knowledge whatever of these few passages-few and far between -in which he crossed the path of the statesman or the soldier. It is not often that the personal appearance of a great man has been so faithfully preserved. In the famous picture of the School of Athens we look round on the faces of the other philosophers, and detect them only by their likeness to some ideal model which the painter has imagined to himself. But the Socrates of Raphael is the true historical Socrates of Xenophon and Aristophanes. Could we transport ourselves back to the Athenian market-place during the Peloponnesian war, we should at once recognise one familiar figure, standing with uplifted finger and animated gesture, amidst the groupe of handsome youths, or aged sophists, eager to hear, to learn, and to refute. We should see the Silenus features of that memorable countenance—the flat nose, the thick lips, the prominent eyes-the mark of a thousand jests from friends and foes. We should laugh at the protuberance of the Falstaff stomach, which no necessary hardships, no voluntary exercise, could bring down. We should perceive the strongbuilt frame, the full development of health and strength, which never sickened in the winter campaign of Potidæa, nor yet in the long plague and stifling heats of the blockade of Athens; which could enter alike into the jovial revelry of the religious festivities of Xenophon and Plato, or sustain the austerities, the scanty clothing, the bare feet, and the coarse fare of his ordinary life. The strong common sense, the humour, the courage of the man, were conspicuous on his very first appearance. And every one knows the story of the physiognomist who detected in his features the traces of that fiery temper which for the most part he kept under severe control, but which, when it did break loose, is described by those who witnessed it as absolutely terrible, overleaping both in act and language every barrier of the ordinary decorum of Grecian manners. *

But we must go back into his inner life, and into his earlier youth, before we can apprehend the feelings with which the Athenians must have regarded this strange apparition among them. He was still young, perhaps still in his father's workshop, labouring at his group of Graces, and seeking inspirations from the ancient founder of his house, the hero-artist Daedalus, when the first intimation of his mission dawned upon him. Without presuming fully to explain what is at best but imperfectly known to us, it is evident that Socrates partook largely of that enthusiastic temperament which is so often the basis of a great character, but which is rarely united with a mind so remarkable for its healthy * See Fragments of Aristoxenus, 27, 28, as quoted by Mr. Grote, vol. viii. p. 548.

and

and vigorous tone in all other respects. One striking indication of this eccentric state he shared in common with two men, in their respective spheres hardly less eminent than himself. We are reminded by a recent biographer of Archimedes how that wonderful mechanician ' resembled Newton and Socrates in his habit of complete abstraction from outward things, when reflecting on subjects which made considerable demands on his mental powers.' At such times Archimedes would forget to eat his meals and require compulsion to take him to the bath.' In such a moment of abstraction it was that he rushed out of the bath into the streets of Syracuse, exclaiming, Eureka! Eureka!* In such another moment he fell a victim to the sword of the Roman soldier, too intent on his problem to return the answer which would have saved his life. In such a mood it was that our own great astronomer sat half-dressed on his bed for many hours in the day while composing the Principia. And so we are told of Socrates, that he would suddenly fall into a reverie, and then remain motionless and regardless of all attempts to interrupt or call him away. On one such occasion, when in the camp at Potidæa, he was observed to stand thus transfixed at the early dawn of a long summer day. One after another the soldiers gathered round him, but he continued in the same posture, undisturbed by their astonishment, or by the noonday heat which had begun to beat upon his head. Evening drew on, and still he was to be seen in the same position, and the inquisitive Ionians in the camp took their evening meal by his side, and drew out their pallets from their tents to watch him. And the cold dews of the Thracian night came on, and still he remained unmoved, till at last the sun rose above Mount Athos, and still found him on the same spot where he had been since the previous morning. Then at last he started from his trance, offered his morning prayer to the Sun-god, and retired.†

Abstraction from the outer world so profound as this would of itself prepare us for the extraordinary disclosures which he has himself left of that divine sign,' which by later writers was called his dæmon,' but which he himself (as is well remarked by Mr. Grote) calls by the simpler name of his prophetic or supernatural voice.' It is impossible not to be reminded by it of those 'voices' (the very same expression was used) by which the Maid of Orleans described herself to be actuated in her great task of delivering France from the English yoke. As in her case, so in

*Life of Archimedes, by Professor Donkin, in that very valuable work, Smith's Classical Biographical Dictionary.

† Plato, Symp. pp. 175 в, 220 c.

See Quarterly Review, vol, lxix., pp. 285, 322, 324.

his, this mysterious monitor began to address him when he was a child, long before the consciousness of his powers or the conception of his mission had been realized in his mind, and continued down to the very close of his life; so that even his conduct on his trial was distinctly based upon its intimations:—

'He was accustomed not only to obey it implicitly, but to speak of it publicly and familiarly to others, so that the fact was well known both to his friends and to his enemies. It had always forbidden him to enter on public life: it forbade him, when the indictment was hanging over him, to take any thought for a prepared defence: and so completely did he march with a consciousness of this bridle in his mouth, that when he felt no check, he assumed that the turning which he was about to take was the right one. Though his persuasion on the subject was unquestionably sincere, and his obedience constant-yet he never dwelt upon it himself as anything grand, or awful, or entitling him to peculiar deference; but spoke of it often in his usual strain of familiar playfulness. To his friends generally, it seems to have constituted one of his titles to reverence, though neither Plato nor Xenophon scruple to talk of it in that jesting way which doubtless they caught from himself.'-Ibid. 559.

