it is. As I, for inftance, having received littlenefs , while I am as- you fee me, cannot but be little : for that which is big does never attempt to be little: And in like man- ner littlenefs never encroaches upon magnitude. In one word , any of the Contraries , while it is what it is, is never to be found with its contrary ^ but ei- ther difappears or perifhes when the other comes in. Cehes agreed to it : but one of the Company, I forgot who, addrefled, himfelf to Socrates thus : In the Name of all the Gods, did you not fay contrary to what you now advance ? Did not you conclude upon this, that greater things take rife from the lelfer, of the hnmortality of the Soul, i^^ lefier, and the lefler from the greater ^ and, in a word, that contraries do ftill produce their contra- ries > Whereas now, as I take it, you alledge, that can never be. ' Whereupon Socrates put his Head further out of the Bed, and, having heard the Objeftion, laid to him. Indeed you do well to put us in mind of what we faid -, but you do not perceive the difference be- tween the former and the latter. In the former we Contrariesda afferted, that every contrary owes its being to its /»e/efi^/»c, contrary : And in the latter we teach, that a con- "^'t o"*; a- trary is never contrary to it lelf, neither in us, nor "'^^'^*'5 *«* in the courfe of nature {a). There we fpoke of things ^'J'^J ^^ that had contraries, meaning to call every one oither. Tina 'em by their proper Names : but here we fpeak ofcoid^vpbUe fuch things as give a denomination to their Subjects, '" " "''^» which we told you, could never admit of their con- Z'^omeZat. traries. ' Then, turning to Cebes, did not this Obje- £lion, fays he, likewife give you fome trouble ? No, indeed, Socrates^ replies Cebes ^ I can affure you, that few things are capable to trouble me at prefent. ■ Then we are agreed upon this fimple Propofition, lays Socrates , that a contrary can never be contrary to it felf i That's true, fays Cebes, But what do you fay to this > Is Cold and Heat any thing > ^ Yes fure. What, is it like Snow and Fire > No, fure, Socrates. (a) That is, there he fpoke of fenflble things which have contraries, and are capable of receiving thefe contraries reci- procally, as a little thing becomes big, and a big thing little. But here he fpeaks of the things themfelves, the intelligible contraries, fuch as cold and heat, which give name to the luDJedts they're lodg'd in by their own name, and are never capable ot receiving their contraries , for cold can never be- come heat, nor hea: cold. They are always what they are. ■r Then 156 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue He fpeah of ThcH you Qwii, that Heat is different from Fire, tu Zfab- ^"^ ^^^^ ^^^"^ ^"^^ ■ *^fir,thu " ' Without quefiion, Socrates, from their I belicve you'li likewile own, that when the Snow f»bjei}s. receives Heat, it is no more what it was, but either gives way, or difappears for good and all, when the Heat approaches. In like manner the Fire will ci- ther yield or be extinguiflied when the Cold pre- vails upon it ; for then jt cannot be Fire and Cold together. 'Tis fo, fays Cehes. There are alfo fome contraries that not only give ^^ ^^^^name to their Species •, but likewife impart it to o- anloYd^" ther things different from it , which prelerve its fi- nt^mbers. gute and form while they have a being. For in- itance, Muft not an odd thing have always the fame name ? Yes, fure. Is that the only thing that is fo called ? Or, is not there fome other thitig different from it, which mufl: needs be called by the fame name, by reafon that it belongs to iis nature never to be without odds. For For the ter- inftance, Muft not the ternary number be called not nary ntimho- Q^ly by Its own name, bur likewife by the name of ^JTodd ^-^^ ^^^ number ; tho* at the fame time to be odd ind to be three are two different things > Now fuch is the nature of number three, five, and all other odd numbers -, each of 'em is always odd, and yet their nature is not the fame with the nature of the odd. In like manner, even numbers, fuch as two, four, eight, are all of 'em even, tho' at the fame time their nature is not that of the even. P.o not you own this ? How can I do otherwife, Cebcs ? Pray mind what I infer from thence. 'Tis, that not only thofe contraries which are incapable of re- ceiving their contraries ^ but all other things which are not oppolite one to another, and yet have al- ways then- contraries ^ all thefe things, I fay, are uncapable of receiving a form dppofite to their own ^ ' and of the Immortality of the SoulJ i^jr and either difappear or perifh upon the appearance of the oppofite form. For inftance : Number three will fink a thoufand times rather than become an even number while it continues to be three. Is it not fo ? Yes, fure, replies Qbes, But, after all, fays Socrates, two are not contrary to three. No, fure. Then the contrary Species are not the only things ^^ two f4»- that refule admillion to their contraries ^ fince, as ^^f receive you fee, other things that are not contrary cannot ^J""^^' "'"' abide the approach of that which has the leaft fha- lho''J^''ar& dow of contrariety. not centra- That's certain. rks. Do you defire then that I fhould define 'em as near as polfible > Ay, withal my Heart, Socrates, Muft not Contraries be fuch things as give fiich The defini- a form to that in which they are lodg'd, that it is^ion of con- not capable of giving admiflion to another thing that's^''***"'"* contrary to them ? How do you fay ? I fay as I faid but now. Wherever the Idea or Form of three is lodg'd, that^thing muft of necetlity con- tinue not only to be three but to be odd. Who doubts that > And by confequence 'tis impoflible for the Idea or Form that's contrary to its conftituent Form, ever to approach. ., That's a plain cafe. Well, is not the conftituent Form ah odd > Yes. Is not eve/2 the Form that's contrary to the odd > Yes. Then the Form of even is never lodg'd in three ? No, fure. Then three is uncapable of being even ? Molt certainly. And that, becaufe three is odd? Yes, fure ' Now i^g Phedon : Or, A Diahgue Now this is the conclufion I mean'd to prove,' That fome things, that are not contrary to one ano- ther, are as uncapable of that other thing, as if it were truly a contrary «, as for inftance, tho' three is not contrary to an even number, yet it can never ad- mit of it. For two brings always fomething contrary to an odd number, like fire to cold, and feveral other things. Would not you agree then to this definition, that a contrary does not only refufe ad- miflTion to its contrary, but likewife to that which being not contrary brings upon it fomething of a con- trary nature, which by that fort of contrariety, de- ftroys its form ? I pray you let ffle hear that again, fays Cebes ^ for ,'tis worth the while to hear it often. I iay, number Jive will never be an even number • juft as ten, which is its double, will never be odd ; no more than three fourths, or a third part, or any other part of a whole will never admit of the form and idea of the whole. Do you not underftand me, do you take me up, and do you agree with what I fay ? I underftand you ^ I apprehend you to a Miracle 5 and I agree with you too. Since you underftand me, fays Socrates ; pray an- fwer me as I do you •, that is, anfwer me, not what I ask, but fomething elfe, according to the Idea and Example I have given you ^ I mean, that befides the true and certain way of anfwering Ipoken of already, I have yet another in my view that Iprings from krthefean-thdLt and is fully as fure. ,For inftance, if you ask fwers fiiii me, what it is, that being in the Body, makes it hot, fofnew°Z. ^ ^^^^^ "^^ &^^ yo" ^^i^ ignorant, tho' fure An- pons^andfo ^^VQV^ that *tis Hest : but would draw a more parti- ihere'] m culat Anfwer from what we have been fpeaking of, Yes, Death is the Contrary of Life. ^ ^ for the sr«. admiflion to the Idea and Form of Evenneis ? 'Tis the odd Number. How do we call that which never receives Juftice, and that which never receives Good > The one is called Injuftice, and the other Evil. And how do we call that which never admits of Death > Immortal. Does the Soul admit of Death > No. (a) Then the Soul is immortal. Moft certainly. Is that fully demonftrated, or was the Demonftra-; tion imperfeft ? It is fully made out, Socrates. (b) If an odd Number of neceffity were incorrup- tible, would not three be fo too > (a) His meaning is, that the Soul is as far from dying, as Good from giving admiflion to Evil, or Juftice to Injuftice, or an Odd to Even : and that the Soul is immortal , as ne- ceflaril)r as three is odd. (b) If the Soul be immortal, it is incorruptible, i. e. it re- fifts and triumphs over all the AlTsults of Death* Who i66 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue Who doubts it ? If whatever is without Heat were neceflarily in- corruptible, would not Snow, when put to the Fire,' withdraw it lelf lafe from the Danger? For fince it cannot perifh, it will nevei: receive the Heat not- withftanding its being held to the Fire. What you fay is true. In like manner, if that which is not fufceptible of Cold,, were by a natural Neceffity exempted from perifhing, tho' a whole River were thrown upon the Fire, it would. never go out, but, on the contrary,' xvould come off with its full force. There's an a:bfolute NeceiTity for that, fays Ce- hes. Then of neceffity we muft fay the lame of what is.immortal , If that which is immortal is incorrup- tible, tho' Death approach to the Soul, it fhall ne- ver fall in the Attack : For, as we laid biit now, the Soul will never receive Death , and will never die ^ juft as three or any odd Number will never be even 5 Fire will never be Cold •, nor its Heat be turn'd into Coldnefs. (a) Perhaps fome may anfwer. That 'tis true, the odd can never become even, by the acceflion of what is even, while it continues odd •, but what fhould hinder the even to take up the room of the odd when it comes to perifh ? To this ObjeQ:ion (b) it cannot be anfwer'd , that the odd does not perifh, for it is not incorruptible. Had we eftablifh'd its in- corruptibility, we fhould juftly have maintain'd, that notwithftanding the attacks of the even, the odd , (a) S«f>- maturely after hts Death, clcarly and effeaually. If you ^ under- being perfuaded that the ftand 'cm lufficiently , you'll willingly more they dwell ufon 'em , fecond my Thoughts, 35 much as is pof- the nnethcfu be con- f|V)ie fbt 2l Man to do : and when you >■; nc d of their tritth, r ^^ ■ 5 i ^,^\ t are once ruUy convinc d , you II need no other Proof That's well faid, replies Cebes. (a) There's one thing more, my Tie rein^arding theGood f-.j^^^^g ^|^3^ j^ ^ -^^ ThOUght, and punt htnz the Wicked . ^i-.' .<-i oi"^--^- i* in the other World, being ^.T. That if the Soul IS immortal. It Cotifequents of the jmwor^ ftands iu need to cultivating and im- taiity of the Soul, require provemcnt, uot ouly in the Time, that our Care of the Soul in this ^^ ^^^ ^^^ j-^^^ ^f Ljf^ . ^^^ f^^ ^^^ Future, or what we call the Time of Eternity : for if you think juftly upon this Point,you'lI find it very dangerous to negleO: the Soul. Were Death the Diifolution of the whole Man, it would be {b) a great Advantage to the Wicked after Death, (a) 'Tis not enough that the Underftanding be convinc'd of the Immortality of the Soul : The Aftedtions mufthkcwifebe mov'd. To which end he reprefents the Confequences of that important Trntli, and alJ that it requires. (b) The Wicked would be happy, if the Soul were mor- tal. This Principle has a conliderable Proof of the Immortali- ty of the Soul couch'd in it 3 for, if the Soul were mortal, Vertiie woiild be pernicious to theGood, and Vice would be ferviceable to tae Wicked, which is unworthy of God. And by confequence there mult be another Life, for rewarding, the Good, and punilhmg the Bad. to of the ImmortaUty of the Soul, i6^ to be rid at once of their Body, their Soul, and their 27;e Soul Vices. But forafmuch as the Soul is immorta], the^^"''""''- only Way to avoid thofe Evils and obtain Salvation, J/^^^^^-T is to become Good and Wife : for it carries nothing WorU^but along v^ith it, but its good or bad A£lions, and its '^^ g'-'od or Vertues or Vices, which are the caufe of irs eternal ^'''^■^*^''"*^' Happinefs or Mifery, commencing from the firfl: Mi- nute of its arrival in the other World. And 'tis faid, that after the Death of every individual Perfon, the Deynon or Genius^ that was Partner with it and con- duced it during Life, leads it to a certain Place, where all the Dead are oblig'd to appear in order to be judg'd, and from thence are conduced by a Guide to the World below. And, after they have there received their good or bad Deferts, and continued there their appointed Time, another Conductor brings 'em back to this Life, after feveral Revolutions of A^es. Now this Road is not a plain united Road, elf; there would be no occafion for Guides, and no Body would mils their Way : But there are feveral By-ways and Crofs-ways, as I conjecture from the Method of our Sacrifices and religious Ceremonies. So that a temperate wife Soul follows its Guide, r/^ Sacri^* and is not ignorant of what happens to it : but the "••■ '^"^ ^*- Soul, that^s naif d to its Body, as I faid iufl: now, T!?'" '^ 1 • . /I 5 1 "1 1 1 • - r T 1 ^''^ Varans that is iniiam d with the love ot it, and nas been r^en only long its Slave, after much itrugling and fuifering in f'>»m. this vifible World, is at la 11 dragg'd along again it it:i ^''^ ^'^ ^^'^ Will by the l^emon allotted tor its Guide : and when ^TKi """ It arrives at that fatal Rendezvous of au Souls, if it Tmth, has been guilty of any Impuricy , or polluted with Murder, or has committed any of thofc atrocious Crimes, that defperate and loft Souls are commonly guilty of, the other Souls abhor it and avoid its Company : It finds neither Companion nor Guide, But wanders in a fearful Solitude and horrible De- fart; till after a certain time Necefhty drags it into the Manfions it deferves^ whereas the temperate and pure Soul, has the Gods themfelves for its Guides and Conductors j and goes to cohabit with then* in LI 2 ths 1 64 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue the Manfions of Pleafure prepared for it. For, my Friends, there are feveral marvellous Places in the Earth ^ and 'tis not at all fuch as the Delcnbcrs c-; it are wont to make it, {a) as I was taught by oni who knew it very well. How do you lay, Socrates^ ikysSimmias^ interrup- ting him? I have likewife heard feveral things of the Earth, but not what you have heard. Where- fore I wiih you would be pleas'd to tell us what you know. To recount that to you , my dear Simtr/iiis , I do not believe we have any occafion for (i) Glaucm\ Art. But to make out the Truth of it, is a more difficult Matter, and I queftion if all Glaucus\ Art can reach it. Such an Attempt is not only above my Reach •, but fuppofing it were not, the fhort Time I have left me will not fjffer me to imbarque in fo long a Difcourfe. All that I can do, is, to give give you a general Idea of this Earth and the Places it contains. That will be enough, fays Smmias. in the firif place, continues Socrates^ I am per- fuaded, that if rlie Earth is plac'd in the middle of Heaven, (the Air) as they fay it is, it fiands in no (a) Socrates does not mention who taught him this Dodlrine ol the pure Earth : But it is no hard matter to hnd out the Author. Vrcclus himielt'acknow ledges, that Socrates and VUt» ovv/'d this Idea to the Sacred Tradition of the^jpn'^w^, that is to the Hebrews ^ h tt^n Tuv cdyvTrjieov »«£$t ' «»«o- fed fi:om their Sins, and fet at Liberty, tiiey receive""^* the RecomDence of their good A£fions. ^ Thofe who fe Sins are uncurable, and have been ^^'^ -^"f"^' guilty of Sacrilege and Murder, or fuch other Crimes, thofe -^ha are by a juft and fatal Deftiny, thrown headlong are guHty into Tartarus^ where they are kept Prifonersfor"/'"'"'^'*^ ever. ^'■"^• But thofe who are found guilty of curable ( Venial ) Sins, tho very great ^^'^ Sentence upon thofe ones, fuch as offering Violence to their "^l'" "'' gmlp of gre^t Father or Mother in a PafTion, or killing ^Zl ^ ^'^''^' a Man and repenting for it all their lifetime •, muft of neceffity be likewife caft into Tartarus : But after a Years abode there, the Tide throws the Ho- By vaniades he means micides back into G^/«,. and the Par- t^ t .t^llr;,?! ncides into Fhlegeton^ which draws them Ung a -Parent U an im- into the Acherufian h^^Q'. There they mijftble Sin. cry out bitterly, and invoque thofe ^\ , • whom 172 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue whom they kill'd or ofFer'd Violence to, to aid them •, and conjure them to forgive 'em, and to fuffer 'em to pafs the Lake, and give them admittance. If they're prevail'd with, they pafs the Lake, and Socrates are delivefd from their Mifery ^ if not, they teaches that jjjg ^^^ again into Tartarus^ which throws them muftprl-" ^3^^ ^"^^ thefe Rivers ^ and this continues to be xQ' cede the pcated , till they have latisfied the injur'd Per- Tardon of Ibns. For fuch is the Sentence pronounc'd againft ^'"'' them. But thofe who have difiinguifh'd themfelves by a holy Life, are releas'd trom thefe earthly Places, thefe horrible Prifons •, and are receiv'd above into that pure Earth, where they dwell •, and thofe of 'em who are fufficiently purg'd by Philofophy, live for ever without their Body •, and are receiv'd into yet more admirable and delicious Man- frUis vpas a grcAt Er- fions, which I caunot eafily defcribe, Tor among the Heathens, j^ei^jjer do the natrow Limits of my TItey aid not beiieye that tr- ■,. . , . i <-> i tu Bcdy coM be giori- Time allow me to launch into thatSub- pd. jed. What I told you but now, is fuffici- ^ hie ffed Immortality ^^^^^ (1^11 S'mmias, to lliew that « a Zf^^^ True let be- ' , ^ ^ 1 1 i • i- • f^re^, '^^ ought to labour all our lite time to purchafe Vertue and Wifdom, fince we have fo great a Hope, and fo great a Reward propos'd to us. iN^o Man of Senfe can pretend to aflure you, that all thefe Things are juit as you have heard. But all thinking Men will be pofitive that Lf fofiliZof the ILZ its abode alter death, is abfolutely fuch ner. as I repreieot it to be, or at lealt very nsar it, provided the Soul be Immor- Wiiat Danger more in- tal : And will certaluly find it worth -nting^ than to venture a j^j^ ^^|^j|g ^^ j.^,^ ^^^ j^-^ ^ . Yqt what pnttc Lots for an innmte -w-^ . • • • s r\ ii. Qain? Danger is more inviting > One mult needs be charm'd with that bleffed Hope. And for this Reafon I have dilated a little upon this Subjec];. Every of the Immortality of the Soul, 175 Every one that during his life-time renounc'd the Pkafures of the Body, that look'd upon the Appur- tenances of the Body as foreign Ornaments, and fiding with the contrary Party, purfued only the Pleaiiires of true Knowledge, and beautified his r/;<- P/e^- Soul, not with foreign Ornaments, but with Orna- /« w oftr»t ments, fuitable to its nature, fuch as Temperance, *^'«w^«^5^« Jurtice, Fortitude, Liberty andTruth ; Such a one, being firmly coiifident of the Happinefs of his Soul, j-j,, ji^i^Mt ought to wait peaceably for the Hour of his remo- omaments val, as being always ready for the Voyage, Yih^n of th Soui. ever his Fate calls him. As for you, my dear Smmias and Cebes^ and all you of this Company, you fhall all follow me when your Hour comes. Mine is now, and as a tragical Poet would fay, the furly Pilot calls me abroad ^ wheretore 'tis time I fhould go to the Bath : For I • think 'tis better to drink the Poyfon after I am wafh'd, in order to fave the Women the trouble of walhing me after I'm dead. Socrates having thus fpoke, Crito addrefs'd him- felf to Socrates^ thus : Alas then ! in God's Name be it : But what Orders do you give me and the reft here prefent, with reference to your Children or your Affairs, that by putting them in execution, we may at leaft have the Comfort of obliging you? What I now recommend to you, Crito^ replies So- crates^ is what I always recommended, viz. To "^J.^f ""' take Care of your lelves. You cannot do your felves Frktl! Zl a more confiderable piece of Service, nor oblige metW they and my Family more, (a) than to promifc me at '■'^^^ ^^j"^ "f themfelyes. frfj- There's a great deal o{ Senfe in .what Swr^fei here tells ^^l/JS^^' his Friends : He deiires 'em only to take Care of themielves, v ^ ''f ^ becauie it" they take Care ot themfelves, they'll prove good p. Men ; and, being Inch, will do all good Offices to his Fami- '''-*''''' iy, the' they dii not promife it : For good Men- are honell:, and take pleafure m doing Good, and love their Neighbour. ..Whereas iF they neglect themielves, notvvithftanding all their fair,Prpmires, they would not be capable to do any thing ei- ther for him or themfelves. None but good^Men can do'^Ser- vices. How great is i^his Truth! this J 74 Phedon : Or, A Dialogue this time fo to do. Whereas if you negleQ your felves, and refufe to form your Lives according to the (b) Model I always propofed to you, and follow it as it were by the f ootfteeps -, all your Protefta- tionsand offers of Si^rvice will be altogether ufelels to me. We fhall do our utmoft, Socrates^ replies Crito^ to obey you. But how will you be buried > Jult as you pleafe, iliys Socrates : if you can but catch me, and if I do noc give you the flip. At the fame time, looking upon us with a gentle fmile, I f cannot, fays he, compafs my End in perfuading Crito that this is Socrates who difcourfes with yoa and methodifes all the Parts of his Difcourfe ^ and ftill he fanfies that Socrates is the thing that fhall fee Death by and by. He confounds me with my Corps ; and in that view asks how I muft be bu- ried ? And all this long Difcourfe that I made to you but now, in order to make it out, that as foon as I fhall have taken down the Poyfon, I fhall flay no longer with you, but fhall part from hence and go to enjoy the Felicity of the Bleffed ^ in a word, all that 1 have faid for your Confolation and mine, ■is to no purpofe, but it is all loft, with reference to him. I beg of you that you would be Bail for me to Crito , but after a contrary manner to that in which he ofFer'd to Bail me to my Judges ^ for he engag'd that I would not be gone : Pray engage for me, that 1 (hall no fooner be dead, •but I (hall be gone, to the end that poor Crito may bear my death more fleddily , and when he fees my Body burnt or interred, may not defpair, as if I fuff^^'d great Mifery ^ and fay at my Funeral, that Socrates is laid out, Socrates is carried out, Socrates is in- terr'd. For you muft know, my dear Crito^ fays he turning to him, that fpeaking amifs of Death is (/') Til is Model is God ; for he flill told 'em that they fiiould render themfelv es contbrmabie to God, as much as hu- man Wcaknefs would bear. tlOt of the Immortality (^ the Soul. 1 75 not only a Fault in the way of fpeaking, but like- wifs wounds the Soul. You fhou'd have more ^^'^ ^'f- Courage and Hope, and fay that my Body is to be Tf^^J' interr'd. That you may interr as you pleale, and iSTL in the manner that's moft conformable to our Laws the s«»/. and Cuftoms. Having fpoke thus, he role and went into the next Room to bathe. Crito follow'd him, and he defired we fliould attend him. Accordingly we all attended him, and entertain'd our felves one while with a Repetition and farther Examination of what hehadfud, another while in fpeaking of the miie- jable State that was before us. For we all look'd upon our ieh es as Perfons deprived of our good Fa- ther, that were about to pals the reft of our Life in an Orphanitate. After he came out of the Bath, they brought his Children to him^ for he had three, two little ones, and one that was pretry big : And the Women of his Family came all in to him. He Ipoke to them fome time in the prefence of Crito, gave "em thpir Orders, and ordefd 'em to retire, carry his Chil- dren along with 'em, and then came back to us, 'Twas then towards Sun letting, for he had been a lona^ while in the little Room. When he came in he fat down upon his Bed, without faying much: For much about the fame time the Officer of the Eleven Magiftrates came in, ' and drawing near to him, Socrates, fays he, I have no occafion to make tiie fame Complaint of you,, that I have every day of thofe in the fame Condi- tion : For as foon as I come to acquaint 'em, by Orders from the Eleven Magiftrates, that they mult drink the Poyfon, they are incens'd againft me and curie me : i. it as for you, ever fince you came in- to this Place, I have found you to be the moft even temper'J,ilic calraeft and the beft Man that ever enter'd thisPiilbn ^ and I am confident that at prefent you are not angry with me ^ doubtlels you are an- . gry with none but thofe who are the caufe of your J'j6 He alludes to a Ferfe of Hefiod, veho fays^ 'tis an tiji- lucky fj>a- r'lng Vfhen cue's come to the bot- tom. Phedon : Gr, A Dialogui your misfortune. You know 'em without naming; On this Occafion, Socrates,, you know what I come to tell you i farewell, endeavour to bear this Ne- ceffity with a conftant Mind. Haviag i{)oke thus, he began to cry, and turning his Back upon us, re- tir'd a little. Farewell my Friend, fays Socrates^ looking upon him, 111 follow the Counfel thou gi- veft me. Mind, fays he, what Honefty is in that Fellow : During my Imprifonment he came often to fee me, and difcours'd with me : He's more worth than all the reft : How heartily he cries for me ! Let us obey him with a handfom meen, my dear Crito •, if the Poyfon be brew'd, let him bring it ; if not, let him brew it himfelf But methinks Socrates^ fays Criio,, the Sun (hines upon the Mountains, and is not yet fet^ and I know feveral in your CirCumftances did not drink the Poyfon till a long time after the Order was given 5 that they fupp'd very well, (a) and enjoy'd any thing they had a mind to : Wherefore I conjure you not to prefs fo hard ; you have yet time enough. Thofe who do as you fay, Crito,, fays Socrates,^ have their own Reafbns j they think it is juft as mLxh gain'd : And I have likevviie my Reafons for not doing fo •, for the only Advantage I can have by drinking it later, is to make my felf ridiculous to my felfi in being fo foolilhly fond of Life, as to pretend to husband it in the laft Minute, when there is no more to come. Go then, my dear Cri- to^ and do as I bid you do, and do not vex me no longer. Whereupon Criro gave the Sign to the Slave that waited jult by. The Slave went out, and after he had fpent lome time in brewing the Poyfon, re- turn'd accompanied by him that was to give it, and (a) This affords us an admirable Profped of the infinite difference between Socrates and thofe brutilli Mcn_, who died without any other Sentiiiients of their Mifery. hrouglit of the Immortality of the Soul, 177 brought it all together in a Cup. Socrates feeing him come in •, that's very well, my Friend, fay he •, but what muft I do ? For you know beft, and 'tis your bufinefs to direO: me. You have nothing elfe to do, fays he, but when- ever you have drank it, to walk until you find your Legs ftifF, and then to lie down upon your Bed. This is all ybu have to do. And at the fame time he gave him the Cup, Socrates took it, not (inly without any Commotion, or change of Colour or Countenance, but with Joy ^ and looking upon the- Fellow with a fteddy and bold Eye, as he was wont to do. What do you fay of this Mixture, fays he, is it allowable to make a Drink-Oftering of it > Socrates^ replied the Man, we never brew more at once, than what ferves for one Dole. I underitand you, fays Socrates : But at leaf! it is Socrates lawful' for me to pray to the Gods, that they would f^^'^J" ^f"^'' blefs the Voyage, and render it happy. This I beg ti,!^oyfm! of 'em with all my Soul. Having faid that, he drank it all oft^ with an admirable Tranquillity and ail unexprelTible Calmnefs. Hitherto v^e had, almoft all of us, the power to refrain from Tears ^ but when we law him drink it 0&:] we were no longer Mafters of our felves. Notwithfianding all my Efforts, I was oblig'd. to cover my felf with my Mantle, that I might freely regrate rriy Condition ^ for 'twas not Socrates\ mif- fortune, but my own, that I deplor'd, in refleding what a Friend I was losing. Crito^ who likewile could not abftain from crying, had prevented me, and rifen up. And Apollodorus, who fcarce ceafed to cry during the whole Conference, did then howl and cry aloud, infomuch that he mov'd every Body. Only Socrates himfelf was not at all mov'd : On the contrary, he chid them : What are you doing, my Friends, fays he -, What ! fuch fine Men as you ^ are ! O ! Where is Vertue > Was not it for this Reafon that I fent ofFthofe Women, for fear they M m ihouid lyg Phedon: OVy A Dialogue fhould have fallen into thofe Weaknefles ^ for I al- ways heard it faid that a Man ought to dieinTran- Wefjouid quillity, and bleffingGod > Be eafie then, and fhew tiie calmly^ more Conftancy and Courage. Thefe words filFd biefjingGod. us with Confufion, and forc'd us to fupprefs our Tears. In the mean time he continued to walk*, and when he felt his Legs ftifF, he lay down on his Back, as the Man had order'd him. At the fame time, the fame Man that gave him the Poyfon, came up to him, and after looking upon his Legs and Feet, bound up his Feet with all his force, and ask'd him if he felt it ? He laid, No. Then he bound up his Legs ^ and having carried his Hand higher, gave us the Signal that he was quite cold. Socrates likewife felt himfelf with his Hand, and told us, that when the Cold came up to his Heart, he (hould leave us. All his lower Belly was already frozen ; And then uncovering himfelf^ for he was cover'd, Crito^ lays he, ( thefe were his laft Words) "^ We J\f ?' ^'f. ^^^/r owe a Cock to iEfculapius, dijcharge this yerd^ thai nothin So the explication of Valour was the Subject of Difcourfe. And 'twas very probable that no Man would fpeak better upon that SubjeB-, than thefe two, who had given Proof of their V^a- lour on feveral Occafions. But, after all, they do ■ not think themfelves capable to decide fuch a dif- ficult Queftion, without help : Therefore they call in Socrates to aflift 'em, as being one that made the Intereft of Youth his whole ftudy -, and, befides, gave Proof of an Heroick C'ourage at the Siege of Fotidjea^ and the Battle of Delium. Nicias is of Opinion that The Exercife is very proper for Youth, and admirably well fitted for rendring them brave and clever •, and looks upon it as a means leading to a good End, viz. the Art of War. Laches at- tacks this Opinion, and makes put the ufelelhels of that Exercife by the infignificancy of its Teachers, who never did a good A£lion in their whole life- time j and as for Valour, had never purchafed the leaft Reputation in the Army. Socrates ')s called in to decide the Controverfie. At firft he pleads his Incapacity for an Excufe : But afterwards infiniiates that there's a necefiity of knowing Men, before oaQ can be acquainted with Valour. He makes out the falfity of the Notion that great Men had of tliis Vertue, which is ftill kept up to this day : And tho' he does not reveal his Mind plainly to thofe M m 3 who Si T^he Introdu5lion to Laches. who call every thing in queftion •, yet one may ea- fily perceive his Opinion to be this, That Valour is a Vertue that reaches all the Adions of our Life, and includes all other Vertues. For a valiant Man, is one that's always accompanied by Prudence, and judges equally of things, pad, prefent, and to come ^ who being acquainted with all the Good and Evil, that is, has been, or is to come, is in a Condition to arm himfelf againft the one, and omits nothing to compafs the other. So that to be Valiant, one muft be Good •, and to educate Youth aright, they muft be taught wilely to avoid all Evil, and purfue all the Good they can reach, not only from Men, but, which is more important, from God himfelf : And to fpare neither Labour nor Life in the purfuit. This is Socrates'?, DoQrine. And '£lato has made the World a good Prefent, in prelerving this excel- lent Conference : For we ought not to look upon it as a trial of Wit ^ it is entitled to a wonderful Solidity. Purfuant to thisDoftiine of Socrafes^}NQ fee plainly that the moft valourous of all Men were the Martyrs ^ for their Valour was accompanied by a true Prudence, which taught 'em to diftinguifh what is truly Terrible, from that which is not ^ to know the paft , prefent, and future Happinefs or Mi- fery-, and mov'd'em to fcreen themlelves from the one, and purfue the other at the expence of their Lives. ^ It feems Ariftotle did not perceive the full force and folidity of thefe Principles of Socrates^ when he arraigned him for faying that Valour was a Sci- ence. Doubtlels, it is a Science, but a divine one, that cannot be learn'd from Men. The folidity of this Dialogue is mix'd with a wonderful agreeablenefs : For whether we mind the Beauty of his Characters, the Livelinefs of the Nar- rative, the Spirit of the Dialogue, or the Satyrical Stroaks 'tis full of, we hnd nothing more perfe8: in its kind. His Satyr upon thofe mighty Politicians vyho employ 'd all their Care upon Affairs of State, and 7he IntroduBion to Laches. 185 and neglected their Children, fufFering them to be overrun by Vice ^ this, I lay, is very natural. So- crates means by it to fhew, that thefe great Men do more harm to the Commonwealth, by this un- happy Negligence, than ever they did good by all the Services they have done. His Satyr againft Fencing- Mafters is likewile very Ingenious, in which the Charader of our Modern Pretenders is admirably well drawn. Thofe who have taken notice of JV/- cias in Thucidides^h^mngaing in the Athenian Coun- cil againft the Sicilian Expedition •, will here find an exaO: Tranfcript of his true Charafter. And that which above all deferves to be remark'd, is F/ato^s Dexterity in crying up Socr^tes^ and letting his Merit in a great Light. This Dialogue is fuppos'd to have been compos'd foon after the Defeat of the Athenians at Deliim^ which happen'd in the firft Year of the 8pth Olym- piad. And to determine the Time more nicely, it may be fix'd the very next Year, during the Truce between the Athenians and 'Lacedemonians, 'Tis pure- ly Moral, and of the fame Character with the Dia- logues of the firft Volume. M m 4- LA- 1^4 LACHES O R, O F VALOUR 'Lyfmachus^ Son of Aj-'ifldes the Juft. Mekfias^ Son to Thucidides. Arifiides^ Son to Lyfmachus. -> Both of 'em very Thucidides^ Son to Melefia^. J young. IsliciiU'^ General cf the Athenians. Laches, another Athenian General. Socrates. lyfim. \ C\ TELL, Av'aWand Laches, you have feen V V this Man, who ^ parry'd in Armour juft now. W h.Qn I Me Iefias2C[\^ I defir'd you to come and fee this Show, we did not tell you the Reafons that oblig'd us to it : But now well tell you ; be- ing perfuaded that we^ may Ipeak to you with an entire Confidence. Moft People laugh at thefe Ex* ercifes ^ and when one asks their Advice, they're fo far from comimunicating their Thoughts, that they only try to pump thofe who come to con- fult 'em, and Ijseak againft their own Sentiments. As for you, we know you have added the hight of * I vSt the fame Terms as are now in ufe, becaiife the Ex- ercife this Man taught w'as much the fame with what is now taup,ht in our Fencing-Schools. He taught 'em to fence in Ar)iiour vath Sword and Buckler, and to reflft feveral Com- batants at once, by parrying and llriking. 'Tis pretty re- markable, tliat this fort of Fcncing-Mafle'rs was not known at Mhcns till after the Deteat at Ddium. Sincerity Laches: Or, of Valour . i8j Sincerity to a great Capacity •, and we hope you'll tell us ingenuoufly what your Thoughts are in re- ference to the Subje£l we are about to mention. The upihot of all this Preamble is this. Each of us has a Son. There they are. T'hat Youth, the Son of Me- lefias^ is called Thucidides^ by his Grand-Father's Name : And this, which is mine, is ci\\.Qd.Ariflides after my Father.- We arerefolved to take a lingu- lar Care of their Education ; and not to do as moft ^^^^ 2^^^//- Fathersdo, who, when their Children come to be^'^'^^-f ^^'^ young Men, throw the Bridle on their Neck, andf,,/^"^"^ fufFer 'em to liye according to their fanfie. We de- cation of fign to keep 'em ftill in awe, and educate 'em to ^^^^'^ chil- the beft advantage. And forafmuch as you have like- ^'^^**' wife Children, we fanfie you have Thought as niuch as any Man upon the Method of making 'em Ver- tuous : Or, if you have not yet confidefd of it by leafon of their want of Years, we prefume you will not take it ill that we put you in mind, that this is an indifpenfable Duty ; and that we oblige you to deliberate with us wliat Education all of us fhould give our Children. The Occafion of oui' coming to fee for you was this. Tho' the Difcourfe may feem already too long, yet you'll have the Goodnels to hear it out. You know Melefias and I have but one Table, and thele Children eat with us : We fliall conceal nothing from you, and, as I told you at firfl:, fhall fpeak to you with an entire Confidence. Both he and I have entertain'd our Children with a thouland and a thoufand brave Anions done by our Fathers both in Peace and War, while they headed the Atheni- ans and their Allies : But, to our great misfortune, ^''^^ '^^'*' we can' tell 'em no fuch thing of our felves : This ^/'"/^S' covers us with Shame : We blufli for it before our mini only Children , and are forc'd to caft the blame upon 'PMick our Fathers i who, after we gre\V up, fufFer'd us to -^ij^'^y^'*"'^ live in Softnels and Luxury, and in pernicious Li- ^JJ ^"' centioufnefs ; while they were employing all their of th pile for the Intereft of others. This we inceflantly chiUrm, '. ' ' " ' '.^ ^ ' ^ " " ■■ remon- atlc:i mr [26 Laches: Or, of Valour. remonftrate to thefe Children, telling them that if they negle8: themfelves and difobey us, 'twill prove a dilcredit to them ; whereas if they will take pains, they may quickly approve themfelves to be worthy of the Name they bear. They anfwer, they'll obey us ^ and upon that account we wanted to know what they fhould be taught, and what Educa- tion we fhould give 'em. in order to their bell Im- provement. Some Body told us, there was nothing more proper for a young Gentleman, than Fencings and extoU'd to the very Heavens this Man who per- form'd his Exercile before us juft now, and prefs'd us to come and fee him. Accordingly we thought it convenient to come and take you along with us as we pafs'd ^ not only that you might partake of the Pleafure, but likewife that you fhould commu- nicate to us your Knowledge ^ and that we might all confult together upon the Care we ought to have of our Children. And this is all I had to fay to you. Now, 'tis your turn to aid us with your Counfel, in telling us whether you approve or con- demn tlie abovemention'd Exercile of Arms ^ and advifing us what Occupation, what Inftruftions we fhould give our Children •, or, in fine, in giving us to know what Condu8: you defign to follow for your own Children. Nic. Lyfimachus , I commend your Thought ^ I am very ready to join with you in this Deliberation ^ and I'll engage that Laches will be as glad as I am to aft a Part in the Conference. I^ac. You may engage for that, Nidas. In my mind, all that Lyfimachus has faid againfl: his Father and the Father of Melcjias^ is admirably well faid ^ not only againft them, but againfl us and all thofe who embark in the Government of a State : For, as he faid, we wave the Educatiort of our Children and our Domeftick Affairs, and mind 'em no more than if we had neither Houfe nor Family. Lyfimachus you have fpoke admirably well •, but fm furpris'd that you fhould call us to conftilt with you upon that Laches: Or, of Valour. 