"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 their lives in a manner neither entirely criminal nor absolute"ly innocent, are sent into a place where they suffer pains proportioned to “their faults, till being purged and cleansed of their guilt, and afterwards "restored to liberty, they receive the reward of the good actions they "have done in the body. Those who are judged to be incurable upon "account of the greatness of their crimes, who deliberately have commit"ted sacrileges and murders, and other such great offences, the fatal des"tiny that passes judgment upon them, hurls them into Tartarus, from "whence they never depart. But those who are found guilty of crimes, "great indeed, but worthy of pardon; who have committed violences in "the transports of rage against their father or mother, or have killed some one in a like emotion, and afterwards repented, these suffer the same "punishment, and in the same place with the last; but for a time only, "till by their prayers and supplications they have obtained pardon from "those they have injured.

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"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 it is not easy to des"cribe, and which the shortness of my time will not permit me to ex"plain more at large.

"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 is pro"posed to us. And though the immortality of the soul were dubious, "instead of appearing a certainty 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 that he 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

*Plat. p. 113, 114.

+ Dæmon is a Greek word, which signifies spirit, genius, and with us, angel. The resurrection of the body was unknown to the pagans.

Cum pene in manu jam mortiferum illud teneret poculum, locutus ita est, ut non ad mortem tradi, verum in cœlum videretur ascendere. Ita enim censebat, itaque disseruít; duas esse vias duplicesque cursus animorum e corpore excedentium. Nam, qui se humanis vitiis contaminassent, et se totos libidinibus nedidissent, quibus coarctati velut domesticis vitiis atque flagitiis se inquinassent, iis devium quoddam iter esse, seclusum a 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, a quibus essent profecti, reditum facilem patera. Cie. Tusc. Quæst. 1. i. n. 71, 72.

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 other affairs, 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 thought fit to be buried: "As you please," said Socrates, "if you can lay hold of me, and I not escape out of your hands." At the same time looking upon his friends with a smile: "I can never per"suade Crito, 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 carcase, 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 woman who took care of them, and then dismissed them. Being returned into his chamber, he laid him down upon his bed.

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The servant of the eleven entered at the same instant, and having informed him, that the time for drinking the hemlock was come, which was at sun-set, the servant was so much affected with sorrow, that he turned his back, and fell a weeping." See," said Socrates, "the good heart of "this man! Since my imprisonment he has often come to see me, and to 66 converse with me. He is more worthy than all his fellows. How heart"ily the poor man weeps for me!" This is a remarkable example, and might teach those in an office of this kind how they ought to behave to all prisoners, but more especially to persons of merit, when they are so unhappy as to fall into their hands. The fatal cup was brought. Socrates asked what it was necessary for him to do. Nothing more," replied 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 his colour or countenance, and regarding the man with a steady and assured look, Well," said he, "what say you of this drink; may one make a libation out of it?" Upon being told there was only enough for one dose: "At 66 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 spoke these words, he kept silence for some time, and drank off the whole draught with amazing tranquility, and a serenity of aspect not to be expressed or conceived.

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Till then his friends, with great violence to themselves, had refrained from tears; but after he had drank 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 raise great cries, and to lament with such excessive grief, as pierced the hearts of all who were present. Socrates alone remained unmoved, and even reproved his friends, though with his usual mildness and good nature. "What are you doing?"

*Plat. p. 115-118.

said he to them, "I admire at you. Ah! what has become of your vir"tue? 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 mean time he kept walking to and fro, and when he found his legs grow weary, he laid down upon his bed, as he had been directed. The poison then operated more and more. When Socrates found it be gan 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, which 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 went to his body, and closed his mouth and eyes. Such was the end of Socrates; in the first year of the 95th Olympiad, and the 70th of his age. Cicero * says, he could never read the description of his death in Plato without tears.

Plato, and the rest of Socrates' disciples, apprehending the rage of his accusers was not satiated by that victim, retired to Megara, to the house of Euclid; where they staid till the storm blew over. Euripides, however, to reproach the Athenians with the horrible crime they had committed, in condemning the best of men to die upon such slight grounds, composed his tragedy called Palamedes, in which, under the name of that hero, who was also destroyed by a black calumniation, he deplored the misfortune of his friend. When the actor came to repeat this verse,

"You doom the justest of the Greeks to perish,"

the whole theatre, remembering Socrates in so distinct an image of him, melted into tears, and a decree passed to prohibit speaking any more of of him in public. Some believe Euripides was dead before Socrates, and reject this circumstance.

However it were, the people of Athens did not open their eyes till some time after the death of Socrates. Their hatred being satisfied, their prejudices expired, and time having given them an opportunity for reflection, the notorious injustice of the sentence appeared in all its horrors. Nothing was beard throughout the city but discourses in favour of Socrates. The academy, the Lyceum, private houses, public walks, and market-places, seemed still to re-echo 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 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 among 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, lest they should be polluted by

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

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 demi-god, which they called Σωκρατειον, that is to say, "the chapel of Socrates."

SECTION VIII.

REFLECTIONS UPON SOCRATES, AND THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON HIM BY THE ATHENIANS.

WE must be very much surprised, when on the one side we consider the extreme delicacy of the people of Athens, as to what regards the worship of the gods, which ran so high as to occasion their condemning 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 was still less favourable to the gods.

Such were the daily entertainments in the theatre, which the people of Athens not only heard 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 licence? 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 proper to depreciate and decry them in the sense of the people. He did not blame the sacrifices, festi vals, nor the other ceremonies of religion; he only taught, that all that pomp and outward show could not be agreeable to the gods without uprightness of intention and purity of heart.

This wise, this illumined, this religious man, however, with all his veneration and noble sentiments in regard to the Divinity, is condemned as an impious person by the suffrages of almost an whole people, without his accusers being able to instance one single avowed fact, or to produce any proof with the least appearance of probability.

From whence could so evident, so universal, and so determinate a contradiction arise among the Athenians? A people, abounding in other res pects 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 confined 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

* Dieg p. 116.

been practised from immemorial time, and especially confirmed by the oracles, augurs, offerings, and sacrifices. It is by this standard they regula ted their piety; against which they could not suffer the least attempt whatsoever: it was of this worship alone they were jealous; it was for these ancient ceremonies 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 been satisfied that his wife or daughters should have resembled these 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 make a greater imprecation against him, than to wish his daughter might become the likeness of 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 related the circumstances, will, through all ages, cover Athens with infamy and reproach, that 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 warm, proud, haughty, inconstant, wavering with every wind, and every impression. It is therefore with reason, that their 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 an height he carries the sublimity of his sentiments, not only in respect to moral virtue, 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 our reason whether it is a pagan who thinks and speaks in this manner, and can scarce persuade ourselves, that from so dark and obscure a fund as paganism, should shine forth such living and glorious rays of light.

It is true, his reputation was not without alloy, and it has been affirmed, that the purity of his manners did not answer those of his sentiments. †This question has been discussed among the learned, but my plan will not permit me to treat it in its extent. The reader may see Abbe Fraguier's dissertation in defence of Socrates against the reproaches made him on 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 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 propable, that such violent

*Plat. de superstit. p. 170.

Memoires de l' Academie des Inscrip. tom. iv. p. 372.