Another mode which Socrates seemed to himself to enjoy, of intercommunion with the invisible world, was by dreams. Often and often' (so he related one such instance in his last hours), have I been haunted by a vision in the course of my past life; now coming in one form, now in another, but always with the same words-Socrates! let music be thy work and labour.' How he endeavoured literally to comply with this injunction by endeavouring even at that solemn moment to versify the fables of Æsop, is known to every reader of the Phædo.

But the most important preternatural influence-more important even than the restraining voice of his familiar spirit-was that which acted upon him, in common with the rest of his countrymen, the oracle of Delphi. Who that has ever seen or read of that sacred spot-the twin cliffs overhanging the sloping terraces which descend to the deep ravine of the Plistusterraces now bare and untenanted, but then crowned by temples, rising tier above tier with a magnificence the more striking from the wild scenery around-can fail to enter in some degree into the reverence paid to the mysterious voice which issued from beneath those ancient rocks? It was a remarkable proof of the sincere belief which the Greek world reposed in the oracle, that it was consulted not only for state purposes, but to solve the perplexity or curiosity which was felt with regard to individual characters. Even so late as the time of Cicero this belief continued. We are told that when the Roman orator, as a young man, went

to

to Rhodes to complete his education, and consulted the oracle about his life, the Pythia advised him to live for himself, and not to value the opinion of others as his guide. If this be an invention,' says Niebuhr, in relating the incident with his usual liveliness, it was certainly made by one who saw very deep, and perceived the real cause of all Cicero's sufferings. If the Pythia did give such an answer, then this is one of the oracles which might tempt one to believe in an actual inspiration of the priestess.' This is one instance, and assuredly another is the answer made to the faithful disciple who went to inquire whether any one was wiser than the son of Sophroniscus. The priestess replied, and Chærephon brought back the reply, that Socrates was the wisest It was this oracle-according to Mr. Grote, who has brought out its bearing on his character in striking relief-which was the turning-point of the life of Socrates.

It would be curious, had we the materials, to delineate the struggles of that hour, to trace the homely common sense of the young statuary, confounded by the words of the response, contrary to all that he knew of his own wisdom, as he then counted wisdom, yet backed by what he believed to be an infallible authority, and pressed upon him, doubtless, by all the enthusiasm of his ardent friend. He resolved to put the oracle to the test by examining into the wisdom of others; and from this seemingly trivial incident began that extraordinary life, which, in the words of Mr. Grote, is 'without parallel among contemporaries or successors.'

He was in middle age when this call came upon him, and at once, and with a devotion of which the Pagan world can give no other example, he arose and followed it. From that time for thirty years he applied himself to the self-imposed task of teacher, excluding all other business, public or private, and neglecting all means of fortune.' For thirty years-for those thirty years which extend through the whole period of the Peloponnesian war—in the crowded streets and squares, when all Attica was congregated within the walls of Athens to escape the Spartan invasions-during the horrors of the plague-amidst the excitements of the various vicissitudes of Pylus, of Syracuse, of the revolution of the Four Hundred, of Ægospotami, of the tyranny of the Thirty, of the restoration of the democracy, Socrates was ever at his post, by his presence, by his voice, by his example, restraining, attracting, repelling every class of his excitable countrymen :

Early in the morning he frequented the public walks, the gymnasia for bodily training, and the schools where youths were receiving instruction: he was to be seen in the market-place at the hour when it was most crowded, among the booths and tables, where goods were exposed

VOL. LXXXVIII. NO. CLXXV.

E

exposed for sale: his whole day was usually spent in this public manner. He talked with any one, young or old, rich or poor, who sought to address him, and in the hearing of all who chose to stand by: not only he never either asked or received any reward, but he made no distinction of persons, never withheld his conversation from any one, and talked upon the same general topics to all.'-Ibid. p. 554.

Under any circumstances such an apparition would have struck astonishment into a Grecian city. All other teachers both before and afterwards either took money for their lessons, or at least gave them apart from the multitude in a private house to special pupils, with admissions or rejections at their own pleasure.' The Academus-grove of Plato, the Garden of Epicurus, the Porch or cloister of Zeno, the Lyceum or sanctuary with the Peripatetic shades of Aristotle, all indicate the prevailing practice. The philosophy of Socrates alone was in every sense the philosophy of the market-place. Very rarely he might be found under the shade of the plane-tree* or the caverned rocks of the Ilissus, enjoying the grassy slope of its banks and the little pools of water that collect in the corners of its torrent bed, and the white and purple flowers of its agnus castus shrubs. But ordinarily, whether in the city, in the dusty road between the Long Walls, or in the busy mart of Piræus, his place was amongst men, and with men, in every vocation of life, living not for himself, but for them, rejecting all pay, contented in poverty. Whatever could be added to the singularity of this spectacle was added by the singularity of his outward appearance. What that appearance was has been already indicated. Amidst the gay life, the beautiful forms, the brilliant colours of an Athenian multitude and an Athenian street, the repulsive features, the unwieldy figure, the naked feet, the rough, threadbare attire of the philosopher must have excited every sentiment of astonishment and ridicule which strong contrast can produce. And if to this we add the occasional trance, the eye fixed on vacancy, the total abstraction from outward things or again, the momentary outbursts of violent temper-or lastly (what we are told at times actually took place) the sudden irruptions of his wife Xanthippe to carry off her eccentric husband to his forsaken home-we shall not wonder at the universal celebrity which he acquired, even irrespectively of his great powers or of his peculiar objects. Every one knows the attention which an unusual diction or even an unusual dress secures for a teacher so soon as he has once secured a hearing. A Quaker at court, or a Latter-day Prophet speaking in the language of Mr. Carlyle, has, other things considered, a better chance of being listened to than

* Plato, Phædrus, c. 9. The exact spot described in this dialogue may still be verified.

a man