187 that Subje8:, and not Socrates who is our Fellow Citizen ^ and befides, bends all his Thoughts upon things relating to the Education of Children, in pur- fuing the Sciences that are moft ufeful to them, and finding out the moft fuitable Occupations. Lyf. How do you fay. Laches ? Would Socrates ^'"'^ /""»* apply himfelf to what concerns the InftruQion of |^'^^^^'^''^"^^ Youth ? for a -Phi- Lac. I afTure you, he would, Lyfimachus. lofopher, Nic. And 1 allure you of the fame. For 'tis not ^^'""^ mjnded four days fince he gave me a Mufick-Mafter for JJ^J^ my Son, one Damon^ brought up by Agatholces •, -j^atme, who, befides all the Excellencies of his Art, is pof fefs'd of all the other Qualities that can be defir'd in a Tutor for a Child of his Birth. Lyf. Indeed, both Socrates^ and you Nicias, and Laches^ muft pardon this Ignorance in me and all others of my Age : We are not acquainted with the young Folks, tor ws fcarce ftir abroad, by reafon of our old Age: But, Socrates., if you have any good Counfel to give to me, who am your Country- man, pray do it : I can fay that 'tis your Duty, for you are a Friend of our Family from Father to Son. Your Father Sophronifcus and I were always good Friends and Comerades from our Infancy ^ and our Friendfhip lafted till his very death without inter- ruption. At prefent it comes into my Head, that I have heard thefe Children mention the name of 5^^- crates a thouland times in their Interviews among themfelves, of whom they Ipeak much Good ^ and I never minded to ask of 'em if they fpoke of 5^- crates the Son of Sophronifcus. But now , pray tell me Children, is this the Socrates I have heard you fpeak of fo often ? Arifiides and Lhucidides both together. Yes, Fa- ther, 'tis the iame. Lyf I am infinitely glad of that. Take heart, my dear Socrates^ you keep up the Reputation of your deceafed Father admirably well, who was not He was an only very well skilfd in his Art , but likcwife a ^^^''^y^fi very i8S Laches : Or, of Valour: very good Man. You and I muft renew our Ancient Friendfhip, and henceforward your Interefts fhall be mine, and mine yours. l.af. You do very well, Ly/imachus •, do not let him go : For I have leen Occafions , in which he maintain'd not only the Reputation of his Father, but that of his Country, {a) At the Defeat of De- I'nim he retired along with me : And I can affure you, if all the reft had done their Duty, as he did, our City had been admirably, well fupported, and had . not met with that great Shock. LyJ. This is a great Encomium, Socrates •, and by whom is it given ? By Perfons that are worthy to be credited in all things, efpecially upon that Point Thatis,/;>^fQj. vvhich they cry you up. I affure you, no Body "^ ^'^'' can hear your Praifes with more Pleafure than I do. I am infinitely glad that you have purchafed fuch a Reputation, and I lift my felfinthj Number of your greateft Well-wiftiers. And therefore pray come, without Ceremony, to fee us •, and live with us : Since you are of our Family you ought to do it. Let this Day be the Date of the renewing of our Ancient Friendftiip ^ and from henceforward be fa- miliar with us and thefc Children, to the end that you and they may keep up our Friendftiip, as a Pvi- ternal Pledge. We hope you'll make that ufe of it^ and for our Parts we will not fufFer you to forget it. But to return to our Subje8: •, what do you fay ? What think you of this Exercife of Arms? Does it delerve to be learned by young Men > Sac. Upon that Point, Lyjimachus^ I fhall endea- vour to give you the beft Council I am Mafter of ^ and (hall not fail to put all your Orders in Execution. But lince I am the youngeft, and lefs experienced than any of you, 'tis but juft that I hear you Ipeak firft ; that i^o^ after I have heard you, I may give in {a) In this Battle, Soa-ntes Cav'd Xenophoni Life, who (ell when his Horfe was fhot under him j and Socrates being on foot: , took him npon his Back , and carried him feveral .» •Miles, my J Laches: Or, of Valour, iS^ my Sentiments if I differ ftom you, and back them with forcible Realons. Why do not you Ipeak then JV/W^i- ^ Tis your turn to Ipeak firft. Kk. I do not refufe to fell my Thoughts. In my ^ Vanegy^ Mind, that Exercife is vety proper for young Peo- *"*'•"* f*^^" pie, and Merits their Application : For befides that, ^^"""^' it diverts them from the Amufements that they com- monly purfue, when they're idle -, it inures 'em to labour, and of necefficy renders them more vigorous and ftrong. There is no better Exercile •, none that requires more ftrength and dexterity : There's none more fuitable to a ?erfon of Quality than this, and riding the great Horfe , elpecially to thole of our Profeffion : And in regard of the Wars we are al- ready engaged in, and that are like to come upon us, we muft reckon thofe only true and good Exercifes that are performed with the Arms us'd in War ^ for they are of admirable ufe in Battles, whether fet Battles in Rank and File, or fingle Attacks after the Ranks are broken ^ whether we purfue an Enemy that rallies from time to time, or upon a Retreat are put to it, to get clear of an obftinate Enemy, that purfues us with Svpord in Hand. He who is ac- quainted with thofe Exercifes, will never be afraid of one Man nor feveral together ^ but will ftill get off clear. Befides, thefe Exercifes have this com- mendable Quality , that they infpire their Votaries with a truePaffion for another more ferious Exercile.: for I fuppofe all thofe who give themfelves to Fen- cing, breath nothing but the End they propofed in going to be taught, viz. Battles and Fights ^ and when they come to be engsged in thele, are fo full of Am- bition and fo fond of Glory, that they carefully in- {lru£l themfelves in all that belongs to the Art of War, and make it their Bufinefs to rife by degrees to the higheft Pofts in the Army. For it is certain and maniteft, that nothing is more deiirable and moie worthy of the Care of a good Man, than thefe dif- ferent Pofts of the Sword, and all the Fun8:ions of War, to which this Exercife of Arms leads, as a M^ans i^o Laches : Or^ of Valour. Means to the End. To all thefe Advantages, we fhall add one more, which is not a fmall one. ' Tis that this Art of Fencing makes Men more valiant, and more venturous in Engagements : And if we reckon up every thing, there's another Ad vantage that is not to be defpis'd, viz. that it gives Men a good Meen and a graceful Carriage, which in a publick Appearance renders them agreeable to their own Troops, and forijiidable to their Enemies. So that I am of Opinion, Lyfmachus^ that Children fhould learn thofe Exercifes, and have given the Reafons I go upon. If Laches be of another Mind, I fhall be glad to hear it. Nicias':f E- Lach. Indeed, Nicias^ he muft be a bold Man,that iogyrefm'd. f^yg ^-ji^i; ^^y Scieuce whatever is not worthy to be learn'd : For it is very commendable to know every thing, and if this Exercife of Arms is a Science, as its Teachers alledge, and as JV/W^j fays, I own it ought to be taught. But if it is not a Science, and if the Fencing-Mafters impofe upon us by their Bra- vado's ; or if it is only an inconfiderable Science, to what purpofe fhould we amufe our felves with it ? I mention this, becaufe I am perfwaded rheExample of the La- jf j^ ^^^^ ^ confidetable Science, it CtiXtraomam alone oyer- ,. , •' /- oj , t , turns all that Nicias had, would uever have efcap d the Lacedemo- faid. /iia72s^ who fpend their whole life-time They were the tnofi in enquiring after fuch things, as may n'ariikeTeopieofaU the ^^^^^j. them fuperior in War to their Greoans, and yet had no -.^ . xt Vr n • , n " Fencing Mafiers. Encmies. Nay, fuppoling It had efca- ped the Lacedemonians -, thefe Fencing- Mafters could not have been ignorant fo long, that of all the Grecians, the Lacedemonians are the moft curious in what relates to Arms ^ and that Matters of any Reputation here, would make their Fortune there, much better than elfewhere ^ jufi: as Tragical Poets of any Note do here. For every A satyricai K^b upon ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^ y^-^^ ^^^ Tragcdiesxomes Amem.forban'rasfond n • u.. u- i -u a ° i' i of'rr,rgedics,asUcedc- ^taight hither with em, and does n:on nas of Arms. HOt ttavel f tom City to City to publifh his Performances •, whereas thofe valiant Champions Lsiches I Or^ of Valour. ipr Champions who teach Fencing, look upon Lace- -^ g^^at demon (a) as an inacceffible Temple that they dare ^'' what relates to War. In a woid^^LyJimachus^l have ^'^^'/ff^"' feen a^ great many of thofe Mafters engag'd in hoty/^^/o/ A£lions, and I know perfectly what their Humour thofe who is •, upon which 'tis eafie to form a juft eftimate o^F'&^'t their their Merit. It feems Providence has purpofely fo ■^#»^* order'd it, that none of that Profeflion did ever ac- quire the leaft Reputation in War. We fes feveral Fendng- of other Profeflions, not only fuccefsful in the way ^^^'^.^'^^^ of their Bufinels, but like wile famous in War. But ^^^ "* thefe Men are unfortunate by a peculiar fort of Fatality. For this fame very Stefileus^ who expos'd himfelf but now before this Crowd of Speftators, and fpoke fo Magnificently of himfelf I fay, I have feen this fame Man make a far better fhow againfl: his Will upon a better Occafion. When the Ship he was in attacked a Merchant-Man, he fought with a Pike headed with a Sithe, that his Arms might be as remarkable as himfelf was among the Combatants. All the Prowefs he fhew'd does fcarce merit a relation : But the fuccefs of this warlike Stratagem, in clapping a Sithe on the Head of a Pike, is worth our attention. While the Fel- low was fencing with his new Arms, they were un- happily entangled in the Tackling of the Enemies Ship, and ftuck there. He pulfd with all his force to get it clear, but could not obtain his End. While his Ship kept clofe to the other, he followed it and kept his hold -, but when the Enemies Ship fteer'd off, and was going to hawl him in, he fuffer'd his (a) He compares Lacedemon to the Temple of the Furies,, which none durll: approach ; for they hud inch a terrible ImprefTion of thefe GoddeiTes, that they durlf not either name 'em, or look upon 'em, or offer Addrefi.es to them. Thefe Fencing-Mafters were equally afraid of Lacsd^mon. A noble Elegy 1 Pike ipi L^chts: Ot, of ^alonr. Pike to flip by degrees through his Hands, till he had only hold of it by the fmall end. The Ene- my's Crew made Huzza's upon the pleafant Acci- dent : At laft fome Body having thrown a Stone that fell jull: at his Feet, he quit his beloved Arms, and the Enenay redoubled their Shouts, when they faw the armed Sickle ■ hanging upon the Tackling of their Ship like a Trophy. It is poflible, that, as 'NicKZi fays, it may be a very confiderable and iile- ful Science : But I tell you vv^hat I faw : So that, as Ifaid in the beginning, if it is a Science, it is an ufelels one 5 and if it is none, and if we are only inveigled by its fine Motto, then it does not deferve our regard. In a word, thofe who apply themfelves to that Art, are either Covi^ards or brave rheir Mdrefs inffires Men. If Cowards, they are the more 'em v^ith fome affurunce ■ jnfolent, and their Cowardice is only but lor want of Courare , ■>-t rr^ ^^ t they c^n carry on notbins ^^e more cxpos d. If brave , all thg rigoroujiy. World has their Eyes upon 'em : And if they happen to be guilty of the leaft ^s we fay that fuch falfe ftep, they muft bear a thoufand hraye Ones are the Bui- j^^^ ^^^ Railleries : Fot this is not an lies of the Scliool, This .,.,-p T«frr- • n -t ■notion of Cowards deferyes indifferent Profeffion ', itexpofes em to to be retnark'd. Envy at 3. furious rate 'j and if the Man that follows it, does not diftinguifh himfelf mightily by his Courage, he'll be ridicul'd without any poffibility of avoiding it. Thefe arc my Thoughts of that Exercile. It remains that yoii oblige Socrates to tell us his Mind. L}f. Pray do Socrates ^ for we want an Umpire to decide the Difference. Had A'icias and Laches been of one Opinion, we fhould have fpar'd you the Trouble : But you fee they are direftly oppofite. So that now our bufinefs is to hear your Judgment, and fee which of the two you lide with. Soc. How now, Lyfmachits^ are you for following the greateft Number then ? Lyf. What can one do better ? Soc. And vou too, Melefia^' ? Were you to chufe Exercifes to be learn'd by your Son, would you lather Laches : Or, of Valom l^lj father be directed by the greateft Number, than by one Man that has been well educated himfelf, and had excellent Mafters ? MeL For my part, Socrates^ I would be direElea by the latter. Soc. You'd be more influenc'd by his Opinion, than by that of us all four > MeL Perhaps I might. Soc. Becaufe d wife Judgment ought to be form'd "^'^ Kwup^ from Knowledge, and not ftom the Multitude > to^thT'^ MeL Without doubt. , ^t;lL , Soc. The firft thing then, that we are to enquire that od^ht into, is whether any of us is expert in the Thing f" "^^t^^- we confult about, or not. If any one be, we muft """* *^' refer our felves to him, and leave the others •, if hot, we muft fee for fome liich Man ellewhere. For do you, Melefia^ and lyjimachis^ imagine that this is a Bufinels of fmall Confequence, and that you run but an ordinary Rifque ? Do not you de- ceive your felves, the Matter in hand relates to the greateft Good that is. All the Happinels of Fami- of what lies depends upon the Education of Children : And ^onfeqtteact Houfes rife or fink according as their Children are t' rrf'i Vicious or VertUOUS. dren is, ' MeL You fay well Soc. So that one cannot be too Cautious and Prudent upon this Score. MeL Moft certainly. Soc. How fliould we do then to try which of us Four is moft expert and beft skilFd in Exercifes ? Should not we prefently pitch upon him who learn'd 'em beft and followed 'em moft^ and had the beft Mafters ? MeL So I think. . Soc. And before that, fhould not we endeavour to know the Thing it felf that we would have our Children learn? MeL How do you lay ^ Sc . Perhaps you'll underftand me better in this manner: Methinks, we did not at firft agre^ upon N n the jp^ Ladies : Or, of Valour. the nature of the Thing we are confulting about, in order to know which of us is ir.oft dexterous at it, and was taught by the molt mafterly Hand. l\ic. How do you mean, Socrates •, are not we confidering of Fencing, in order to know whether our Children ought to learn it, or not ? Soc. 1 do not fay otherwife. But when a Man advifes about a Remedy for the Eyes, and wants to • know whether he fnould apply it or not ^ do you think this Confultation relates more to the Remedy than to the Eyes, to which 'tis to be applied ? Nic. It relates moft to the Eyes* Soc. And when a Man confults what Bit he fhould put upon his Horfe, does not the Qiieftion relate more lo the Horfe than to the Bit > '. Ktc. Yes fure, Soc. \n one word, as often as a Man advifes a- bout.a Thing with reference to another, (^0 ^h® direCt ObjcQ: of the Confultation is the Thing re- fer'd to, and not to that which is only minded for the fake of the other, Niv. It is neceffarily fo. Soc. Then we ought to examine well whether- the Man we advife with is expert andskill'd in the Thing about which we advife. \Nic. That's certain. Soc. At prefent we are confulting what our Chil- dren (hoLild learn : So that the Qiaeftion turns up- on the Children, and the Knowledge of their Souls is the Bufinels. Kic. Tisjuft fo. • Soc. And by Coniequence, the Queftion is, Whe- ther there is any of us experienced in the ConduO: of a Soul-, who knows how to manage it, and has been taught that Art by the beft Mailers } {a) For Inftance, when we think of purging a fick Per- fon, we conikler of the Pacient before we think of tiie Me- dicine : And having iiril difcover'd the Scate of the Patient, tlien we think oi a proper Medicine. hac. Laches; Or, ofValom Lac. How, Socrates^ did you never know any Peo- ple that nave become greater Proficients in foms bciences and Arts without any Mafter, than others with all the Mailers that could be had > Soc. Yes, Laches •, I have known fome : But tho^ all that fort of Men Ihould be proud of telling you that they are very Skilful, you would never mtruft the leaft Affair to them, unlefs you faw 'em make I do not fay one, but feveral elaborate and well done Performances. AvV. Right, Socrates. Soc. ^mc^Lyfmachus and Melefias have call'd us to give our Advice of the Education of their Chil- dren ; out of an ardent defire to form and difpofe their Minds to Vertue: We are oblig'd, O AW and Laches, if we pretend to be endow'd with the Capacity that's neceffary for it, to tell em what Matters we have had, who were very good Men and after having inilruaed feveral Scholars, form'd and difpofed Our Minds to Honefty. And if any of us pretends to have had no Mafter, he muft pro- duce his Performances, and inllance in fome either among the Athenians, or among Foreigners, whe- ther Free-men or Slaves, who have been benefited I llif?^^^' according to the Teftimony of aU the World. If we can neither name our Mates nor Ihewour Works, we muft fend our Friends to fee for Advice elfewhere, and not expolS our felves to juft Reproach upon a Point of that importance by corrupting their Children. For my part Lyjt- machus and Melefias, I own I never had a Mailer tor that Science, notwithftanding that from my youth I was paffionately in love with it : But I had not Money enough to reach the dear Fees of thofe f ophifters who had boaited that they were the on^ ly Men that could benefit me : And by my own Ingenuity I have not yet been able to find out the Art. It hicias and Laches have compafs'd it by themfelves, or have learned it of Matters, I (hall think It no wonder: For being richer than I, they N n 2 could 'n 195 Laches : Or, cf Valour, could afford to have Mafters; and being older than I, they may have learn'd it by themtelves. And upon that Account I account 'em admirably well qua- liried for inftrufting a young Gentleman : And be- fides, if they had not been very well ailur'd of their own Capacity, they would never have been ^o po- iicive in determining what Kxerciles are uleful and what are ulelefs to the Youth. So that I fubmit to them in all Things. What amazes me, is, that they are of two different Opinions. However, fince ha- chcs intreated you to detain me and oblige me to ipeak •, pray lliffer me to intreat you in my turn, not to fuffer haches and Kicias to be gone, but to prefs 'em to make anfwer -, by telling them that ^^'!^'^^ ^l^ ^""'^^'^ "^^ ^"ft obey Lyfunachus^ and MeleM. Perhaps it will not be improper to difcufs the Queftion we proposed above, w^ Whe for'i'7' ^^^^^^f^^s in this Art, or if we have tormd any Scholars and rendered 'em better Men than they were ? But methhiks there's a fhorter wav ot compaffing our End, and at the fame time of goins nearer to the fource, (.) for if we have a certain knowledge of any thing, that being communicated to another renders him better, and have likewife ^/?;|; ?? ^'T' of communicating it to him, 'tis plain no^ Lm/Pl^'^y ^haj we know the thing it felf, but that we know the i^now What means are to be employed in acquiring J{emedy of It. Fethaps you do not underftand me ; but an Fy t^:[ ^"^^'^^f'^ let you into the meaning. If we know 5--^ ... certainly that Sight communicated to the Eyes ren^ ders them better, and are able to communicate it • It is^certain that we know what the Sight is, and all that s to be done for procuring it. Whereas if we do not know what Seeing or Hearing is, our Advice r^ pu^?"° P^FPC-^^i we cannot pretend to be good Phyficians either for the Eyes or the Ears Hea?in '^ '^^ ^^''^^ ^^^ ^^^""^ ^^ ^'^^^"S or Lyf. You fay well, Socrates. Sac, Have not your two Friends, Laches, calfd you hither to advife with us, how Vertue may be made to grovv in the Souls of their Children, in prder to their Improvement ? Lac. 'Tis true. {hn'u ?" "^^."^i^^^ry then, that firftof all we mould know wnat \ertueis j for if we are ignorant f^) This is an important and veryiireful Princinle Socra of Laches : Or, of Valour. 20 r of that, how fhould we be capable of prefcribing Means for acquiring it > Lac, By no Means, Socrates. Soc. Then 'tis prefum'd you know what it is. Lac, Without doubt. Soc. But when we know a thing, cannot we tell what it is ? Lac. Yes, fure. Soc. At prefent we fhall not enter upon the En- quiry, What Vertue is in General : That would be too long and too perplexed a Task, Let us content cur felves with tracing one of its Branches, and try if we have all that's neceflary for knowing that well. This will be a Ihorter and eafier En- quiry. Lac. Since you are of that mind , I am fatif fied. Soc. But what Branch of Vertue (hall we pitch upon ? Doubtlefs it muft be that which feems to be the only End of Fencing -, for the People alledge, that this Exercife tends dire£lly to Valour. Lac. Yes, that is the Plea. Sec. Let's endeavour. Laches, in the firft Place to form a nice Definition of Valour 5 and then we fhall purfue the Means of communicating it to thefe Children , as much as is poflible , both by- Habit and by Study. Say then, What is Valour ? Lac. Indeed, Socrates , that Queftion is not very hard. A valorous Man is one that Hands lohis^'^fi^^^^^ Poft in Battle, that never turns his back, and that^X7^ °^ repulfes the Enemy. Soc. Very well , Laches ^ but perhaps 'tis my faulty Expreffion that occafion'd your giving an An- fwer remote from my Queftion* Lac. How do you mean, Socrates ? Soc. I'll tell you, if I can. A valiant Man is one that keeps his Poft in the Army, and bravely attacks the Enemy. ■ Lac. That's what I lay. Soc 20X Laches : Or, of Valour. LacbesV Soc. So fay I too. But as for him that fights the Definition h^xiQvaY "POii ^ flight, and without keepine his hac. How, upon a Flight ? Soc. Yes ~ in Fleeing ^ as the Scythums , for In- ftance, who fight as fiercely upon a Retreat, as upon , , a Purlliit: And, as Homer fays in Commendation of 1/ iliadsr ' •^'^'^'^'^'^ Horfes, They were fwitter than the Wind, in the Field of Battle, and knew how to efcape and purfue an Enemy. And does not he commend JEneas for his skill in the Art of Fleeing when he calls them expert in Retreat ? ta^hcs ilc' "Lac, That's very true, Socrates -, for Homer in that fcndshisDe- Phce fpeaks of Chariois. And as for the Scythians^ ^'':'r°"^^? "^ you know ihey were Troops of Cavalry j for that jj:jftnc ion. ^^^ ^j^^.j. ^^y ^^ Engagement with Horie •, but our Grecian Infantry fights by ftanding their Ground, as I faid but now. '.^crates ^oc. Perhaps you'll except the Lacedemonians -^ 'ti^cVm fori have heard in the Battle of P/rfr.f.f, when the ^r^Kfi^wsre Lacedemonians were engaged with the Gerrophori^ Pcr^an who had made a Bulwark of their Bucklers, and ^''^J^j. '=•■- kiil'd many of their Men with their Arrows^ the ^I'^jJ^'^'^' r Lacedcmomans^ I fay, on this occifion thought it not Willows, proper to keep their Fort , buttled^ and when the The night Perlian Ranks were diR^rder'd in the Purfuit, rally'd oftheUce- ^nd attacked the Cavalry you fpeak of, and by that i^mtgkXm Lac. You fay true. fhe Fk'lory. Soc. And for that Reafon, I told you but now that I occaiion.d your faulty Anfwer by putting the Quertion amils. For I wanted to know what Valour is in a Man that's valiant not only in Cavalry, but in Infantry and all other forts of War -, that is, not only :'>i Extent valiant' in War, but in Dangers at Sea, in Difeafes, ij Faiour. -^ Poverty, in the Management of Publick Affairs; not only valorous in Griei-^ Sorrow, and Fears, but likewiie in his Defires and Pleafures ^ a Man that knows how to make hea4 againft his Patfions, whe- ther by Handing his Ground, or fleeing. For Valour extends to all thefe things. Lie. Laches : Oi% of Valoun ^oj Lac. That's certain. " S^r. Then all thefc Men are valiant. Onedilplays his Courage by oppofing his Pleafures, another againfl: his Sorrow : One controulsliis Dciires, and another his Fears : And upon all thefe Occafions a Man may be cowardly and mean -Ipiri ted. Lac. Without queftion. 5^^;. So I wanted to know of you, what each of thefe Contraries,Valour and Coward ice, is. To begin The Dejini^ withVatour: Tell me, if you can, what is this Qua-*'"" J'"^ lity that is always the fame upon all thofe different Zlfi'difa^ Occafions? Do not you underftand me now ? rcntocfa' Lac. Not yet, perfe8:ly. fions, Soc. What r would fay, is this. For inftance. If I ask'd you what that Swiftnefs is, which extends it felf to Running, Playing upon Inftruments, Speak- ing, Learning, and a thoufand other things. For we apply that Swiftnefs to the A£lions of the Hands, Feet, Tongue, and Mind : Thefe are the principal Subjects. Is it not fo ? Li2C. Yes. Sec. If any one ask'd me, what this Swiftnefs is, that extends to all thefe diiferent things ? I would anfwer, 'Tps a Faculty that does 7?iuch in a little fpace ^i^efini^ of. Time. For this Definition agrees to the Voice, to thnofSwif- Running, and all the other things that the word can "^/^* be applied to. Lac. Right, Socrates ^ the Definition is very good. Soc. Define Valour then after the lame manner. Tell me what Faculty this is, that is always the lame in Pleafures, in Affliftion, and in all the above- mention'd Cales ^ and that never changes either its Name or its Nature. hac. Since I muft give a Definition reaching to all Afeconi the different Species of that Vertue : It leems to me Dejininon to be a Difpofition of the Soul always ready to fuifer "Z^**^"'^*'- any thing. ^ Soc. To anfwer my Queftion fully, your Defini- ^ Fault «» tion muft certainly be fuch. But this Definition me- ^^i, Defin. thinks is defective : for I reckon you do not take all *'"'• • ■ the i^04 Laches : Or, of Valour', the Patience of the Sotil to be Valour. I lee plain- ly you place Valour in the number of" rine things. Lac, Yes, without doubnj and indeed the fineft that is. Sec. Accordingly this Patience of the Soul, when accompanied by Wifdom, is good and tine ? Lac. Moft certainly. Soc. And when Imprudence is its Companion, is it not quite contrary > Is it not then very bad and per- nicious ? Lac. Without queftion. Soc. Do you call a pernicious thing fine ? Lac. God forbid, Socrates. Soc. Then you'll never call that fort of Patience by the Name of Valour,rince 'tis not tine,and Valour is fomewhat that's very tine ? Lac. You fay right. TotAnim- Soc. Then, according to you, a wife and prudent frudentva- PatieQce is Wifdom > ^enhJof Soc. Let's fee whether this Patience is only prur %iesfe/f. dint in fome things, or in every thing whether fmall or great? For inftance, A Manfpends his Eftate very patiently and prudently, with a firm Certainty that his Spending will one Day fetch him great Riches ^ Would you call this Man valiant and flout > Lac. I would be very loth to do that, Socrates. Soc. But a Phyfician has a Son or fome other Pa- tient lying ill of a great Inflammation in theBreaft: this Son teazes him for fomething to eat. The Phy- fician is fo far from yielding to his Importunity, that he patiently bears his Complaints and his Ai^ger ; Would you call this Phyfician valiant and ftout ? Socrates Lac. No more than the other, chls/inr- . •^''^' ^'^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^'^^'- Here's a Man of thatDifpo- %tlecum-' ^^^''*^'^ "^'^ ^^'^^^ ■^^ "^^ fpeak of. He has a mind to mon prejti- fight ^ and his Prudence fupporting his Courage, tells dice that an him he will quickly be reliev'd , and that his Ene- '"S^wf ^^'^^ ^'■'^ ^^^ weaker Party , and that he has the ad- jh-cctTeme- Vantage of the Ground. This brave Man, that is thus ritj M r^Ior. prU- Laches : Or, of Valour, ioy prudent, will you make him more valiant and cou- ragious than his Enemy, who ftands his Ground, not- withftanding the Diladvantages he lyes under, and that without thele Retle&ions? Lac. No, fure ^ the laft is the braveft. Soc. And, after all, the Courage of the laft is far lefs prudent than that of the former. Lac, That's true. Soc. Then it follows from your Principle, that a good Hotfe-man, that in a Engagement behaves him- felf bravely, as trufting to his dexterity of managing a Horfe, is lefs couragious than he who wants that advantage. Lac. Yes, fure. Soc. Youll fay the fame of an Archer, a Slinger, and all the other Orders of Soldiery > Lac. Without doubt. Soc. And thofe, who, without being acquainted with the Art of Diving, have the Courage to dive and are the firft that throw their Heads into the Wa- ters, are according to you, more bold and couragious than the expert divers ? Lac. Yes, fure. Soc. According to your Principles it muft be ^o. Lac. And thele are my Principles. Soc. But after all, thofe artlefs and unexperienced Men, encounter Danger much more imprudently than thofe who expofe themfelves with the advantage of Art. Lac. Yes, fure. Soc. But we concluded juft now, that indifcreet Boldnefs and imprudent Patience, are very fcandalous and pernicious. Lac. That's true. Soc. And we look'd upon Valour to be a good and a tine thing. Lac. I own it. Soc. But now it is quite contrary : We give the Name of Valour to this indifcreet Boldnefs, that we defpife fo much. Lac* ioU? Laches : Or, of Valour. Lac. I own it. Soc. And do you think it is well done > Lac, I am not fuch a Fool, Socrates. :1k mofi Soc. Thus, Laches^ by your own Principles, you •■•■ "^/ow, and I are not upon the Foot of the Dorick Tone. ■u the mofi Yox OUT Adiions do not agree With our Words. If -'n^when ^"^ ^^^^ ^ ^^^^^'^ of out Aftions, I ptcfume he would ;'';r J<5!fay we are Men of Courage: but if he heard . ^wd our Words, he would quickly change his Senti- }' -I'^-'i*-^ o/rnents. '-'"''^ Lac. You fay right. Soc. But do you think it fit we fliould continue in this Condition ? Lac. No, fure. Soc, Are you willing we fhould aO: for one mi- nute, conformably to the Definition we gave juft now ? Lac. What Definition is that > Soc. That true Courage, true Valour, is Patience : If you pleafe then, let's fhew our Patience, in car- rying on our Enquiry, that fo Valour may not laugh •at us for purfulng her without Courage j fince ac- cording to our Principles, Patience is Courage. Lac. I am willing, Socrates^ and fhall not at all flinch, tho' I am a Novice in thofe Dilputes. But I xnuft own, I am out of humour and vex'd, that I cannot explain my Thoughts. For, methinks I con- ceive perfectly what Valour is ; and I underftand now that Idea does fo balk me that I cannot explain it. Soc. But, Laches^ a good Huntfman ought always to run after the Beaft he perfues, and not to weary himfelf in runaing at every thing he fees. Lac. I agree to it. Soc. Are you willing we fiiould call Nlcias to Iiunt with us, to try if he'll have any better For- tune ? Lac. With all my Heart, why not? Soc. Come then, Nicias, come and help your Friends, if you can, who are in a fad quandary, and know not what hand to turn to : You fee what Condi- Laches: Ot^cf Valour. zq'j Condition we are in 5 and how impoflible it is for us to get clear of it. Jrray, refcue us, by giving us to know what Valour is, and proving ir. N/c. I thought all along that you defin'd this Ver- tue amifs. How comes it to pais, Socrates^ that you do not upon this Occafion make ufe of what I have heard you fpeak J(b often and fo well ? Soc. VVhaf s that, Nicm ^ Nic. I have often heard you fay, that a Man is dexterous at the Things he knows, but very unhap- py at what he does not know. Soc. That's very true. Nic. And b^ Conlequence, if a valiant Maij bs good at any thing, he's good at what he knows. Soc. Do you hear him L^^ches ? Lac. Yes, I hear him : But I do not well under- ftand what he means. iS^^. But, methinks^ I perceive his meaning. As I take it, he means that Valour is a Science. Lac. What Science, Socrates ? Soc. Why do not you ask him ? Lac. I defire the fame Favour of him. Soc. Kicias^ anfwer Laches a little, and tell him what Science Valour is in your Opinion ^ for 'tis nei- ther the Science of playing upon the Flute, nor that of playing upon the Harp. Nic. No, furely. Soc. What is it then ? And what is the Subje£l of it ? Lac. You ask him very well Socrates ^ let him tell us then what Science it is > Nic. I fay, Laches.^ that it is the ^ Science of * Tilcids himfelf knew'tiot alh the flrength trf this Definiti- on, he iinderftood only that Valour was tlie efted of Expe- rience and Cnftom. For Example, Men -who have run thro' many Dangers, are commonly more Valiant than thofe.who hud never feen any ; for as they have already efcap'd tliole Dangers, they believe that they may likewife overcome all others. This is the Sentnnent o^TSJdas, but it is not that of Socrates^ who from his Definition drag's a Principle far more • Excellent, as will be ften by what follows. Things 2o8 Laches : Or, ofVaknr. \A third Things that are terrible, and of thofe that do not Definition furpais OUT Strength, and in which one may fhew of vdoHv^ a ftedfaftnels, whether it be in War, or in the other ^^J'^.^^'""^ Contingencies of Life. thetl-Z^ Lac. A ftrange Definition, Socrates ! Idea of it. Soc. Why do you think it fo ftrange ? See the Ke- Lac, Why, becaufe Science and Valour are twd mark. ygjy. (different Things. Soc, Nicias pretends they are not. Lac. Yes, he pretends it, and therein he dotes. Soc. Good God, let us endeavour to inftru£t him j Reproaches are not Reafons. Nic. He has no defign to abufe me, but he wifhes that what I have faid may be of no weight, be- caufe he himfelf is deceived all along. Lac. It is the very truth, and I fhall die of Grief, or make it appear that you have not fpoke better than I. Without going any further,don't the Phyfici- ansknow what there is that's dangerous in Difeafes ?' Do the moft valiant Men know it better? Or do you call the Phyficians valiant Men > J Nic. No, furely, Lac. Neither do you give that Name to Labour- ers ; yet they know what it is that's moft terrible, in their Labour. .It is the fame with all other Tradefhnen, they all know very well what it is that is moft terrible in their Profeflion, and what it is . that may give them Affurance and Confidence-, but they are not the more valiant for that. Soc. What fay you, Nicias^ of that Criticifm of Laches ? For my part I think there's fomething in it. Nic. It certainly has fomething in it, but nothing of truth. Soc. How fo ? Nic. How? becaufe he thinks that Phyficians know not any thing more of Dileafes,than to fay that a Thing is healthful or unhealthful : 'Tis very cer- tain that they know nothing move of it : For, in good earneft, Luchcs^ do you imagine that the Phyficiari knows Laches : Or, of Valour, 209 knows whether his Patient has more reafon to be f^aiom u afraid of Health or of Sicknefs ? And don't youH'jfy'^'^ think that there are abundance of Sick to whom it opwhLfs would be more advantagious not to be cured thstn temi?/e or to be cured ? Dare you fay that it is always good ""^ f^m^/e, to live, and that there are not abundance of Peo- ^^^ f-^".,^ pie to whom it would be more Advantagious toZ'fi.^'^ die ? great Triii' Lac. I am perfuaded that there are fome People ^¥^ ' who would be more happy to die. Nic, And do.you think that the Things that leem terrible to thofe who would willingly live, appear the lame to thofe who had rather die. Lac. No, doubtlefs. JV/V. And who will you be judged by on thele " Occafions ? The Phyficians ? They don't in the leafl fee into it. People of other Profeflions, they know nothing of the Matter. It belongs then only to thofe who are skilful in the Science of terrible Things ; And 'tis thofe whom I call Valiant. Soc. Laches^ do you underftand what Nicia^ fays ? Lac. Yes, I underftand that according to his rec- '^"■>'^^ ^"^fi koning there is none Valiant but Prophets. For ^"^.^^fi^ who ellebut a Prophet can know if it be more ad-folefi^the vantagious to die than to live? And I would ask£w/i to' you Niciasj ^ Are you a Prophet? If you be not, fare- <^^'"^*. well to your Valour. Nic. How then ? Do you think that it is the bu- finefs of a Prophet to know himfelf in Things that are terrible, and in thole wherein he can fliew fted- faftnefs ? Lac. Without doubt i and whofe Bufinefs is it elfe? Nic. Whofe ? His of whom I fpeak, the valiant Man ; for the Bufinefs of a Prophet, is only to Laches jeexs Tildas here in obfcure Terms, becaiife of his Refpeft to the Diviners ; for as he was a very religious Man, he had a great Relpe^ for ail Diviners, and kept one always in his Houfe. O 0 know 2X0 Laches : Or, of Valour^ know the Signs of Things that are to happen, as of Deaths, Dileaies, Lofles, Defeats and Viaories, whi- ther it be in War or in other Combats : And do you think, that it is more proper for him than for ano- ther Man to judge which of all thofe Accidents are more or lels advantagious to this Man or to that ? Never had any Prophet the leaft thought of fuch a thing. Lac. Truly ,• Socrates , I cannot comprehend his Meaning ^ for, according to his Account, there is neither Prophet, nor Phyfician, nor any other fort of Men, to whom the Name of Valiant can be ap- plicable. This valiant Perfon, of whom he has an w^vrf/z^wtldea, muft then be a God. But, to tell you my i«rf»*j»o? 4 Thoughts, Nicks has not the Courage to confels, V but he r^.^^ j^e knows not what he favs; he only quibbles ;;j^!'f;>nd Ihirts to conceal his Confuiion. We could have ed ly God. done as much, you and I, if we had had nothing elie in view but to hide the Contradi8:ions we fall into. If we were before a Judge, this Condu£l might perhaps be reafonable. 'Tis a Piece of Cunning to intangle a bad Caufe 5 but in Converfation, like ours, to what purpole is it to endeavour to triumph by vain Difcourfe ? Soc. Certainly that is a very ill thing : But let us fee i^NJcias does not pretend to fay fomething to the purpole, and whether you don't injure him by accu- sing him of talking meerly for talkings fake. Let us defire him to explain his thought to us more clear- ly ^ and, if we find that he hasreafon on his fide, we will be of his mind ^ if not, we will endeavour to Ipeak better. Lac. Ask him your felf, Socrates^ if you pleafe j I have ask'd Qiieftions enough of him. Soc. I will do it J I will argue with him for you and me too. Lac. Ir you pleafe. Soc. Tell me, I pray you, Niciai.^ or rather tell us, for I Ipeak alfo for Laches^ Do you maintain, that Valour is the knowledge of things that are ter- rible Laches : 0r, of Valour, 21 f tible and of things in which one may teftifie fome aflurance and confidence ? l^ic. Yes, I do maintain it,* Soc. You maintain alfo, that this Knowledge is it is not not given to all forts of People,ieeingit is not known *»w» to neither to the Phyficians nor to the Prophets, and ^''^"^"* that yet no body can be valiant without this Know- ^^ nor'^et ledge. Is not this what you faid ? to Tropheti Nic. Yes, doubtlefs. asfncb, Soc. Then we may apply the Proverb in thisCale : That it is not the fame of every wild Sow^ every wild Sow is not valiant and couragious, Nic, No, furely. 