Part 63

"To affirm positively, indeed, that these things are exactly as I have described them, does not become a man of sense; that however either this, or something of the kind, takes place with respect to our souls and their habitations--since our soul is certainly immortal--this appears to me most fitting to be believed, and worthy the hazard for one who trusts in its reality; for the hazard is noble, and it is right to allure ourselves with such things, as with enchantments; for which reason I have prolonged my story to such a length. On account of these things, then, a man ought to be confident about his soul, who during this life has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the body as foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the acquirement of knowledge, and who having adorned his soul not with a foreign but its own proper ornament, temperance, justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth, thus waits for his passage to Hades, as one who is ready to depart whenever destiny shall summon him. You then," he continued, "Simmias and Cebes, and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time; but now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it is nearly time for me to betake myself to the bath; for it appears to me to be better to drink the poison after I have bathed myself, and not to trouble the women with washing my dead body."

When he had thus spoken, Crito said, "So be it, Socrates; but what commands have you to give to these or to me, either respecting your children, or any other matter, in attending to which we can most oblige you?"

"What I always say, Crito," he replied, "nothing new; that by taking care of yourselves you will oblige both me and mine and yourselves, whatever you do, though you should not now promise it; but if you neglect yourselves, and will not live as it were in the footprints of what has been now and formerly said, even though you should promise much at present, and that earnestly, you will do no good at all."

"We will endeavor then so to do," he said; "but how shall we bury you?"

"Just as you please," he said, "if only you can catch me, and I do not escape from you." And at the same time smiling gently, and looking round on us, he said, "I can not persuade Crito, my friends, that I am that Socrates who is now conversing with you, and who methodizes each part of the discourse; but he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly behold dead, and asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time since argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state of the blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though I meant at the same time to console both you and myself. Be ye, then, my sureties to Crito," he said, "in an obligation contrary to that which he made to the judges; for he undertook that I should remain; but do you be sureties that, when I die, I shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may more easily bear it, and when he sees my body either burned or buried, may not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered some dreadful thing, nor say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out, or is buried. For be well assured," he said, "most excellent Crito, that to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the thing itself, but likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You must have a good courage, then, and say that you bury my body, and bury it in such a manner as is pleasing to you, and as you think is most agreeable to our laws."

When he had said this, he rose, and went into a chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for him. We waited, therefore, conversing among ourselves about what had been said, and considering it again, and sometimes speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, sincerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had bathed, and his children were brought to him, for he had two little sons and one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were come, having conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and giving them such injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children to go away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sunset; for he spent a considerable time within. But when he came from bathing he sat down, and did not speak much afterwards. Then the officer of the Eleven came in, and, standing near him, said, "Socrates, I shall not have to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they are angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you have been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek, and excellent man of all that ever came into this place; and, therefore, I am now well convinced that you will not be angry with me, for you know who are to blame, but with them. Now, then, for you know what I came to announce to you, farewell, and endeavor to bear what is inevitable as easily as possible." And at the same time, bursting into tears he turned away and withdrew.

And Socrates, looking after him, said, "And thou, too, farewell; we will do as you direct." At the same time turning to us, he said, "How courteous this man is; during the whole time I have been here he has visited me, and conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of men; and now how generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him, and let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not, let the man pound it."

Then Crito said, "But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that others have drank the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and have supped and drank freely. Do not hasten, then, for there is yet time."

Upon this Socrates replied, "These men whom you mention, Crito, do these things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so doing, and I, too, with good reason shall not do so; for I think I shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except to become ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and sparing of it when none any longer remains. Go, then," he said, "obey, and do not resist."

Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came, bringing with him the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, "Well, my good friend, as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?"

"Nothing else," he replied, "than, when you have drank it, walk about until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down: thus it will do its purpose." And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. And he having received it very cheerfully, neither trembling, nor changing at all in color or countenance, but, as he was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, "What say you of this potion, with respect to making a libation to any one, is it lawful or not?"

"We only pound so much, Socrates," he said, "as we think sufficient to drink."

"I understand you," he said, "but it is certainly both lawful and right to pray to the gods that my departure hence thither may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so may it be." And as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus far, most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from weeping; but when we saw him drinking, and having finished the draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept for myself, for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollodorus even before this had not ceased weeping, and then bursting into an agony of grief, weeping and lamenting, he pierced the heart of every one present, except Socrates himself. But he said, "What are you doing, my admirable friends? I indeed for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up."

When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, laid down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same time he who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short interval examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot hard, he asked if he felt it; he said that he did not. And after this he pressed his thighs; and thus going higher, he showed us that he was growing cold and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that when the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now the parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when, uncovering himself, for he had been covered over, he said, and they were his last words, "Crito, we owe a cock to Æsculapius; pay it, therefore, and do not neglect it."

