was to die the same day. Presently after they enter- | lation of this great truth, that the soul is immortal; he ed, and found Socrates, whose chains had been taken draws from it useful and necessary conclusions for the off, sitting by Xantippe his wife, who held one of conduct of life, in explaining what the hope of a haphis children in her arms. As soon as she perceived py eternity demands from man, that it be not frustrathem she uttered piercing cries, sobbing, and tearing ted, and that instead of attaining the rewards prepared her face and hair, and made the prison resound with for the good, they do not experience the punishment her complaints. "Oh my dear Socrates, your friends allotted for the wicked. The philosopher here sets are come to see you this day for the last time!" He forth these great truths, which a constant tradition, desired that she might be taken away, and she was though very much obscured by fiction and fable, had immediately carried home. always preserved amongst the Pagans: the last judgment of the righteous and wicked; the eternal punishments to which great criminals are condemned; a place of peace and joy without end for the souls that have retained their purity and innocence, or which during this life have expiated their offences by repentance and satisfaction; and an intermediate state, in which they purify themselves, for a certain time, from less considerable crimes that have not been atoned for during this life.

Socrates passed the rest of the day with his friends, and conversed with them with his usual cheerfulness and tranquillity. The subject of conversation was most important, and well suited to his present condition; that is to say, the immortality of the soul. What gave occasion to this discourse was a question introduced in a manner by chance, Whether a true philosopher ought not to desire and take pains to die? This proposition, taken too literally, implied an opinion that a philosopher might kill himself. Socrates shows that nothing is more unjust than this notion; and that man, appertaining to God, who formed and placed him with his own hand in the post he possesses, cannot abandon it without his permission, nor quit life without his order. What is it then that can induce a philosopher to entertain this love for death? It can be only the hope of that happiness which he expects in another life, and that hope can be founded only upon the opinion of the soul's immortality.

"My friends, there is still one thing, which it is very just to believe; and this is, that if the soul be immortal, it requires to be cultivated with attention, not only for what we call the time of life, but for that which is to follow, I mean eternity; and the least neglect in this point may be attended with endless consequences. If death were the final dissolution of being, the wicked would be great gainers by it, as being delivered at once from their bodies, their souls, and their vices; but as the soul is immortal, it has no other means of being Socrates employed the last day of his life in enter- freed from its evils, nor any safety for itself, but in betaining his friends upon this great and important sub-coming very good and very prudent; for it carries noject, from which conversation Plato's admirable dialogue, entitled Phadon, is wholly taken? He explains to his friends all the arguments for believing the soul immortal, and refutes all the objections against it, which are very near the same as are made at this day. This treatise is too long for me to attempt an abstract

of it.

thing away with it but its good or bad deeds, its virtues or vices, which are commonly the consequence of the education it has received, and the causes of eternal happiness or misery.

"When the dead are arrived at the fatal rendezvous of departed souls, whither their dæmon conducts them, they are all judged." Those who have passed Before he answers any of these objections, he de- their lives in a manner neither entirely criminal nor plores a misfortune common enough amongst men, absolutely innocent, are sent into a place where they who, in consequence of hearing ignorant persons, that suffer pains proportioned to their faults, till being contradict and doubt every thing, dispute, believe purged and cleansed of their guilt, and afterwards rethere is nothing certain. "Is it not a great misfortune, stored to liberty, they receive the reward of the good dear Phædon, that having reasons which are true, cer- actions thay have done in the body. Those who are tain, and very easy to be understood, there should, judged to be incurable on account of the greatness of however, be persons in the world who are not at all their crimes, who deliberately and wilfully have comaffected with them, from their having heard those frivo-mitted sacrileges and murders, and other such great lous disputes wherein all things appear sometimes true offences, the fatal destiny that passes judgment upon and sometimes false. These unjust and unreasonable them hurls them into Tartarus, from whence they nemen, instead of blaming themselves for these doubts, ver depart. But those who are found guilty of crimes, or imputing them to the narrowness of their own ca- great indeed, but worthy of pardon; who have compacities, by ascribing the defect to the reasons them-mitted violences in the transports of rage against their selves, proceed at length to a detestation of them, and father or mother, or have killed some one in a like believe themselves more judicious and better informed emotion, and afterwards repented; these suffer the than all others, because they imagine they are the only same punishment and in the same place with the last, persons who comprehend that there is nothing true or but for a time only, till by their prayers and supplicacertain in the nature of things." tions they have obtained pardon from those they have

"But for those who have passed through life with peculiar sanctity of manners, delivered from their base earthly abodes as from a prison, they are received on high in a pure region which they inhabit; and, as philosophy has sufficiently purified them, they live without their bodies through all eternity in a series of joys and delights which it is not easy to describe, and which the shortness of my time will not permit me to explain more at large.