5^^. It is evident by this, Nicias^ that you are ful- ly perfwaded, that the wild ^ Sow ofCrommion was not couragious, whatever the Ancients have faid of her. I do not tell you this in jeft, but in good ear- neft i he, who fpeaks as you, muft not of neceffity admit of any Courage in Beafts, or grant, that the Lions,Leopards,Boars,know many things which mod Men are ignorant of, becaufe of their being too diffi- cult. Befides, he who maintains^ that Valour is what you fay it is, muft alfo maintain, that Lions, Bulls, Harts, Foxes, are born equally valiant one with ano- ther. Lac. By all that's facred, Socrates., you fpeak to admiration. Tell us then truly, Nicias^ do you be- lieve, that Beafts, which are generally reckon'd full of Courage, are more underftandiiig than we, or dare you go againft the common Opinion, and main- tain, that they have not Courage? Nic. I tell you in a word , Laches . that I don't call neither Beaft nor Man, nor any thing whatever, that, through imprudence and ignorance, fears not * The Aim of Socrates is to try T^icitvs and to fhake him in his Opinion by making him tear thuc his Principle would hurt their Religion j for if the wild Sow o'tCrommion had no: been valia^jt and couragious, Thefetts is not fo great a Hero for having ovetcorae her , nor Hmtttts for having det'^ated the Lion of lie^a. Oo 2 the / 212 Laches : Oty of Falouri the things that are terrible, valiant and couragious ^ but I call them fearlefs and fenflefs! Alas ! Do you think, that I call all Children, who, through impru- dence, fear no danger, valiant and couragious ? In my Opinion, to be wkhout fear, and to be valiant, are two very different things; There is nothing more rare than Valour accompanied with Prudence, and nothing more common than Boldnels, Audacioufnefs and Intrepidity accompanied with Imprudence: for it is the property of moft Men and Women, of all Beafls and Children. In a word, thofe whom you and moil: People call Valiant, I call Ra(h and Fool- hardy, and I give the Name of Valiant only to thole who are Prudent and Wife ^ thefe only are the Per- fons I mean. For Nicias j^ac. Do you fee, Socrates, * how he offers In- 7mdZ?^nd^^^^^ to himfdf, as if he were the only valiant y^ry'-LiJe. Man •, for he Itrives to rob all thofe, who pafs for See the i{e- fuch, of that Giory. mark. jsijc. That is none of my defign, Laches, do not Lanu!-hns ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^' ^ ^"^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^"^ La7nachus yoiJrZsCe- ^te prudent and wife if you be valiant. I fay the 7ierai e/ ^/;e fame of many of our Athenians. Athenians L.'/r. tXho' I could anfwer you in your own Coin, ^i?AId-'y^^ I will not, left you (hould accufe me \\ of being; blades in iH-natut'd and foul-mouth'd. the Expedi- Soc. Don't fay fo. Laches, I lee plainly you do tionofSici- Yiot perceive that l^icias hath learned thefe fine Jy, rvhere * '^^^ ' ' * Wifdom and Prudence were the true Charafter of 2^^;. c/rfj, who undertook nothing but wliere he faw at leafl an ap- parent Safety, and who, by waiting for Opportunities to ad: iafely, did often let them Hip j which begot him the Chara- iktx of a cowardly Man: however, he undertook things well and executed 'em better, performing his part always well. ■ t i.t<:/;c'5 fpeaks like one that's a little tourh'd, for he would fay, that he could anfwer 2^/V/u5 that he is not valiant, becaufe he is too prudent and too wife : As indeed the Poets them- lelves taxed his Prudence witii Cowardice. II The Crceh Co; V lays , Left yuu jhouU take me for a Mm of the Tribe of Aixiouidv's : For the People of that Tribe' were much cry'd down for theu: railing Temper and ill Nature. things Laches: Or, of Valour, 21 j things of our Friend Da?non , and that Damon is the intimate Friend oiYrodki^ the ablefl: of. all the So- phifts for that kind of DiftinQ:ions. 'Lac. Oh, Socrates^ it becomes a Sophift very well to make Oftentation of his vain Subtiities^ but for a Man like Nicjas^ whom the Athenians have chofen to fit at the Helm of the Republick .... Soc. My dear Laches^ it well becomes a Man who hath ib great Affairs n^on his Hands, to ftudy to be more learned and more wile than others ^ wherefore I think that ^'icias delerves to be heard, and that we ought at leaft to enquire into his Reafons why he defines Valour thus. Lac, Enquire then as much as you pleale, So- crates. Soc. 'Tis what I am going to do ^ but don't think that I acquit you of it, and that you fhall not aflift me in fome things : Liften a little then, and take heed to what I am going to fiy. Lac. I (hall do fo, fince it pleafes you, Soc. That is fo far well : Now come on, Nicias-^ pray you tell us, in refuming the Matter from the beginning ^ Is it not true, that at firft we confidered Valour ^ as a part of Virtue ? Nic. 'Tis true. Soc. Did not you anfwer, that Valour was certain- ly but one part, and that there were other parts, which all together were called by the Name of Vir- tue? JV/r. How could I fay otherwife ? Soc. You fay then as I do : for, befides Valour, I acknowledge there are other parts of Virtue, as Temperance, Juftice, and many others j don't you alfo acknowledge them ? . . Wic. Doubtlefs I do. Soc. That's good, we are agreed upon this Point: * Socrates would prove, that Virtue being one, he, who has not all the parts that compcfe it^ cannot brag of being vir- tuous. O 0 3 Let *% 214 Laches: Or, of Valour. Let us go then to thofe things which you call ter- rible •, and wherein you fay a Man may fhew fome Affurance and Confidence; let us examine them well, left it happen that you underftand them one way and we another •, we are going to tell you what we think of them. If you don't .agree wii:h us you will correal us. We believe the things which you call terrible are fuch as infpire People with Terror and Fear ^ and that thofe wherein you fay we may Ihew fome Affurance are fuch as do not inlpire us with that Fear : Now thole that caufe Fear, are neither things that have already happened, nor things that aftually happen , but fuch as we expeO: ^ for Fear is only the Expectation of an Evil to come. Are not you of this Opinion, Laches i • Lac. Yes, yes perfectly. Soc. This then is our Sentiment, Nicias. By thofe things that are terrible, we underftand the Evils to come-, and by the things wherein one may fhew fome affurance, we underftand thofe things which are alfo to come, and which appear good, or, at leaft, don't appear to be ill. Do you admit our De* finition or not > Nic. Yes, yes, I admit it. Soc. Then it is the Knowledge of thofe things which you call Valour ? Nic. Yes, it is. Soc. Let us go to a third Point, and fee if we can agree upon that too. Nic. What is that ? Soc. You fhall hear it prefently. We fay, that is. Laches and I, that in all things ^ Science never dif- fers from it felf 3 it is not one thing, as to things pall:, * Socrates woiild make ?iicias underftand, that in defining Valour to be the Knowledge of things that are terrible^ that is tO fay, of Evils to come, he has not been large enough in his Perinition; for Knowledge extending it felf to what is pall, what is prefent, and what is to corne, Valour muft have all that extent if it be truly a Science. Then We muft fay, that ^t is the Knowledge of ^l\ the Evil and of all the Good that , . . hath Laches ; Or, of Valour, 215 pafi", to know how they pafled ^ another, as to the things prelent, to know how they are and how they happen j and another upon the things to come, to know how they will be and how they will fall out ^ but it is always the ianrie : For example as to Health, Let the Time be what it will,Phifick never differs from it felf, it is always the lame Art of Phi- iick that judges of it, and that fees what has been, what is and what will be healthful or unhealthful. Husbandry in the fame manner judges of what has come,of what is now come and of what will come. And, as to War, you can very well teftifie, and will be believed, that the Art of a General extends it felf to all, to what is paft, what is prefent and to what is to come ^ that he has no occafion for the Art of Divination, and that on the contrary he has it at command, as knowing better than it, what happens ^"f* '/ the and what ought to happen. Is not the Law it ^^"^^^omm^nd d. expreis in that ? For it commands not that the Divi- [^General nerfhall command the General, but that the Gene- /;e wouU * ral fhall command the Diviner. Is not this \s!\i^x.thenbeGe^ WQ Gly, Laches ? W/.m- Lac, Yes certainly, Socrates, ^'■'' Soc, And you, Niciof^ do you alfo lay as we do, and do you agree, that Knowledge, being always the fame, judges equally of what is paft, what is pre- fent, and what to come > AV^. Yes, I fay as you fay ^ for I think it cannot be otherwife. Soc. You lay then , moft excellent Nkias , that Valour is the Knowledge of things that are terrible, and of thofe that are not fo ? Is not that what you fay? Nic. Yes. Soc. Have not we agreed , that thofe things that are terrible are Evils to come; and thofe things that O o 4 are hath been, that is, and that fiiallbe j for Valour ought no lefs to judge of what has been, and of what is, than of what will be.But of what ufe is it? That Socrates will make plain by and by. 2, 1 6 Laches : Or, of Valour. are not terrible, and in which we can fhew fome af^ furance, is fome Good that we exped? iSlic. We are agreed upon it. Soc. And that Knowledge does not extend it felf only to what is to come , but alfo to things prefent and to what is paft. A'/V. I agree in that. Soc. Then it is not true, that Valour is only the Knowledge of things that are terrible, and of thoie that are not terrible •, for it does not only know the Good and the Evil that is to come , but its Jurifdi- Sion extends as far as that of other Sciences, and it alfo judges of what is paft and of what is prelent, and, in a word, of all things whether they be near at - hand or at a diftance. I\ic. That feems to be true. Soc. Then you have only defined to us the third part of Valour^ but we dcfir'd you to give us a full definition of it : At prefent it feems to me, that, ac- cording to your Principles, 'tis the Knowledge not only of things that are terrible and not terrible, ^ but alfo of almoft all the Good and all the Evil at what diftance ioeyer they be from us before or after. Have you rh_n changed your Sentiment, J^icia^ ? what do you fay ? 'Nic. It appears to me, that Valour has all the ex- tent you fay. Soc. That being fo, do you think that a valiant Man wants any part of Virtue, if it be true, that he knows all the Good and all the Evils that have been, that are, and that may be ? and do you believe, that fuch a Man can want Temperance, Juftice, and ^7/7f /« /;e San£lity ? he to whom alone it belongs to ufe a would not prudent Precaution againft all the Evils that may be yaliant. * Socrates will have US underftand, that Valour puts us ir^ a condition to attraft the Good and to avoid the Evil that may happen to us on the part ot" Man and on the part of God ; for It may ferve to corredl: what is pall, to difpofe well of what is prefent, and to ufe wife Precautions againft what is to com?. It is fo folid a Principie that notliing can Ihake it. hap- Laches: Or, of Valour, 21 j happen to him on the part of Man and Faiour confifis then in bn the part of God, and to put himfelf P'^^^l'-f formnf ".f in a condition to draw fronj thence all bZlfatZJ^hl/penll the Good that can be expected, feeing «*, not only on the part of he knows how he ought to behave him- >■&» i»*t alfo on the fart felf both t(»vards Man and towardsGcd. "f^"^- Nic. What you fay now, Socrates^ ieems to have fomething in it. Soc. Valour then is not a part of Virtue , but is Virtue in all its parts > Nic. So it feems to me. Soc. Yet we faid, that it was but a part of it. Nic. We did fo. Soc. And what we faid then does not now appear to be true. Nic. I own it, Soc. And confequently , Nidof 3 we have not yet found out what Valour is r Nic. ^ I am of your mind. Lac. Yet I Ihould have thought, my dear Nicia^^ by the Contempt you fhew'd of me, when! was an-, fwering Socrates^ thai you would have found it out better than another, and I had great hopes, that, with the affiftance of Datnori's high Wifdom, you would have accomplifh'd it very well. Nic. Cheer up. Laches^ that is admirable. You , think it nothing that you appeared very ignorant of^ what relates to Valour, provided I appear as igno- rant as you •, you regard nothing but that, and you believe your felf to be no way blameable, when you have me for a Companion, in that Ignorance which * ISllclas does riot comprehend, that which Socrates makes him ahnoft touch with his Finger , that Virtue cannot be di- vided, and that every one of its parts is Virtue intire. Valout is not without Temperance, Sandlity and Juftice, and there is not one of thofe without Valour. But how comes it about that TSiidas and Laches do not underliand this Language ? 'Tis be- caufe they were us'd to the unhappy Diflinitions of Sophids, who had filled their Minds with their falfe Idea's, and who had mined Virtue by dividing it and cutting it in pieces. This will be explained more at large in the following Dialogue. i- ( is aiS Laches: Or, of Valour, is fo Icandalous to Men of Quality : But that's the humour of Men, they never look to themfelves, bu^ jn effen he always to others. For my part, I think I am anfwer- pitfwerei ed indifferently well. If I am deceived in any thing, better than J ^qj^'j. pretend to be infallible, I fhall undeceive my c^e ^nelrer ^^1^5 ^7 taking Inftru£tions, whether it be from D^- the Mark. Mon^yNhom you would ib willingly ridicule, tho' you never faw, nor knew him ^ or from any others j and when I am well inftru£ted, I will communicate my knowledge to you •, for I am not envious,and you feem to me to have great need of Inftru£lion. Lac. And for you, Nicia^.^ if we may believe you, you'll fuddenly be the eighth wife Man : In the mean time, for all this fine Reafoning,! zdviiQLyJimachus 8c Melefias to fend us and our good Councils for the Education of their Children, a going, and if they'll believe me, as I have juft now faid, they'll fix only upon Socrates ^ for, as for my part, if my Children were old enough, I would do fo. AW. Oh ! as for that I agree with you. If Socrates will take care of our Children, we need not look out for another Matter, and I am ready to give him my Son 'Niceratus.^ if he will be fo good as to take charge of him : But always, when I fpeak to him of that, he recommends me to other Matters and refu- fes me his Aihttance. Try then hyfmacbus^ if you can have any more Power over him, and if he will have fo much Complaifance for you. \yf. It would be an A£l: of Juftice ; * Becaule, for my part , I would do for him what I would not do for many others. What do you fay then, Socrates ? will you fuffer your felf to be prevailed upon, and will you take charge of thefe Children to make them virtuous } Soc. He mutt be a very ftrange and cruel Man that * This Paflage muft not be tranflated as des Serres tranflated it, / tPou'U gi-ve him more. Lyfimachus had nO thOJights of Ipeak- ing of a Salary : That would have too much offended Socrates, who did not teach for Money 3 nor does the Greek Expreflion bear more than I have faid. will Laches : Or, of Valour, 2.19 will not contribute to make Children as honeft as they can be. For my part, if in the Converfation we have now had together, I had appeared more learned and the reft more ignorant, I would have thought you had reafon to chufe me preferably to others : But you fee very well, that we labour all under the fame Uncertainty and Perplexity. Then why fhould I be prefened ? I think that neither one nor other of usdelerves preference: And, if it be fo, conlider if I am not going to give you good Ad- vice : I am of opinion (we are alone, and we will not difcover our felves) I am of opinion, that we Ihould all feek the beft Mafter, firft for our felves, and then for thefe Children, and for that end not to fpare Expences , nor any thing elle in the World : for I fhall never advile our remaining in the ftate wherein we now are. If any body deride us foi^o- ing ftill to School at thefe Years , we will defend our felves by the Authority of Homer , who iays in in the 17th fome place , That "tk very had for the Foor to be Bosk of his Jhame-faced. And thus, by laughing at all they can Odyff. fay, we fhall take care of our felves and of thefe Children. Lyf. That Council, Socrates^ pleafes me infinitely well ♦, and, for my part, the older I am, the more defire I fhall have to inftruQ: my felf at the fame time with our Children. Do then as you have laid, come to Morrow- morning early to my Houle-, do not fail therein, I pray you, that we may advife how to put in pra8:ice what we have refolved upon. Tis time that this Converfation fhould break up. Soc. I will not fail therein, Lyfimachus^ I will be with you to Morrow-morning very early, if it pleafe God. THE 210 THE INTRODUCTION T O TROtAGOKAS. f A ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^" ^^^ foregoing Dialogue, XX giv'n, as it were, a Specimen of the falle Nq- tioiis that prevail'd in his Time , and had infe£led the chiet Perfons of the Republick, here he difcovers their Authors, and attacks them with abundance of force. He tneretbre introduces Socrates difputing with Frotagora^^ who was the moft confiderable of all the Sophiiis, and the Perfon who, by the Art of poyfoning Mens Minds, had acquired the greateft Reputation, and moft Riches. At firft he fhews, with a natural Simplicity, the Veneration Men had throughout all Greece for thofe Impoftors. They were followed where-ever they went, and they no fooner arrived in any City but the News of it was ipread abroad all over j People fiock'd to them with all poiTible eagernefs, and their Houfes were tilled betimes in the Morning. Men that were fo followed could not be without fome fort of Merit, and particularly in fuph a difcerning Age as that. Tis alfo evident, that Protagoras was a Man of great Wit, and exprefs'd himfelf with won- derful eafe. What is it thofe two Qualities could not do, efpecially when fupported by a deal of Pre- fumption, which rarely fails to attend them > Inftan- ces of it are feen daily, fo that it is needlefs to cite 'eip. Who is it that goes to examine whether thofe Do- Ihe IntroduBion to Protagoras. 22. f Do£lors vent falf^ Maxims? Who is it that is able to diftinguifh the falfe GIols of Opinion from the true Light of Knowledge ? They fpeak agreeably . ^ they flatter our Paflions and Prejudices •, they pro-' mife us Knowledge and Virtue , and fill us with an high Conceit of our felves. What needs there more to make them be followed ? This was the Profeflion of the Sophifts. As no- thing is lb oppofite to that Spirit of Error as true Philofophy, Socrates was a mortal Enemy to thofe falfe Teachers, and 'Plato^ who trod in his Foot- fteps, could not vex them worfe than by prelerving the Memory of all the Diiputes that that wife Man had with them on feveral Occafions, and of all the Banters he put upon them. This is what he does in leveral Dialogues, as the Sopbifl, Euthydeme^ Gor- g'las^ Hippias^ and Vrotagcras. I have put this laft after Laches^ becaufe it is a natural Continuation of it •, for here is examined that famous Queftion, If Virtue can be taught? and what Valour is, properly fpeaking. Nothing is more natural than the Plan of that Dialogue, and nothing more folid than the Manner in which it is performed. A young Man become fond of the Sophifts, goes to Socrates before break of Day, to beg of him to conduct him to Yrotagoras^ who was juft arrived at Athens. Socrates agrees. They go to the Houfe of Callias^ where he lodged •, and Call'ias^ was one of the Chiefs of the Republick. They find 'Protagoras walking in the midft of a Crowd of Athenians and Foreigners, who liftened to him as to an Oracle. Yrod'icus of Ceos and Hippias of E/ee^ two of the greateft Sophifts of the Age, were alfo there. And therefore the Vi£lory which Socrates obtains in this famous Difpute, ought to be lookt upon as the defeat of all the Party of the Sopiiifts, who affifted therein by their Leaders. At aii ^^^ introduBion to Protagoras. At firfl; Protagoras feems to be an admirable Man ^ to prove that Vertue can be taught, he tells a very- ingenious Story, and it muft be confeffed, that he gives his Opinion the moft'fpecious Colours that could be, he omits nothing that can be faid, and what he fays is every Day repeated by People who arc far from thinking themfelves to be Sophifts. Socrates confutes him with a dexterity that can- not be fufficiently praifed •, and by his way of treat- ing them he teaches us, that at all times, when one has to do with that fort of People, the true Secret, to get the depth of them, is not to fufFer them to Ipeak fo much as they would , and to make their chimerical Syftems-, for they avoid and fhift off all your Arguments, and efcape from you at laft by their long Difcourfes. You muft then oblige them to anfwer pofitively, and without rambling, to all you ask them : with this Precaution the Difpute will loon be at an end. That very Man who when fuf- fered to Harangue and make Orations upon any thing has many times confounded every Body, feems to be Weaknels it felf when he is kept clofe and confined to the Limits of a regular Difpute. In fhort, 'tis feen that Protagoras has nothing but fome confufed No- tions, that which he hath fcrap'd up by his undigeft- ed Reading, and that inftead of Knowledge he has nothing but a monftrous Heap of Opinions which contradift and deftroy one another when they are founded to the bottom and compared together. The Aim of Socrates^ in this Dialogue, is not to confound and triumph over the Sophifts , he has a more noble profpeQ •, he would cure the Athenians of affefting them fo much , an4 teach important Truths, the Ignorance of which is the only Source of all the Evils that happen to Men, not only in this Life but alio in that which is to come. The firft Truth is , That there is nothing more diingerous than to lubmit our felves to all forts of Teachers, and that it is MOt the fame with Sciences which nourifh the Soul , as with Food that nou- riffle Ihe IntroduSiton to Protagoras. 22 j rifhes the Body. The latter may be bought by eve- ry one 5 for, after they have bought it, they may carry it home in Veflels of Imall value, and, before they ule it, they have time to advHe with thole who know whether it be good or bad, and can teach them how to ufe it ; Whereas if one buy Knowledge of the firft that comes, he expofes himfelf to very Jreat danger ^ for in buying it he has no other Vellel to put it into but the Soul it felf, which always favours of that which is put into it, and which, from the very Minute that it receives the Doftrin , is cured or poyfoned for ever, nnlels fome good Phyfician be found to reftose it to its former flate, which is very hard to do. The fecond Truth is. That thofe falfe Teachers, by teaching that Virtue is compofed of different Parts which have no dependance upon one another, do entirely deftroy it, and corrupt the Mind and the yeart of their Difciples^ for they bring them to vain Aflurance, that they may have fome Parts of Virtue without having the reft, and be, for example, tem- perate without being juft ^ juft without being tem- perate or pious, and valiant tho' impious •, and thereby put them out of condition of ever becoming virtuous. To divide Virtue thus, and to tear it, if we may venture to fay fo, to pieces, is abfolutely to annihilate it and deftroy it. Virtue is one in its Principle and ObjeQ:; it is fn- divifible and eternal as they are, and all its AGs de- pend upon it felf^ tho' each of them have certain diftinguifhing CharaQers, ; et they are infeperable andindivifihle^ tney always nold together by fome connmon tye ; they am neither be limited nor mo- mentary, b ,f cire ^11 .;crt: lat as Virtue that produ- ceth them, and as ine '-": I wnereof they are the Life : In a word. Virtue : -^r^ in every A^l, and no Acf oi Virtue peril fie- all chat perif?]es is rot Virtue. A DemonliratioK lir ai.qnt b made : Where the Spine of God Is 11^. , ii ; • Virtue; and where the Spirit 01 God is, lUcrv- Vina-^ is necef^ farily 224 The IntYodu^ion to Protagoras. farily with all its Parts, and by confequence a juft Man is temperate and pious ^ a temperate Man is valiant and juft ^ and he who is valiant is neither im- pious, debauched, nor unjuft. Thefe are natural and inconieftable Truths in Ipight of the Illufions of our Prejudices. The third Truth that Socrates, would teach is. That it does not belong to every body to explain the Poets, and that the Sophifts, who boafted of great learning in that, could do nothing but fpoil the fineft Paffiges of the Poets, and thofe that con- tained the foundeft Theology and the greateft Max- ims of Morality. Here is found a fmall Diflerta- tion upon a Paflage of Smomdcs^ who, in one of his Poems, which Time has robb'd us of, quarelled with that famous Sentence of Vittacus^ It k a diffi- cult thing to he virtuous. Simon'ides finds fault with that •, he would have had him fay , it is a difficult thing to become virtuous, and at the lame time that it is not impoihble, but that it is abfolutely impof fible to be fo always •, for there is no Man upon Earth who is innocent and juft all his Life-time, and we muft not hope to find any fuch. God alone is unchangeable and conftant in the perfeftion of Vir- tue, and thole whom he fupports and favours. This Theology, which is fo agreeable to the Chriftian Do8:rine, pleafes Socrates^ and 'tis he himlelf who draws pure Light from out of the middle of the Darknels wherein rhoie Sophifts had wrapt it up, by their bad Criticifms and talie Explications. We may thereby lee what proiound Judgment a Man inuft have, to enable him to explain the Poets with luccefs, that is to fay ior the publickgood. This Paflage of Simonides leads Socrates to touch upon a fifth Truth, which i^ mis, That in order to Perverfus become good one muft hav^ bcii wicked, fo to be- niiiciu?de^ come wlckcd one mul^ nav^ been good. For no body pravatusa Can be called perverle but iie who from a good Man redo eil. is become wicked. This Maxim.^ does not appear at La/'T^' ^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^"^^^^ ^^ • ^^ ^^ ^'^^y profound and '' •^"'^•'^' draws ^e IntroduBfon to Protagoras. 22j draws into the knowledge of this hrlt Truth, which is one of the folid Foundations of Platonick Philofb- phy, that Men were created perfeO:, and thar rhey have fallen from that perfection by the unhappy ufe they naade of their liberty. Therefore we muft not expeft a perfeQ Man in this World : and, as Simom- des did, we muft, with all ourt Heart, love and praile thofe who have feweft Failings, and who commit nothing that is Ihameful. • From this Sentiment of Simonides^ Socrates alfo draws the Explication of this lixth Troth, That the Injuftice of Men ought not to obliterate in us thofe certain Sentiments which Nature has ingraven in our Heart » and which this Poet calls by the Name of 'Necefftty^ becaufc we muft abfolutely fubmit unto and obey them, or ceafe to be Men. For example, all the Caufes of Complaint that an ill-humoured Father and Mother, an unjuft Country, or a cruel Mafter can give us,.will neverjuftifie our Averfion to them, nor authorife a Spirit of Difobedience, Ven- geance or Revolt. Let them treat us never fo ill, we ought to love them, praife them, lerve them, ^c\*» And upon this Subjed Socrates does, with an Elo- quence, that may be called Chriftian, fhew the dif- ference there is in thofe Occafions between the Con- du£l of a good and a bad Man. Thefe great Truths which Socrates draws from the Poem of S'monides^ do not hinder him from ac- knowledging, that Philofophers, who treat of diffi- cult and important Queftions, ought to have re- courfe to the Poets, and to change the Difpute into a Diflertation upon the Senfe that ought to be given to a V^erle •, for we cannot addrefs our felves to them to demand the reafon of what they fay. The moft Ignorant will difpute with the moft Learned even to the end of Time •, for what will you do to convince him ? his Wilfulnefs and Ignorance are much ftronger than your Reafons. And if you difpute with a learn= fed Man, he will not always have the Courage to Confefs that he is in the v^rong : private intereft, or P P Jea» 226 the lntrodu6lion to Protagoras. Jealoufie and Vanity, too frequent Companions of that fort of Knowledge, will hinder him from fub- mitting to the dearett of Truths, even tho' he him- felf be fecretly convinced of them : Where then will be the end of the Difpute ? The fureft way is to leave the Poets there, and to prefs your Man upon his own Principles, for which he is obliged to giVe a Reafoii. After this r recaution Socrates^ to decide the Que- ition that is the Subje8: of the Dilpute, would have it agreed on what Knowledge properly is, and would have it determined if it be the Slave of the Paifi- ons, as People fanfie it to be ^ or, if it be ftrong enough to govern Men furely : And 'tis in this alfo that Socrates appears to be a divine Man, for he makes it appear that Knowledge is the ftrongeft thing in the World, that it alone can put Man in a ftate never to be overcome by his Paflions, and that it alone will always deliver him from the greateft Dangers, and will make him triumph over all the Powers of the Earth, that fhall arm themfelves to Etcognof- force him to commit any thing contrary to the light cetis vcri- of this Science. This agrees exa£lly with thofe ad- verkas h- ^''^^^^^^^ Words of our Lord fpoken to the Jews, Te berabit J'^^^^ know the Truths and the Truth Jhall make you vos, S.John jree. Socrates might have drawn this great Notion S- 32. from the Words 0^ Solomon^ who fays, that the Scientia knowledge of Wijdom will give Life to him that has fapienti^ it. For by Knowledge Socrates means the Know- h bc^Ten ^^^^^ of God, and of the Truth. Knowledge, which Ecdef. 7. 'is the Source of all Vertues, and which makes Tem- perance, Juftice, Valour, San8:ity, Strength, &c. The Propofition of Socrates., applied to other Sciences, would be perfe6:ly ridiculous. The caufe ofVertue being known, ^o is alfb that of Vice, by reafbn they are Contraries. 'Tis there- fore Ignorance that occafions Vice : From whence it follows by neceflary Confequence, that thofe who commit Wickednefs, do it whether they will or not. Moft Ihe Introdu^ion to Protagoras.' 227 Moft Men will not agree to this Principle ^ on the contrary, they maintain that we commit Evil when we know it, and that it depends upon our felves to fhun it, and that we refule to do Good, with an intire Knowledge and with a full Power to follow it. And when they are asked the Reafon of this ftrange Condu£l, they fay that it is becaufe Man is enflav'd by his fenfual Pleafures. 'Tis therefore proper to enquire into this vulgar and ill underftood Reafon ^ for when once that is well clear'd up, it will be evidently known what Vertue is, the refemblance that Valour has with all the other Parts of that Vertue, will appear, and it will be agreed that this Principle of Socrates is fo certain a Truth, that even thofe who think them- felves the furtheft from it, and that contradi£l it moft, comply therewith without perceiving it, and allow it, contrary to their Defign, in terms of which they knov^ not the Senfe and Force. Thefe are the indilputable Maxims that Socrates eftabliflies, and which are necelTary for the deeifion of the Queftion. Pleafure is a Good, and Grief is an Evil. Plea- fure which leads to Grief is an Evil, and Grief which leads to Pleafure is a Good. There is no Body but who feeks afcer Good, and flees from Evil. Thefe Principles being fuppofed, when 'tis iaid a Man knowing Evil, will notwithftanding commit it •, and that knowing Good, he doth not ceafe to flee from it , becaufe he is enflav'd by his fenfual Pleafure, it is not meant there of Pleafure which leads to Grief, for' that is an Evil •, neither is ir meant of Grief which leads to Pleafure, for no Bo- dy commits Evil for the fake of Giiet : It is fpoke of Pleafure fynonymous of Good. U^hich is as much as to f ly, that this Man fhuns Good and fol- lows Evil becaule he is thereunto inclin'd by Good -, which every Body will own to be ridiculgus. P p 2 But 228 the hitroduBiion to Protagoras. But why is not the Good that inclines us capable to furmount the Evil ?' And why are the Evils the ftrongeft, even when Goodnefs inclines us ? There is a manifeft ContradiQion there. Some will fay it is becaule the Ev?ls are greater and more nume- rous than the Good. But this is ftill more ri- diculous, for from thence it will follow, that to be overcome by the Good, is to chule the greateft Evils in room of the leaft Good. From whence comes fo ftrange a Choice ? It can proceed only from this, that we cannot meafure the greatnefs of the Good and of the Evil, and cannot diftinguifh the one from the other. Then we do not deceive our felvesbut for want of Knowledge ^ that is to fay, through Ignorance : And this is what Socrates defigns to prove. Therefore 'tis Knowledge that brings forth Temperance, Juftice, Sanftity, Va- lour, Strength, 6^<:. Or, rather, all thofe Vertues are nothing but Knowledge it lelf ^ and confequently Knowledge, tar from being overcome by the Pafii- ons, is on the other hand able alone to triumph over them •, always Miftrefs where ever it is : Know- ledge alone can deliver us , and Ignorance alone can deftroy us. This Doclrine is altogether conlb- Eom.i.z8. nant to what the Chriftian Religion teaches us, That Men not being willing to.retain God in their know- ledge ^ God gave.them over to a reprobate mind. And a ThefT. God Jhall fend them a Spirit of Error. •■^ut how comes it ihdii Socrates aflferting that Vertue is a Science, maintains at the fame time that it can't be taught ? For it is certain that all Sciences can be taught. How then doth Socrates agree with Jiimlelf? This Contradiftion is not lo difficult to reconcile as that of Frotagorai\ who would have Vertue to be quite another ching than Science, and who notwithlfanding pretends that it may De taught. There are feme Sciences which Men teach ^ but there is one that Men do not reach , and that can be learnt from no other but God. This is what So- crates would have us to underhand, and what thold 2. II. the IntroduBion to Protagoras. 22^ thofe falle Teachers, who are accuftomed to make ill ufe of human Sciences, could not perceive. Since Science is Vertue, Valour can be nothing but Science ^ and confequently, all Boldnefs, that is not accompanied with Prudence, can't be call'd Valour •, for, on the contrary, it is Ignorance. Valour is the Science of Things that are terrible ^ that is to fay, that of two Things that are terrible, it induceth us tO'Chufe that which is the lead, and to chufe it even with the hazard of our Life ; as we have feen in "Laches. I fhall not enter upon the particular Beauties of this Dialogue, which confift in the variety, and in the livelinefs of the Characters •, in the Mirth and pleafant Humours of Socrates^ in the Simplicity and Noblenels of the Narratives, and in the Knowledge of Antiquity therein dilcovered ^ thoft Beautie s are perceptible enough. But I can't but relate a PafTage here which feems to me very remarkable , and which Socrates only touches en paJfant^Withoux. infifting upon it,as finding it too Sublime for thofe with whom he convers'd. It is when he fays. That even though the ^leafures of the World w€re not attended by any kind of Evil in this Life^ yet they would be no lefs bad^ hecaufe. they caufe Men to rejoyce ^ and to rejoyce in Vice^ is the 7fiofi deplorable of all States^ and the Funifhment of Sin. We muft not finifh this Argument without fpeak- ing of the Date of this Dialogue, as to which A- theneus accufeth Flato to have committed very con- fiderable Faults in Chronology. The whole ftrength of his Criticifm confifts in this. Flato tells us that this Difpute of Socrates againft Protagoroi' happen'd the Year after the Poet Fherecrates his Play, call'd. The Savages^ was afted. This Play was acted in the time of the Archon Arifiion^ in the 4th Year of the S^th Olympiad. The true Time then of this Difpute, according to Flato^ is the Year after •, that is to fay, the firit Year of the poth Olympiad, in P p 3 the 23P "the Introdu6iion to Protagoras. the time of the Archon Aftyphilus, Yet here are two things that contradiO: this Date. The firft is, That by a Paflage in a Play of Eupo- Ik\ which was a£led a Year before that of Fhere- criites^ it appears that Frotagoras was then at Athens : Now Flato fays pofitively, that in the time of this Difpute, that is to fay, the firfl: Year of the poth O* lympiad, Frotagoras arrived at Athens but three Days before. The fecond is. That Hippias (T E/eis^ was prefent at that Dilpute, which could not be ^ for the Truce which the Athenians had concluded with the Lace- demonianshQin^ expired, no Feloponefian could be at Athens at that time. I fhould not have reviv'd this Cenfure, i^Cafauhon^ that wife and judicious Critick , had not been io ftruck with it as to write, that he did not fee what could be anfwered in juftification of Flato^ whereas what he anfwer'd is not hard to find. It will quick^ ly appear, that the Obje8:ions of Atheneus ferve only to fix the Time of this Difpute the more, as F/dto has obferv'd. rimid.I.s. We know for certain, that the Athenians made a Peace with the hacedemonians for fifty Years, in the time of the Archon Alcaus^ the third Year of the Spth Olympiad. It is true , that this Treaty was not faithfully oblerved on either fide •, but it is alfo true, that this ill-cemented Peace lafted fix Years and ten Months, without coming to an open Rup- ture. Then hippias d'' Eleas might be at Athens two Years after this Treaty , which lafted five Years longer, after thefe two Years were expired. So much for the lait Objeftion. The firft is no better founded : Let us fee what Eupolis lays. Protagoras oj Teos is within there. He fays nothing but ihat^ and it may be obferved at firft fight, that he is deceived as to the Country of Frotagoras-^ he aifures us, that he is of Teos-^ and he was of Abdera^ This Remark will be of ule to us. I Tk IntroduBion to Protagoras. 