"It shall be done," said Crito, "but consider whether you have any thing else to say."

To this question he gave no reply, but shortly after he gave a convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed, and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes.

This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, the best of all of his time that we have known, and, moreover, the most wise and just.

DEMOSTHENES.

Demosthenes was born 382 B.C. and died 322 B.C., at the age of sixty. His father died when he was but seven years old and left his son a large estate, which was squandered by his guardians.

Demosthenes, most happily, was forced to depend upon the resources of his own intellect, and determined to devote his life to oratory. He chose Isæus for his master, and though having a weakly constitution, and an impediment in his speech, yet by steady, persevering effort, and daily practice, he brought himself to address without embarrassment, and with complete success, the assembled multitudes of the Athenian people. His first attempts at oratory were made to vindicate his own claims, and recover the property which his guardians had appropriated to themselves. In this he proved entirely successful. After this, he displayed his ability as an orator on several public occasions, and succeeded by the power of his eloquence in preventing the Athenians from engaging in a war with Persia.

[Illustration: KING PHILIP (_of Macedon_).]

But most of the oratorical efforts of Demosthenes were directed to rouse the Athenians from indolence, and to arm them against the insidious designs and ambitious schemes of Philip, who, in the year 358 B.C., began the attack upon the northern maritime allies of Athens.

In modern times, Lord Chatham's speech on American affairs, delivered in the House of Lords, November 18, 1877; Edmund Burke's, on the "Nabob of Arcot's Debts," delivered in the House of Commons, February 28, 1785; Fisher Ames', on the "British Treaty," delivered in our House of Representatives, April 28, 1796; Daniel Webster's, on the "Public Lands," delivered in the United States Senate, 1830, and Charles Sumner's, on the infamous "Fugitive Slave Bill," delivered in the Senate in 1852, will, for effective, brilliant, and logical eloquence, rank side by side with the masterly efforts of Demosthenes.

PHILIP AND THE ATHENIANS.

(_Oration of Demosthenes._)

If any one of you, Athenians, think that Philip is hard to struggle with, considering both the magnitude of the power already to his hand and the fact that all the strong places are lost to our state--he thinks rightly enough. But let him take this into account: that we ourselves, Athenians, once held Pydna, and Potidæa, and Methone, and all that country--as it were in our own home-circle; and many of the states now under his sway were beginning to be self-ruled and free, and preferred to hold friendly relations with us rather than with him. Now, then, if Philip had harbored at that time the idea that it was hard to struggle with the Athenians when they had such strongholds in his country, while he was destitute of allies--he would have effected none of those things which he has accomplished, nor would he have ever acquired so great power. But he at least knew this well enough, Athenians--that all these strongholds are prizes of war open to each contestant, and that naturally the possessions of the absent fall to those who are on the spot, and the opportunities of the careless are seized by those willing to work and to risk. It has been so in his case, for, possessed by such sentiments, he has thoroughly subdued and now holds all places; some, as one might hold them in his grasp by custom of war; others, by having made them allies and friends. No wonder; for all are ready to give their heartfelt adherence to those whom they see prepared and ready to do what necessity demands.

In like manner, if you, also, Athenians, are now ready to adopt the same principle (since, alas! you were not before), and each one of you, throwing away all dissimulation, is ready to show himself useful to the state, as far as its necessity and his power extend; if each is ready to _do_--the rich to contribute, those of serviceable age to take the field; in a word, if you choose to be your own masters, and each individual ceases to do nothing, hoping that his neighbor will do all for him--you will both regain your possessions (with heaven's permission) and recover your opportunities recklessly squandered; you will take vengeance on HIM.

Do not suppose his present happy fortune immutable--immortal, like a god's; on the other hand, some hate him, others fear him, Athenians, and envy him, and that, too, in the number of those who seem on intimate terms with him; for all those passions that rage in other men, we may assume to be hidden in the bosoms of those also that surround him. Now, however, all these passions have crouched before him, having no escape on account of your laziness and indifference, which, I repeat, you ought immediately to abandon. For you see the state of things, Athenians, to what a pitch of arrogance he has come--this man who gives you no choice to act or to remain quiet, but brags about and talks words of overwhelming insolence, as they tell us. He is not such a character as to rest with the possessions which he has conquered, but is always compassing something else, and at every point hedging us, dallying and supine, in narrower and narrower circles. When, then, Athenians, when will you do what you ought? As soon as something happens? As soon, great Jove! as necessity compels you? Why, what does necessity compel you to think now of your deeds? In my opinion, the most urgent necessity to freemen is the disgrace attendant upon their public policy.