Socrates demonstrates the injustice of this proceed-injured. ing. He observes, that of two things equally uncertain, wisdom enjoins us to choose that which is most advantageous with least hazard. "If what I advance," says he, "upon the immortality of the soul proves true, it is good to believe it; and if after my death it proves false, I shall still have drawn from it in this life this advantage, of having been less sensible here of the evils which generally attend human life." This reasoning of Socrates (which is real and true in the mouth of a Christian alone) is very remarkable. If what I say is true, I gain every thing, whilst I hazard very little; and if false, I lose nothing; on the contrary, I am still a great gainer.

Socrates does not confine himself to the mere specu

At Athens, as soon as sentence was pronounced upon a criminal, he was unbound, and considered as the victim of death, whom it was no longer lawful to keep in chains. 2 Plat. p. 90, 91.

Monsieur Pascal has expatiated upon this reasoning in his seventh article, and deduced from it a demonstration of infinite force.

"What I have said will suffice, I conceive, to prove that we ought to endeavour strenuously throughout our whole lives to acquire virtue and wisdom; for you see how great a reward and how high a hope are proposed to us. And though the immortality of the soul were dubious, instead of appearing a certainty

6

Plat. p. 107.

6

Dæmon is a Greek word, which signifies spirit, genius,
and, with us, angel.
Plat. P. 113, 114.
The resurrection of the body was unknown to the

Pagans.

as it does, every wise man ought to assure himself that it is well worth his trouble to risk his belief of it in this manner. And, indeed, can there be a more glorious hazard? We ought to enchant ourselves with this blessed hope, for which reason I have lengthened this discourse so much."

Cicero expresses these noble sentiments of Socrates with his usual delicacy. Almost at the very moment,' says he, that he had held the deadly draught in his hand, he talked in such a manner as showed that he looked upon death not as a violence done to him, but as a means bestowed upon him of ascending to heaven. He declared that, upon departing out of this life, two ways are open to us: the one leads to the place of eternal misery such souls as have sullied themselves here below in shameful pleasures and criminal actions; the other conducts those to the happy mansions of the gods who have retained their purity upon earth, and have led in human bodies a life almost divine.

When Socrates had done speaking, Crito desired him to give him and the rest of his friends his last instructions in regard to his children, and his other af fairs, that by executing them they might have the consolation of doing him some pleasure. "I shall recommend nothing to you this day," replied Socrates, 'more than I have always done, which is to take care of yourselves. You cannot do yourselves a greater service, nor do me and my family a greater pleasure." Crito having asked him afterwards in what manner he wished to be buried: "As you please," said Socrates, "if you can lay hold of me, and I do not escape out of your hands." At the same time looking upon his friends with a smile: "I can never persuade Crito," says he, "that Socrates is he who converses with you, and disposes the several parts of his discourse; for he always imagines that I am what he is going to see dead in a little while. He confounds me with my carcass, and therefore asks me how I would be interred." In finishing these words he rose up and went to bathe himself in a chamber adjoining. After he came out of the bath, his children were brought to him, for he had three, two very little, and the other grown up. He spoke to them for some time, gave his orders to the women who took care of them, and then dismissed them. Being returned into his chamber, he laid himself down upon his bed.

his colour or countenance, and regarding the man with a firm and steady look, “Well," said he, "what say you of this drink; may one make a libation out of it?" Upon being told that there was only enough for one dose: "At least," continued he, "we may say our prayers to the gods, as it is our duty, and implore them to make our exit from this world and our last stage happy, which is what I most ardently beg of them." After having spoken these words, he kept silence for some time, and then drank off the whole draught with an amazing tranquillity, and a serenity of aspect not to be expressed.

Till then his friends, with great violence to themselves, had refrained from tears; but after he had drunk the potion, they were no longer their own masters, and wept abundantly. Apollodorus, who had been in tears during almost the whole conversation, began then to utter great cries, and to lament with such excessive grief as pierced the hearts of all that were present. Socrates alone remained unmoved, and even reproved his friends, though with his usual mildness and good nature. "What are you doing?" said he to them; "I am amazed at you. Ah! what has become of your virtue? Was it not for this I sent away the women, that they might not fall into these weaknesses. For I have always heard say that we ought to die peaceably, and blessing the gods. Be at ease, I beg you, and show more constancy and resolution." These words filled them with confusion, and obliged them to restrain their tears.

In the meantime he kept walking to and fro; and when he found his legs grow weary, he lay down upon his back as he had been directed.