23 1 I fay then , that Atheneus^ inftead of imploying this Verfe of EupoUs to contradi£l Flato^ ought ra- ther to have made ufe of the Paffage of ?lato to underftand the faid Verfe of Eupohs. The Poet and the Philofopher are in the right, and Atheneus is the only Perfon that is in the wr©ng, Protagoras had made two Journeys to Athens. P/ato fpeaks of the fecond, and the Verfe oi Eupo/is ought to be under- ftood of the firft: For tho' Protagoras was not at Athens when the Play was afted in the time of the Archon AJcms ^ it was enough that he had been there : The Poets have the priviledge to bring the Jimes nearer and to take notice of things that are paft as if they were prcfent ^ befides, he might be there when the Poet compofed it. Thus the Verfe of Eupolis ferves on the one hand for a Commenta- ry to what Hipocrates fays in this Dialogue : Socra- tes, I come to pray you to /peak for me to Protago- ras\ for^ befides that^ I am too young, I never Jaw^ nor knew h'm^ I was but a Child when he made his Jirfl Journy, And, on the other hand, this Paflage of Plato ferves to excufe the Ignorance of Eupolis about the Country of Protagoras ^ for Eupolis might very well be ignorant of it at this firft Journy, that Sophift not being then very well known, whereas it would not have been pardonable in him to have been ignorant of it at the fecond. This Fault of Atheneus is lefs furprifing than that ofCafaubon, who folio w'd him, and who in explain- ing his Reafons commits another more confiderable Miftake, whileft he affures us that Thucidides does not fpeak of the one Year's Truce that was made between the Athenians and the Lacedemonians under the Archon Ifarchus , the firft Year of the 8pth Olympiad, at the end of the eighth Year of the War and two Years before the Treaty of Peace that has been fpoke of-, for it is exprefly fet down in the fourth Book, and the Treaty is there rela- P p 4. ted 2^z the Introdu^kn to Protagoras^ Uefets down the end of tcd all at length, witli the Date of the the e!:;hth Tear of the War, Year, of the Month, of the Dav anH nf f A. i^th Day of the Month the SeafOH. ^ ^Ift^'^'th^h^^^^^ The Wranglings of Atheneus ferve th. Spring. only to juftifie P/ato's ExaQnefs, and td make it appear that this Dialogue is be- yond the reach of all Criticifm -, for if this Cenfu- rer had found any thing dfe to find fault with the Envy with which he was animated againft this'Phi^ lofopher would not have fuftered him to have for- got it. , ^^ccording to Dio£e;ies Laertius, this Dialogue is cJ^/kW A Dialogue of Accufation, a Satyrique Dia- logue. One may fay , that it is alfo ctV*7?e*5f , de- ftrudhve But thofe Names mark only the Turn and the Manner of the Dialogue. Its true Charaaer IS Logical and Moral. PRO. *3J PROTAGORAS; Q Rj The SOPHISTS. ^A Friend, of Socrates. Socrates. Socrates ^ TjRom whence come you, Socrates ? But Friend, x ought one to ask it , 'tis from your ufual Chafe. You come from running after the hand- fome Alcihiades. Iconfels, that I alfo pleas'd my Shl^itwasohfer^ the other Day with looking upon him j he feem'd to ydthatSo- me to be very fine and comely, tho' he be already a fowedM' Man ; for we may fay it here, between us, he is not bkdes cS- now in his Youth, and his Beard cafts a Shadow al- ry robere^ to ready upon his Chin. frerent his Soc. What's that to the purpofe > Do you think 3^''^ that t Homer was much in the wrong, in laying that ""**'''• the Age of a young Man, who begins to have a Beard, is molt agreeable ? That is , juft the Age of Alcihiades, * Enquiry is made why VUto does not name this Friend of Socrates, and 'tis what will never be found out. It can only be guefled at. Perhaps ^/^to was afraid of expoling the Friend of. Socrates to the refentment of the Sophifts, who were in great ^redit at Athens, and who were revengeful ; or that the part which this Friend ads here, not being confiderable, it was noC worth while to name him. t This Paffage of Homer is in the tenth Book of his Odyfea^ vhere that Poet fpeaks of Mercury , who takes upon him the 'hape of a yoimg Man that begins to h«;Ye a Beard. Thus crates compares ^Icibiadis to that God. Soc, 2^4 Protagoras: Or, the Sophiflsl Soc. friend. You juft come from him then 5 how are you in his Favour ? Soc. I am very well with him \ I perceived this very Day, that I was more in his favour than ufual, for he laid a thoufand things in my favour and al- ways took my part : I have but juft parted from hin[i. And I'll tell you a thing that may ieem very ftrange to you, which is, that whilft he was prefent I faw him not, and did not fo much as think of him. Soc. Friend. What happened to you both then, that you neither law him nor thought of him > Is it poflible that you have met with fome finer young Man in the City than Akibiades ^ I can't believe any thing of it. Soc. It is ev'n fo. Soc. friend. In good earned ? Is he an Athenian^ or a Stranger ? Soc. He is a Stranger. Soc. friend. Whence comes he then ? Soc. From Abdera. Soc. friend. And did you think him fo fine, that he hath effaced the Cornel inefs of Akibiades ? Soc. The greatefl: Beauty is not to be laid in the Ballance with great Wifdom. Soc. friend. You have juft now come from a wife Man then } Soc. Yes, a wile Man 5 nay, a very wife Man, at leaft if you look upon fi'otagoras to be the wileft of Men now living. Soc. fr. What do yoii tell me ? Is Protagoras in this City ? Soc. Yes : He hasbeern here thefe three Days. Soc. fr. And you have juft now parted from him? Soc. Yes, I have juft now parted from him, aftei: a very long Converlation. Soc. fr. Alas ! will you not relate that Converla- tion to us, if you ben't in hafte ? fit down, I pray you, in that young Man's Place, who will willingly give it you. Soc, Protagoras : Or, *the Sophifti. 23 j' Soc. I will do it with all my Heart ^ and fhall be obliged to you, if you will give ear to it. Soc. Fr. We (hall be much more obliged to you, if you will relate it to us. Soc. The Obligation then will be reciprocal. Your Bufinefs is only to hear me. This Morning while it was yet dark Hippocrates , the Son of Apollodorus and Fbafon's Brother, knock'd very hard at my Gate with his Cane ; it was no fooner open'd to him, but he came dire£tly to my Chamber , crying with a loud Voice, Socrates are you afleep > Knowing his Voice, I faid, what Hippocrates ! what News do you bring me > Very good News, fays he. God grant it, reply'd I. But what News is it then, that you come fo early ? Protagoras is in Town, fays he. I re- ply'd, he has been here thele two Days. Did you not hear it till now ? I heard it but this Night •, and having faid this, he drew near my Bed, and feeling with his Cane, fat down at my Feet, and went on in this manner. I returned lafl: Night very late from the Village of Doi/ioe^ where I went to take my Slave Satyrus again, who had run away : I was re- folved to come and tell you that I was going in fearch of him, but fome other thing put it out of my mind. After I had return'd, iupp'd and was go- ing to Bed , my Brother came to tell me that Protagoras was come to Town : At firft my Thoughts were to come to acquaint you with this good News^ butconfidering that the Night was al- ready too far advanced, I went to Bed, and after a fmall flumber, which refrefhed me a little after my Fatigue, I arofe and came running hither. I, who knew Hippocrates to be a Man of Courage, perceiving him all amazed, asked him, What the Matter was ? Has Protagoras done you any Injury ? Yes certainlyj anlwered he, laughing •, he has done me an Injury that I will not forgive him, that is, that he is wiie, and does not make me fo. Oh ! faid I to him, if you will give him good Money, and if you can o- blige him to receive you for his Difciple , he will alfo make you wife, ' ]? ig6 Protagoras: Or, The Sophifls.^ I wifh to God , fays he, that were all ^ I would not leave my felf a Half- penny, and I would al|b drain my Friends Purfes. 'Tis only that that brings me hither : I come to pray you to fpeak to him for me^ for befides that, I am too young, I never faw iiim nor knew him : I was but a Child, when he came hither firft, but I hear every body fpeak very well of him, and they aflure me that he is the moft eloquent of Men. Let's go to him, before he goes abroad. I am told he lodges with ^ Callias^ Son of Hipponkus. Let us go thither I conjure you. 'Tis too early, faid I to him ^ but let us walk in our Courts where we will argue till Day -light, then we will go : I aflure you we fhall not mifs him, for he feldom goes abroad. Then we went down into the Court, and while we were walking there, I had a mind to find out what Hippocrates^ Defign was. To this end I faid to him, Weil, Hippocrates^ you are going to 'Protagoras to offer him Money, that he may teach you fomething : What lort ot Man do you take him to be, and what fort of Man would you have him to make you ? If you (hould go to the great Phyficianof C(7j-,who is your name fake, and a Defcen- dant of JEfculap'iiis^^TA fhould offer him Mony,ifany Body fhould ask you, Hippocrates^ to what Ibrt of Man do you pretend to give that Money , and what would you become by means of this Money > what would you aniwer ? I would anfwer,That I give it to a Phyfician, and that I would be made a Phyfician. And if you Ihould go to Polycletus of Argos or to yhidias to give them Money to learn fomeihing of them, and any one fhould ask you the very fame Queftion, to whom do you give that Money , and what would you be > what would you anfwer } 1 would anfwer, fays he, that I give it to a Statuary and that I would be a Statuary. * Callias was One of the firft Citizens of Athens : His Fa- ther Htppnnicws hgd been General ot the Mhtmans with 'Hicias at the Battle of Tmagre, That Protagoras : Or, the Saphifls, ±yf^ That is very well. Now then we are going, you and I to Protagoras, with a Difpofition to give hini, all that he (hall ask for your Inftrudion, if all that we have will fatisfie him for it, or be enough to tempt him ^ and if it be not enough, we are alio ready to make ufe of the Credit of our Friends. If any one perceiving his extraordinary eagernels fhould ask us, Socrates and Hippocrates , tell me, in giving fo much Money to Protagoras^ what fort of a Man do you think you give it ? what (hould we anfwer him ? what other Denomination has Protagoras that we know of? we know that Phidias has that of Sta- tuary and Homer that of Poet : How fliall we call Protogoras to deicribe him by hisProfeflion >. Protagoras is call'd a Sophift, Socrates, Well then, faid I, we are going to give our Mo*- ney to a Sophift. Yes, certainly. And if the fame Perfon (hould continue to ask you, what do you delign to become, with Protago- ras ? At thefe Words my Man blufhing, for it was then light enough to let melee what Alteration there was in his Countenance : If we will follow our Princi- ple, (ays he , it is evident that I would become a Sophift. How, by all that's good, faid I to him, would you not be afliam'd to give your felf out to be a So-, phift among the Greeks ? I fwear to you, Socrates, feeing I muft tell you the truth, I fhould be afhamed of it. Ha! I underftand you, my dear Hippocrates-, your defign then is not to go to the School o^ Protagoras, tut as you went to that of a Grammarian, Mulic- Mafter , or Mafter of Exercifes : For you went not to all thofe Mafters to learn the depth of their Art and to make profelTion thereof^ but you went thi- ther only to exercife your felf, and to learn that which a Gentleman and a Man that would live in the World ought neceliarily to know. You ij8 Protagoras: OryT^e Sophifts, You are in the right, faid he •, that's exa£lly the ufe that I would make of Protagoras. But, faid I, do you know what you are going to do? As to what ? You are going to trufl: a Sophift with your Under- ftanding ^ and I dare lay you a Wager, that you do not know what a Sophift is ^ and, fince it is fb, you know not then with whom you are going to truft that which is moft valuable to you, and you know not whether you put it into good or bad hands ? Why ? I believe I know very well what a So- phift is. Tell me then, what is it > A Sophift, as his very Name teftifies, is a learned Man, who knows a thoufandgood things. We may fay the fame thing of a Painter or an Ar- chiteQ. They are alfo learned Men who know a great many good things: But if any body fliould ask us wherein are they learn'd ? we fhould certainly anfwer them, that 'tis in what regards drawing of PiQures and building of Houfes. If any one fhould ask us in like manner, wherein is a Sophift learned > what ftiould we anfwer > What is the Art pofitive- ly that he makes profeflion of? and what fhould we fay it is ? We fhould fay, that his Profeflion is to make Men . Eloquent. Perhaps we might fpeak true in fb faying ; that is fomething, but it is not all •, your Anfwer occa- lions another Queftion, to wit. In what it is that a \A Mafier o/Sophift tendcts a Man eloquent ? For a player upon the Lute the Lute, does not he alfo render his Difciple elo- fpeaksbet- guent in that which regards the Lute ? iJethan Jhat IS Certain. the mofleio- lu what IS it then that a Sophift renders a Man quent Man eloQuent, IS it not in that which he knows? wlu Whhout doubt. What is it that he knows then and teaches o- thers ? Protagoras: Or^ the Sophiflsl ijp In truth, Socrates^ I cannot tell. How then ? faid I to him, taking the advantage "HotUng h of this Corifeffion j alas I don't you perceive to what Z°^,j^'^ frightful Dangers you are going to expofe your felf ? r,'^,-^eT»r If you had occafion to put your Body into the Hands /e/-v« uf t» of a Phyfician whom you know not, and who might Tethers of as well deftroy it as cure it, would not you look to ''^ ^°^^^'- it more than once > Would you not call your Friends and Relations to confult with them > And would you not take more than one Day to refblve on the Matter ? You efteem your Soul infinitely above your Body, and you are perfwaded that on it depends your Happinefs or Unhappinefs , according as it is well or ill difpoled ^ and, notwithftanding its Wel- fare is now at ftake, you neither ask Advice of your Father, nor Brother, nor of any of us who are your Friends j you don't take Ho much as one Moment to deliberate whether you ought to entruft it with this Stranger who is juft now arrived j but having heard of his arrival very late at Night , you come next Morning , before break of Day , to put it into his Hands without conlidering on it , and are ready not only to imploy all your own Riches for that pur- pofe, but alfo thofe of your Friends. You have re- folved upon.it, you muft deliver up your felf to Fro- tagoras^ whom you know not, as you your felf con- fefs, and with whom you have never Ipoke: You call him only a Sophift, and, without knowing what a Sophift is, you throw your lelf into his Hands. All that you lay, Socrates^ is very true ; you are in the right. Don't you find, Hippocrates^ that the Sophift is The SopU^ but a wholefale Merchant and a Retailer of thofe « ^^ '» Things wherewith the Soul is nourifhed > ^nUnt, So it feems to me, Socrates^ faid he •, but what are the Things wherewith the Soul is nourifhed ? Sciences, 1 anfwered him. But, my dear Friend, we muft be very careful that the Sophift, by boaft- ing too much of his Merchandize, do not deceive us, as thofe People do who fell all that is necelTary for the i^Q Protagoras : Or, the Sophiflsl the Nourifhment of the Body : For the latter, with- out knowing whether the Provifions which they fell be good or bad, commend them exceflively, that they may fell them the better ^ and thole who buy them know them no better than they, unlels it be fome Phyfician ^ or Mafter of Exerciie. It is the fame with thofe Merchants who go into the Cities to fell Sciences to thofe who have a mind to them •, they praife indifferently all that they fell. It may very- well be, that moft of them know not if what they fell is good or bad for the Soul: But all thofe who buy any thing of them are certainly ignorant as to that Matter, unlefs they meet with fome Perfon who T ^^'r d ^^ ^ ^^^^ Phyfician for the Soul. If you are skilfd Do^hT' ^" ^^^^ Matter, and know what is Good or Bad, and ts a you may certainly buy. Sciences of Protagoras and good Thy- of all the other Sophifls •, but if you are not skUl'd ^^^'^""/^^'^ therein, have a care, my dQit Hippocrates, that hearaUjirts'^^^^ you go there you don't make a very bad. Mar- ofTeachers. kct, and hazard that which is deareft to you in the The buying WoHd; foi the rifque we run in buying Sciences efvroyifi- is far greater than that which we run in buying Pro- onsfor the vifions for Nourifliment : After we have bought the JanZTr^^^^ they may be carried home in Veifels which tWfW 0/ they can't fpoil; and before ufing them we have Troyijtons time to confult and to call to our affiftance thoie for the ^jiQ know what we ought to eat and drink and Month. ^,j^^^ ^^^^ ^j^g quantity we may take and the time when, infomuch that the danger is not very great: But it is not the fame with Sciences, we can't put them into any other Veflel but the Soul, as foon as * In Hippocrates time and a little before, the Phyficians, ha- ving negletted the Study of Diet^ which requires an exaft Knowledge of every Thing in Nature, the Mafters of Exer- cife Jaid hold on it as on a deferted Eftate, and took upon themfelves to order their Difciples fuch Diet as was agree- able to them in regard to their Temperament and Exercifes. Hippocrates be^an to put himfelf again in poflefllon of it, and by degrees tne Phyficians regained the places of Exercife. There v^ere but few Matters of Exercife who kept it up in the time otiTUto. Moil of them had hired Phyficians, &c. th& Protagoras: Or, T^eSophiflsi 241 the Bargain is made it muft of neceflity be carried away, and that too in the Soul it felf ^ and we muft withdraw with it. being either enriched or ruined for the reft of our Days. Let us therefore confulc People of greater Age and feperience than our felves upon this Subjeft •, for we are too young to determine fuch an important Affair : But let us go on however, fee- ing we are in the way j we fhall hear what Frotjgo- ra^ will fay, and, after having heard him, we will communicate it to others : Doubtlefs Yrotagorcut is not there all alone,we ftiall find Hipp i as oiEleas with him,and I believe we ftiall alfo find Frodicus de Cecs and many others befides , all of 'em wife Men and of great infight into things. This RefolutioH being taken, we go on. Whefl we came to the Gate, we ftopt to conclude a fmall Dilpute we had had by the way : This continued a, (hort time. I believe the Porter, who is an old Eu- nuch, heard us, and that the Number of Sophifts that came thither conftantly, had put him in an ill Humour againft all thofewho came near the Houfe. We had no fooner knockt, but opening the Gate and feeing us, ' Ah, ah, ('faid he) here are more of our ' Sophifts, he is not at leafure. And taking the Gate with both his Hands, he ftiut it in our Teeth with all his Force. We knock again , and he an- fwers us through the Door, ' Did not you under* ' ftand me ? Have not I already told you that my ' Mafter will fee no Body ? My Friend, faid I, we don't come here to inter- rupt Callias , we are no Sophifts ^ you may open without fear ; We come to fee Frotagoras : For all this, it was with much ado, that he opened to us. When we entered, we found Pfctdgoras walking be- fore the Portal, and with him on one lide 0.7/:^ j,the Son of Uipponicus^ and his Brother by the Mother, Faralus^ the Son of Fericles^ and Charmidt's^ the Son of Glaucon-^ and on the other vj^itXamhipfius^ the other Son of Fericles^ Fhilippides^ the Son of Fhi- Icmdus^ and Mtimocrus of Sicily\ the moft famous 24* Protagoras: Ok, the Sophifisl Difciple of Protagoras^ and who afpires to be a SO' phirt. After them marched a Troop of People moft of which feemed to be Strangers that Protagoras brings always with him from all the Cities through which he pafles , and whom he attracts by the fweetnefs of his Voice , like another Orpheus. There were alfo fome Athenians amongft them. When 1 perceived this fine Troop, I took great pleafure to fee with what Difcretion and refpe^ they marched always behind , being very careful not to be before Protagoras. As fbon as Protagoras turned with his Company, this Troop opened to the Right and Left, with a Religious Silence to make way for him to pafs through, and after he had paft began to follow him. Next to him, ^ to make ufe of the Expreflion of Horner^ I confulted Uippias of Eleas^ who was leated upon the other fide of the Portal, on an elevated Seat, and near him, upon the Steps, I oblerved Myrrhi- Eryximachus the Son o^ Acumenus^ Phedras oi Myr-. mife a rhmufe , Andron the Son of Androtion , and Ibme AtticaT ftrangers of Eleas mixed with the reft. They ieem'd to propofe fome Queftions of Phyfickand Aftronomy to Hippias^ who anfwered all their Doubts. I alio faw Tantalum there. Pr odious de Ceos was alio there, but in a little Chamber, which was ufually Hippo- ;?/V/^j-'s Office, and which &///^j, becaufe of the Num- ber of People that were come to his Houle, had given to thofe ftrangers, after having fitted it up for them, Ceran-.is or Prodic//s then was ftill abed, wrapt up in Skins and ?'^^"f/' '^'Coverings, and Paufanias of Cerame was leated by Axxict'^^^ Bed-fide, and with him a young Man, who feem'd to me to be of noble Birth and the comelieft Perfon in the World. I think I heard Paufanias call * This word was taken from the nth Book of the Odyfles of Homer ^ where vlyjfes defcended to Hell and faw the Ghofts of the dead. By this word alone Socrates means thatthefe So- phifts are not Men, but Shadows, and vain Phantoms, eiJtiKA. This obJig'd me to make ufe of this word, T'^y ayise, I con, jitited : Which IS fomewhat oid^, but better and more ufual. him Protagoras: Or, The SopUfisl .., him Agathm, and am much deceived if he be nnf in fcourfe, altho' I wifhedpaffionatelyVhearpS" SlSTt^e^'^^frBigT^HaHri?? a fort of Eccho in the Chambfr! wSh ndertmf &m underftanding diftinaiy whatTe M We M ken in but a Moment, when after us came Mint ttt^"'i^i^C"'^^--"'^i™.a^/fe f 'f ■ ^" ''~/f S him, Pm^^.^^., faifi to hto appocrmes and I are come here to fee you ' ^^ Would you fpeak to me in private, /aid'he, or in When I have told you what brings us hither an •;, What is it then, faid he, that hath brought you > ^appocrates whom you fee there, replied I 1^^ eft"Flt '^'f T5, °*'""^ °f thelreatefta d ri h! elt Families ot Athens, and as nobly born as anv .„H if • hisCountry, and toacquire Reputation- and he IS perfwaded that to fucceed therein ,e has need of your help for fome time. Sse then whetHe you will entertain us upon this Subjea, Tn prTvate S That is very well done, Sxrates, to ufe this Pre n „ - the'rarTcilier^^ !"' \ ««"§-, whrJies'S ^^.f^!^ tne greatelt Cities, and perfwades young Peoole of /"'"A PareSf'f ^^'"^ " '^^^5 tbeir^FelloVcrens hereto hi^ ofers young and old,, and only to ad! bv his CwWr • ""'^ ""'y '*'°'"- ■""'^ able Men rrecaution- fcr.it is a very niceArt, much exptffed Q.q 2 to 144 Protagoras : Or, the Sophifls. to the Darts of Envy and which attracts much Ha- tIh ujuai tred and many Snares. For my part I maintain, that Folly of all the Art of Sophiftry is very ancient, but thofe who Jj^^^^'^^^j'profefled it atfirrt, to hide what it has odious or haie^tTdr {iifpeftcd, havefought to cover it, fome with the Vail ^rt^Tro- of Poetry, as Homer ^ Hefiod and S'tmonides-^ others fej[tQ>i,^c. with the Vail of Purifications and Prophecies, as Or- to be yery ^^^^^^ ^^d Mufeus-^ fomc havc dilguized it under the '"^"' ' Name of Gymnaltique, as Iccus of Tarenrum, and as one of the greateft Sophifts that ever was, does now at this time, I mean tierodkus de Selymbra mThrace^ originally from Megara •, and others have conceaPd it under the fpecious Pretext of Mufick, as your A-^ gathocles^ a great Sophift, if ever there was any, Py- thodides of Ceos^ and an infinite number of others. All thofe People, as I tell you, to fhelter them- felves from Envy, have fought after Sallyports to withdraw themfelves out of Trouble in time of need. And in that I am in nowife of their Opinion, being perfwaded that they have not done what they intend- ed to. For it is impoifible that they can hide them- felves long from the Eyes of thofe who have the chief Authority in Cities, they will at laft difcover your Subtleties. It is very true, that the People do not ufually perceive them, but that does not lave you, for they are always of the Sentiment of their Superiors and fpeak only by their Mouth. Befides, there is nothing more ridiculous than to be furprized like a Fool when one would hide himfelf •, that does nothing but procure you ftill a greater number of Enemies and renders you more fufpe£led 5 for then you are fulpefted to be a diflembler and crafty in all Things. For my part, I take the oppofite way ^ I am downright ^ I make an open profeflion of teaching Men ^ and I declare my felf a Sophili The belt Cunning of all is, to have none : I had rather Ihow my felf than be difcovered : With this Franknefs I fail not to take all other neceflary Precautions ^ inib- much that, thanks be to God, no Misfortune has be- fallen me as yet, tho' I proclaim, that I am a Sophift - and Protagoras : Ory The Sophifls, 44 j and tho' I have pra6lis'd that Art for a great many Years ; for by my Age,I fhould be the Father of all of you, be as great as you pleafe: So that nothing can be more agreeable to me, if you are enclined to it, than to fpeak to ypu in the prefence of all thole thac are in the Houfe. I immediately knew his drift, and law that he fought for nothing but to value himfelf before Tro- dicus and Hippias^ and to make an improvement of * our having addrefled our felves to him, as being ina- mour'd on his Wifdom. Then I faid to him, to oblige him, But muft not Trodtcus and Hippias be caird, that they may hear us ? Yes certainly, laid Protagoras •, who defired no better. And Callias^ catching the Ball upon the rebound. Shall we, faid he, prepare Seats for you, that you may Ipeak more zi your eafe ? That feem'd to us to be a very good thought, and at the fame time, being impatient to bear fuch able Men dilcourle, we let all Hands to work to disfurnilh the Houle ofUippias^ and to pull all the Chairs out of it. This was no fooner done but Callias and Alcihiades returnM, bringing with them Vrod'icus^ whom they had made to rile, and all thofe that were with him. When we were all feat- ed, Protagoras^ addreffing his Difcourfe to me, faid, Socrates^ Now you may tell me, before all this good Company, what you had already begua to fay to me for this young Man. Protagoras^ faid I, I fhall pafs no other Compli- ment upon you here than what I have already done, and I fhall tell you plainly why we are come hither. Hippocrates there has an earneft delire to enjoy your Converfation, and he would willingly know what advantages he (hall reap from it. That is all we have to fay to you. Then Protagoras^ turning towards Hippocrates^ My dear Child, faid he, the advantages which you fhall reap from being with me, are, that from the firft Day of this Correfpondepce you fhall return at Night more learn'd than you were that Morning you came^ CLq 3 the 246 Protagoras: Or^ the Sophifts. the next Day the fame , and every Day you (hall find that you fhall have made fome new progrefs. Bur, Frotagoras^ fays I, there is nothing extraor- dinary in this, and what is not very common •, for you your felf, how old and learned fo ever you be, if any Body teach you what you knew not, you will Wem'.flmt2\.^o become more knowing than you were. Alas! jirirefim- that is uot what wc demand. "QuX. ^u^^o^QUippocra- ^ll'luZjes Ihould all of a fudden change his Mind, and that fomethin^ he takcs a fancy to apply himfelf to that young that's 5oo(^. Painter who is lately arrived in this City, to Zeuxip- pay d'Heracleus ^ he addrefles himfelf to him as he does now to you^ that Painter promifeth the fame things as you have done , that every Day he (hall become more learn'd and make new progrefs. If Hippocrates asks him, wherein fhall I make fo great a progrefs > will not Zeuxippus anfwer him, that he will make a progrefs in Painting? Suppoie he lliould have a mind to join himfelf in the fame manner to Onhagcras the Theban^ and that after having heard the lame things from his Mouth, as he has heard from yours, he fhould ask him the fame Queftion , wherein fhould he become every Day more learned ? Will not Orthagoras anfwer him, that 'tis in the Art of Playing upon the Flute > The Matter being fo, I pray you, trotagoras^ to anfwer us likewife as pofitively. You tell us, that if Hip- pocrates join himfelf to you, from the firft Day, he will return more learned , tlie next Day ftill more, and every Day after make new progrelTes, and fo on all the Days of his Life. But explain to us where- in it is he will be fo learned, and the Advantages he fhall reap from this Learning. You have reafon, Socrates^ikid Protagoras -^ that's a very pertinent Quefiion, and I dearly love to an- rheSnflnfi fwet thok who put fuch fort of Queftions to me. I always de- tell you then that Hippocrates needs not fear, with aiftholiof ^^^ ^"y ^^ thoic Inconveniences which would infal- huvrofef. libly happen to him, with all our Sophifts- for all fon. the other Sophifts do notably prejudice young People, ■• . ' ■■'■ - in Protagoras: Or, theSophifls, 247 in forcing them, by their fine Difcourfes, in Ipight of their averfion to them, to learn Arts which they care not for, and which they would in no wife learn, as Arithmetick, Aftronomy, Geometry, Mu- fick, and in faying, that he look'd upon Uippias^ defigning as it were to point him out : whereas with me a young Man will learn nothing but the Science for which he has addrefled himfelf to me-, and that Science is nothing elfe but Prudence, which teaches one to govern his Houfe well, and which, as to things that regard the Republick, renders us capable of faying and doing all that is moft advantagious for it. See, faid I to him, if I conceive you aright : It feems to me, that you would fpeak of Politicks, and that you pretend to be able to make Men good Citizens ? It is fo, faid he, that is the thing that I boaft of In truth, faid I to him, 'Protagoras^ that's a won- derful Science you have, if it be true that you have it, for I ihall not fcruple to tell you freely what I think. I have hitherto thought, that it was a thing that could not be taught; but linceyou fay, that you teach it, how can we but believe you ? In the mean time it is juft, that I fhould give you the Reafons why I believe it cannot be taught, and that one Man can- not communicate that Science to another. I am per- fwaded, as are all the Greeks^ that the Atheniant are very wile. ^ I fee in all our Aflemblies, that when the City is obliged to undertake fome new Buildings, they call all the Architects before them to ask their Advice •, that when they defign to build Ships, they fend for the Carpenters that work in their Arfenals -, and that they do the fame in all other things that are capable to be taught and * The firfl reafon of Socrates founded upon the Praftice of all Men. Upon Things that can be taught , they ask Advice only of thofe who have learnt them j but upon Virtue they advife with every Body j a certain Mark that they are per- f waded that Virtue is not acquired. Q^q 4 learn'd; 24^ Protagoras; Or^ 7he Sophifis. learn'd ^ and if any body elfe, who is not of the Pro ftflion, take upon him \o give Advice, tho' he be never lb fine, rich and noble, yet they don't fo much as give ear to him^ but they laugh at him, hifs him, and make a terrible noife, till fuch time as he retires, or is carried out by the Officers, by Order of the Se- nate. This is the Manner of the City's Conduct in all Things that depend upon Art. But when they deliberate upon thole Things that relate to the Government of the Republick then eve- ry Body is heard alike. You fee the Mafon, Lock- fmith, Shooe-maker, Merchant, the Sea-man, the Poor, Rich, Noble, the Waggoner, ^c. rife up to give their Advice, and no Body takes it ill j there is no Noife made then, as in other Occalions, and none of them is reproached for Intruding to give his Ad- vice in Things he had never learned and in which he had not had a Mafter ^ an evident Demonftration, that the Athenians do all believe that that cannot be taught. And this is what is not only feen in the general Affairs relating to the Republick, but alfo in private Affairs and in all Families ^ for the wifeft and . the ableO: of our Citizens can't communicate their Wifdom and Ability to others. Without going further, Peric/es has carefully cau- led his two Sons , who are there to learn all that Mafters could teach them ^ but as to Wifdom he does not teach them that •, he does not lend them to other Mafters, ^ but they feed in common in all Paftures, like Bearts confecrated to God, that wander without * This Paflage, which is very fine, had not been intelligible, if I had tranflated it yetbatim ; for the Gnek fays all this in one Word, fi^crm? a. Qliniaz had not been fix Months there , before Ariphron^ not knowing what to do with him, returned him to Vericles. I could quote you an infinite Number of others yvho,tho' they were very virtuous and learned,yet they could never make their own Children nor thole of others the better People for all that And. when I think of all thofe Examples, I confels, Protagoras^ that I continue of this Sentiment, * that Virtue can't be taught : But at the fame time, when I hear you fpeak as you do, it makes me waver, and I begin to believe, that what you fay is true, being perfwaded, that you have great Experience, that you have learn- ed much of others, and that you have found out many Things your felf that we are ignorant of If therefore you can plainly demonftrate to us, that Vir- tue is of a nature to be taught, don't conceal fo great < a Treafure from us : But I conjure you to communi- cate it to us. ' Well, faid he, I will not conceal it from you, but chule : Shall I, as an old Man, who fpeak to young |*eople, demonftrate it to you t by way of a Fable, or (hall I do it by a plain and coherent Dilcourfe. * It is an uncontrovertible Truth 5 For who is it that can correal: him whom God hath abandoned, becaufe of his Vices? Who can make that ftraight which he hath made crooked ? t Fables were the ftrength of the Sophifts. It was by them that Natural Religion , if we may fay fo, was fupplanted j and that 'PagAnifm, which is the Corruption thereof, was introdu- ced in its room : wherefore St.'Pattl exhorts the Faithful with fo much care to avoid Fables. When a Manrefufes to hearken %o the Truth, he, in courfe, gives ear to Fables. ' - - ' .. ' - ^ At; 2^0 Protagoras: Or, theSophiftsl At thefe Words moil of thofe who were prefent cried out, that he was the Matter, and that the Choice was left to him. Since it is fo, faid he, I believe, that a Fable will be moft agreeable. ^ There was a time when the Gods were alone, before there were either Beafts or Men. When the time appointed for the creation of thefe laft came, the Gods form'd them in the Earth , by mixing the Earth, the Fire and the other two Elements, whereof they are compofed, together. But, before they brought them to the light, they ordered + 'Prometheus and Epimethem to adorn them and to diftribute to them all Qualities convenient. Epimetheus begg'd oi^Fro- metheiis to fuifer him to make this diltribution j which Frame the us con fen ted to. Behold then Epimetheus in his Office. He gives to fome Strength without Swiftnefs , and to others Swiftnefs without Strength. To rhefe he gives Na- tural Arms and denies them to others , but at the fame time gives thejTi other Means to preferve and defend themfelves •, he afligns Caves and Holes in the Rocks for the retreat of thofe to which he gives but fmall Body, or otherwife, by giving them Wings, he fhews them their fafety is in the Air. He makes thole, to whom he has allotted Bulk, underftand that that Bulk is fufficient for their prefervation. Thus he finifhed his Diitribution with the greateft Equality he poflibly could , taking particular Care * In this Fable, which is very ingenious, are trac'd great Foot-fteps of Truth ; as, that God was from everJafting be- fore the Creation of Man 3 that there \\ as a Timedeftin'd by Providence for that Creation ; and that Man was created of the Earth, in which were hid the Seeds of all Creatures. t By Tromethetts , is here meant the Superiour Angels 5 to whom fome think God recommended the Care of Man in the Creation 5 tho' they adt folely by his Spirit; for they only execute his Orders. And, by £pimethetti^ are meant the Ele- mentary Virtues, which can give nothing but what they have received, and which go aftray when they are not led and gui- ded by tlie Spirit that created them. that Vtot^govsiS: Or, *the Sophifts. 25^1 that none of thofe Kinds could be extirpated by the other. After having provided them with Means to defend themfelves from the Outrage of each other, he took care to provide them againft the Injuries of the Air and againft the Rigour of the Seafon : Fo^ this pur- pofe he cloathed them with thick Hair and very clofe Skins, able to defend them againft the Winter- frofts and the Summer-heats, and which, when they have occafion to lleep, ferve them inftead of a Quilt to lye upon and of a Covering over them -, he pro- vides their Feet with a very firm and thick Hoof and with a very hard Skin. That being done, he affigns to each of them their Food, viz, to one Herbs, to another the Fruits of the Trees •, to fome Roots, and there was one kind which he permitted to feed upon the Flefh of other Creatures : But left that kind fhould come at laft to deftroy the others , he made it lefs fruitful and made thofe that were to ^''^, l^f-'.f^^, ^''"r • n 1 ^^ r ' n ^ rt tttres lej s frU'ttml than the nourilh them extraordinary truitrul. But ^^/,^^ ^„J ^/,^ as Epimethem was not very wife and Epimetheus ^-^m^ /?/«• prudent, he did not take notice that he t° himfeif, and not being had imployed all his a^alities to the f '^^^ h Prometheus, . f. n.- \- 1 /^ ^ J ^T. ^ knows not what he does. ufe or irrational Creatures, and that Man was ftill wanting to be provided for ^ he there- fore knew not on what fide to turn himfelf, when Vrometheus came to fee what Partition he had made. He faw all the Creatures perfeftly well provided for j but found Man "^ quite naked, without either Weapons, Shooes or Covering. The Day appointed to take Man out of the Bo- fom of the Earth and to bring him to the Light of the Sun, being come, Prometheus therefore knew not what to do to make Man capable of preler- ving himfelf. At laft he made ufe of this Expe- * Ejtimetheut had given him all that he could give ; for Man ought to furnifh himfelf with all things neceflaiy for his pre- feryatioHjOnly from Keafon. dient : !?52 Protagoral^: Or, 7he Sophifls: dient : ^ He robb'd Vulcan and Minerva of their Wif- dom relating to Arts^ he alfo ftole the Fire ^ for without Fire this Wifdom could not be poflefTed ^ it would have been quite ulelels ; and he prefented them to Man. After this Manner Man received t Wifdom fufficient to preferve his Life -, but he did not receive the Wifdom which relates to Politicks : 11 for Jupiter had it, and Fromethcus had not yet the liberty to enter into •.* that Sacred Manfion of this Mafter of the Gods. The Way to it was de- fended by .'. terrible Guards : But, asljuft now told you, * Vulcan and Minerya, are the two Caufes of Arts. Fulcan (the Fire) furnifhes the Inftruments and the Operation, and Minery* (the Spirit) gives the Defign and the Knowledge by the Imagination, which is as it were a Ray that fhe fends firom above j for Arts are only Imitations of the Spirit and of the Underftanding, and they only give the Form and adorn the Matter upon which they a<3:. Vvcd. t According to tliis Fable, the Knowledge of Arts prece- ded Politick and Moral Virtues in the Soul of Man j and there is no body who knows not the falfity of this Tradition. H Yes ; but Jupiter^ the Sovereign of the Gods, had adorn- ed the Soul of Man therewith from the very Minute of his Crea'tion. It is true, that this firft Man loft it very foon by his Fall, and that his Pofterity had need of a Mercury^ that is to fay, a Minifter of God to bring it back to them. Politick Wifdom is with fufiter^ as Vrodta fays, becaufe God by the moft wife Laws which he had eftabliftied for the Government of the World, hath given the moft perfed Model of the moft excellent Polititian. V This Maniion of Jupiter is call'd here by a word which fignifies Tort-refs, and by which the ancient Theologues, fays 'Proeluf^ tinderllood the upper Region of the Heaven and the Trlmttm Mobile j from whence they conceived, that God gave Motion to- all Things, and communicated his Light and his fruitful Irradiations to the inferiour Gods for the creation of Beings , without being fubjeit to any Caufe. ^ And 'tis of this Fortrefs that Homer would fpeak, when he fays, that Jupiter keeps himfelf at a diftance upon the higheft Pinacle of the Heavens. .'