Or do you prefer--tell me, do you prefer to wander about here and there, asking in the market-place, "What news? what news?" What can be newer than that a Macedonian should crush Athenians in war and lord it over all Greece? "Is Philip dead?" "No, by Jove, but he's sick." What difference is it to you? what difference? For if anything should happen to him, you would quickly raise up another Philip, if you manage your public affairs as you now do. For not so much to his own strength as to your laziness does he owe his present aggrandizement.

Yet even if anything should happen to him, and fortune begin to favor us (for she has always cared for us more kindly than we for ourselves); you know that by being nearer to them you could assert _your_ power over all these disordered possessions, and could dictate what terms you might choose; but as you now act, if some chance should give you Amphipolis, you could not take it, so lacking are you in your preparations and zeal.

MEASURES TO RESIST PHILIP.

(_Oration of Demosthenes._)

Let any one now come forward and tell me by whose contrivance but ours Philip has grown strong. Well, sir, this looks bad, but things at home are better. What proof can be adduced? The parapets that are whitewashed? The roads that are repaired? fountains and fooleries? Look at the men of whose statesmanship these are the fruits. They have risen from beggary to opulence, or from obscurity to honor; some have made their private houses more splendid than the public buildings, and in proportion as the state has declined, their fortunes have been exalted.

What has produced these results? How is it that all went prosperously then, and now goes wrong? Because anciently the people, having the courage to be soldiers, controlled the statesmen, and disposed of all emoluments; any of the rest was happy to receive from the people his share of honor, office, or advantage. Now, contrariwise, the statesmen dispose of emoluments; through them everything is done; you, the people, enervated, stripped of treasure and allies, are become as underlings and hangers-on, happy if these persons dole you out show-money or send you paltry beeves; and, the unmanliest part of all, you are grateful for receiving your own. They, cooping you in the city, lead you to your pleasures, and make you tame and submissive to their hands. It is impossible, I say, to have a high and noble spirit, while you are engaged in petty and mean employments; whatever be the pursuits of men, their characters must be similar. By Ceres, I should not wonder if I, for mentioning these things, suffered more from your resentment than the men who have brought them to pass. For even liberty of speech you allow not on all subjects; I marvel indeed you have allowed it here.

Would you but even now, renouncing these practices, perform military service and act worthily of yourselves; would you employ these domestic superfluities as a means to gain advantage abroad; perhaps, Athenians, perhaps you might gain some solid and important advantage, and be rid of these perquisites, which are like the diet ordered by physicians for the sick. As that neither imparts strength, nor suffers the patient to die, so your allowances are not enough to be of substantial benefit, nor yet permit you to reject them and turn to something else. Thus do they increase the general apathy. What? I shall be asked, mean you stipendiary service? Yes, and forthwith the same arrangement for all, Athenians, that each, taking his dividend from the public, may be what the state requires. Is peace to be had? You are better at home, under no compulsion to act dishonorably from indigence. Is there such an emergency as the present? Better to be a soldier, as you ought, in your country's cause, maintained by those very allowances. Is any one of you beyond the military age? What he now irregularly takes without doing service, let him take by just regulation, superintending and transacting needful business. Thus, without derogating from or adding to our political system, only removing some irregularity, I bring it into order, establishing a uniform rule for receiving money, for serving in war, for sitting on juries, for doing what each, according to his age, can do, and what occasion requires. I never advise we should give to idlers the wages of the diligent, or sit at leisure, passive and helpless, to hear that such a one's mercenaries are victorious, as we now do. Not that I blame any one who does you a service; I only call upon you, Athenians, to perform upon your own account those duties for which you honor strangers, and not to surrender that post of dignity which, won through many glorious dangers, your ancestors have bequeathed.

I have said nearly all that I think necessary. I trust you will adopt that course which is best for the country and yourselves.

FORMER ATHENIANS DESCRIBED.

(_By Demosthenes._)

I ask you, Athenians, to see how it was in the time of your ancestors; for by domestic (not foreign) examples you may learn your lesson of duty. Themistocles who commanded in the sea-fight at Salamis, and Miltiades who led at Marathon, and many others, who performed services unlike the generals of the present day--assuredly they were not set up in brass nor overvalued by our forefathers, who honored them, but only as persons on a level with themselves. Your forefathers, O my countrymen, surrendered not their part to any of those glories. There is no man who will attribute the victory of Salamis to Themistocles, but to the Athenians; nor the battle of Marathon to Miltiades, but to the republic. But now people say that Timotheus took Corcyra, and Iphicrates cut off the Spartan division, and Chabrias won the naval victory at Naxos; for you seem to resign the merit of these actions, by the extravagance of the honors which you have bestowed on their account upon each of the commanders.