The poison then operated more and more. When Socrates found it began to gain upon the heart, uncovering his face, which had been covered without doubt to prevent any thing from disturbing him in his last moments, "Crito," said he, and these were his last words, "we owe a cock to Esculapius; discharge that vow for me, and pray do not forget it." Soon after which he breathed his last. Crito drew near and closed his mouth and eyes. Such was the end of Socrates, in the first year of the 95th Olympiad, and the seventieth of his age. Cicero says he could never read the description of his death in Plato without tears."

Plato and the rest of Socrates's disciples apprehendThe servant of the Eleven entered at the same in- ing the rage of his accusers was not satiated by that stant, and having informed him that the time for drink- victim, retired to Megara to the house of Euclid, ng the hemlock was come (which was at sunset,) the where they stayed till the storm blew over. Euripides, servant was so much affected with sorrow, that he however, to reproach the Athenians with the horrible turned his back and fell a weeping. "See," said So- crime they had committed in condemning the best of crates, "the good disposition of this man! Since my men to die upon such slight grounds, composed his imprisonment he has often come to see me and to con- tragedy called Palamedes, in which, under the name verse with me. He is more worthy than all his fel- of that hero, who was also destroyed by a foul calumlows. How heartily the poor man weeps for me!"ny, he deplored the misfortune of his friend. When This is a remarkable example, and might teach those the actor came to repeat this verse, who hold an office of this kind how they ought to behave to all prisoners, but more especially to persons of merit, if at any time they should happen to fall into their hands. The fatal cup was brought. Socrates asked what it was necessary for him to do. "Nothing more," eplied the servant, than as soon as you have drunk off the draught to walk about till you find your legs grow weary, and afterwards lie down upon your bed." He took the cup without any emotion or change in

1 Cùm penè in manu jam mortiferum illud teneret poculum, locutus ita est, ut non ad mortem trudi, verùm in cœlum videretur ascendere. Ita enim censebat, itaque disseruit duas esse vias duplicesque cursus animorum è corpore excedentium. Nam, qui se humanis vitiis contaminâssent, et se totos libidinibus dedidissent, quibus coarctati velut domesticis vitiis atque flagitiis se inquinâssent, iis devium quoddam iter esse, seclusum à consilio deorum: qui autem se integros castosque servavissent, quibusque fuisset minima cum corporibus contagio, seseque ab his semper sevocassent, essentque in corporibus humanis vitam imitati deorum, his ad illos, à quibus essent profecti, reditum facilem patere. Cic. Tusc. Quæst. 1. 1. n. 71, 73. Pag. 115-118.

You doom the justest of the Greeks to perish;

the whole theatre, remembering Socrates by so marked a characteristic, melted into tears, and a decree passed to prohibit speaking any more of him in public. Some believed Euripides was dead before Socrates, and reject this anecdote.

Be this as it may, the people of Athens did not open their eyes till some time after the death of Socrates. Their hatred being satisfied, their prejudices were dispelled, and time having given them opportu nity for reflection, the notorious injustice of the sentence appeared in all its horrors. Nothing was heard throughout the city but discourses in favour of Socrates. The Academy, the Lyceum, private houses, public walks, and market places, seemed still to reecho the sound of his loved voice. Here, said they, he formed our youth, and taught our children to love their country, and to honour their parents. In this place he gave us his admirable lessons, and sometimes

Quid dicam de Socrati, cujus morti illacrymari soleo Platonem legens? De nat. deor. lib. iii. n. 82.

made us seasonable reproaches, to engage us more warmly in the pursuit of virtue. Alas! how have we rewarded him for such important services? Athens was in universal mourning and consternation. The schools were shut up, and all exercises suspended. The accusers were called to account for the innocent blood they had caused to be shed. Melitus was condemned to die, and the rest banished. Plutarch observes, that all those who had any share in this black calumny, were in such abomination amongst the citizens, that no one would give them fire, answer them any question, nor go into the same bath with them; and had the place cleansed where they had bathed, as being polluted by their touching it; which drove them into such despair, that many of them killed themselves. The Athenians, not contented with having punished his accusers, caused a statue of brass to be erected to him, of the workmanship of the celebrated Lysippus, and placed it in one of the most conspicuous parts of the city. Their respect and gratitude rose even to a religious veneration; they dedicated a chapel to him, as to a hero and a demigod, which they called Ewxparstov, that is to say the chapel of Socrates.