. Thofe terrible Guards which defend the Way to this Fortrefs of Jupiter^ ferve, according to Produs, to point forth the Immutability of his Decrees and his Indefatigable Watch- fiilnefs for the Support of that Order which he has eftablifln- cd. We may alfo fay, that thofe Guards are to let us know,- that Protagoras : Or, the Sophifls. z^j ypu, he flipt into the common Room, where Vu/can and Minerva were at work, and having robb'd that God of his Art which is praQifed by Fire, and this Goddefs of hers which relates to the Defign and Con- du£l of the Works, he gave them to Man, who by this Means found himfelf in a condition to provide all things neceffary for Life. 'Tis faid^ that Frotne- theits was afterwards punilhed for this Robbery, which he committed only to repair the Default of Epmetheu^. When Man had received fuch Shares of all thole Divine Advantages, he was -^^j *^^« only one of Ji the only one of all the Creatures, who, '/' ^T"'?^ /'f ^T becaufeof his Kindred, that linked him hom^rsaJfcryes: and, to the Divine Being, thought that ^here this Knowledge came ta were Gods, who railed Altars and ere8:- him from hisfrft being. ed Statues to them 5 he alfo fettled a -^^^loksfays^nndtU » J XT ^ 11 T«u • l\ame that Adam gaye to Language and gave Names to all Things : ,^,,y ,„, ^^ ,;,, crfat^res, he built himfelf Houles, made himfelf wot its trite liame. Cloaths, Shooes, Beds, procured him- felf Food out of the Bowels of the Earth. Notwithftanding all thofe Helps that Men had from their very Birth, yet they liv'd difperfed ^ for there was yet no City. Therefore they were mile- rably devoured by the Beafts, as being every where much feebler than they. The Arts they had were a fufficient Help for them to nourifh themfelves , but very infufficient for defence againft Enemies and to make War with them 5 for they had not as yet any knowledge of Politicks, whereof the Art of War is that all the Celeftial Spirits cannot enter into the Secrets of Providence, but in Co far as God has a mind to call them thereunto by his Goodnefs. Wherefore Jupttr fays in Homer^ j^ tj,g jirfl that the other Gods cannot enter into his Councils, and that ^ooh of hn they can know nothing, but what he pieafes to communicate Uiads. to them. Thofe Guards may alfo have been feign'd from the Cherubims that God placed at the CiKi incc; of the Terre- flrial Paradife , and who defended ti.c Uili^ with a Haming Sword. 254 Protagoras: Or, the Sophifis. one part, ^ They therefore thought only of gather- ingthemfelves together for their Prefervation and of Building of Cities. But they were no fooner to- gether than they did one another more Mifchiefs. bv their Injuftice, than the Beafts had formerly done them by their Cruelty. And thofe Injuftices proceed- ed only from this that they had ,not yet any Idea of Politicks. Therefore they were foon obliged to fe- parate themfelvesj and were again expofed to the Fury of the Beads. Jupiter, being moved with Compaffion and alfo tearing that the Kace of Man would be foon extirpa ted t itm Mercury with Orders to carry Shame and Juftice to Men, to the end that they might Adorn their Cities and Confirm the Bonds of their Ami- Mercury, having received this Order, asked 7upi. ter, how he fhould do to communicate unto Men bhame and Juftice, and if he fhould diftribute them as Pr^;^^/tej had diftributed the Arts. For added he, the Arts were diftributed thus : For example He who has the Art of Fhyfick given him, is able alone to ferve many particular Perfons. It is the lame alfo with all other Artifts. Will it therefore be enough if I follow the fame Method and if I give Shame and Juftice to a fmall Number of Peo- ple > Or fhall I diftribute them indifferently to all > To all without doubt, replied Jupiter^ they muft all iZ *^^i' '' ^ Principle which the Ungodly wonld turn td their advantage, in maintaining that thi Society of Men had no other Motive bnt their prelervatlion. That is mXfaJfe Men were united long befor^ they thought of bu dmg C e!! God had planted in their Hearts the Seeds pf Love^and of Charity for one another, and this Seed was nourifhed and augmented by Religion , the Motive of Prefervation was only ceSg'oTw^f"'' "'"^^ evenneceWyfuppofes a pr/ t The Ancients therefofe ktitiv this Triith, that God could make ufe of the M.niliry of a God, or of an AngeJ to ac- cjuamt Men with Ins Will, to a/rt their VV«&es and to communicate Virtues to them* ' V4wi«ics ana have i-Totagoras: ur^ itje^opmjts. i^^ have them: For if they are communicated only to a fmall Number, as other Arts are, there will never be either Societies or Cities. Moreover, thou fhalt publifti this Law in my Name, that every Man, who has not Shame and Juftice, fhall be cut off as the the Plague of Cities. This is the reafon, Socrates^ why, when the Athe- nlans and other People confult about Affairs relating to Arts, they liften only to the Council of a fmall Number , that is to lay , of Artifts. And if any others, who are not of the Profeflion, take upon them to give their Advice, they do not allow him, as you have very well obferved, and as indeed it is but reafonable. But when they treat of Affairs re- lating only to Policy, as this Policy ought always to tun upon Juftice and Temperance, then they hear every Body, and that with very good reafon ^ for every Body is obliged to have thofe Virtues, otherwife there can be no Ci- res^heisoUig'it«ha.ye ties. That is the only reafon of this f^^. b^t, after hayi>^^ V.Vn . • 1 L J- 11 iofi them. Men cant re- difference which you have fo well ar- y^^^ ^hem] gued agai'nft. And, that you may not think that I deceive you, when I lay , that all Men are truly perfwaded that every Perlbn has a fufficient Knowledge of Juftice ^yery one and of all other Politick Virtues , I will give you a ^^"^ *'^ ^''* Proof which will not fuffer you to doubt it •, to wit, ^i^flit^it that in other Arts, as you have very well obferved, t/;Kt/,eS»- if any one Ihould brag, that he excells therein, and f/«;y2 dU that a Man, for example, Ihould boaft, ^ that he is ""'" *'*'"^* an excellent player upon the Flute , without know- ing any thing of it, every Body hifles at him, and his Friends make him retire as a Man who has loft his Wits. On the other hand, when we fee a Man, who, as to Juftice and other Politick Virtues, lays before every Body, and teftifies againft himfelf, that he is * It is a falfe reafoning of the Sophift, We plainly fee when a Man knows not how to play upon the Flute ; but it is not fo eafily feen whether a Maa be Jnft or only counter- feits JuHice. nei' ^56 Protagoras: Or^ 7he Sophfflfl neither ]ufi: nor virtuous, tho' in all other occafions, liiere is nothing more commendable than to tell the truth,and that it is a Mark of Shamefacednefs ^ at the fame time it is taken in this Cafe for a fign of FoUy, ^nd the reafon of it is faid to be, that all Men are obliged to alledge they are juft, even tho' they be not i and that he, who at leaft cannot counterfeit a juft Man, is ^ perfeQ Fool, feeing there is no Perfon who is not obliged to participate of that Vertue, or otherwife he muft ceafe to be a Man. You fee then, that it is with good reafon every Body is heard fpeak when Politicks are talked of, becaufe every one is perfwaded, that there is no Man who hiis not fome fhare of it. Now that the World is perfwaded, that thofe Virtues are neither the Prefent of Nature , nor an EfFe8: of Chance, but the Fruit of Reflexions and of Precepts, is what I am now going to demonftrate to you* ^ You fee that no Body blames us for the Faults and Vices, which we are perfwaded are natural to us, or which come to us by chance, no Body admo- niflies us, no Body reforms us, and, in a word, no Body chaftifes us to make us otherwile than we are. On the contrary, they pity us. For who would be fo mad as to undertake to reprehend a Man who is a Cripple, one ey'd, deform'd, or a Dwarf for being fo ? Is not every one perfwaded, that thofe Defe£ls of the Body, as well as its Beauties, are the Work of Nature, or an EffeO: of Fortune, which often changes what Nature has made ? It is not the fame as to other things which are certainly known to be the * This way of Argiiment,how fpeciotis foever, is falfe. It is impoflibJe for a Man to alter Ibme Defe(5ls in his Body ; but there are certain Defects of the boul that are changed by natural Light which is not wholly extinguillied in us. Man is not changed radically^ i{ we may be allowed to fpeak foj but he IS lirought to obey Keafon to a certain point, or to tint a rcih aint upon himfelf in obeying the Law , which is flifficieiit fot civil Society, but this is far froai being virtuous, Fiuit Protagoras: Of, theSophlfis] t^f Fmit of Application and Study •, when any Body is found who has them not, or who has Vices oppofite to thofe Vertues wl^ich he ought to have, then we are really angry with him ^ he is admonifhed ^ he is reprimanded ^ and he is chaftifed •, among thefe Vices are Injuftice, Impiety, and, in a word, all that is op- polite to Politick and Civil Virtues. As rrrJJ *V. r V. -TT 1 • J 1 If God does not cofuun all thofe Vertues are to be acquired by ^,- j, ^„^ ^/,y, ,/„ ^^^,^„ Study and Labour, this makes every of Moi^ they can't be ac- one exclaim againft ihofe who have q"-ired, b^ they may be negleaed to learn them. cot^^terfdtcd. This is fo true, Socrates^ that if you will take the pains only to examine what that one word is, to pu- nifl) theWicked^ what force it bears, and what end is propofed by this Punifhment •, that alone is futiicient to perfwade you of this Truth, that Virtue may be acquired. ^ For no Body punilhes a Milcreant meer- ^mtim ly becaufe he has been wicked, unlefs it be fome Sa-^f^/^^''*"- vage Beaft, who punifhes 'cm to fatisfie his own ^)^;"^^^^^ Cruelty, But he who punifhes with Reafon, does not do it for by-paft Faults, for it is impolTible to hinder what has been done from being done -, but for Faults that are to come, to the end that the guilty may not relapfe, and that others may take example by their Punifhment. And every Man, who 2^0^ at all-:, has this for his End, mult of neceflity be perfwaded, J^ ufirong- that Virtue may be taught. For he punifhes only Jj'lj^^' for the future. Now it is plain, that all Men, who Men may pu-t a force * All that "Protagoras fays here is falfe. There are two upon tbem- things to be confidered in the punifliment of the wicked ifehes and the punifliment of the Sin, which is a fatisfadlion to Divine obey the Jfuftice, whereof the Juftice of Men is only the Eccho, if we Law. may be allow 'd fo to fpeak. Judges, as Stewards or Difpen- fers of the Divine Power, take away the Life , or inflidt other punifhments on the wicked, to the end that Sin may be pu*- nifiied. And, as Heads oi the Government, who do all foi* the good of the State, they order that this punifhment fhaM be executed publickly, that every one may take warning 5 foir" the Fool himfelf becomes more wife when the wicked Man is puniflied : TtJiiUnte jlagelUtQ ftultus fapietitior erlt^ Prov. 19. ^^ R r pu- 258 Protagoras: Or, the Sophifttl punifli the Wicked, whether it be in private or in publick, do it only for this End j and your Athenians do it as well as others. From whence it follows, by a moft juft and necefiary Confequence, that your Athcniam are perfwaded as well as other People, that Vertue may be acquired and taught. Thus it is with a great deal of reafon, that your Athenians give ear in their Councils to a Mafon, a Smith, a Shooe-maker, ^c, and that they are perfwaded, that Vertue may be taught : Methinks this is fuffi- ciently proved. The only Scruple that remains is, that which you make about great Men •, for you ask whence it comes that great Men teach their Children in their Infancy, all that can be taught by Matters, and make them very learned in all thofe Arts, and that they negle£l to teach them their proper Vertues, which at the fame time caule all their Grandeur and their true Charafter. To anfwer you that, Socrates^ I fhall have no further recourle to Fables as before, but fhall give you very plain Reafons. jimther ^ Don't you believe, that there is one thing above faife vrin- aH^ to whlch all Men are equally obliged, or other- Ihe^e-^' wife there can be neither Society nor City ? The marks. Solution of your Difficulty depends upon this on« only Point alone ; for if this only thing exifts, and that it be neither the Art of a Carpenter, nor that of a Smith, nor that of a Potter, but that it is Juftice, Temperance and Holinefs, and_, in a word, all that * This is another falfe Argument of the Sophiil. It is cer- tain, that Vertue exifls j that all Men are obliged to partake of it, and that God has given them Vertue. But it is alio certain, that they have loft it by the ill ufe they made of their Free-will, and that they can't recover it hut by the help of God. Education, which is a Means to aflirt Nature, is of no efficacy, iinlefs God give a Blefling to it: It may tuib the w ickcd for fome time, by reviving fome Sparks of their almoft dead Keafcn and by frightning them with the punifli- iTicnts of Vice, and it is here that itufually terminates 3 but . that alone will never infufe Vertue. Man plants and Man \\ aters, but 'tis God who giveth the encrcafc. is Protagoras: Or, Ihe Sophtfls, lj5^ is comprehended under the Name of Vertue, if that thing exifts and that all Men are obliged to partake thereof, infomuch that every particular Perfon, who would inftru£t himfelf or do any other thing, is obliged to guide himfelf by its Rules, or to renounce all that it defires ^ that all thofe who will not par- take thereof. Men, Women, and Children, muli: be reproved, reprehended, and chaftized, till Inftru6^i- ons or Punilhments reform them ^ and that thofe who will not be reform'd, muft either be punifhed with Death or Banilhed^ if it be fo, as you can't doubt of it, and that notwithftanding this, thofe great Men, of whom you Ipeak, fhould teach their Children all other things, and fliould negleft to teach them this only thing, I mean Virtue -, it muft then be ^ a Miracle if thofe Children, fo much neglected, become People of Worth and good Citi- 5:ens. I have already proved to you, that every Body is perlwaded that Virtue may be taught iri Publick and Private, Since it may be taught, do you think that Fathers teach their Children all the things that they may be fecurely ignorant of, with- out incurring either the Pain of Death, or the leaft Penalty ^ and that they negle£l to teach them thole things the Ignorance whereof is ufually attended by Death, Prilbn, Exile, Confifcation of Goods, and, in a word, by the utter ruine of Families ? For this is it ^ rather the thing that happens to thole who are not brought the part of up vertuoufly. Is there not a greater likelihood ^H' ^^"> that they will imploy all their Pains and all their b^', "°^ , Application to teach them that which is io impor- ^,^ to it.td tant and fo neceflary ? Yes, without doubt, Sosrii- counterfeit tes^ and we ought to think, that thofe Fathers, ta- ^^^efame, king their Children in their younger Years, that is to fay, as foon as thole Children are capable of under- ftanding what is faid to them, never ceafe all their , * Yes, without doubt, it is a Miracle ; for we are natural- ly fo corrupt, that God muft intervene to reilore the Soul. to the State which it has loft. This Sophift thinks he fays ibine- thing that's abfurd and impoffible, but at the ianie time fpeaks a Ytry great truth. R r 2 Life^ 26o Protagoras: Or, The Sophiftf. Life time to teach and reprehend them, and not only the Fathers, but alfo the Mothers, Nurfes, and Pra:- ceptors : They all chletiy indeavour to make Chil- dren honelt and virtuous, "^ by letting them fee upon every Thing they do and upsn every Word they fpeak, that iuch a Thing is juli, and fuch a Thing is unjuit •, that this is handfom, and that unhandfom j that this is holy and that impious ^ that we mult do this, and fhun that. It" Children voluntarily obey thele Precepts, they are rewarded and praifed ^ and, if they don't obey them, they are threarned and cha- ftized-, they are propt up and fet right, like Trees that bend and become crooked. When they are fent to School, it is earneftly re- commended to their Mafters not to apply themfelves fo much to teach them to read well and to play well upon Inftruments.as to teach them Honefty andMode- fty. Therefore thole Mafters take very great care of it. When they can read and underftand what they read, inftead of giving them Precepts by word of Mouth, they make them read the beft Poets, and oblige them to get them by heart. iThere they find excellent Pre- cepts for Virtue, and Recitals which contain the Prai- fes of the greateft Men of Antiquity, to the end that rhofe Children, being infiam'd with a noble Emula- tion, may imitate and endeavour to refemble them. The Malkrs of Mufick, and thofe who teach 'em to play upon Inftruments, take the fame Pains, they train up young People to Modelly, and take particu- lar care th3t they do nothing unhandfom. When they underftand Nlufick and can play well upon Inftruments, they put into their Hands the Poems of the Lyrique Poets, which they make them fing and play upon the Harp, to the end that thole Numbers and tnat Harmony may infinuate them- * AJI this Education did then only tend, and does no more ncu-, for the mcil part, but to accnliom Children to obey the Lsv, s of Honour^ccency and Jullice a la mode ^ and to govern themfeives in all thi.ic^s net by Principles ot hdigion. But by Ma-\in,.s cf Folio.-. Isjhat to teach Virtner fclves Protagoras; Or, The Sophifis. 261 Celves into their Souls, whileft they are yet tender and that being thereby rendred more foft, tradable, polite, and, if we may fay fo, more harmonious and more agreeable, they may be more capable of fpeak- ing well and doing well : for the whole Life of Man has need of ^ Number and Harmony. Not being facisfied with thofe Means, they fend them alio to Matters of Exerciie , to the end that having a found and robuft Body, they may the better execute the Orders of a Malculine and found Spirit, and that the Weakness of their Conrtitution may not By thu tea- oblige them to refufe to lerve their Country, v}]\q- fonthcbU- ther it be in War, or in other Fun8:ions ^ and thofe ^^^j^op^^^ who fend their Children mod to Matters, are fuch^^^^^";^^^ as are bett able to do it, that is to fay, the richett, mofi yinu- i.nfomuch that the Children of the richett begin their ow. Exercifes the earlieft and continue them the longeft ^ But the for they go thither in their tender Years, and don't i^»'^ »«"-^ qeafe going till after they are Men. \hs MnF They have no fooner quitted thofe Matters, but n^r Mait- their Country obliges them to learn the Laws, and jkts. to live according to the Rules they prefcribe, to the end that they may do all things by Reafon, and no- thing out of Conceit and Fancy. And, as Writing- matters give their Scholars, who have not as yet learn'd, a Riile under their Paper, that in copying their Examples , they may always follow the Lines that are traced out^ fo the Country gives Laws to Men that were invented and ettablifhed by the an- cient Legiflitors. It forceth them to govern and to lubmit to be governed according to their Laws •, and if any one goes aftray it puniTheth him •, and this Punilhmentis called with you, as in many other Places, by a Word which properly lignihes to rejorm ^ as Juttice reforming thofe who turn afide from the Rule which ought to guide them. * Yes, but it is of fuch Numbers and Harmony as Men don't teach : the Harmony which they teach oftentimes ferves only to render them more unfit for the other. Rr :? After ^0z Protagoras: Or, the SophiPs, After fo much Pains taken, both in publick and private, to infpire Virtue, are you amazed, Socra- tcs , and can you have the leaft doubt that Virtue may be taught ? This fhould be fo far from furpri- zing you, tliat you ought, on the other hand, to be very much furprized if the contrary Ihould be true. But you will fay, how comes it to pafs, that many of the greateft Mens Children become the moii difhoneft People of the World ? Here's a very plain Reafon, that has nothing amazing in it, if what I have already fuppofed be firm and urifhaken •, that is to fay, if it be true, * that every Man is in- difpenfably obliged to have Virtue , to the end that Societies and Cities may fubfift. If that be fo, as without doubt it is, choofe among all the other Sciences or Profeflions that Men are imploy'd in, jimther w^hich you fliall think fit , and you Ihall lee what I falfe rca- WOUld be at. fjnin^. See ]^q^ ^g fuppofc, fot example, That this City could ^'l\fs' "^^ fubfift, unlefs we were all Players on the Flute : t Is it not certain, that we Ihould all addi£l our felves to the Flute, that both in publick and private we would teach one another to play upon it ^ that we would reprehend and chaftize thole who fhould negleO: to play^ and that we would no more make that Science a Myftery to them, than we do that of Jultice and Law ? For does any Body refufe to teach another Juftice > And does any Body keep that Sci- ence fecrer, as is prafticed in other Arts > No, cer- tainly. And the reafon of it is this. That the Virtue * He is obliged to have Virtue, and God hath given him a Light capable to guide him to the true Fountain ; but So-^ cieties and Cities don't examine if he be truly virtuous ; it is enough tor them that he counterfeits it , and that he lives as. if he were fo. The Sophiit argues always upon a falfc Prin- ciple, • . t This Sophift always miftakes himfelf. It is not the fame with Virtue as with other Arts ; a Man is an able Artift tho' he has not acquired the higheft perfedtion in Art ; but a Man is not virtuous, unlefs he has all Virtue ; for if one part of it be wanting all is w\inting. TrotagorfK is going immediately to f^ll jnto a manifeft Contradidlion. ; '. " ,:. •., .. ; • ... .„ and Protagoras: Or, theSophifls. 20J anA Tuftice of every particular Man is ufeful to the who e Body Thai's the reafon why every Body :s dmys3 to teach his Neighbourall that con«rns Lw and Tutoce. If it were the fame in he Ar ot pf^ing on the Flute, and that we were all equally ready to teach others, witljout any «fave what we know of it, do you tliinls, Socrates, tlut tne Siltoof the morf excellent Play^s "pon the Flute would always become more perka in tlui Art &ra,ildren^ftheworftPlayers> I^mper^ fwaded you believe nothing of it. * The U'''^«'! who would be found to 1« /he mofthappily born for that Art would be thofe who ftould make the Ireateft progrefs therein, and who ftould render Stives L moft famous for it the reft wou d fatigue themfelves in vain and would never gain any^Name on it, as we daily fee the Son o a„ ex cellent Player upon theFlute to be but an indifferent , Scholar •, and, on the other hand, the Son of a Bfock- head to become a very able Mufician : But in gene- ral they are all good enough, + if you compare them w th the ignorant and with thofe who never hand kd a Flute. We muft hold it for certain, tliat it is the fame in the prefent cafe; fuch an °P'=J's would a^ pear to you now to be the moft unjuft of all thole . 3.„,.j;.«= contradifts himfelf by this A'S<™f !,i .fe j^ none but thofe who are happily born acquire tl^ F"*^^ fo," of ArR and that Men can't change an unhappy Birth, it tol fowffrim this Principle, that &n cannot even teach the F„s^4t'?jrt^,;^Vi^e;:"o?:?svsxrp^y or]; fo?vfrtWha" it then to be happily born, isittoh^^^^^^ blefleth our Labour. , , ^ Co in t One may be comparatively able m Arts t)ut no Virtue. We may be lefs wicked than others , but that does not make us virtuons. R r 4. ^^^ 264 Protagoras': Ok, The Sopbiflsl who are brought up in the knowledge of the LawS and in civil Society, would be a very juft Man and evtn able to teach Jultice, if you fhould compare him with People who have neither Education, Law, Tribunals, nor Judges, who are not forced by any neceiTity to apply themfelves to Virtue ^ and who, in a word, would relemble * thofe Savages which Fberccrates caufed to be a£l:ed laft Year, at the t Country-feafts of Bacchus. Believe me, if you were among Men, like thofe Mifanthropes that that Poet introduces, you would think your felf very happy to fall into the Hands of an \\ Euribates and a fhrynon- dM\ and you would figh after the Wickednefs of our People, againit which you declaim fo much now. But your Diftemper comes only from too much eafe : becaufe every Body teaches Virtue as they can , and you are pleafed to cry out and to fay, that there is not fo much as one Mafter that teacheth it. It is ^uft as if you (Iiould feek in Greece for a Mafter who teacheth the Greek tongue, you will find none: Why ? Becaufe every Body teacheth it. Indeed if you feek for one who can teach Tradefmens Sons the Trade of their Fathers with the fame Capaci- ty as their Fathers themfelves or fworn Matters can perform it, I confefs, Socrates^ that fuch a Ma- * The Poet Therecrates had a(5^ed a Play, whereof the Title Mas a!yfioi. The Sarages. And there is fome appearance, that he leprefented therein the unhappy Life that the firft Mert led before they were united by Society 5 and his aim was, to let the Greeks fte that there was no Happinels for them, but to be well united, snd faithfully to execute the Treaty of Peace, which had fo lately terminated a long and fatal War. t At the Coiintry-feafts of Bacchm. He fays the Country- fealls, becaufe there were other Fearts of B^cchnt, that were celebrated in the City the betiinning of the Spring, and the Country- fealls were celebrated the latter end of Autumn in the Fields. |] Euribates and Thrymndas were two notorious Profligates, WHO had given occalion for the Proverbs, ^n AChion of Euri- bates, to do the Mtions of Euribates, 'tn another Phrynondas. Here theSophill complies to Keafon. It is without all doubt that Men can teach Men the Virtue that thofe People had, fter Vrotagov2iS: Or, the Sopkifl J, z6^ fter would not eafily be found 5 but there is nothing more eafie than to find one who can teach the Igno- Bttt rirtue rant. It is the fame with Virtue and all other « ""^ *'« Things. And how little foever the advantage ^fjfi'[lf that another Man has over us, to pufh us forward y^f ""^ and to make us advance in the way of Virtue , it is always a very coniiderable thing, and for which we ought to think our felves very happy. Now I am ohjirve^hc certainly one of thofe who have all the mcQGkry "Pride of the Qualities for that •, for I know better than any other ^"Z'^"^- Perfon in the World, all that muft be done to be- come perfectly an honeft Man : and I can fayj that I do not rob them of the Money which I take •, nay, I deferve more, even in the Opinion of my Scholars. Wherefore this is the Bargain that I ufually make : When any Body has learned of me, if he wiU, he pays me what others ufed to give me ^ if not, he giay go into a Temple, and, after having fworn that what I have taught him is worth fo much , depofit the Sum which he dellgns for me. Socrates, This is the Fable and the fimple Reafons I have thought fit to make ufe of to prove to you, that Virtue may be taught, and that the Athenians are all perfwaded of it y and to let you fee, that we muft not be aftonifli- ed if the Children of the greateft Men are common- ly very little worth, and if thofe of the ignorant and of the pooreft fucceed better, jince we even fee that the Sons oiYolycletus, who a/e of the fame Age with Xantippus and Para/us^ are nothing, if compared ' with their Father, and fo of many other Children of our greateft Mafters. But .for thofe whom I juft now nam'd, it is not time to judge them, there is ftill hopes, and their Youth is a Refuge for them. This long and fine Difcourfe being pronounced with much Oftentation and Pride, Protagoras held his Tongue, and I, after having been a long time put to a ftand, as a Man charm'd and ravifh'd, I lookt upon him as if he ought to fpeak on ftill, and to tell me things that I very impatiently expe8:ed: But fee- ing that he had aO:ually done , and having at laft : ' refu- 7.b6 Protagoras: Or^ IheSophiflsl refumed Courage with much difficulty, I turned to- wards Hippocrates. In truth, Hippocrates^ iaid I to him, I cannot exprefs how much I am indebted to you, for having obliged me to come hither ^ for I would not for all the World not have heard TrotagO' ras : hitherto I believed, that it was nowife by the help and care of Men, that we became honeft Peo- ple : but now I am perfwaded that it is a thing purely humane. There is only one fmall Difficulty remaining, which Protagoras^ who has juft now de- monftrated fuch fine things, will eafily refolve. If we fhould confult fome of our great Orators upon thofe Matters, perhaps they would entertain us with He reproa- fuch like Difcoutfes, ^ and that we (hould believe chesaiithofe^Q)^Q2Lxda. Fericles^ or Ibme of thole who have torffhat ^^^" ^^^ ^^^ Eloquent J and, after that, if we fhould they were a make objeftiou to them, they would not know what little taint- to fay not what to anfwer, but be as mute as a Book. ed by the gm; j-j^q' q^q fhould ask them never fo little upon ^tJn^hll ^^^^ ^^^y might have already faid, they would ne- v??th 'the ver end, and would do as a Brafs Kettle, which, be- Sophifis. ing once ftruck, keeps its found a long time, unlels one puts his Hand upon it and flops it ^ for that's jult what our Orators do, fo foon as they are touch- ed they refound without end. It is not the fame with Protagoras^ for he is not only very capable of holding long and fine Difcourfes, as he has juft now made it appear, but alio of anfwering precifely and in few Words, to the Queftions that are asked him, and can ftart others, and wait for and receive the Anfwers as he ought , which few People are able to do. Now then, Protagoras^ faid I to him, there wants but a fmall thing to content me upon the whole, and I Ihall be fully fatisfied when you fhall have * This is a difficult PafTagCjif we have no regard to the time j that is to fay, it" we do not obferve the Date of the Dialogue. It is that wnich deceived Henry Stepl)cns^ who tranflated it as 'ii Pericles were ft ill alive, whereas he had been dead eight or nine Years. had I I Protagoras: Or, the Sophijis, i6f Jiad the goodncfs to anfwer it. You fay, that Virtue can be taught, and if I may believe any Body in the World upon that, 'tis you. ^ But I pray you to re- move the Scruple which you have left in my Mind : You have faid, that Jupiter fent Shame and Juftice to Men^ and in your whole Difcourfe you have fpoke of Juftice, Temperance and San£i:ity, as if Vir- tue were one only thing which includeth all thofe Qualities. Explain it to me then exaftly, if Virtue be one, and if Juftice, Temperance, SanQ:ity, are only its Parts, or if all thofe Qualities which I have now named be only different Names of one and the fame thing. This is what I further defire of you. There is nothing more eafie, Socrates^ than to fa- ^he SopUJi tisfie you in that point : For Virtue is one thing, and «f^»ow'^««'- thofe are its Parts. f^-J/*^^ But, faid I to him, are thofe its Farts, as theo»e,WtW Mouth, Nofe, Ears and Eyes are the Parts of thQitiscompa- Face > Or are they Parts like Parts of Gold, that^'^ °/^#- are all of the fame Nature as the Mafs, and differ ^^^^ ^''^^^' from each other only in Quantity > They are without doubt parts of it, as the Mouth and the Nofe are parts of the Face. But, faid I, do Men acquire, fome one part of this Virtue, and others another ? Or is there a neceflity that he who acquires one muft acquire all ? ' By no means artfwered he. t For you fee every Day People who are valiant and unjuft, and others who are juft without being wife. Tox '^ Socrates does not trouble himfelf to anfwer all the So- phifms of Trotagoras, which are too grofs j but he goes at once to the main point of the Queftion, which coniifts to know the Nature of Virtue ; for Virtue being well known, it will be clearly feen, that it is not poflible for Men to teach it. .■,•-■■■-.. ^ ■■•■., t That's the Poifon of this Dodlrine, which is but too much fpread abroad to this Day. Some fancy, that Virtue may be divided, fo as a Man may have fome of its parts without ha* ving the reft j which is contrary to all the Light of Reafon, as has been explained in the Argument. It was in oppolitioB ..> . . .. -. , ,, :/ ...... . .. .. -. to s^S Protagoras: Or, The Sophtfli: For Valour and Wifdom are only parts of Vir* tue. Afluredly, faid h^, and Wifdom is the greateft of its parts. And is every one of its parts different ftom ano- ther ? Without doubt. And every one has its Properties : As in the parts of the Face the Eyes are not of the fame ufe with the Ears, and have different Properties and Faculties, and fo of ° all the other parts, they are all different and don't refemble each other neither in Form nor Quality. Is it the fameof the parts of Virtue j does not one of them in no wife refemble another ? and do they abfolutely differ in themfelves and in their Fa- culties > It is evident, that they do not refemble each other at all, if it be the fame ot them as of the Ex- ample which we have made ufe of. Socrates^ that is very certain and the Example is juft. Then, faid I to him. Virtue has no other of its parts which refemble Knowledge, Juftice, Valour, Temperance nor Sanftity. No without Doubt. Come then, Let you and I fee and examine to the bottom the Nature of every one of its parts. Let us begin with Juftice : Is it any thing or nothing > For my part, I find it is fomething •, what do you think > I alfo think it to be fomething. Socrates « If then any Body fhould apply himfelf to you going to 2i^^ ^^Q^ 3P^ fhould fay to us, Protagoras and Socra- ^^ke*lnd^^^-> explain to me, I pray you, what is that which Sanauyareyon juft now call'd Juftice '^ is. it fomething that is litt one and juft Ot Unjuft > the fame *5* to this very Error that Solomon wrote in the talejiafia^ Ch. 5. He who finnetb in one thing (hall l»fe mttch t{iches. For it IS one of — • the Explanations that St. Hierome gives to this PalTaee, That one only Sin eanfeth many former good li'orks hq perifh , and that at I f^i»ti*es accompany one another^ infomuch that he who has one has all j Mid he who fins in one thing a fuhjeCi to all Fices without exception^ I Protagoras : (k, the Sophtflsl 2^^ I (hould anfwer him ofF-hand, that it is fomething that is juft ^ would not you anfwer the fanie ? Yes certainly. Juftice confifts then , he would lay j according to you, in being juft ? We would fay yes ; is it riot fo ? Without doubt, Socrates. And if he fhould ask us after that, Dotft yoii alfo lay, that there is a San6lity > fhould not we aniwei him in the fame manner, that there is? AfTuredly. You maintain, he'd reply, that it is fomething-, what is it then ? is it to be holy or to be prophane ? For my part, I confels, Frotagoras, that at this Que- Ition I fhould be all in a paffion, and fhould lay to the Man, Speak Senfe, I pray you ^ What is there that can be holy , if San^ity it felf be not holy ? Would not you anfwer thus ? Yes indeed, Socrates. If after that, the Man fhould continue to qu^- ftion us, and fhould fay, But what did you lay a Minute ago > have I roifunderftood you ? It feem- ed to me, that you faid the parts of Virtue were all different, and that one was never like another. For my parr, I fhould anfwer him. You have reafon to alledge, that that .was faid 5 but if you think it was I who faid it, you mifunderftood me^ for it is Protogoras who affirmed it, I only ask'd the Que- ftion : doubtlefs he would not fail to apply himfelf to you, Protagoras • he would fay. Do you agree to what Socrates fays ? Is it you alone that affure me, that none of the parts of Virtue are like to one ano- ther ? Is that your Opinion ? What would you an- fwer him, Protagproi ? I fhould be forced to confcfs it, Socrates. And, after this Confelfion, what could we anfwer him, if he fhould conxinue his Queflions and tell for tUt us. According to you then San£lity is neither a juft»"*/? ofne- thing, nor Jurtice a holy things but Juftice is pxo- "^'^y ^'y *f phane and Sanftity is unjult. Is then the juft '^^^^yirtt!ewere pro- unlike. ayo Protagoras: Or i the Sophiftf, prophane and impious? what fhould weanfwer him. Protagoras ? I confels, that for my part, I fhould aniwer him, that I maintain Juftice to be holy, and SanQity to be juft ^ and, if you your lelf did not prevent me, I fhould anfwer for you, that you are perfwaded, that Jultice is the fame thing with San- £lity, or at leaft a thing very like it, and that Sancti- ty is the fame thing with Juftice, or very like it. See then if you would hinder me to anfwer fo for you, or if you would confels it to me. I fhould not confefs it to you, Socrates •, for that does not feem to me to be true at the bottom, and we ought not to grant fo eafily , that Juftice is Ho- linefs, and that SanCtity is Juftice ; There is fome difference between them ^ But what will you make of that? If you will, I confent that Juftice is Holy, and that Sanftity is Juft. How, if I ttJ///, faid I to him, I have nothing to do with that , it is not as I will that is in queftion, it is You or I, it is our Perfwafion and our Prin- ciple, and, if we refute one another, that 1 TottoargmagainfiSup. -f^ ^j^j^^jj does nothing but darken the ^ .S,;i;':V/ •L;;.""'^^ '■ Trmh and render Proofs ufelefs, muft "^ be removed. However, we may fay, anfwered he, that Juftice refembles San£tity in fomething •, for ^ fo:-ry Evafion of the one thing always refembles another in soj^hiji, who will eftabiifh foj^e foj^ . wj^jte it felf h^s in fome 'tTrarelolTanlaimofi meafuie a lefemblance to Black Hard infenftble refembUnce^that tO Soft, and fo ot all Othct ThingS j he may Jiot acknowledge which feem to be the moft contrary to ' -jery^ natura an yeYyjen- ^^^^ agreed have each different Proper- j ties and Faculties , and that one is not ' like the other, I mean the parts of the Face ^ if you look to them narrowly, you will find, that they re- femble each other a little, and that they are in fome mealure one like another : and, after this manner, you may very well prove, if you will, that all things are like one another. But, however, it is not juft to call ; Protagoras: Or^ the Sophifis, 271 call things alike, that have but a fmall relemblance to each other, as it is not juft neither to call thofe things unlike that differ but a very little from each other: As a light refemblance does not render things alike, to Ipeak properly, lb a imall difference docs not make them unlike. Being amazed at this Dilcourie of the Sophift, I ask him, Does then the juft and holy feem to you to have only a light relemblance to each other? That refemblance, Socrates^ is not fo fmall as I have faid, but at the lame time it is not ^o great as you lay. Well, faid I to him, fince you leem to me to be in fo ill an Humour againft this Sandtity and Juftice, let us leave them there, and let us take fome other Sub- je£l. ^ What do you think of Folly, is it not entire- ly contrary to Wifdom > It feems fo to me. When Men have govern'd themfelves v\7ell and and profitably, don't they feem to you to be more temperate and more moderate than when they do the contrary ? Without contradiElion. Are they not then govern'd by Moderation ? It cannot be otherwife. And thofe who have no good government over themfelves, don't they a£l foolilhly, and are in no wife moderate in their Conduct > I agree with you in that. Therefore is not ading foolilhly contrary toafting moderately ? It is agreed. That which is done foolilhly, does it not come from Folly •, and does not that which is done di- fcreetly proceed from Moderation ? * Socrates is going to prove, that Temperance and Modera- tion are the lame thing with Wifdom, feeing they are contra- ry to Folly ^ tor one Contrary can have buc one Contrary' And thus Temperance, Moderation and Wifdom are thtii- milar p«"rcs of Virtue. And confequtntly, &c. That tjz Protagoras: Or, theSophiftsl That is true. Is not that which proceeds from Force, ftrong ; and that which process from Weaknefs, feeble > Certainly. Is it not from Swiftnefs that a thing is fwift, and from Siownefs that a thing is flow ? Without doubt. And all that is done the fame^ is it not done by the fame, and is not the contrary done by the con- trary? Yes, doubtleis. Oh ! let us fee thert, faid I, Is there not fomething that is called Beauty ? Yes. This Beauty, has it any other Contrary than tlgli- nefs ? No. Is there not fomething that is called Good ? Yes. This Gdod, has it any other contrary than Evil? No, it has no other. Is there not in the Voice a Sound which is called _ Acute. Yes. And that Shrill , has it any other Contrary than Grave > No. Every Contrary then has but one Contrary, and there arc no more ? I confefs it Let us fee then ^ let us make a Recital of the Things wherein we are agreed. We have agreed, • 1. That every Contrary has but one only Con- trary. 