dreams. Another mode which Socrates seemed to himself to enjoy, His of intercommunion with the invisible world, was by dreamsin this respect also, as even the cursory insight of the Gentiles remarked, resembling some of the intuitions of the leaders' of Israel and of the surrounding tribes. '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.' In his last hours he endeavoured literally to comply with this injunction by trying even at that solemn moment to versify the fables of Æsop. But the most important preternatural influence-more The Oracle important even than the restraining voice of his familiar of Delphi. spirit was that which acted upon him, in common with the rest of his countrymen, and to which, owing to the singular detachment of even the most sacred localities of Palestine from Prophetic influences, the Jewish history furnishes no parallel -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 utterances which issued from beneath those venerable 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 which was felt with regard to individual characters. Even so late as the time of Cicero this belief continued. We are told that 'Strabo, xvi. 710. See Lecture V. and the vision in Jǝb iv. 13; Compare Solomon, 1 Kings iii. 5, 10 (Lecture XXVI.); Nebuchadnezzar, Dan. ii. His Call. when the Roman orator, as a young man, went to Rhodes to complete his education, and consulted the oracle concerning his future career, 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 enquire whether anyone was wiser than the son of Sophroniscus. The priestess replied, and Cherephon brought back the reply, that Socrates was the wisest of men. It was this oracle which was the turningpoint 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. There was an anguish of distressing perplexity, like that which is described at the like crisis in the call of some of the greatest of the Jewish Prophets -Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. 1 The Athenian craftsman 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 its own peculiar vein, is without parallel among con"temporaries or successors,'' although indirectly furnishing and receiving instructive illustrations along the whole path 6 1 Isa. vi. 3-8; Jer. i. 6-9; Ezek. ii. 9, iii. 3. See Lectures XXXVII. 451, XL. 524, 567. 2 Grote, viii. 561. way of the Jewish history, which, from its deeper seriousness, supplies resemblances that in Grecian history would be sought in vain. He was in middle age when this call came upon him, and at once 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 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 for sale: 'his whole day was usually spent in this public manner. He 'talked with anyone, young or old, rich or poor, who sought to address him, and in the hearing of all who chose to 6 6 'stand by: not only he never either asked or received any reward, but he made no distinction of persons, never withheld his conversation from anyone, and talked upon the 'same general topics to all.'1 6 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 1 Grote, viii. 554. '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.' Plato's retreat in the consecrated grove of Academus, Epicurus in his private Garden, the painted Portico or cloister of Zeno, the Peripatetics of Aristotle in the shaded walks round the Lycean sanctuary of His teach- Apollo, all indicate the prevailing practice. The philosophy of ing. Socrates alone was in every sense the philosophy of the marketplace. 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, 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, as already indicated, of his outward appearance. 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 bare 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 objects—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 singular powers or of his peculiar objects. 1 Plato, Phædrus, c. 9. The exact spot described in this dialogue can still be verified. An unusual diction or even an unusual dress secures attention for a teacher, so soon as he has once secured a hearing. Such was the natural effect of the hair-cloth wrappings, or at times the nudity, of the Jewish Prophets.' When Socrates appeared it was (so his disciples described it) as if one of the marble satyrs which sat in grotesque attitudes with pipe or flute in the sculptors' shops at Athens had left his seat of stone, and walked into the plane-tree avenue or the gymnastic colonnade. Gradually the crowd gathered round him. At first he spoke of the tanners, and the smiths, and the drovers, who were plying their trades about him; and they shouted with laughter as he poured forth his homely jokes. But soon the magic charm of his voice made itself felt. The peculiar sweetness of its tone had an effect which even the thunder of Pericles failed to produce. The laughter ceased -the crowd thickened-the gay youth whom nothing else could tame stood transfixed and awestruck in his presence; there was a solemn thrill in his words, such as his hearers could compare to nothing but the mysterious sensation produced by the clash of drum and cymbal in the worship of the great Mother of the Gods-the head swam, the heart leaped at the sound-tears rushed from their eyes; and they felt that, unless they tore themselves away from that fascinated circle, they should sit down at his feet and grow old in listening to the marvellous music of this second. Marsyas. But the excitement occasioned by his appearance was increased tenfold by the purpose which he had set before him when, to use the expressive comparison of his pupils, he cast away his rough satyr's skin and disclosed the divine image which that rude exterior had covered. The object to which he thus devoted himself with the zeal not simply of a phi'losopher, but of a religious missionary doing the work of a 1 See Lectures XIX. XXX. XXXVII. 2 Plato, Symp. c. 39. |