2

SECTION VIII.-REFLECTIONS UPON THE SENTENCE
PASSED ON SOCRATES BY THE ATHENIANS, AND UPON

SOCRATES HIMSELF.

fined their real religion to the public, solemn, and hereditary worship, as they had received it from their ancestors, as it was established by the laws of the state, had been practised from immemorial time, and especially confirmed by the oracles, auguries, offerings, and sacrifices. It is by this standard they regulated their piety; against which they could not suffer the least attempt whatsoever: it was of this worship alone that they were jealous; it was for these ancient ceremonies that they were such ardent zealots; and they believed, though without foundation, that Socrates was an enemy to them. But there was another kind of religion, founded upon fable, poetical fictions, popular opinions, and foreign customs; for this they were little concerned, and abandoned it entirely to the poets, to the representations of the theatre, and common conversation.

What grossness did they not attribute to Juno and Venus? No citizen would have wished that his wife or daughters should resemble those goddesses. Timotheus, the famous musician, having represented Diana upon the stage of Athens, transported with folly, fury, and rage, one of the spectators conceived he could not utter a greater imprecation against him, than to wish his daughter might resemble that divinity. It is better, says Plutarch, to believe there are no gods, than to imagine them of this kind; open and declared impiety being less profane, if we may be allowed to say so, than so gross and absurd a superstition. However it be, the sentence, of which we have re

We must be very much surprised, when on the one side we consider the extreme delicacy of the people of Athens, with respect to what regards the worship of the gods, which ran so high as to occasion their con-lated the circumstances, will, through all ages, cover demning the most eminent persons upon the simple suspicion of their failing in respect for them; and on the other, when we see the exceeding toleration, to call it no worse, with which the same people hear comedies every day, in which all the gods are turned into ridicule in a manner capable of inspiring the highest contempt for them. All Aristophanes' pieces abound with pleasantries, or rather buffooneries, of this kind; and if it is true, that this poet did not know what it was to spare the greatest men of the republic, it may be said also as justly, he spared the gods still less.

Such were the daily entertainments in the theatre, which the people of Athens heard not only without pain, but with such joy, pleasure, and applause, that they rewarded the poet with public honours who diverted them so agreeably. What was there in Socrates that came near this excessive license? Never did any person of the pagan world speak of the Divinity, or of the adoration due to him, in so pure, so noble, and so respectful a manner. He did not declare against the gods publicly received and honoured by a religion more ancient than the city; he only avoided imputing to them the crimes and infamous actions, which the popular credulity ascribed to them, and which were only calculated to depreciate and decry them in the minds of the people. He did not blame the sacrifices, festivals, nor the other ceremonies of religion; he only taught, that all pomp and outward show could not be agreeable to the gods without uprightness of intention and purity of heart.

Athens with infamy and reproach, which all the splendour of its glorious actions, for which it is otherwise so justly renowned, can never obliterate: and it shows at the same time what is to be expected from a people, gentle, humane, and beneficent at bottom, for such the Athenians really were, but volatile, proud, haughty, inconstant, wavering with every wind and every impression. It is therefore with reason that public assemblies have been compared to a tempestuous sea; as that element, like the people, though calm and peaceable of itself, is subject to be frequently agitated by a violence not its own.

As to Socrates, it must be allowed that the pagan world never produced any thing so great and perfect. When we observe to what a height he carries the sublimity of his sentiments, not only in respect to the moral virtues, temperance, sobriety, patience in adversity, the love of poverty, and the forgiveness of wrongs; but, what is far more considerable, in regard to the Divinity, his unity, omnipotence, creation of the world, and providence in the government of it; the immortality of the soul, its ultimate end and eternal destiny; the rewards of the good and the punishment of the wicked: when we consider this train of sublime knowledge, we ask ourselves whether it is a pagan who thinks and speaks in this manner; and are scarce persuaded that from so dark and obscure a stock as paganism, should shine forth such brilliant and glorious rays of light.

It is true, his reputation has not been unimpeached, and it has been affirmed that the purity of his manThis wise, this illumined, this religious man, how-ners did not correspond with that of his sentiments. ever, with all his veneration and noble sentiments in regard to the Divinity, is condemned as an impious person by the suffrages of almost a whole people, without his accusers being able to instance one single avowed fact, or to produce any evidence that has the least appearance of probability.

From whence could so evident, so universal, and so determinate a contradiction arise amongst the Athenians! A people, abounding in other respects with wit, taste, and knowledge, must without doubt have had their reasons, at least in appearance, for a conduct so different, and sentiments so opposite, to their general character. May we not say, that the Athenians considered their gods in a double light? They con

This question has been discussed by the learned, but my plan will not admit me to treat it in its full extent. The reader may see Abbé Fraguier's dissertation in defence of Socrates, against the reproaches made him upon account of his conduct. The negative argument he makes use of in his justification seems a very strong one. He observes, that neither Aristophanes in his comedy of The Clouds, which is entirely directed against Socrates, nor his vile accusers in his trial, have advanced one word that tends to impeach the purity of his manners; and it is not probable that such violent enemies as those would have neglected one of the most likely methods to discredit him in the opinion

|

THE

ANCIENT HISTORY

OF THE

PERSIANS AND GRECIANS.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE GREEKS.