2. That Contraries are made by Contraries. 3. That that which is done foolifhly is done after a quite contrary manner to that which is done di- fcreetly. 4. That that which is done difcreetly proceeds from Moderation, and that which is done foolifhly , proceeds from Folly. 'Tis Protagoras: Or, the Sophiflsi 27 g Tis agreed. That therefore which is done a contrary way ought ^or contra- to be done by the Contrary j that which is done di- ^''"^^^^ays fcreetly is done by Moderation, and that which is titles ^as' done foolifhly is done by Folly, of a contrary Way tC 'plmT and always by Contraries. produce the Certainly. ^''"''' Is not Moderation then contrary to Folly ? So it feems to me. You remember however, that you agreed juft now, that Wifdom was contrary to Folly. I confefs it. And that one Contrary had but one Contrary. That is true. From whiph then of thofe two Principles fhall we recedej my dear 'Protagoras f* fhall it be from this. That one Contrary has but one Contrary ? or from that which we aflerted juft now. That Wifdom is fome other thing than Temperance or Modefty •, That each of them are parts of Virtue, and that as they are different, they are alfo unlike, both by their Na- ture and Eftefts, as the parts of the Face ? which of thofe two Principles (hall we renounce > for they don't agree well, and they make a horrible Difcord. Ah, how is it poflible they (hould agree, if there be a necefiity that one Contrary muft have but one only contrary, and can't have more, and that it be found in the mean time, that Folly has two Contraries, which are Wifdom and Temperance. Does it not appear fo to you, Protagoras ? He has agreed to it whether he will or nor. Wifdom and Temperance then muft of all necefii- ty be but one and the fame thing, as we found juft now, that Juftice and Sanftity were a little while ago. But dorft let us weary our felves, my dear Protagoras^ and let us examine the reft. I ask you, A Man, who does an unjuft thing, is he prudent in being unjuft ? Sf For 274 Protagoras: Or^ the Sophifts. For my part, Socrates^ faid he, I fliould be a- fortherui- fiiam'd to confefs it. However it is the Opinion of g;/f/;;;;' the People. Jremany Well, would you liave me apply my felf to the hijiijiices People, or fhall I Ipeak to you ? jrW; are J [^gg \^ Qf yQu^ faid he, direEl your lelf only to Melhe the People. ^reprofi- That's cqual to me, faid I, provided you anfwer tMe, me. For it imports me nothing that you think that or that J I examine only the Opinion : But it may very well^ber that in examining the Opinion, 'tis my felf when I examine, and fometimes alfo the -Perfon who Anfwers me. Upon that Protagoras made fome fcruple, dildain- ing to be thus queftioned, and faying, that the Mat- ter was thorny. But at laft he took his part and re- folved to anfwer me. Then I faid to him, Protago- ras^ Anfwer, I pray you, to my firft Queftion. Do you think any of thole who a£l Injuftice are pru- dent ? I think there are ibme, faid he. Is not to be prudent, to be wile > Yes. Is not to be wife, to have right Aims, and to take the beft part even in Injuftice it felf? I grant it. But do the llnjuft take the right fide when they fucceed well or when their Succefs is nought ? When they fucceed well. You affirm then, that ther^ are certain good things. Certainly. Then do you call thofe things that are profitable TheSofhiji to Men, good } Uyeryan- Yes, by Jupjter •, and ftequently I don't ftick to Socratts ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ "°^ profitable to Men, alfo P)ohU have g'^0^* forc'dfrom The Tonc in which he fpoke to me, made me inrntimcon. know, that he was exafperated, in a great Diforder, if calls ttat P^ ^.^^^y ^^ ^^ tranlJDorted with Anger-, feeing him whichufro- i" this Condition, I had a mind to make the beft of fit(tble^<^od. him : Protagoras: Or, the Sophifis. 27; him : Therefore I asked him with greater Precaution and Dilcretion ^ Protagoras, faid I to him, Do you call good, thofe things that are not profitable to any Man, or thofe that are no ways profitable ? Not at all, Socrates. For I know many that are abfolutely ufelefs to Men, as certain Drinks, certain Foods, certain Medicines Protagoras jmeUs what and a thoufand others of the fame na- ^o^^tes w.^ be at, and, ture , and I know others that are ufefd L^^wf/^l^^ > to them. There are fome that are in- to all thefe Bifiuiaions, different to Men and excellent good for ^^^^ere, in commenting upw Horfes. Some are only ufeful to Cattle, T ''%''';"'';' ^'^'''', ''<' others only to Dogs. Such a thing is of ^--/^^- ^^-Z^-^-. no ufe to Animals, and very good for Trees. More- over, that which is good for the Root is often bad for the Twigs , which you (hould make to dye if you fhould cover them with it. Without going fur- ther. Oil is the greateft Enemy to all Plants and to the Skin of all Cattle, and it is very good for the Skin of Man. It is fo true, that that which is cal- led good, is various •, for Oil it felf, which I fpeak of, is good for the exterior parts of Man, and very bad for the interiour. For that reafon the Phyficians abfolutely forbid the fick to eat it, or at leaft give them but very little and only enough to corred the bad Smell of certain things which they make them take. Protagoras, having thus fpoken, all the Compa- ny clapt their Hands, as if he had faid Wonders; And I faid to him, Frotagoras, I am a Man natural- ly very forgetful, and, if any Body makes long Di- fcourfes to me, I immediately forget the Subjea of the Difpute. Therefore, as if I were fomething deaf and you had a mind to difcourfe with me, you would refolve to fpeak a little louder to me than to others, even fo I defire you to accommodate your felt to this Fault that I have. And fmce you have to do with a Man whofe Memory is very fhort fhorten your Anfwers, if you intend that I fhould ioUow you, S f 2 How 275 Protagoras: Oty The Sophijis. How Wbuld ye have me abridge my Anfwers > Would you have me make them fhorter than they ought to be. No, laid I. Then is it as fJiort as it muft be > It is. But who fhall be judge of it, and to what mea- lure (hall we cut it, muft it be mine or yours ? i have always heard Protagoras^ that you were a very capable Man, and that you could make others capable of making as long and as fhort Difcourfes upon all forts of Subje£ts as one pleas'd, and as no body enlargeth lb much as you when you think fit, io no body can explain himfelf in fewer words. If then you have a mind that I fhould enjoy your Con- verlation, make ufe of the latter with me -, few words I conjure you. Socrates^ laid lie, I have had to do with many People in my Life, and even with the moft renown- ed; you cannot but have heard of my Difputes, but if I had done, what you would have me to do now, and if I had fuffered my Difcourles to be cut (lioit by my Antagonifts, I mould never have ob- tained lb great Advantages over tliem, and the name of Froiiigoras would never have been fo famous among the Greeks. By this Anfwer I found that this manner of An- • fwering prccilely to queftions did not pleafe him, and that he would never fubmit to be queftioned- Seeing then that 1 could no longer be of that Con- \erfation, Frotagords^ faid I to him, I do not prels you to difpute with me whether you will or not, and to-irbliow a method that is dilagreable to you ; but if you have a mind to Ipeak to me 'tis your part to proportion your felf to me, and to fpeak lb , as that 1 may be able to follow you: For as all the World fays, and as you your felf fay, it is to\vA\ to you to make long or fhort Difcourfes. You are very learned, there is nothing to lay againft thar. For m^^ part it is impallible for me to follow Dileouf- Protagoras: Or, 7he Sophifts, 277 Difcourfes that are fo long winded. I wlfh I were capable of it, but no Man makes himfelf And feeing that is indifferent to you, you ought to have that complaifance for me, to the end that our Con- ^ verlation may continue. At prefent, feeing you have it not, and that I have not time to hear you fo prolixly, for I muft be going, farewell, I am jufl going, what Pleafure foever I might have without doubt taken in your curious Differtations. At the fame time I rofe, as having a mind to retire, but Callias taking me with one hand by the Arm, arfd with the other holding me by the Cloak, we will not fuffer you to go, ^ocrates^ faid he, for if you go all is done, there will be no more Converfation. 1 conjure you then in the name of God to ftay, for there is nothing that I would fo willingly hear as your Difpute : I beg it of you, do us this Favour. I anfwered' him ftanding as I was ready to go. Son of Hippomcus I have always admir'd the love you have for Sciences, I admire it ftill now, and I commend you for it. Truely I would with all my Heart do you the Favour you ask of me if you de- manded a thing that was pofhble. But as if you fhould command me to run a Race with Cnfon d'Hi- ThisCnCon ^!ere or fome of thofe who run the Race fix times ?'^^P^'"^ together, or with fome Courier, I would fay, Cal- l^\ll'JJ^^\ Has^ I fhould demand nothing more than to have all ofafm-iong the fwiftnefs neceflary •, I could wifh it as much ^sthre'^t^irnei you, but that is impoffible. If you would fee \]s^^"'"U^^-h' run, Cri/on and me, you muft obtain of him that he will proportion himfelf to my weaknefs, for I cannot go very fwift, and it lies on him to go ilow- ly. I tell you the fame on this Occafion, if you have a mind to hQ'dv Protagoras and me defire him to an- fwer me in few words; as he had begun to do : For otherwife what fort of Converfation will it be ? I have hitherto heard Men fay and always believed it, that to converfe with one's Friends, and to make Ha- rangues were two very different things. S f 3 Never- 2^8 Protagoras: Or, the Sophifis. Callias fa- Nevcrthelefs, Socrates , faid Callias to me , me o'oww d //t- thinks that Pr^r^^^r^i- demands a very juft thing, ConLlne ^<^^i"g ^^ defires only to be permitted to fpeak as he had with much 35 he (hall think fit, and that you may have theSophifis the famx Liberty •, the Condition is equal. lodged with You are deceived Cal/ias, faid Alabiades^ that is i^'es Un'T ^^^ ^^ ^^1 equal. For Socrates confeffeth that he difcourfeZ has not that abundance, that affluence of Words ^ and he yields that Advantage to 'Protagoras. But as for the Art of Dilpute, and to know how to quefti- on and anfwer well, I (hall be much furprized if he yields it either to "Protagoras^ or any body elfe who- rhat's ex- foever. Let Protagoras then confefs, in his turh *'^h «'" with the fame Ingenuity, that he is more weak in Aldbiades ^^^^^ Point than Socrates, that will be enough -, he fancies but if he btags that he will oppofe him, then let thatSocra- him enter the Lift with equal Arms, that is to fay, tes ^j/>'""" by queftioning, and being queftioned without en- "raihyZud^'^^^^^^ without end, and without deviating upon tW //Pro- every queftion on purpofe to imbroil the Difcourle, tagoras to fhun the giving of an Anfwer and to make the fmdd ac- ^u(jitor lofc the State of the Queftion. For as for hi^eiffn. Socrates, I will be fecurity for him that he will for- ferior, So- g^t nothings he jeers us when he fays he is forget- crates ful. So it feems to me that his Demand is the would fre- j^Qre reafonable, for every onemuft ipeak and tell tend^to no j^-^ ScntimcDts iu all Difputes. At thefe Words of Alcibiades, Critias dire£ling his Difcourle to Prod'icus and Hippias faid, me thinks, my Friends, that Callias has declared him- felf openly for Protagoras ; and that Alcibiades is an Opiniator, who Itrives to difpute, and to exaf perate Mens Spirits. As for us, let us not fall out with one another in taking part feme with Protago- ras and others with Socrates : Let us rather join our Prayers to obtain of them, not to part in lo fair a vvay,but to continue fuch an agreeable Converfation. ICfe who ^^^ fpeak extraordinary well, Critias faid Pro- dreprcfeiit dicHs, all thofe who ate prefent at a difpute, ought ataBifputdo be neuters, but not indifferent, for thefe two things Protagoras: Or, TkSophip, 279 things ought not to be confounded^ to be eeuter is to give to each partly all the Attention which he re- quires ; and not to be indifferent is when one referves his Vote for him who is in the right. For my part if you would follow my Advice, Protagoras and you, Socrates^ here is a thing wherein I would wil- lingly have you agree between you, that is to dif- pute and not to quarrel 5 for Friends dilpute be- tween themlelves for. their better Inftruftion, and Enemies quarrel to deftroy one another. By this means this Converlation would be very agreeable and very profitable to us all. Firff the Fruit which on your fide you would reap there from, would be, I don't fay our Praifes, but our Efteem: Now ^'''^ ''#'■- Efteem is a fincere Homage, which caufes a Soul to ^Zg^^l'^ to be truly touched and perfwaded, whereas praife -Praife. is frequently, but a vain and deceiving Sound, which the Mouth pronounces contrary to the proper Senti- ments of the Heart. And we, the Auditors fhould get thereby, not that which is called ^ a certain Pleafure, but a real and fenfible Satisfafl:ion. For SatisfaQion is the contentment of the Spirit, which is inftruO:ed, and which acquires Wildom and Pru- dence, whereas Pleafure is only, properly fpeaking, the tickling of the Senfes. Moft of the Auditors highly applauded this DK- courfe of Prodicus^ and the wife Hippias after- wards beginning laid : My Friends I look upon you all fo many as are here, as Kinfmen, Friends, and Citizens of one and the fame City, not by Law but by Nature •, t for by Nature every thing is tyed * By this Paflage it appears that the Greeh made fome dif- ference between ''iv(p£^ivi£mi & tiS'e^i, that by the firil they meant the dehghts of the Spirit and by the other the pleafures of the Body. That was not ahvays exadly obferved : But iit the bottom thefe Words are determined to this Senfe by their Root. t For the Law ellabUfhes feverai Corporations that are^ contrary one to another, whereas Nature unites all that are of the fame kind. Therefore there is a principle of Union in Humane Nature. Sf4 to aSo Protagoras': Or^ The Sophiftsl to its like. But the Law, which is a Tyrant over Men, forceth and layeth violent hands upon Nature on many Occafions. It would be a very fhameful thing, if we, who know the Nature of Things per- feftly, and who pafs for the ableft among the Greeks^ Ihould be come into Athens^ which for Sciences ought to be look'd upon as the auguft Prytanneum of Greece^ and (hould be aflembled in the greateft and richeft Houfe of the City, to do lathing there worthy of our Reputation, and to fpend our Time in wrangling and contefting about Trifles, like the moft ignorant of Men. I conjure you then 'Prota- goras and Socrates^ and I advile you, as if we were here your Arbitrators, to regulate you, to pitch up- on a Temperament and a Medium. You Socrates^ don't you ftick too rigoroully to the plain and con- cile Method of a Dialogue, unlefs Frotagoras will acquiefce therewith. Leave him fome Liberty, and flacken the Reins to his Dilcourfe, that it may appear more magnificent and fublime to us. And you, Vrotagoras^ don't fwell the Sails of your Elo- quence, fo as to carry you into the High-Sea, and to make you lofe the fight of the Shoar. There is a Medium between thole two Extremities. There- fore if you will give Ear to me, you (hall chufe a Moderator, a Prefident who (hall oblige you both to keep within Bounds. This Expedient pleased all the Company. Cdl'ias told me again, that he would not liiffer me to go, and they prefled me to name the Prefident my lelf : I declined it, faying it would be a fhame for us to take a Moderator of our Dilcourfes. For, laid I, he whom we (hall chufe fhall be, either our Infe- rior or our Equal. If he be our Inferior, It is not juft that the mofl: uncapable fhould give Laws to the moft 1e:aned", and if he be our equal, he will think as well as we, and that choice will become altogether ufclefs. Bat, it will be faid, you fhall name who is more learned than youj ic is eafie to fay fo, but in truth Protagoras: Or, the Sophifli, z%j truth I don't think it poflible to find a more able Man than Frotagoroj^ ; and if you fhould chufe one who is not fo able as he, and whom you pretend however to be more able, you your lelves fee what diftafte you give to a Man of that Merit, in fubjeO:- ing him to liich a Moderator. For, as for my part, that in no ways concerns me, it is not my Intereft that makes me fpeak, I am ready to renew our Converfation to fatisiie you. That if Vrotagoroi will not Anfwer let him Queftion •, I will anlwer, and at the fame time fhall endeavour to Ihow him the manner how I think every Man who is que- ftioned ought to anfwer. When I have anlivered him as often as he Ihall have thought fit to queftion me, he will give me leave to queftion him in my turn, and he will anfwer me after the lame man- ner. That if he fcruples to anfwer me, then you and I will join to beg that favour of him which you defire of me at preient, which is not to break the Converfation, and there is no neceffity to name a Moderator for that \ inftead of one we fliall have many, for you ftiall all be fo. Every Body faid that this was what ought to be done. Protagoras was not much for it; but in finej he was obliged to fubmit, and to promife that he would Queftion firft, and that when he Ihould be weary of queftioning, he (liould permit me to do it in my turn, and Ihould anfwer in his turn prq- cifely to the Queftion without roaming.- Then he began after this manner. ^ Methinks Socrates^ that the beft part of Erudi- tion, con{iO:s in being very well verfed in reading the Poets. That is to fay, to underftand all they fay fo well as to be able to diftinguifh what is well faid and what is ill faid ^ to give Healbns for it, * The Sofhifis boafted that they underftood all the Poets perfectly well, and we are going to fee the difference in that point between a So^hifi and a Man who is truly learn- ed. • and 2.82, Protagoras: Or^ theSophifisl ^nd make every Body lenfible of it. Don't fear that I am going to remove my felf far of from the Subje£t of our Dilpute, my Queftion (hall run up- on Virtue. All the difference there fhall be therein, is that I fliall tranlport you into the Country of Poetry. Simonides fays in fome place, direfting his Difcourle to Scopas^ the Son of Creon the Theffalo- man: ' It is very difficult to become truly Virtu- ' ous, and to be in Virtue as a Cube, that is to lay, ' that neither our Carriage, our A£lions, nor our * Thoughts fhall (hake us, and (hall never draw us ' from that ftate of our Mind j and that they (hall * neither deferve the leaft reproach nor the lea(t * blame. Do you remember that Paffage, or (hall I relate it to you > There is no need, faid I, I remember it, and have ftudied it with great pains. You are in the right; but do you think that Piece is well or ill done > It leems to me to be perfe£lly well done, and is of very great Senie. But would you call that Piece well done, if the Poet contradi£ts himfelf in it > No, without doubt. Oh! laid he, another time examine Things bet- ter, and look into them more narrowly. As for that, my dear 'Protagoras^ faid I, I believe 1 have fufficiently examin'd it. Since you have fo well examin'd it, you know then, that he fays in the lequel : ^ The faying of ' F'lttacm does not pleale me at all, tho' Yittacus * was one of the Sages. For he fays that it is dif- ' ficult to become Virtuous. Do you comprehend that the fame Man faid this after what he had faid but a little before >. Yes I do. And do you find that thofe two PalTages agree ? Yes, Frot agorae ^ faid I, and at the lame time, leali he fhould go upon fome other Thing, I asked him. Don't you find that they agree > How Protagoras : Or, the Sophias. 283 How fliould I find that a Man agrees with him- felf when he blows cold and hot ? At firft he fixes this Principle, That it is difficult to become Virtuous, And a minute after he forgets that fine Principle ^ and in relating the fame Motto Ipoke in his own fenle by fittacus^ That it is very difficult to become Virtuous J he blames him, and fays in plain terms, that that Sentiment does not pleafe him in any wife, and yet it is his own. Thus when he con- demns an Author, who fays nothing but what he had faid himfelf , he manifeftly cuts his own Throat, and he muft of neceflity Ipeak ill either there or here. He had no fooner fpoke, but a great Noife was raifed, and the Auditors fell a praifing of him. As for me, 1 confefs it, like a Fencer who had receiv'd a great blow, I was fo ftunn'd that I neither faw nor heard, and my Brains turn'd as well with the Nolle they made, as with what I had heard him fay. In fine, for I muft tell you the Truth, to gain time to dive into the meaning of the Poet, I turn'd my felf toward Frodicm^ and directing my Dif courfe to him ^ Vrcdicm^ faid I to him, Sunonides For Predi- is your Country-man ; 'tis therefore juft that you <^"s was a Ihould come to his Affiftance, and I call you to it, ceos'L^'^ as Homer feigns that the Scamandre being vigorout „eU. as Si- ly prefled upon by Achilles^ calls Simois to his Sue- monides. cour, in faying to him : Tet you and I repel this terrible Enemy. I fay the iame to you, let us take care leaft Simo- nides be turn'd topiie turvy by frotagoroi. The de- fence of this Poet depends on your Ability which makes you to diftinguifh lb fubtilly between ^ Will and Dejire^ as two very different things. It is that fame Ability which has furnilhed you with fo * Diflindtions were the ftrength of the Sophifts. Socrates is going to put Trodims upon it to make Tome, and whileft he guides him Trodims fpeaks to a miracle j but fo foon as he has laid a Snare for him, the Sophiji fails not to fall into it. many 284 Protagoras: Or, The Sophifis. many fine things that you juft now taught us. See then if you will be of my Opinion, for it does not at all appear to me that Simonides contradifts him- felf But tell me firft I pray what you think of it. Do you think, that to be, and to become, are one and the fame thing, or two different things? A fine Queftion ! two very different Things •, af- furedly, anfwered Frodicus, In the firft Verle then, Smonides declares his Thought, in faying. That it is very difficult to be- come truly Virtuous. You fay true, Socrates. • And he blames Fittacus ^ not, as Fi*otagoras thinks, for having faid the fame thing as he, but F^rtobe for having faid fomething very different from it. 7xeTliate ^" cffe8:, Fittdcus has not faid as Simonides did, W tcAe- T/)^^ ;/ is difficult to hecotne Virtuous^ but to he Vir- come de- tuous. Now my dear Frotagoras^ to he and to be^ siotes an al- come.^ ate not the fame thing even in the Judgment 7foZ" "'of Frodicus. And if they be not the fame thing, f^ ofje Simonides does in no wile contradi£l himfelf Per- fiate to haps that Frodicus himfelf and many others, entring anHhcf.. into Simonides Thought, might fay with Hefwd^ ^is a Taf- That it is very difficult to become Virtuous : For the P^^e of He- Gods have placed. Labour before Virtue, but when Tcfm^pf^ a Man is come to the Pinnacle of the Mountain Wolh where it dwells, then tho' it be very difficult, it is y. 287. ealie to poilefs it. Frodicus having heard me Ipeak thus, praifed me extreamly. But Frotagoras anfwering, laid, Socra- tes your Explication is flill more Vicious than the Text, and the Remedy worfe than the Difeafe. Then I have done very ill according to your reckoning, Frotagoras^ anfwer'd I \ and I am a plea- fant Phifician indeed, feeing that in defigning to cure a Diftemper, I make it to grow worfe. ' It isjuft as I tell you, Socrates. How fo ? The Poet, faid he, would be Impertinent and ig- norant, if he had fpoke of Virtue as of a thing which Protagoras : Or, Ihe Sophifts, 285 which is vile, defpicable and naughty, ^ that it is eafie to poflefs it, for every body agrees that it is very difficult. being amaz'd at this Quibble j in truth, faid I, Trotagoras ^ we arc very happy that ^rodicus is prefent at our Dilpute. For I fancy that you are very well perfuaded that the Science of Frodims is one of the Divine Sciences, that you call thole of This is the ancient Times, and which is not only as old 2i^fo'*nieiu^. Simonides^ but alfo much more ancient. You are p^^a^Q. certainly very able in many other Sciences ^ but aSras/rffi'i for that you feem to me to be but little inftrufted the begin- in it. For my part, I may fay that I have fome "'"^^ "» , tinaure of it, becaufe I am one of Frodicuis Dif ^;/*j;^.f ciples. t Methinks that you don't comprehend ^t^ity Iftix that Simonides does not give the word difficult the So^hijis, fenfe which you give it. Perhaps it is with that word II as with thoie of dreadful^ terrible. At all times when I make ufe of them in a good part, and * Trotagoras changes fides here, according to the good Cu- ftom of the Sophifts j and inftead of demonftrating the pre- tended Contradiction of Simonides^ he throws himfelf upon Befiod, who fays, that it is eafie to poflefs Virtue ; and in that he puts a very ridiculous Quibble upon him. This the Charader of the Sophifts. They were very Ignorant at the bottom } but with fome reading, which had fpoiled their Minds, and which they fupported with abundance of Im- pudence, they made themfelves to be admired by Fools. i At all times, when a word feems to fignifie fomething contrary to the defign of the Poet, all the different Signirt-' cations that that word can have in the Pafl'age in Qiieftion ought to be examin'd into. This Maxim is extraordinary good, and of very great ule in Criticifm, as Arifiotle hath very well obferved. Socrates makes w^Q of it iiere in appear- ar.ce to defend Simonides^ and in effeil to make thole So- phiRs perfedly ridiculous. ]| Socrates cunningly makes the Impertinence of thofe So- phifts appear here, in the Criticifm which they made up- on \\ords: For exanjple, upon the word A/p'or, they would not have it ufcd in a good Senfe, becaufe it was never uicd but in fpeaking of Things that are bad, as Poverty, Prifon, Sikhefs.' But thefe Sophifts ought to jiave obferved this dif- feien:e, that this word is always truly taken in an ill Senfe, when 286 Protagoras: Or^the Sophifis, , and fay, for example, to praife you, Protagoras is a terrible Man^ Prodi cus is always at me for it, and asks me if I be not afham'd to call that which is laudable, terrible ^ for, fays he, that word is al- ways taken in all Senfe. This is fo true, that you Ihall find no Body who fays, terrible Riches^ terri- lie Veace^ terrible Health : But every Body fays, a terrible Sicknefs^ a terrible War^ a terrible Poverty^ that word always denoting Evil but never Good. How do you know but that "^ perhaps by this Epi- thete difficulty Simonides and all the Inhabitants of the Ifle of Ceos have a mind to expreis fomething that is bad, vexatious, or other thing which we don't underftand. Let us ask Vrodicus. For it is reafonable to ask him the Explication of the Terms which Simonides made ule of Tell us then, Prodi- cus^ what would Simonides lay by that word diffi- cult, . He would fay bad. Behold then", faid I, my dear Prodicus^ why Si- monides blames Pittacus for having faid that it is when applied to inanimate Things, but that it may be taken in a gooQ Senfe when applied to Perfons. Hometj who un- derftood and wrote his Language better than all thofe So- phifts, has more than once joined J'uvof with euJ^oiof, -venera- ble. As in the beginning of the 8th Book of the OdyfTes, in fpeaking of vlylfes-^ for tTs/co?, as our word terrible^ fignifies often, aftonifliing, extraordinary, and which attracts conii- deration, refped. * The Snare which Socrates lays here for thofe Sophifts would be too plain, if the word '/>jtKimi difficulty did never iignifie bad^ yexatiom^ but it is taken in this laft Senfe by all the Poets. Homer himfelf has ufed it in that Senfe, as in the beginning of that fine Ode of ^nacreon^ ^^Kivdv rS fjifi ,^f'op- / f / "M"!^' '" '''""'' y>rtuous, and thai &I] wicnout being truly fo^ that would be th- Dif courfe of a Fool, and not of a wife M,n f.^tif' ^/^^x. Therefore there muft needf h^ I t r T tion in this Verfe, and ^^1^<^rtt ^ZtJi:^^ FS"a Ff thef '' ''' ^1?^^. ^^ aS'i^?.r : roi tis as It there was a kind of Dialogue therp rt^ olr '' " ^"Kf "' ^'fi' ■' ""<' '^'>' "ei- ther ou, Carnage, our Thoughts, nor our ASiom L!4 / '''fi"'^'- At this rate 'tis plain tliat he rt t tt°" 'T ';••'? ^'''^^ ^ --M that * And that the word truly is very well placed at the end appe t t^t 'i^ f!^ " ^°^^^ ^ ^""^^ w make it are n'rlS? i? P^"' ?g'^^« '°g«her, that they ance of t£n ?.,"'' //T'^ '" "'^'"' '■"■'i* 'abund- ance oJ Strength and Senfe . but that would carry ■•^ * ^ us 292 Protagoras : Ok, the Sophifts, us too far to run it all over, let us content our lelves to examine the Idea of the Poem in General, and the Aim of the Poet, to make it appear that he only propofcs to himlelf by all that Poem, to refute that Sentence of Pittacus, This is fo true, that a little after, as if it were to give a Reafon for what he had laid. That to be- come Virtuous is a thing truly difficult y he adds. However that it is pojjible for fome time-, but after one is become fo^ to perfifl in that State^ and to be Virtuous^ as you fay^ Pittacus, that's mpojjible and above the Strength of Man : This happy Privilege is ofily for God alone ^ and it is not hujnanly pojjible for a Man not to become wicked when an infurmountable Calamity fills upon his Head. He is going jj^t: what fort of People are they that infuppor- \llt7naii ^^^'^ Calamities affli£l, fo as that they are no thin^'^rue longer themfelves > For example, among thole who fufp>fes fit at the Helm of a Ship ? It is evident that they a State of j^j-g j,ot the Ignoiaut and the Idiots 5 for the Iguo- whichpre- ^^"^ ^^^ ^^^^ down even in a Calm. As one does ceded, ji not throw to the Ground a Man that is lying upon it Tfo re- but one that is ftanding upright 5 fo Calamities only markabie ^qjq^ and change an able Man, and they never TmtK change one who is Ignorant. A terrible Tempeft which turns the Sea topfie turvy all of a fudden, aftonifhes and overcomes a Pilot ^ irregular and ftormy Seafons aftoniih and overcome the Husband- man ^ a wife Phifician is confounded by Accidents, that he could not forelee with all his Art of Phi- Cck 5 in a word, 'tis the Good that happen to be- come Wicked , as another Poet teftifies in this Verfe, The Good are fometimes Good and fometimes Wicked But it never happens to the Wicked to become Wicked, he is always fo. It is only the Learned j the Good, and the Wife, to whom it happens to be Wicked when a frightful and fudden Calamity over- throws them. And it is humanly impoOible that it can be otherwife. And you, Pittacus, you fay, That^l ProtagovsLS: Or, 7h Sojphifls. 29 j That it h difficult to he Good ; fay rather, That it is difficult to become fo^ and that yet it is poffible ^ but to perfift in that State, is what is impoflible ^ for you muft agree that every Man who does Good is good, and that every Man who does ill is wicked. What is it then to do Good, for example, in Learn- ing, and who is the Man that you call Good \x\ that ? Is it not he who has Knowledge and who is Learned > What is it that makes a good Phyfician ? Is it not the Knowledge to cure or to comfort the Sick > And is not that which makes an ill Phyfici- an his want of skill to cure ? Whom then fhall we call a bad Phyfician > Is it not evident that a Man muft in the firft place be a Phyfician, before we can give him that Name, and that in the fecond place he muft be a good Phyfician, for it is only the good who is capable of becoming a bad Phyfician ? In efFe8: we who are ignorant in Phyfick though we fhould commit Faults in that Art, yet we Thould never become bad Phyficians, feeing we are not Phyficians our felves. He that does not know what Archite£lure is, can never properly be what is called a bad Architect, . for he is no Architect at all : And fo in all other Arts. Every Man then,who is no Phyfician what ever faults he commits in aftingthe Phyfician,is not howe- ver in aftri6:Sen(e a bad Phyfician. It is the fame of the Virtuous Man, he may become Vicious, with- out Conteft, whether it be by Age, Labour, Sick- nefs, or by any other Accident; but he can't be- come Vitious unlels he V7as Virtuous before. There- This Vrin- fore the only Scope of the Poet in this Work, is^'^^ "/So- to make it appear that it is not poffible to be, and "atesf^Wi ,, ^^ , . , f,^ , , ' . . naturally to to perlevere always m that State ^ but that it is f/,;^ frwf/> poffible to become Virtuous, as it is poffible to that all become Vicious. The Virtuous are abfolutely thofe ^^"* ^''"S whom the Gods love and favour. Now the Sequel ^^/^^ of the Poem makes it plainly appears that all p,,/,,, J/,,-,"" this is faid againft Fittacus, For he adds : ' Where- Origiud. ' fore I Ihall not fateague my felf to feek that T t 3 ' which 2p4 Protagoras : Or, 7he Sophifls. ' which is impoflible to find, and I fhall not con- We mufimt^ fumc my Life in flattering my ielf with the vain hope to find ' Hopes of feeing a Man without Blame, and in- an innocent c ^jj.g]^y innoccnt amongft us Mortals who live upon Earth whh- ' what the Earth prefents to us. If I were happy out fin, non ' enough to find him, I fliould quickly tell it you. eft homo And in all his Poem he carps fb much at this Sen- juftiis in 'i-encc of Fittacus^ that he fays a little after. ' For ^u}%. zi. ' iTiy part, every Man who does not a (hamefiil ' ' AQion, voluntarily I praile him, I love him. I do ^ not fpeak of Necelfity, that is ftronger than the ' Gods themfelves, all this is alfo ipoke againft Tit- tacus. In effe8: S'monides was too well taught to refer this Voluntarily to him, who commits fhame- rUfd tvas fi^i A8:ions, as if there were People who did ill fpcyer a VoluHtarily. For I am perfwaded that of all the ThUofopher Philofophers there is not one to be found who fays S'rftW ^'^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^" ^^^ ^" Voluntarily. They all AiZfinned know that thole who commit Crimes, commit them roltmtarily. whether they will or not. Therefore Simonides does not lay that he will praife him who does not com- mit Crimes Voluntarily^ but this Volu?itanly has reference himfelf He fays that he will praile him Voluntarily and with all his Heart : For he was rhere are perfwaded that it frequently happens that an honeft certainTeo- ^^^ ^ g^^^ jyj^n is forced to love and to praife cer- {'It'^llT tain People. For Example, a Man has a very un- "^ays to reafonable Father and Mother, an unjuft and cruel praife and Countty, or fomc other fuch like thing. If that lore what- h^ppgns to 3. wlckcd MiH, what does he ? Firft IJjkf^hey ^^ ^^ ^'^^y S^^^ ^^ '^h "^"^ afterwards his chief care dTi^s. Ml is to complain publickly and to make the ill Hu- fWSocra- mour of his Father and Mother and the Injuftice of t&%fays [jjs Country known every where in order thereby to ^Terfni """"" ^^^^ himfclf ftom the juft Reproaches that m.ight be made againft him lor the little care he has of them and for having abandoned them •, and under this very Notion he multiplies the Subje8:s of his Complaint, and adds a voluntary Hatred to that forced Enmity. The Conduft of an honeft Man if far Protagoras: Or, The Sophifls. 2ff far different in fuch Occafions: His fole care is to hide and to cover the Faults of his Father and Coun- trv • far from complaining of them, he hath io much command of himfblt as always to ipeak well ^ of them. That if any crying Injuftice hath torced him to be angry with them, he himfelf is their Mediator to himfelf, he argues with himiett tor them and tells to himfelf all the Reafons they can bring to appeafe him and to bring him back to his Duty- and he is never at peace with himielt till that being Mafter of his Refentment, he has reftor- ed them his Love and praifed them as before. 1 am perfwaded that Simomdes himfelf ^ has Ire- quentlv found himfelf under an Obligation to praife a Tyrant, or fome other confiderable Perfon. He has done it t but he did it in fpight of himfelf. This then is the Language he fpeaks to ^ituicus ' When I blame you Vittaais, it is not becaule 1 ' am naturally inclined to blame, on the contrary, ' it fuffices me that a Man is not wicked and ule- ' ful to no good purpofe, no body (hall ever fee me ' quarrel with any Perfon, who may be of any ' ufe to his Country. I do not love to hnd tault, ' for the Race of Fools is fo numerous that it any ' Man fhould take upon him to reprehend them he ' fhould never have done. We muft take all that ' for 200d andfine,wherein we find no fhameful mix- ' ture or fcahdalous Blot. When he fays. We ' muii take all that for Good, ^c. It is not the fame as if he faid, ^ We muft take all that for ' white wherein we find no mixture ot black, tor that would be altogether ridiculous. But he would * He fpeaks this, becaufe Slmonidcs hz^ kept a very good correipondence with Va^^nUs King of Lacedemon ^vho gained the Battle of VUtecs^ and with Hiero the wilert ot all the ^T ThaP^-iay, that he did it in obedience to the Law of Nature, confirmed by the written Law, and which he called by the Name of NecefTity. T t 4 have ^6 Protagoras: Or, 7he Sophifts, have them to underftand that he contents himfelf with a Mediocrky, and that he reprehends and blames nothing wherein this Mediocrity is found. For we muft not hope to meet with perfe£tion in this World. ' Wherefore, faith he, I don't look ' for a Man who is altogether innocent among all ' thofe who are nourifhed by the produ8: of the ' Earth. Were I happy enough to find him, I fhould ' not hide him firom you, but fhould quickly fhew ' him to you. Till then, I (hall praife no Man as ' being perfe£l. It fufficeth me that a Man be in ' this laudable Mediocrity, and that he do no ill. ' Thofe are the People whom I love and praife. And as he Ipeaks to Fittacus who is of Mitylene^ he fpeaks in the Language of the Mitylenes^ Voluntari- ly I prdtfe them and I love them. This Word Vo- luntarily has no reference to what precedes, but to what follows. He means that he praifes thofe Peo- ple of his own accord, whereas there are others whom he praifes of Neceffity. "• Thus then, Vhta- ' r//x, continues he, if you had kept your felf in ' that Mediocrity, and told us things that were pro- ^ bable, I Ihould never have reprehended you ^ but ' in lieu thereof you impofe upon us, for Truths, ' Principles that are manifeftly falfe, and which is ' worfe, about very eflential Things •, wherefore I ^ contradift you. Behold, my dear Vrcdicus and my dear Yrotagoras^ what in my Opinion is the meaning and the Scope of this Poem of S'lmo- mdes. Then ////'/'/W anfwering faid, Indeed Socrates you have perfectly well explained the hidden meaning of that Poem : I have alio a fhort Speech to make to you to confirm your Explication. If you pleafe I will communicate my Difcoveries to you. That is very well, faid ^/^ri/'/W^j-^interrupting him, but it muft be another time. At prelent it is rea- fonable that Vrotagoras and Socrates make an end of their Difpute, and that they f^and to the Treaty they have made. If Frotagoras inclines ftill to Quefti- Protagoras : Or, tf^e Sophifls, 297 Queftion, Socrates mufl: anfwer ^ and if he has a mind to anfwer in his turn, Socrates muft queftion. I leave it to Vrotagoras\ Choice, faid I, let him lee which is moft agreeable to him. But, if he would be advifed by me, we fhould leave off the Poets and Poetry. I confefs, Yrotagoras^ that I Ihould be wonderfully well pleafed to dive with you into the depth of the firft QueiHon I propofed, for in con- verfing thus of Poetry, we do as the ignorant and common People, when they feaft one another, ^ for not being able to dilcourfe among themfelves of fine things, and to maintain Conveffation, they are filent, and borrow Voices to entertain one another 5 they hire ac a great charge Singers and Players up- on Flutes to fupply their Ignorance and Clownifli- hefs. Whereas when honeft Men who have been well Educated and Inflrufted, eat together, they don't fend for Singers Dancers and Players on the Flute; they find no trouble to entertain one another without all thofe Fopperies and vain Amufements that are only pardonable in Children : But they ipeak and hear one another reciprocally with Decen- cy and good Behaviour, even when they excite one another, the moft to drink, and they prefer the Harmony of their Difcourfe to all Voices and Flutes: It oiight to be the fame in this kind of Converfa- |:ion, efpecially when it is between fuch People ^'^Qaoicon- moil of thofe who are here value themfelves to be ^ yerfatim' they have no occalion for ftrange Voices, nor for preferable Poets, of whom they cannot ask a realbn for what ^° ^''^ '"°fi they lay, and to whom moft of thofe who cite them ^^f ^"'^ • ' attribute fome one Senfe, fome another, without being ever able to convince one another or to come to an agreement. 'That's the reafon why able Men ought to let alone thofe Differtatigns upon the Poets * The Muficians and Players upon Inftrnments were in- troduced to Feafts by clov/nilh People who were incapable of entertaining themfelves. Does not the Violent Paflion that is obferved now a days for Mufick proceed from the fame defedl ? Perhaps ^ye fing only becaufe we cannot difcijurfe. " " ■ and 2^8 Protagoras: Or, theSophifts: and to entertain themfelves together, in founding and examining one another by their Difcourfe, to give a Proof of the Progrefs they have made m the Study of Wifdom. That's the example which me- thinks you and I ought rather to follow. Letting the Bets alone then, let us Difcourfe together, or it I may fay fo, let us fence together to fee how tar we are in the right. If you have a mind to que- ftion me, 1 am ready to anfwer you-, if not, give me leave to propofe the Queftion to you, and let us indeavour to bring the Inquiry which we have interrupted, to a happy ilTue. When I had fpoke thus, Trotagoras knew not which Part to take, and made no anfwer. Where- fore Alcibiades turning towards Calitas^ faid he, that Fmagoras does well in not declaring what he will do, whether he will Anfwer or Propound. No without doubt, faid Gi/Iias; let him enter the Lilt then, or elfe let him tell why he will not, that we may know his Reafons, and that thereup- on Socrates may difpute with feme other, or that fome one of the Company may difpute with the foft who (liall offer himfelf Then ?rotagcras being afham d, as I thought, to hear Alahiades talk fo, and to fee himfelf follicited by CaUias and almoft by allthofe who were prelent, atlaft refolved with much difficulty, to enter into Difpute and defired me to propofe aueftions to him. Prefently I began to fay to him, Frotagoras, do not think that I will converfe with you upon any other defign than to fearch into the bottom of fome Matters whereof I ftiU daily doubt^ for I -am per- fuaded that Homer hath very well faid J wo Men In the tenth r^ho go together fce things beft, for one fees what the .^.ckofhis other fees not. In effeft, we poor Mortals, all ot ^^'^^'' us whatever, when we are together, we have a greater Felicity for all that we have a mind to lay, do or think ; whereas one Man alone, tho never fo'able and wittv, feeks always fome Body to com- municate his Thoughts, and to conform himfelf Protagoras : Or, the Sophifls, 2pp 'till fuch time as he has found what he fought. ' Behold alfo why I converfe more willingly with you than with another, being very well perfuaded that you have better examin'd than another Man all the Matters that an honeft Man ought in duty to fearch into the bottom of, and particularly all that relates to Virtue. Alas ! to whom could one ad- drels himfelf rather than to you ? Firft you value your lelf on being a very honeft Man •, and befides that, you have an Advantage that moft honeft Men have not, that is, that being Virtuous you can alio make thofe Virtuous who frequent your Com- pany : You are fo fure of doing it, and rely fo much upon your Wifdom, that whereas the other Sophifts hide and difguile their Art, you make publick Profeffion of it, by pofting it up, if I may lay fo, in all the Cities of Greece^ that you are a Sophift 5 you give your felf out publickly to be a Matter in the Sciences and in Virtue ^ and you are the firft who have fet a value upon your felf, and put a price upon your Precepts : Why then (hould we not call you to the Examination of Things that we enquire after, and that you know fo well ? Why ftiould not we be impatient to ask you Qiieftions, and to communicate our Doubts to you? For my part, I can't refrain it, and I die with Defire that you would make me remember the Things that I have already asked you, and that you would ex- plain to me thofe which I have ftill to ask. The firft Queftion I ask'd you, if I remember it well, is, if Science, Temperance, Valour, Juftice, and Sandity ; I fay, if thele five Names are appli- cable to one only and the fame Subje8:, or if every one of thole denotes a particular Eflence, a Thing which has its diftinO: Properties, and is different from the other four. You anfwer'd me, that thefe Names were not applicable to one only and the fame Subje£l:, but that each of them ferved to de- note a Thing feparate and diftinO:, and that they were all parts of Virtue, not fimilar parts as thole of 300 Protagoras: Ok, 7he Sophifls; of Gold, all which refemble the whole Mafs whereof they are parts, but diflimilar parts, as the parts of the Face which are all parts of it without any refemblance to each other and without refemb- ling the whole, whereof they are parts, and which have every one their different Properties and Fun- ftions. Tell me then if you are ftill of this Opi- nion-, and if you have alter'd it, explain your Thoughts to me J for if you have changed your Opinion, I will not hold you to the rigour, but leave you an entire Liberty to gainfay your felf ^ and fhall not in the leaft be furpriz'd that you have broached thofe Principles at firft, as it were to try me. But I tell you moft ferioufly, Socrates^ anfwer'd Vrotagoras^ that thole five Qualities which you have named, are parts of Virtue. To tell you the Truth, th«re are four of them which have fome relemblancc to each other : But Valour is very dif- ferent from all the reft, and by this you fhall eafily know that I tell you the Truth ^ you fhall find an infinite number of People who are very injuft, very impious, very debauched, and very ignorant ^ yet at the fame time they are valiant to Admiration. Socrates « I ftop you there, faid I, for I muft examine what Zoing to yQu j^aye advanced. Do you call thofe who are bad, froy that y^^-^^^ ^ j^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ meaning rot be with- Yes, and thofe who go headlong where others cut Know- fear to go, ledge^ and L^t US fee then, my dear Trotagoras^ don't you ct'jrfe-f^l^ Virtue a fine Thing? And don't you boait of loJris in- teaching it as fomething that is fine > confident Ycs, and as fomething that is very fine, otherwife with im- I have loft my Judgment. We;;fe - g^^. .^- ^^^^ Vittuc fine in part and ugly in part, tame: ®r IS It altogether tine ? It is altogether fine, and that very fine. Don't you find fome People who throw them- felves headlong into Wells and deep Waters ? Protagoras : Or, Ihe Sophifts, , ^oi Yes, our Divers. Do they do it becaufe it is a Trade they are ac- cuftomed to and expert iii, or for fome other reafon? Becaufe it is a Trade they are expert at. Who are thofe who fight well on Horfe-back > Are they fuch as know how to manage a Horle well, or thofe who cannot? Doubtlefs thofe who can manage a Horle,' Is it not the fams with thofe who fight with a Buckler ? Yes certainly, and in all other things the fame, thofe who are expert in them are more brave and couragious than thole who are not, and the fame Troops after having been well dilciplin'd and inur- ed to War, are far different from what they were before they had learn'd any thing. But, faid I, you have feen People who without having learn'd any thing of what you fay, are not- withftanding very Brave, and very Couragious upon allOccafions ? Yes certainly, I have leen fome, and thofe moft Brave. Don't you call thofe People who are fo brave and fo bold, valiant Men ? You don't confider, Socrates^ what you fay •, then Valour would be an ugly and fhameful thing, for thofe Men are Fools. But I fay, have not you call'd bold Men vali- ant Men > Yes fo far. And neverthelefs now thofe bold Men feem to you to be Fools, and not valiant^ and juft novi? quite contrary you thought the molt learned and the moft wife to be the moft Bold. If they are the moft bold, then according to your Principles, they are the moft Valiant •, and confequently Science is the lame thing as Valour. You don't well remember Socrates what I anfwer- ed to j you demand if valiant Men were bold, I an- fwered 502 Pi'otagovas: Or, The Sophiftf. fwered ye^ But you did not at all ask me if bold Men were Valiant j for if you had, I fhould have 'Tis an £- btought a diItin£lion, and have told you that they yafionof ate not all fo. Hitherto my Principle, that the Va- the sophifi I'^j^^. ^j.g v^QYd^ remains in its full Strength, and you fl^Hie tiave not been able to convinO: it of any falfhood. rule of urn- You make it appear very well that the fame Perfons -verfal affir- are mote bold when they are inftru£led and well *^o^tionr°' ^^^^"^^ "P' ^^^^" before they had learn'd any thing, whiTare ^nd that difciplin'd Troops are more bold than thofe «of conrer- that ate not difciplin'd ^ and from thence you are tibie bM pleafed to conclude that Valour and Science are but ^fomct"^ one and the fame thing. By this fine way of Ar- fiHoimto giJi"g, yoii will alfo find that Strength and Sci- the attri- QucQ ate but One and the fame thing. For firft you'l Ute, which ask me after your ufual way of Gradation. ^ Are w«^./;e the ftrong Puiffant > I fhould anfwer you yes. Then Thai's true you'd add, are thofe who have learn'd to wreftle alfo, and movQ puillant than thofe who have not learn'd ? Socrates And the fame Wreftler, is he not more puiffant af ter having learned, than he was before he knew any thing of that Exercife? I fhould flill anfwer Sequel. yes. And from thofe two things which I fhould have granted you would believe that by making ule of the fame Proofs you might lawfully draw this Confequence, that by my own Confelfion, Science is Strength. Fair and fofety I pray you •, I have not granted, neither do I grant that the Puiflant are Itrong, I only fay that the ftrong are puiffant. For Puiffant and Strength are far from being the fame "* To underfland Trotagoras's w^ay of Arguing, we miif! know that by Strength, he means the natural Difpofition of a l-obnft Body J and that by Vuiffame, he means a fupernatural Vigour like that of a frantick Perfon, who in his Fits breaks Chains, and he alfo means acquired Vigour, like that of a Champion. This is the reafon why he grants that the Strong are Puiflant, and denies that Puiflant are Strong, for Strength is natural, and PuilTance fprings from Habit, or from an impnlfe of the mmd. But in the Bottom 'tis nothing but ameer Qiiibble, wherein the Sophift even contradi(5ts himfelf, as will be feen inunedi^tely. will foon fnake it ap fear in the Protagoras: Or^ theSophiftsi 50 j thing. Puiflance comes from SciencetUnd fome- times from Choler and Fury-, whereas Strength comes always from Nature and from the good Nou- rifhment, that is given to the Body. It is thus that I have faid that Boldnels and Valour were not the iame thing, and that there were, fome Occafions wherein the Valiant were Bold, but that it could not be infer'd from thence that all th* Bold were Valiant. ^ For Men become Bold by exercileand art, and fometimes by Anger and Fury, juft as they be- come puiflant. But Valour proceeds from Nature and the good Nourifliment that is given to the Soul. ♦ But don't you fay^ my dear Yrotagoras^ that certain People live well, that is to lay agreeably, and that others live ill, that is to fay difagreea- bly ? Without doubt. And do you fay that Man lives well, when he ipends his Life in Tronbles and Grief No afliiredly. But when a Man dies after having fpent his Life agreeably, don't you think he lived well ? Yes I do. After your reckoning then is it not a good thing to live pleafantly, and is it not very bad thing to live difagreeably ? * He means that the more Men are difciplin'd, trained up to roar, or tranfported with Anger, they are the more Dold He compares Boldnefs co Puiflance and Valour to force. But he does not fee that in Confefling tnat Valour proceeds from the good NOurifhment given to the Soul, he acquiefceth with Socrateh Principle, thai Valour is nothing but Science. Sn- crates is going to lead him another way. t To know well what Valouv is, one mud firft jfix well what Grief and Pleafure is 5 and this is what Socrates is going to do after an admirable way worthy of fo gveat a Philofopher. 3^13 304 Protagoras : Or, 7he Sophiflsl ^ 'Tis according as one delights in what is Decent and Honeft, faid he. What, 'Protagoras^ faid I, will you be .of the Opi- nion of the Vulgar, t and will you, with then?^ call certain things that are agreeable, bad^ and fome cfthers that are difagreeable, will you call them good ? Yes certainly. How fay you ? Thofe agreeable things are they bad in that which makes them agreeable, indepen- dantly from all that may happen > And thofe dif agreeable things are they good after the fame man- ner independantly on all Conlequences? II Yes, it is juft fo. .-. Then they are not bad in fo far as they fire difagreeable. In Truth, Socrates^ faid he, I know not if I ought to make my Anfwers as fimple and as general as your Queftions, and if I ought to aflert abfolutely, that all agreeable things are good and that all difa- * Trotagoras is afham'd of what he juft now confefs'd, for he fees the Confequence of it ; therefore he contradids him- felf all of a fndden, and he acknowledges that a Man who fpends his Life in hohefl Things, and who delights therein', lives agreeabJy, even tho' the laid Things be paintul. Socra- ies makes good ufe of this Confeffion, and is going to purfue this Principle which will overthrow the Soph'ift immediatly. t For the Vulgar are perfiiaded that there were fome agreeable things that are bad, and fome difagreeable things that are good. But they reckon them good or bad only by their Confequences j for to conlider them in themfelves they find the things that are agreeable to be good, and the difa- greeable bad. II This Sophift confeffeth one thing here whereof he is not in the leafl perfnaded ; he alfo retracts it in the following Anfwer, for he forefees very well that that ^onfeflion would ingage him too far. He knows not how to rid himfelf out of the Trouble and Confufion he is in. .*. 'Tis a necefl'ary Confequence of what this Sophift con- fefs'd juft now. For if difagreeable things are good inde- pendant from what may follow, they can't be bad becaufe they arc difagreeable. greeabie Protagoras: Or, the Sophifts. joy teeable things are bad. Me thinks that not only in this Difpute, but alfo in all others that I may have, it is fureft to anfwer that there are cer- tain agreeable things that are not good, and that among the Difagreeable there are certain things that are'not bad •, and that there is a third kind which keeps the middle and which are neither good nor bad. But don't you call thofe Things agreeable that are join'd with Pleafure, and which give Pleafure ? Moft afTuredly. I ask you then if they are not good in fo far as they are agreeable, that is to fay, is not the Plea- fure they caufe fomething of good? To that, Socrates^ faid he, 1 anfwer you what you daily anfwer others, that is, that we muft ex- amine it, and if it agrees with reafon, and we find ' that the agreeable and the good are but one and the fame thing, we muft acquiefce therewith, if not, there's an open Field for Difpute. Which do you like beft then, Frotagoras^ faid I, will you be pleafed to lead me in this Inquiry, or ftiall I lead you > It is moft reafonable that you fhould lead me^ for you began. I will do it, faid I, and here's perhaps a means, that will make the thing appear plain, as a Mafter of Exercile, or a Phyfician feeing a Man whole ^ Conftitution he would know, in order to judge of his Health or the Strength and good Difpolition of his Body, does not content himtelf with looking on his Hands and Face, but fays to him, ftrip your lelf I pray you, and let me fee your Breaft and your Back, that \ may judge of your State with the more certainty ^ 1 have a mind to uie the fame Condu£l with you tor our Inquiry ^ after having known your Sentiments of Good and of Agreeable, I muft ft ill fay to you as that Mafter of Exercifes, my dear "Protagoras^ difcover your lelf a little more, and tell me your Thoughts of Science. Are your Thoughts of that like thofe of the Vulgar, or are you of U u other 5o6 Protagoras; Or^ the Sophifts, tor the Other Sentiments ? For this is the Opinion of the Knowledge Vulgat in reference to Science or Knowledge ; They tnt'arca ^^"^^ ^^ ^^ ^ ^^'^^"S ^^^^ ^^ neither ftrong, capable of ^grecMe'^or Condu£l, nor worthy to command : They can't difagrcea- tiincy to themfclvcs that it has any of thofe Qua- bie depends litlcs^ und they perfwade themfelves that when Sci- ^s/ncT" ^"^^ ^^ found in a Man,it is not that which leads and Theol'inion condu^s him, but a quite different thing ; that that the fometimes 'tis Anger, Ibmetimes Pleafure, fome- ritlgar has times Saducfs, at other times Love, and moft fre- of Science, qugp^jy f^^^^ jj^ 3 word, the Vulgar take Science to be a vile Slave always infulted and domineer'd 4 fine por- ^^'^^' "^"^^ dtag'd along by the other Pafiions. Are 'traifi-rue of you of the lame Opinion with them? Or do you Science, the thiuk on the contrary that Science is a firm thing, charaihr ^j^^^ jf jg capable of commanding Man, and that ^xpiaSdTn ^^ ^'^^ P^^ ^^^ ^"^^ ^ '^t^iQ never to be conquered fjfi'r^«-"by any Paflion, and that all the Potentates upon ment. "^ Earth fhall never be able to force him to do any tiling but what Science fhall command him, for i: TheFamty IS alone fufficieut to deliver him > of the So- ^ I do not only think all that you have faid. So- A'7?. crates^ anfwered Protagoras^ of Science ^ but I add, that it would feem worfe in me than in any other N^an not to mentain that it is the ftrongeft of all Humane Things. You have reafon, Protagoras, that is true. How- ever you know very w-ell that the Vulgar don't be- lieve us upon this SubjeQ:, and that they maintain that moft Men do to little purpofe know what is moft juft, and what is beft, for they do nothing of it, although it be in their Power, and that fre- quently they a8: quite contrary. Thofe of whom I have asked the caufe of fo ftrange a Condu£l:, have * Yes, but Socr^itcs fpeaks of another Science far different from that ^vhich the Sophif? means, and whereof he boails, for he fpeaks of the Kno^^■ledge of God,and of the Knowledge of the Truth, which alone can deliver Man , whereas the So- phift fpeaks of Humane Science, which is more capable of dillroying a Man than Uving him. all Protagoras: Or^ Ue Sophifis. fmfor Z'^^\'^f' ^'"P^^ ^'^ ""''''^^^ by Plea- lure or by Sadnefs, or vanquifhed, and carried away hy fome other Paffion. I am'apt ro K that^ thofe whom I have conf.lted, are dece' ved 11, that, as in many other things. Bat let us make them plainly know what this unhanpy Incli- eSem' ^"^-^^^^^n it confifts, which^Kon. em them to be overcome by Pleafures and th^if they do not ad that which is belt, hough the^ know It. For perhaps if we fhould fay to them Friends you are deceived, and you have a BfeS ciple, they would ask us in their turn, W.., aT^ you, Pm,gor,s, What! Is it not a Paffion to be overcome by Pleafures > Tell us then wJiat It is > trom whence it comes, and wherein it confifts > ' lipprTm tZT'u^'k "'^ Antagonift, are we ob- liged to ftand to the Opinions of the Vulgar who fpeak at random all that comes into their Heads However, me thinks, anfwered I, that this fe'rves m lome Meafure to make us underftand the Cohe- rence that Valour may have with the other parts of Virtue^ If therefore you will ftand to what you at firft accepted of, which is that I fhould lead you through that way which I think the beft and the mortelt, follow me, if not, as you think f.t I give It over. ' On the contrary, faid he, Socrates, I pray you to continue as you began. ^ f :/ 3 ^^ Refuming my Difcourfe then, if thofe fame Peo- ple, laid I, my dear Protagoras, fhould perfift to ask us, how do you call that State which we call to be overcome by Pleafures;- What fhould we an- iwer ! F or my part this is the way I fhould take to anlvver them. I fhould immediately fay to them my i-riends harken I pray you, for Protagoras and l' are going to endeavour to give a fatisfaaory An- Iwer to your aueftion. Do you think that any other thing happens to you than what really hap- pens, at all times when you are enticed by the U u 2 'Plea. ?07 3o8 Protagoras: Ok, The Sophifls. Fleafure of Feafting, or by that of Love, which ieems very agreeable to you, you yield to the Temptation, though you know very well that thofe Plea lures are very bad and very dangerous ? They would not tail to anfwer, that 'tis nothing elfe. We Ihould afterwards ask them, why fay you that thofe Pieafures are Evil > Is it becaufe they give you a fort of Fleafure in the very minute that you in- joy them, and that they are both agreeable > Or is it becaule in the Sequel they ingender Difeafes, that they throw you headlong into Poverty •, and that they draw after them a thoufand and a thouland Mis- fortunes that are as fatal ? Or fuppofe they fhould not be followed by any of thofe Mifchiefs, would you always call them bad, ^ becaufe they caufe Man to re- joice, and to reioice in Vice is the moft deplorable of all Vices, and the Punifliment of Sin ? Let us con- fider, Trotagoras^ what other thing could ihey an- fwer to us, than that they are not bad, by realon of the Fleafure they occafion at the time of injoy- ment, but becaufe of the Difeafes and other Acci- dents which they draw after them ? t I am perluaded, faid Frotagoras^ that that's what all of^ them almofl would anfwer, Does nor, fiy I, all that which deftroys our Health or which caufeth our Ruin, vex us > I fancy they would agree to it, "^ For that's what would be needful to fay to confefs,as Tro- tagoras has already done, that agreeable things are bad inde- pendant of their Confequences. This is a Principle altoge- ther Divine. Socrates does not infift upon this, becaufe he finds it too fublinie, for the Vulgar ; and that he knew very- well that it is not their Opinion.. i And confequently Trotagoras has fpoke againft his own proper Sentiments, ^^'hen he anfwered p. ^06. that certain agreeable things were bad by the very fame thing that ma(Je them agreeable, and independant from all that might happen, and that certain difagreeable things were good after the fame manner, ijuk pendant of all that may follow. We muft obferve this \\ ondertul art whereby Socrates makes Trotago- l riu contradict himfelf fo plainly, ^yithollr ever offending him. With- Protagoras : Or, 7he Sophifls. 309 Without doubt, faid 'Protagoras. Then (hould I continue, you think my Friends as we fay, 'Protagoras and I, that thole Pleafures are not bad but becaule they terminate in Sorrow, and deprive Men of other Pleafures which they de- fire to enjoy ? They would not fail to acquiefce therein. Protagoras confents to it. But, fay I, if we ihould take the contrary fide, and fhould ask them, my Friends, you fay that dil- agreeable things are good, how do you underftand it ? Will you fpeak by example of bodily Exercifes of War, of Cures that the Phyficians perform by Incifion, by Purgations or by the ftriftelt of Diet ? Do you fay that thole things are good, but that they are difagreeable ? They would be of that Opi- nion. Without any difficulty. Why do you call them good ? Is it becaufe at the very minute they caufe the greatefl: of Aches and infinite pain? Or becaufe by their Operation, they occafion Health and a good habit of Body, that they are the prefervation of Cities that they raife to Impire, and that they heap Glory and Riches upon certain States? Without doubt they would make no fcruple to take the laft Part : And Prota- goras acquiefceth therein. But fuppofe I Ihould go on and ask if all thofe things which I have named are good for any other reafon than becaufe they end in Pleafure, and that they remove and chafe away Vexation and Sadnefs? For could you have any other Motive which (liould oblige you to call thofe things good, than the re- moving of Vexation, and the expe£lation of Plea- fure ? I can't believe it. Nor I neither, faid Protagoras. Therefore don't you feek after Pleafure as a good thing, and don't you avoid Vexation as an Evil ? Without contradi£tion. U u 3 And gio Protagoras: Or, the Sophifis. And confequently you take Vexation for an Evil, and Pleafure for a Good ? You call Pleafure it felt" an Evil when it deprives you of certain Plea- fures that are greater than thofe which it procures you, and when it caufes you Troubles more fenfible than all its Pleafures. For if you fhould have any other reafon to call Pleafure an Evil, and if you fliould find that it had any other end,you would make no difficulty to tellitus,but I am fure you can't find it. I am alfo fure that they can't find any, faid Fro- tagoras. Is it not the fame thing v^ith Grief or Pain? Don't you call it good when it delivers you from certain Anguilhes that are greater than thofe which it occafions you, or when the Pleafures it procures, you are greater than its Vexations? For if you could propofe to your felf any other end than what I have told you for calling pain Good, you would with- out doubt tell it us ^ but you can't. That is very true Socrates^ faid Frotagoras. Suppole, continued I ^ y ou fhould ask me in your Courfe, why I turn the thing fo many ways? I fhould lay pardon me, my Friends, this is my way of examining into SubjeQs on all fides. For firlt it is not eafie to demonftrate to you what that is which you call to be overcome by Fleafures. And The only ^^ ^j^g Q^-jjgj. ^r^^^ ^j^^j-g jg ^^ ^jj^gj. j^eans to make ^^•Jo,^g,,! certain and fenfible Demonftrations. But you are Orations is fliU at yout Liberty to declare unto me if you find ro examine good to bc any Other thing than Pleafure and Evil s'T^t- to be any other thing than Pain and Sadnefs. Tell mall fides ^^' would not you be very well finished to fpend ' your time agreeably, and without Vexation? If you are contented therewith, and if you can't find that Good and Evil are any other thing than what I fay, hearken to what follows. That being prefiippofed, I maintain that there is nothing more ridiculous than to fay as you do, that a Man knowing Evil to be Evil, and being able to prevent his abandoning himfelf thereunto, to ceafeth not Protagoras: Or, IheSophifis, jii not to commit it, becauie he is hurried along by Pleafure, and that it is uo lefs abfur'd to advance as you do, on the other fide, that a Man knowing good yet refufeth to do it, becaufe of fome pre- fent Pleafure that puts him off from it. The Ridi- culoufnels that I find in thofe two Propofitions will vifibly appear to you if we don't make ufe of ma- ny Names, which only ferve to imbroil us, as Agreeable^ Difagreeable^ Good^ Evil. Seeing there- fore we Ipeak but of two things, let us make ule only of two Names : Let us at firft call them by the Names of Good and Evils •, and afterwards we Ihall call them by thole of Apreable and Dif agree- able. That being granted, let us fay, That a Man knowing Evil^ and being fenfible that it is fo ceafeth not to commit it. We (hall certainly be asked why does be commit it ? We (hall anfwer him becaufe he is overcome. And by what is he overcome^ they will fay? We can anfwer no more by the agreeablenefs of it^ that is to lay, by Pleafure., for 'tis a word that is bani(hed, and in lieu thereof, we have a- greed to make ufe of that Word Good. Therefore we muft make ufe of that Term only, and we muft anlwer. That that Man 'co?nmits Evil only becaufe he is overcome and fuimotmted. By what ? We muft cut (hort the Words, overcome and furmounted by Good. If he who queftions us has never fo little Inclination to raillery, and if he be a Man that can pu(h us home, you fee what a fine Field we give him. He will laugh immediately with all his might, and will fay to us, in truth that's a very pleafant thing, that a Man who knows Evil, and is fenfible that it is fo, and being able to forbear doing of ir, ceafeth not to commit it, becaufe he is overcome by Good. He will add, do you think that good is uncapable of furmounting Evil ? Or is it capable of it ? Without doubt we will anfwer that it is not capable of it, for otherwife he whom we fay to be overcome by Pleafure would not have finned. But for what reafon is Good incapable of U u 4 fur- Protagoras: Or, The Sophifis. furmounting Evil ? Or why has Evil the ftrength to furmount Good? Is it not becaufe one is greater and the other lefs > Or becaufe one is more nume- rous and the other lefs > For we have no other Reafons to alledge to them. Then it is evident from this, would he add, that according to you, to be overcome by Good^ is to choofe the greatefl Evils in room of the leaft Good, There's an end on that fide. Now let us change thofe Names by calling this Good and Evil by the Names of Agreeable and Dif agreeable. And let us fay that a Man does^ we have hitherto faid Evil^ but let us now fay dif agreeable things. A Man then does things that are difagreeahle knowing that they are fo^ he does them becaufe he is overcome and Jur-^ mounted by thofe that are agreeable^ and that not- withflanding are uncapable to overcome and furmount. And what is it that makes Pleafure incapable of furmounting Grief > Is it not the excefs or the de- fe6: of the one in reference to the other ? that is to fay when the one is greater or lefs than the other > When one is more or lefs flat and dull than the other. But if any body (hould objeft to us ^ that there is a great difference between a prefent t Pleafure,and a * That's the laft refuge of thofe who maintain that Men commit Evil voluntarily, becaufe they are carried away by Pleafures, for the Man prefers a prefent Pleafure to a future one, and thic Pleafure is ftill more preferable than Pain that he only forefees. This is what Socrates is going to refute af- ter a very plain manner and with much Strength. t This is Socrates's Anfwer to the foregoing Objedion. Pleafure and Pain differ only in the number or degree of the Pains and Pleafures. Therefore it is ridiculous to think that a Man fliould be fo much an Enemy to himfelf as voluntarily to prefer a fmall prefent Pleafure to a great Pleafure that he is lure of, and to run after a Pleafure which he fees is fol- lowed by a certain Pain. For it is agteed that every Man feeks the Good and fhiins the Evil. All that is in queftion is to take a hallance and to weigh the Good and the Evil, feeing they are known. This is not done, and it is a fiire token that they are not known, and confequently 'tis the want off Knowledge, that is to fay. Ignorance that precipitates us mto Evi{. This is without all doubt. Pleafure ProtagovsiS: Or, The Sophifis. 51? Pleafure or a Pain that is to come and expelled. I ask upon that Head , but do they differ by any other thing than by Pleafure or Pain ? They can differ in nothing elfe. Now I fay that a Man who knows how to ba- lance things well, and who puts agreeable things on one fide, and difagreeable things on another, as well thefe that are prefent as thole that he may forefee are to come, knows very well which are the molt numerous. For if you weigh the Agreeable with the Agreeable, you muft always chufe the mofi: nu- merous, and the greateft •, if you weigh the Difa- greeable with the Difagreeable, you muft chufe the leaft in number, and the fmalleft •, and if you weigh the Agreeable with the Difagreeable, and that the laft are furmounted by the firft, ^ whether it be that the prefent are lurmounted by the abfent, or the abfent by the prefent, we muft always chufe the greateft number, that is, the firft, the Agreeable : And if the latter, I mean the Difagreeable weigh down the Scales, we muft beware of making fo bad a Choice : Is not that all the Art to be ufed > Yes, without doubt they would fay. Vrotagoms alfo a- grees to it. Since that is fo, I would fay, anfwer me I pray. Does not an Objeft appear greater near at hand than at a diftance ? Don't you underftand a Voice better j^^,^^ ^^. when it is near you, than when it is far off"? fmefsde- Without contradiftion. fended ufon If therefore our Happinefs confifted always in '^/'f^'-^'f^^eA chufing and doing that which is greateft, and in re- f^^^^ ^l^/^ jefting that which is leaft,what Ifiouldwe do,and tOtjroIlwLi- what ftiould we have recourfe to alfure us of Happi-/«»-e rvuh nels all our Life time ? Should we have recourfe to ''^'■po/P^^^ the art of Meafuring, or liiould we content our ''''^^^'^'f^' * That is to fay, whether the prefent Pains be lefs nume- rous than the Pleafiires that are expeded, or the Pains that are expeded fewer tlian the prefent Pleafures, the greateft number ought always to be chofen j In a word, we mull run after good when it is greater than Evil, whether that Evil be prefent or abfent. A great Principle. . ' feives 2X4 Protagoras: Or, TheSophifls: felves with Appearances, and with a finiple Glance of the Eyq? But we know that the bight has otten deceived us, and that when we have judged by the Eve we have been often obliged to change out Opinion when the aueftion to be decided has been which is the greateft? Whereas the art of meafur- ing has always removed thofe falfe Appearances,and by making the Truthappear hasfet theMind ateafe, which relied upon this Truth,and has affertamd the Happinefs of our Life. What would our Difputants fay to that > Would they fay that our Safety depends upon the art of Meafuring, or upon any other Art > Upon the Art of Meafuring without doubt. ;/,.. s For the Art of Meafuring, which ^^"^- teacheth us nothing but the greatnefs of things is no longer the Bufmefs in aueftion •, it would be requifite to know the Even and the Odd, and no- thing but the Knowledge of Arithmetick can teach us that. Would not our People agree to that? Affuredly, faid Frotagoras, ^ That's well then, my Friends. But hnce it has appeared to us that our Safety depends upon the . good Choice which we fhould make between Plea- fure and Pain, that is to fay,between that which m thofe two Kinds is the greateft, or the leaft, the moft numerous or the leaft, the neareft or the tur- theft off, Is it not true that the Art of Meafur- ing is the Art of examining the largenefs ot Things and of comparing their difterent Refemblances > » Our Safety depends upon the good Choice between Pleafure and Pain. We are only unhappy becaufe we de- ceive our felves in our Choice/ Our Misfortunes proceed only fSm our Ignorance, for no body defires to be un- happy. It ProtBgovas: Or, IheSifphfJli, 31^ It can't be otherwife. Then the Art of Meafuring muft be ^ an Art and a Science, they could not difagree to it. We fhall examine another time what that Art is, which at the fame time is an Art and a Science,now that the Art of meafuring is a Science, ive agree to it, and that fuf- fices for a Demonftration that we ought to give, you Protagoras and I, upon the Queftion that you have propofed to us •, for at the fame time that you and I have agreed that there is nothing fo ftrong as Sci- ence, and that wherever it is found it is viaorious over Pleafure and all other Paflions, you have con- tradiaed us, in afluring us that Pleafure is often viaorious, and that it triumphs over Man even when he knows the Poifon of it , and as we have not agreed to your Principle, then if you remember It, you have demanded, Protagoras and you Socra- tes, if that be not to be overcome by Pleafure tell us then what it is, and how do you call that Incli- nation that carries us away. If we (hould have an- fwered you upon the Spot, that we calfd it Igm- rance, you would have laughed at us. Laugh on now, and you will laugh at your felves. For you have confeffed that thofe who deceive themfelves m the Choice of Pleafure and of Pain, that is to fay i: 1?"^° , "^ ^^ ^^^^' ^^^ ^°^ deceived, but for want ot Knowledge ^ and afterwards you further agreed not only for want of Knowledge, but for want of that Science which teacheth to meafure. Now every Aaion wherein one is deceived for want of Know- ledge you know very well your felf that i't is an Ignorance, and by confluence it is a very great Ig- norance to be overcome by Pleafure. Protagoras Prodicus ^n^Hippias, boaft that they can cure this ' Ignorance, and you becaufe you are perfuaded that / It is an Art, becaufe there are Rules and a Method ; and CIS a Science becaufe its Objed are things neceffary and im- ?n (7 'a "^"^ '-'^""/^ ^^ '^3^^^ "s Demonftrations by In- !nii ^ n ,'?""''f' ^'"^^"^ "1^°" neceffary Principles that are jncontfllable and certain. ^ ' this 3i6 Protagoras: Or, The Sophifls. this unhappy Inclination is ibme other thing than Ignorance ^ you will not apply your felf, and will not lend your Children to thofe Sophifts who are fuch excellent Mafters, as holding it for a certain Truth that Virtue can't be taught, and you fave the Money which you would be obliged to give them. And it is that tine Opinion that caufes all the Mis- fortunes, not only of the Republick, but alfo of particular Perfons. That's what we would anfwer to thofe honeft People. But I apply my felf now to you, Prodi- cus and Hippias^ and I ask you as well as Frotago- rasy if you think what I juft now faid to be true or falfe > They all agreed that they were very fenfible Truths. You agree then faid I, that Agreeable is that which is called Good, and Difagreeable that which is called Evil. For as for that DiftinQion of Names which Prodkus would have introduced, I kifs his Hands. In efFe£l, Frodicus^ call Goodnefs, Agreea- ble, Delegable, Delicious, Charming, and invent li:iU more Names if that pleafesyou, it is alike to pie. Anfwer only to what I ask you. Frodicus agrees to it, fmiling, as do alfo the others. Eyeyy^fii' Then what do you think of this, my Friends, on vchich faid j^ 2L1Q tiot all A£lions fine, which tend to live ^^hHsiive agreeably, and without pain ? And is it not a fine withmt '^'^ Action at the fame time good and ufeful ? fain is fine. They agrec to it ? and Confer jf jj- }^q j-fug tha^ Agtceable be good, and that \t quentiy ^^ ^^^ Good, then it is not poflible that a Man vood and . . ' 11. 