BOOK X.

THE most essential part of history, and that which it concerns the reader most to know, is that which explains the character and manners as well of the people in general, as of the great persons in particular, of whom it treats; and this may be said to be in some sort the soul of history, while the facts are only the body. I have endeavoured, as occasion offered, to paint in their true colours the most illustrious personages of Greece; it remains for me to show the genius and character of the people themselves. I shall confine myself to those of Lacedæmon and Athens, who always held the first rank amongst the Greeks, and shall reduce what I have to say upon this subject to three heads; their political government, war, and religion.

Sigonius, Meursius, Potter, and several others, who have written upon Grecian antiquities, supply me with great lights, and are of much use to me in the subject which it remains for me to treat.

CHAPTER I.

OF POLITICAL GOVERNMENT.

lex esto. He adds, that the greatest and most noble function in the world, is to be the author of the happiness of a nation.

Plato in a hundred places esteems as nothing the most shining qualities and actions of those who govern, if they do not tend to promote the two great ends I have mentioned, the virtue and happiness of the people; and he refutes at large, in the first book of his Republic, one Thrasymachus, who advanced, that subjects were born for the prince, and not the prince for his subjects; and that whatever promoted the interests of the prince or commonwealth, ought to be deemed just and lawful.

In the distinctions which have been made upon the several forms of government, it has been agreed, that that would be the most perfect which should unite in itself, by a happy mixture of institutions, all the advantages, and exclude all the inconveniences of the rest; and almost all the ancients have believed, that the Lacedæmonian government came nearest to this idea of perfection*.

ARTICLE I.

OF THE GOVERNMENT OF SPARTA.

FROM the time that the Heraclidæ had re-entered Peloponnesus, Sparta was governed by two kings, who were always of the same two families, descended from Hercules by two different branches; as I have observed elsewhere. Whether from pride and the abuse of despotic power on the side of the kings, or the desire of independence and an immoderate love of liberty on that of the people, Sparta, in its beginnings, was always involved in commotions and revolts; which would infallibly have occasioned its ruin, as had happened at Argos and Messene, two neighbouring cities equally powerful with itself, if the wise foresight of Lycurgus had not prevented the fatal consequences by the reformation which he made in the state. I have related it at large in the life of that legislator, and shall only touch here upon what regards the government.

THERE are three principal forms of government:Monarchy, in which a single person reigns; Aristocracy, in which the elders and wisest governs; and Democracy, under which the supreme authority is lodged in the hands of the people. The most celebrated writers of antiquity, as Plato, Aristotle, Polybius, and Plutarch, give the preference to the first kind, as including the most advantages with the fewest inconveniences. But all agree-and it cannot be too often inculcated-that the end of all government, and the duty of every one invested with it, be the form what it may, is to use his utmost endeavours to render those under his command happy and just, by obtaining for them on the one side safety and tranquillity, with the advantages and conveniences of life; and on the other, all the means and helps that may contribute to making them virtuous. As the pilot's aim, says Cicero, is to steer his vessel happily into port, the physician's to preserve or restore health, the general's of an army to obtain victory; so a prince, and every man who governs others, ought to make the LYCURGUS restored order and peace in Sparta by the utility of the governed his ultimate aim; and to re-establishment of the senate. It consisted of twentymember, that the supreme law of every just govern-eight senators, and the two kings presided in it. This ment is the good of the public, Salus populi suprema

1 Tenes-ne igitur, moderatorem illum reip. quò referre velimus omnia?-Ut gubernatori cursus secundus, medico salus, imperatori victoria, sic huic moderatori reip. beata civium vita proposita est, ut opibus firma, copiis locuples, gloriâ ampla, virtute honesta sit. Hujus enim operis maxi mi inter homines atque optimi illum esse perfectorem volo. Ad Attic. 1. viii. Epist. 10.

SECTION I.-abridged idea of THE SPARTAN GO

VERNMENT. ENTIRE SUBMISSION TO THE LAWS WAS
IN A MANNER THE SOUL OF IT.

august assembly, formed out of the wisest and most experienced men in the nation, served as a counterpoise to the two other authorities, that of the kings, and that of the people; and whenever the one attempted to overbear the other, the senate interposed, by joining the weakest, and thereby held the balance