11/- tfefui. knowing that there are better things than thojc which he does, and knowing that he can do^them, Ihould notwithftanding do the Evil and leave the Good. Therefore to be overcome by Pleafure, is nothing elfe than to be in Ignorance ^ and to over- come Pleafuresis nothing elfe" than to have Know- itdge. They Protagoras : Or, The Sophiftsl 5 1^ They acquielced therein. But, faid I, to them, what do you call it to be What is u in Ignorance ? Is it not to have a falle Opinion, and ^° ^« ''» ^s- to deceive one's felf in Things that are very eflen- ^''^'^'*"- rial and very important ? Without Contradiftion. It follows then from this i^ririciple, that no Peribn runs voluntarily into Evil, nor into that which he takes to be Evil. ^ And it is not at all in the Nature of Man to run after Evil, as Evil, in ftead of running after Good. And when one is forced to chufe one of two Evils, you will find no Body who would chufe the greateft, if it were in his power to take the leaft. That feem'd to us all to be a manifeft Truth. Then, faid I, what you call Terror and Fear, fpeak Vrodicus. Is it not the expe£tation of an Evil, whether you call it Terror or Fear? Vrotagoras and hippias acquiefced, that Terror and Fear were nothing precifely but that, and Pro- dicus confefs'd it of Fear, but denied it of Terror. But that is no matter, my dear P/W/a/j, anfwer'd I. The only important Point is to know if the Princi- ple which I juft now alTerted be true. If it be io^ all your Diftin£lions are ufelefs. In effeO:, who is the Man who would run &fter that which he fears, when he might go before that which he fears not ? That is impolTible by your own Conleffion ^ for from the time that a Man fears a thing, he confef- feth that he believes it to be bad ^ and there is no Body that voluntarily feeks after and receives that which is bad. They agreed to it. Thofe Foundations being hid down, Yrodicus and ITippias^ faid I, Protagoras muft now juftifie and prove the Truth of what* he at tirft aflerted •, or ra- * For it is a certain Trurh, our Will never inclines to any thing but that which pleafetii it moll. And there is no- thing but Good; or wlwt it taks for fiich, that pkaies it. thei 3i8 Protagoras: Or y The Sophifls, ther I muft grant him Quarter for what he ad- vanced at firft, for he faid that of the five Parts of Virtue there is not one that refembles another, and that they had each of them their own Qualities and a different Charafter. I will not infill upon that, but let him prove what he faid afterwards, that of thofe five Parts there were four which had fome refemblance to each other, and one which was altogether different from the other four, that is to fay Valour. He added, that I fliould know this Truth by this evident Mark, that is, faid he, Socrates^ that you (hall fee Men who are very Imperious, unjuft. De- bauched and Ignorant, and yet have a heroick Va- lour ^ and you will underftand by that, that Valour is extreamly different from the other parts of Vir- tue. I confefs that at firft I was very much fupriz'd at this Anfwer, and my Surprize hath been greater lince I examined the Thing with you. I ask'd him if he did not call bold and refolute Men, Valiant > He told me that he gave that Name to thofe bold Spirits who run headlong into danger ^ for you re- member it very well, Protagoras^ that was the An fwer you made me. I do remember it, faid- he. T^ll us then wherein are the Valiant bold, is it in Things that the Timorous undertake ? No, without doubt. Is it in others ? In thofe that the Brave under- take? Affuredly. Don't Cowards run on upon thofe Things that feem to be lafe, and the Valiant upon thofe that leem to be terrible ? So People fay, Socrater^ anfwered Protagoras. You fay true, Protagoras •, but tha-t's not what I ask you, I would know your Sentiment. Wherein do you fay are the Valiant bold ? Is it in Things that are terrible, and that they themfelves find fo ? Don't Protagoras: Or, theSophifisl 5ip Don't you remember, Socrates^ that you have ^'^^ ''^ '''** plainly made it appear already that that was impof ^^^'^^'^ '^^■ ""^^' Terror is You are in the right, 'Protagoras^ I had forgot it. the expet'ia- Then it is a Thing demonftrated, that no Body runs^'^f "f^ upon Things that he finds to be terrible, becaule it fl^'^> ""'^ is moft certainly an Ignorance to fufler one's felf to B'ody"rnns be overcome by Paflions. yoUntarUj 'Tis agreed to. f* £W. But on the other fide, both the one and the other, ^ the Brave and the Coward run upon Things that feem to be iafe and without danger, and by that means the Cowards undertake the fame Things as the Brave. There is a great Difference, Socrates ^ the Cow- ards do the quite contrary to what the Brave do 5 without going further, the one leeks War and the other flies from it- . ^ But do they find it to be a fine thing to go to War ? Yes, certainly, moft fine. If it be fine it is alfo good, for we have agreed that all Anions that are fine are good. That is moft true, faid he to me, and I have al- ways been of that Sentiment. I am very glad of it. But who are thofe then who will not go to the War which they find to be fo fine and fo good ? They are Cowards, faid he. "^ 'Tis a neceflary Confequence of what Vrotagoras juft now confefs'd. That the Brave don't nm upon terrible Things be- caule it is an Evil. Then they run upon Things that are fafe, and that appear to be without danger ; and by confe- quence they do the fame thing as the Cowards, and they tend to the fame Mark: That is certain 5 but here's the difference between the Cowards and the brave Men, that the brave Men afting always by Knov/Iedge, are never deceiv'd in the Side they^chufej for they certainly know what is terrible and what is not. Whereas the Cowards acting by Ignorance, and fixing fafety where danger is, and danger where fafety is, are always deceiv'd. How many great Truths are clear- ed by this Principle ! In 320 Protagoras: Or, 7he Sophifls. In the mean time, faid I, to go to War is a fine and a good thing : Is it not alfo agreeable ? It is a fequel of the Principles which we have agreed to? lUy don't Do the Cowards refufe to go to that which is Imvo it^ finer, better and more agreeable although they lte"frt- know it to be what it is? ' Mranccf But Socnites^ if we fhould confels that, then we overthrow all our firft Principles. How, fay I, does not the brave run upon all that he thinks to bfe the finelt, the beft, and the mod agreeable ? It can't be denied. The Brare Then it is evident that the Brave have not a fear vphere fhameful Fcat whcn they fear, nor a Ihameful Af- onefhouU fuf^nc^ ^j^gjj (j^gy gj.g ^^^ 3jj(i affured ? /frtr, but ,_. •' not ether- * ^^ ttUC. Wife. If they are not Ihameful, then they are fine and honeft^ Is it not fo? And if they be honeft, they are good ? Yes Inilolu -^"^ ^^^ "°^ ^^^ Cowards, tho' rafh and furious, fear ttnfea- ^"^^^^ contfary ? Havc they not unworthy Fears and fonMy, Ihameful AfTurances? and trufi \ confefs it. fame man- ^^^ ^^^^ whence come thbfe unworthy Fears and aer. fhameful AfTurances ? Is it not from Ignorance ? That is certain. But, what do you call that which makes Cow- ards, Cowards ? Do you call it Valour or Cowardife ? I call it Cowardile, without doubt. Then the Cowards appear to you to be fo, be- caufe of their Ignorance of fenfible Things? Moft affuredly. I'hen 'tis that Ignorance which makes them Cow- ards? I agree to it. You have agreed that 'tis Cowardife that makes Cowards. Afluredl/i According Protagoras: Or, T/)e Soph/flsl . ^21 According to you, Cowardife is the Ignorance of Things that are terrible, and oF thole that are not i He made a Signal that he agreed to it. At the lame time Valour is oppofit to Cowardife ? He made the lame Sign of Approbation. And confequently the Knowledge of Things that are terrible,and of thole that are not in oppofition to the Ignorance of the fame Things ? He gave ano- ther fign of his Confent. Is Ignorance Cowardile ? He pafs'd this over with fome Difficulty. And is not the Knowledge of Things that are terrible, and of thofe that are not, Valour, feeing it is contrary to the Ignorance of the fame Things ? Oh,upon that nere another fign,and not one Word. How, faid I, Protagoras^ will you neither grant me what I demand, nor deny it me ? Come to an end only, fiid he. Then I ask you only one fmall Qiieftion more. I Hehdnmade ask you if you ftill think as you did lately, that'> '^/'/'p^r there are Men who are very Ignorant, and yet very ^^''^^ '^'"^^'•^ Brave ? . ^ b . , ^ y .^^,^^^^^ Seeing you are fo prcffing, laid he to me, and that you will oblige me to anfwer you ftill, I will do you that Plcafure. 1 tcil you then, Socrates^ that that which you ask me, leems impoflible according to the Principles that we have eftablifhed. I alTure you, Protagoras^ faid I to him, that I propole all thofe Quellions to you with no other Defign than to examine narrowly into all the parts of Virtue, and to know well what Virtue itlelf is : For I am perfuaded that that being well known, we fhould certainly find what we feek for, and what we have dilcourfed 16 much upon, I in faying that Virtue can't be taught, and you in maintaining that it can. And at this clofe of our Difpute, if I durff prefume to perfonate Virtue, I fhould fay that it mightily upbraids us and laughs at us, in faying to us, you are pleafant Difputants, Socrates and Prota- X X £oras ! 322 Protagoras: Or, the Scphiftsi goras \ You, Socrates, after having mentained that Virtue can't be taught you are now running to con- tradi8: your felf, by indeavouring to make it appear that all is Science, to wit, Juftice, Temperance, Va- lour, 6^V. which is juft going to draw a Conclufion, that Virtue can be taught : For if Knowledge be different from Virtue, as Yrotagoras endeavours to prove it is evident that Virtue cannot be taught whereas if it pafTes for a Science as you would have it be acknowledged, ^ Men will never apprehend that it can't be taught. And 'Protagoras on the other hand, after having mentained that it can be taught, contradi8:s himfelf alfo by indeavouring to perluade us that it is fome other thing than Know- ledge. But let us leave the YiUion. For my part, Vro- tagoras^ I am heartily forry to lee all our Principles fo horribly confounded and turn'd topfy turvy ^ and. I could paflionately wifh that we could difin- tangle, and explain them \ that after having learched "^ That is founded upon this Erroneous Opinion which is very common, that every Science can by taught. Socrates fenfibly proves it to be an Error, feeing be nientaining that Virtue is a Science, he aflerts at the fame time, and proves after a moil folid manner that Men can't teach it : And it is not difficult to fee what he aims at : He means that it can be learn'd of no body but God ; for he is the God of Sciences, I Kings 1. 'Dens fclentiarum^ as he is call'd in the Holy Scripture j where- Pfal. 1 1^. fore Da-vid fays to him, Lord teach me Knowledge^ and he alTur- 66. eth us that 'tis he v^ho teacheth it to Men, qm docet \hominem VCal^^.io. fcieiitiam. If that be true of Knowledge, it is alfo true of Valour, feeing Socrates hath already proved that Valour and Knowledge are but the fame thing. 'Flato was not the firfl Heathen who had the Idea of thofe excellent Truths j above three hundred Years before him Homer had faid, when he brings in ^gamemmn fpeaking to ^chilles^ If thou, befo yaliant^ In the firfl from v?hence comes thy Valour ? Is it not God who gaye it thee ? And Ihok of this aliuoll: 500 Years before Homer ^ David had faid, 'tis God who H, teacheth my hands to War^ qui docet manus meas ad prelium. But Pfal. 18. one will fay, why does not Socrates explain his Meaning? 54. ^nd 'Tis bccaufc a Philofopher ought to fix what Virtue is before 144. I. he explains from whence it comes, and who are the Mafters that teach it 5 for Virtue being known,it's Author is alfocon- fcquenrly known, and the Proof is made. into Protagoras; Or, 7he Sophifisl 52^ into all the parts of Virtue, we might plainly fhew ^e ought to what it is in it felf, and that putting our chief /"^''^^ ^^o- Queftion at laft to a Hearing again, we might 1^*^ „o"^ examine if Virtue could be taught or not, to the Epime- endj we might know what to fland by : For lam theus, that very much afraid that your Ep'metheus has deceived " ^^f'^yy ^^ us in our Examination, as you fay he deceived, ^^^f]ZlV7ho^'^^ or Oenopidiis, for they were drawing of Cir- thcns. cles, and quite ftooping^ they were imitating cer- tain Turnings and Motions of the Heavens with a wonderful Attention. Curious to know what it was, I addreffed my felf to a young Man who fate byme; and it happen'd that he was the Lover ot one of ihofe who were difputing together. I asked him then, jogging him a little with my El- bow, what occafions this great Attention > Is the fubjea of the Difcourle fo great and fo fine as to require luch a lerious Application > Good, anfwefd he, fo great and fo fine, they are f nf r ^ V p^ff "'" I ^"^'"'^'^ ^"^ ^h^y ^^ nothing but fpeak Folly with all their Philofophy. burpnzed at the anfwer, how, faid I, my Friend do you think it is Folly to be a Philofopher > How comes It that you fpeak fo harfhly ? Another young Man that was leated by him, who was his Rival, and who had heard my Queftion, faid to me. In truth,_^^^mrx you will not find your account in applying your lelf to that Man , and in asking him if he believes Philofophy to be Folly, don'I you know that he has fpent all his Life in eating, fleeping', the Eivals: 32,7 fleeping, and in bodily Exercifes? Canyouexpea any other anfwer from him,unlefs it were^that there is nothing more (hameful nor more foolilh than f hi- lofophy> He who fpoke to me thus, had always applyed himfelf to Sciences-, whereas the other whom he treated fo ill, applyed himfelf wholly to Exercifes. I thought it convenient to let alone that Cham- pion who had negleaed the Mind only to exercife the Body, and to keep to his Rival who pretended to be more able. And that I might the better draw from him what I defired, I faid, what I asked at firft, I asked it of you both in common. And it you think you are more able to anfwer me than he, 1 apply my felf only to you. Anfwer me, do you think that it is a fine thing to be a Philofopher ? Or do you believe the contrary > The two Difputants who had heard us, gave over their Difpute, and drawing nearer, they refolved to hear us with a deep filence. I know not what Influence this Ap- proach had on our two Rivals •, for my part, 1 was furprized at it, for it is ufual to me, I cannot lee handfome young People ^ without admiring them. He to whom I fpoke did not feem to be lels touched than my felf^ however, he did not fail to anfwer me with fome fort of Affurance and b Jt- love: For my part, Socrates, if I thought it was a Ihame to be a Philofopher, I fliould not beUeve my felf to be a Man : And whoever has that Thoug^^^i havealtogetherasbadanOpinionofhim. Bythathe . hit his Rival home •, therefore he raifed his Voice that he might be underftood by him whom he Then 'tis a fine thing, anfwered I, to be a Phi- lofopher. Yes afluredly, faid he. But anfwered I, do you think it poffible for one to decide whether a * It was an Admiration that produced in him the defire of being able to contribute to the makmg of them as Virtu- ous as they were Handfome. See what Maxm>is de Tyr has faid on this Paffage. ^^^ ^^.^^ 32-S • the Rivals, thing be fine or ugly, unlefshc knows it before > Do you know what it is to be a Philofopher > With out doubt, laid he, I know it. Then I ask'd him what is it ? ^ Tis nothing elfe, anfwetpd he, than what Solon \M : In making my felf old, 1 learn an infinity of ihings. For me thinks that he who would be a Philofopher ought to learn fomething every day of his Life, both in his Youth and in his old Age to the end, that he may know all that can be known. At firft me thought he fpoke fomething. But af- ter having pauled a little upon it, I asked him if he held that Fhilofophv was nothing elfe but a Po- lymathie that is to lay, a Heap or a confiifs'd Mafs ot all the Sciences > He told me it was nothing but that. But fay I, do you think that Philofo- phy is only a fine thing, or do you believe it is alfo a good thing. I believe it to be very good, anfwer- ed he. Do you think that is particular to Philofo- phy, continued I, or do you find the fame thing in other Arts > For Example, do you think the love of Fxerciles is as good, as it is hnQ, or are you of Opinion that it is neither fine nor good > In my Opinion, anfwered he, jefting merrily, for you that Love is very fine and very good, but as for him,^fpeaking of his Rival, it is neither t'one nor the t other. And do you belive, faid I, that the ' u^ of Exercifes confifts in having a mind to do ' } nf^r?'^^^ ; Without doubt, faid he, as the Love of XVifJom, tUt is to fay, Philofophy, confifts in having a mind to know all things. But, I askt him, do you think that thole who apply themfelves to Lxercifes have any other aim than that of the Health of their Body > No, without doubt, faid he, they propofe to themfelves no other end. And confequently, faid I, is it not the g^eat number of Lxerciles that makes People enjoy their Health > Would It be poffihle, anfwered he, that ' oiie could be 111 good Health l)y applying himfelf onk to a few Exercifts > Umn The Rivals. Upon that I thought fit to ftir up my Champion a little, that he mighr come to my Afliffance with the Experience he had in Exercifes : Then direO;- ing my Difcourle to him, why are you filent, iaid I my Dear,when you hear your Rival Ipeak of your Art > Do you alio hdieve as he, that 'tis the great number ot Exercifes that caule Health ? Or on the other hand, do you think that 'tis to ufe fuch of them as you (hall think fit, and neither to exercile your felf too much nor too little. For my part, Socrates^ he anfwered me, I am ftill periwaded, as I have always been, that there is nothing more true than what the common Pro- verb fays, that moderate Exercifes caufe a- good Health, Is not that a fine Proof of it > That poor Man with his Application to ftudy, and his Defire to know every thing, fee how he is : He has loft his Appetite and does not fleep : He is as ftiiF as a Stake and as dry as a Match. At thcle words the two young Men fell a laugh- ing and the Philofopher blufh'd. Seeing his Confufion I turn'd towards him, what do you pretend to tlien, laid I ? Don't yon confels now that 'tis neither the great nor the fmall num- ber of Exercifes that caufe Health ^ But moderate Exercifes, and tokeepdire£tly in the mid- way. Will you refift two ? If I had to do with him only, faid he, I would make my part good, and I find my felf ftrong enough to prove to him what I have advanced, even though it fhould be far lefs probable ^ he's fo far from being a dangerous E^nemy. But with you Socrates^ I will not dilpute againft my Opinion. I confefs then that it is not the great number of Exercifes but moderate Exercifes that caufe Health. Is it not the fame with Food, faid I ? He agreed to it, and I made him confefs the fame, as to all other things that relate to the Body, that it was th§ jult middle that was ufeful, and in no wife th0 too much nor the COio little- And as to what r^- • . . lates 329 2 50 ^^^ Rivals, lates to the Soul, faid I afterwards, is it the quan- tity of Food that is given it which is ufeful or is it only a juft Meafure > 'Tis the juft meafure faid he to me. But, continued I, are not Sciences of the number of thofe Foods of the Soul? He acknowledged it. And confequently faid I to him, It is not the great number »of Sciences that nourifh the Soul well, but the juft Meafure, which is equally diftant from too much and too little > He acquiefced in 'To whom then (hould we reafonably addrefs our felves, continued I, to know exaftly what is that luft Meafure of Food and Exercifes that is ufeful for the Body? We all three agreed that it muft be to a Phyfician or to a Mafter of Exercifes. And as to fowing of Seed, to whom ftiould we apply our felves to know that juft Meafure > To a Husband- man without doubt. And as to other Sciences, I add; whom (hall we confult to know the juft Medi- um'that muft be kept in fowing or planting them in the Soul > Upon that we found our felves all three equally full of Doubts and Uncertainties. Seeing we can't overcome this Difficulty, I told them fmiling, ftiall we call thofe two handfom young Youths to our Afliftance, or ftiall we be alham'd to call them, ^ as Honer fays of ?enelope's Lo- vers, who not being able to bend the Bow, would not have it that any other could do it ? When I faw thatthey defpaired of finding what we fought after, I took another Method. What Scien- ces, faid I, ftiall we fix upon that a Philofopher ought to learn ? For we have agreed that he ought ' not to learn them all, nor even the greateft part. The learned Man, anfwering, faid they ought to be the fincft, the moft Agreeable, and thole that In the 21 Book of the 0«Jj/. -v. 28?. the Lovers of Ve- nclope, openly teftifie the fear they were in that the Beggar, who was not yet known to be vliffes, fhould bend the Bow, , whereof Tenelope was to be the Reward. could the Rivals. jji could do him the greateft Honour, and that no- thing could do him more Honour than to feem to underftand all the Arts, or at leaft the moft part, and the moft confiderable, and that thus a Philofo- pher ought to learn all the Arts that were worthy of an honeft Man's Knowledge as well thofe that depend upon the Underftanding as thofe that de- pend upon Handiwork. You mean, continued I, for Example, the Joyn- ers Trade : One may have a very able Joyner for five or fix Marks. That's a Trade that depends up- J'or i^or on Handiwork. And the Art of Architecture de- ^° '^'^''^^^ pends on the Underftanding. But you can't have an Architect for ten thoufand Drachms ^ for there are very few among the Greeks. Are not thole the ^^.^^j^°° ^ forts of Arts you mean ? When he had anfwered j,/S^* me yes, I asked him if he did not think it Impo^i-fcane f» ble that a Man could learn two Arts perfectly, and ^•'^^'^^ *" much more to learn a great number, and thole alfo ^-^^'^^^ the moft difficult ? Upon that he anfwered me, don't you underftand me, Socrates^ 'tis not my meaning that a Philolo- pher ftiould know thofe Arts as perfe£lly as the Mafters, who praftice them, it is fufficient that he knows them like a Gentleman, fo as he may under- ftand what thofe Mafters fay better than the Vulgar fort of Men, and alfo be able to give his Opini- on, to the end that he may make it appear that he has a very fine and delicate tafte of all that is laid or done in relation to thole Arts. And I,as ftill doubting what his meaning was,faid, fee, I pray you,if I apprehend your Idea of a Philofo- pher •, you pretend that a Philofopher fhouldbe the lame with the Tradefmen ^ as a Pentathle or Cham- pion who does five forts of Exercifes in the Academy; * This Paflage is extraordinary fine , and furnifli'd Longi' nus with the Idea of theComparifonhemade of i>e»Jc)/?/;ewM • with Hi ferities^ and which I have explained in the Remarks upon chat Rhetorician^ Cha^, 28. p, lyj. with 3J2 7he Rivals, with the Runner or the Wreftlcr^ for he is over- come by all thofe Champions in the Exercifes that is proper to each, and holds but the iecond Rank af- ter them ^ whereas he is above all the other Cham- pions who enter the Lifts againft him. Perhaps that's the efFe£l which you pretend Philofophy pro- duces upon thole who follow it ^ they are truly below Matters in the Knowledge of every Art, but they are alfo fuperior to all other Men who pre- tend to judge of them. Infomuch, that according to you, we muft conceive a Philofopher, as a Man who in every thing is below the Mafter that pro- felTeth it. That, I believe, is the Idea that you would give of a Philofopher. Very well, Socrates^ faid he to me, you have admirably well comprehended my meaning, and there is nothing more juft than your Comparifon ^ for the Philofopher is truly a Man who does not keep to one thing, only like a Slave, fo as to neg- leQ: all others, as the Tradefmen do, in order to carry it to the laft PerfeQion : But he applies him- felf indifferently to all. After this anfwer, as if I ftill defired to know his meaning more clearly, I asked him if he believed that able Men were ufeful or ufelefs ? I believe them to he very ufeful, Socrates^ an- fwefd he. If the able are very uleful, reply'd I, the unable are very ulelefs ? He agreed to that. But, faid I, are the Philofophers ufeful or not ? They are not only ufeful, anfwer'd he, but alfo very ufeful. Let us fee then, reply'd I, if you fay true, and let us examine how it can be that thofe Philofophers, who hold only the fecond Rank in any thing what- ibever, fhpuld be fo ufeful j for by what you juft now faid, it is clear as the (ilay, that the Philolo- pher is inferior to Tradefmei4 in all the Arts which they profefs. 2he Rhahl He agrees to it. Oh ! faid I, let's lee, if you or any of your Friends for whom you had a great love were lick -, tell me, I pray yoUj would you call a Philolbpher, that in- ferior Man, or would you lend for a Philician to re- cover your Health, or that of your Friend > For my part, I would fend for both, anfweredhe^ Ah! don't tell me that, anfwer'd I, you muft chufe which of them you would rather call ? If you take it that way, faid he, I think there is no Body would helitate, but would much rather .call the Phifician. And if you were in the middle of the Sea, tofs'd with a furious Tempeft, to whom would you aban- don the Conduct of your Ship, to the Philofopher or to the Pilot ? To the Pilot, without doubt, faid he. , Thus then, both in a Storm and in Sicknels,and in all other Things,while the Artift or the Mafter of every one of thofe Things is prefent, is not the Philolbpher very ufelefs > Would he not be as it were a dumb Per- fon? So methinks, anfwer'd he. And confequently, reply'd I, the Philolbpher is a very ufelefs Man : For we have Artifts in every Thing, and we have agreed that the able are only ufeful, and that others are not. He was obliged to agree to it. Shall I prefume to ask you fome other Things, faid I to him,and will not you look upon it as clownifh and ruftick to ask you fo many Queftions ? Ask me what you (hall think fit, anlwefd he. I want nothing more than that we fliould agree again on what we have faid. Methinks that we have agreed on one lid'e, that Philolbphy is a fine Thing-, that there are Philolbphers ^ that Philofo- phers are able Men ^ that able Men are uleful^ and that unable Men arc ufelels^ and that on the other hand, we have agreed that Philofopers are ufelels when we have Peopk by that are Mailers of every Profefhon, and there are always Ibme. Is not that what we have agreed to ? 'Tis ?3| 3H 7he Rivals, 'Tis fo, anfwer'd he. And confequently, fay I, feeing Philofophy, ac* cording to you, is only the Knowledge of all Arts, while Arts fhall tiourifh among Men, the Philofo- phers will not have any Luftre among them •, on the other hand, they will be altogether ufelefs. But believe me the Philofophers are not what we have fancied to our felves •, and to be a Philofopher is not to meddle with all Arts, and to fpend his Life in all Shops ftooping and working like a Slave. Neither is it to learn many things. Upon my word it is fomething more fublime and more noble. For that Application is fhameful, and thole who take it upon them are only called Mechanicks and mean Tradefmen. The better to fee, if I fpeak true, anfwer me further I pray you,who are thofe that can break a Horfe well ? are not they fuch as can make him better ? Yes. And is it not the fame of Dogs ? Yes. Thus one and the fame Art breaks them and makes them better. Yes. But that Art which breaks them, and makes them better, is it the fame by which one knows thofe that are bad ? Or is it another ? No, faid he 'tis the fame. Will you fay the fame thing of Men replyed I ? The Art which makes them better is it the fame with that which reclaims them, and which knows thole who are good and thofe who are bad ? 'Tis the fame, faid he. Does the Art which judges of many judge alfo of one, and that which judges of one does it alfo judge of many ? Yes. Is it the fame, faid I, of Horfes, and of all other Animals ? He agrees to it. But fay I, how do you call the Science or Art which Challileth and reclaims the wicked Rake Hells that are in the Cities, and 9^he Rivahi jjjj and who violate the Laws ? Is it not Judicature ? And is not this Art or Judicature, that which you call Juftice ? Without doubt, anfwered he. Thus faid I to him, that Art which ferves the Judges to corre£l the Wicked, lerves alfo to make them know who are wicked and who are good > Affuredly. And the Judge who knows one of them may alio know more ; and he who can't know many of them can't know one ? Is it not fo? I confefs it, faid he. Is it not alfo true, faid I, that a Horfe which knows not the other Horfes that are good or bad, do's not know what he is himfclf ? I lay as much of all other Animals. He agreed to it. Why then, added I, a Man who knows not Men if they be good or bad, is he not alio ignorant what he is himlelf, tho' he be a Man ? That's moft true, faid he. Not to know ones felf, is it to be wife or to be a Fool ? To be a Fool. And confequently, continued I, to know ones felf is to be wife. Thus the Precept that is wrote upon the Gate of the Temple of Delphos^ Exhorts ^""^ *^'i us to apply our felves to Wifdom and Jufticey*"^^* It is the fame Art that teacheth us to chaftile and punifh the Wicked ^ by the Rules of Wifdom, we know how to know them.and to know our lelves alfo. That ieems to me to be very true faid he. And confequently fay I, Juftice and Wifdom are but the fame 'thing. And that which makes Cities well govern'd, and peopled, is the Punifliment of the Wicked. Is not that the occalion of good Go- vernment > He agrees to it. When a Man fay I, governs a City or State well, what name is given to t'liat Man ? Is he not cali'd King ? Without doubt. Then 33tf the Rkals. Then he Governs by a Koyal Art, by the Art of K'mgs,^nd is not that Art the fame with thofc wc jult now fppke of? So me thinks. „ n i.^ When a private Man govern his Honlc well, What name is given to him ? Is he not call'd a good Stew ar ^n... .BOOKS fold by Andrew Bell, at the Crofs keys and Bible in Cornliill. TfiE General Hlftoryof EngUnd, both Ecdeuanici! an.i Civil trom the earlieft Accounts of Time to I'e Rei^^n of His pfe- fenc Majefty King William III. Taken from the niofl anrinn Re- cords, Manufcripcs and Hiflorians. Ccncaining the Live<^ of the kings, and Memorials of the mofi Eminent Perfons both m Chu^ cli and State, With the Foundations of the Noted Monaftcrics, and both the Univerfities, Vol. I. By James Tyrrel, Efq-, Price 20 s. The fecond Volume is now i^ublifhed, Price 50 j. A Compleat Hiftory of the Canon and Writers of the Rooks of the Old and New Teftament, by way of Differtion : with ufeful Remarks on that Subjed, in Two Volumes. By /.. E. dn Fiiiy Doftor of the Sorbon, and Regim, Profeflbr of Fhiiofophy i;i Paris. Done from the French. P, ice 18 s, Difcourfes concerning Governmenc, by Algimon Sid'iey, Sf^n to Kokrt Earl of Leiceftir^ and Ambafiador from the Commonwealth of England to Charles Gu(lavHiKmg of Svpidsn. Publi^y.djrom an Original Manufcript of the Author. Price 1 5 i. The Mariners Maga^iney ftored with the following MAbsmitlcd Jrts: The Radimcntioi Navigation and Geometry. The Making and life of divers Maihematlcai Infinments for Sea or Land. The Doftrine of Tciangles, Plain and Sphericial. The Art ot Ni- ti^- SchoUrum in AngUa compofita. Approved and Recommended by the chief Maflcrs of Merchant-taylors^ Wefiminjier, and the ChArter- boufe Schools. Price 1 8 d. Both by Marius D' Aftgny B. D. A Rational and Speedy Method of attaining to the Latin Tongue. In two Parts. The firft containing fuch Precepts as are common fo all Languages : The fecond what is more peculiar to the Latin Tongue. The whole being accommodated to the mean^ eft Cap.^citics, not only Perfons of riper years, but any Child that cm read Englifh, may by this Method in a little rime arrive to mo cknowledgthanisufually attain'd after feveral years drudgery in the common Road, ^rice 12 d. An Effay concerning the Power of the Magiftrate, and the Rights of Mankind in Matters of Religion. With fome Reafonj^ in particular for the DilTentcrs not being oblig'd to take the Sacra* mental Tefl but in their own Churches, and for a general Natura- lization Together with a Poftfcript in anfwer to the Letter to a' Convocation man. Price 2 j. The Stage condemn'd, and the Tncouragemcnt given to the Im- iroralitics andProfanenefsof the Theatre, by the Etaglifli Schools, Univerfities and Pulpits, cenfur'd i K. Chirks the firft's Sundays Mask and Declaration for Sports and Paftimes on the Sabbath, largely related and animadverted on ; The arguments of all the Authors that have writ in defence of the Stage againfl Mr. Colliery confider'd: And the fenfe of the Fathers, Councils, antienc Philo- fophers and Poets, the Greek and Roman States, and of the firfl Chriftian Emperors concerning the Drama, faithfully dclivcr'd ; with other ufelul Matters. Price 2 J. 6d. A ccmp'cac Hifiory of Europt^ or a View of the Affairs thereof. Civil and Military, from the beginiiing of the Treaty of ffimiguen 1676, to the Peace concluded with the Turks 1699, including the Articles of the former, and the feveral Infringements of them ; theTurkifh Wars j the forming of the Grand Confederacy ; the Revolution in EngUndy &c. With a particular Account of all the Adionsby Sea and Lard on both fides ; and the fccret Steps that have been made towards a Pcai:e, both before as well as during the lall Negotiation. Wherein are feveral Treaties ac large. The whole Books foil hy Andrew Bell. whole hitcrmixM with divers Original Letters, Declarations, and Memoirs never before publilh'd. The 7,i Edition corrcded, aod very much inlarg'd. TheCompleat Gard'ner s or Direftions for cultivating and right ordering of Fruit-Gardens, and Kitchin-Gardcns. By Monfi.ur D« hcL Quintinye. Now compcodioufly abridged, and made more 'ufeful, with very confiderable Improvements. ^yGiorge London, and f/enry Wift. the 9^ Edition correfted. Price 5 j. ScotUnd'i Sovcraignt)' affcrted : being a Difpute concerning Ho- mage, againft thofe who maintain that Scotland is a Fee-Liege of England^ and that the King of Scats owes Homage to the King of England. Wherein are many judicious Reffeftions on moft of the Englifli Hiftorians who wrote before i5oo, and feveral confidera- ble PaflTjges iUuftrating the Hiftory of both Kingdoms. By Sir tho Craigi Author of the Book d( Feudis. Tranflatcd from the Latin Manufcript, with a Preface containing an account of the Au- thor, and a Confutation of the Homage faid to be performed by /r.alcolm III. King of Scots to Edward the Confcflbr, found in the Archives of EngUndy and publilh'd by Mr, Rimtr, Price 5 s. A Praftical Difcourfe on the Loving-kindnefs of God, in five Sermons on Pfal. 6% 3. By Michael Pope. Price 2 s. 6 d. immorality^ Debauchery^ and Profanenefsy expofed to the Reproof of Scripture, and the Cenfure of the Law. Containing a Com- pendium of the Penal Latvs now in Force againft Idlenefs, Profane- nefs, end Drunkennefs 5 Houfes of unlawful Games ; profane Swearing and Curfing-, fpeakmg or afting in contempt of the holy Sacrament ; difturbing of Minifters ; profane jefting with the Name of God s abfenting from the Church 5 profanation of the Lord's Day i Debauched Incontinency, and Baftard-gctting. Witl) feveral Texts of Scripture prohibiting fuch Vices. And a brief Colleftion ot the fignal Judgmencs of God againft Offenders in the faid Vices and Debaucheries. Publiftied for the Advancement oi." Reformation of Manners^ fo happily begun and carried on by feveral Societies in this Nation. By G. Meriton. The 2d Edition: To which is added an Abftraft of the Aft made the lafl Seffions of Par- liament, for the more efteftual Supprefling of Blafphemy and Pro- fanenefs. Price 1 s. England^s Duty under the prefent Gofpel Liberty, from Revtl. IIF. vtrf. 20. Wherein is opened the admirable Condercenfion and Pa- tience of Chrift, in waiting upon trifling and obflinate Sinners. The wrerched Scatc of the Vnconvirted. The Niture of Evangi- Heal FAitb. The Riches of Free-Grace in the offers of Chrift, Par- don, and Peace to the worft of Sinners. Tlie invaluable Frivi- leges of Vnion and Commmiony granted to all that receive him : and the great Duty of opening to him at the prefent Knocks and Calls Books fold by Andrew Bell. CdUs of the GofpeU with the danger of neglefting thcfc loud find it may be laft) Knocks and Calls of ChrifJ, difcovcred. By John Flavtl, lacc Preacher of the Gofpcl at Darmouth in Dtvon, The 2(1 Edition correftcd. To which is added Afount Pifgahy or the AUthbr 's Thankfgivinp Sermon for EngUncCt> Deliveraacc from Pttpery, Feb.iSZ.^. Price 5 J. Mr. FUvU's Fountain of Life opened. Price 8 s. . His Method of Grace. Price 8 s. A Free Difcoarfe concerning Truth and Error, efpeciallyin Matters of Religion. Wherein are propounded the Proper and certain Methods of finding and obtaining the One, and of difcover- ing and avoiding the Other. Together with Refleftions on feve- cal Authors : But more particularly on the Lord Bifhop of Sarum's Expoficion on the Thirty Nine Articles of the Church of EngUnd. Alfo a Preface containing fome Brief Remarks on the late RefJe^i- ens on Humane Learning. Ey John Edivj.rdst D. D. Price 5 /. An Account of the Breeding of Worms in human Bodies'; their Nature, and feveral forts ; their Effefts, Symptoms, and Prognofiics. With the true Means to avoid them, and Med'cines to cure them. By Nicholas Andry, M. D. of the Faculty ot Pa- ris. With Letters to the Author on this Subjeft, from ^/. Nicho- las Hartfoei^er at Amfierdam, and M. George Baglivi at Rome. Ap- proved by Dr. Fa^on, chief Phyfician to the King of France^ and by the whole Faculty of the Phyficians of Paris. Done from the French Original^ with Figures. Price «; s, A Letter to a Member of Parliament, fliewing that a Reflrainc on thePrefs is abfolutely inconfiftent with the Proteftant Religion, and dangerous to the Liberties of the Nation. The Hiftory of the Works of the Learned. Or an impartial Account of Books lately printed in all parts of Europe. With a particular Relation of the State of Learning in each Country ; for the Month of December jyoo. Done by feveral Hands, Vol. 11. To be continued Monthly. Printed for Andrew Bell ', where is to be had the two Volumes compleat, orfingle ones from the beginning to this time. There is in the Prefs, and will be fhordy publi/h'd, a New Hiftoryof the Turks, in Two Volnmes O^avo: Iliuflrated witfi Cuts. There is now in the Prefs, and will be publift'd next Month, 7k Worlds of Mr. John Flavel in two Volumes, Folios both priDCcd ioiAndren:' Bell ac the CrofsKeys and Bible in Comhill. i •*>. ^: t&*di '■liJi'iMaiS^i. i'