Works, vol 3 | Page 2

he had developed and hardened his body by exercise and toil,
and, in short, had been at the pains to make himself every man's equal
at every point. He was consistent enough, when he found that he could
no longer suffice to himself, to depart voluntarily from life, leaving a
great reputation behind him among the true nobility of Greece.
Instead of confining himself to a single philosophic school, he laid
them all under contribution, without showing clearly which of them he
preferred; but perhaps he was nearest akin to Socrates; for, though he
had leanings as regards externals and plain living to Diogenes, he never
studied effect or lived for the applause and admiration of the multitude;
his ways were like other people's; he mounted no high horse; he was
just a man and a citizen. He indulged in no Socratic irony; but his
discourse was full of Attic grace; those who heard it went away neither
disgusted by servility nor repelled by ill-tempered censure, but on the
contrary lifted out of themselves by charity, and encouraged to more
orderly, contented, hopeful lives.
He was never known to shout or be over vehement or angry, even when
he had to correct; he touched offences, but pardoned offenders, saying
that the doctors' was the right model, who treat sickness but are not
angry with the sick. It is human, he thought, to err, but divine (whether
in God or man) to put the error right.
A life of this sort left him without wants of his own; but he was always
ready to render any proper service to his friends--including reminders
to those among them who passed for fortunate, how brief was their
tenure of what they so prided themselves upon. To all, on the other
hand, who repined at poverty, resented exile, or complained of old age

or bad health, he administered laughing consolation, and bade them not
forget how soon their troubles would be over, the distinction between
good and bad be obsolete, and long freedom succeed to short-lived
distress.
He was fond of playing peace-maker between brothers at variance, or
presiding over the restoration of marital harmony. He could say a word
in season, too, before an agitated political assembly, which would turn
the scale in favour of patriotic duty. Such was the temper that
philosophy produced in him, kindly, mild, and cheerful.
Nothing ever grieved him except the illness or death of a friend,
friendship being the one among blessings that he put highest; and
indeed he was every man's friend, counting among his kindred
whatever had human shape. Not that there were no degrees in the
pleasure different people's society gave him; but he avoided none,
except those who seemed so far astray that they could get no good from
him. And every word or act in which these principles took shape might
have been dictated by the Graces and Aphrodite; for 'on his lips
Persuasion sat,' as the play has it.
Accordingly he was regarded with reverence at Athens, both by the
collective assembly and by the officials; he always continued to be a
person of great consequence in their eyes. And this though most of
them had been at first offended with him, and hated him as heartily as
their ancestors had Socrates. Besides his candour and independence,
there had been found Anytuses and Meletuses to repeat the historic
charges: _he had never been known to sacrifice, and he made himself
singular by avoiding initiation at Eleusis_. On this occasion he showed
his courage by appearing in a garland and festal attire, and then
pleading his cause before the people with a dash of unwonted asperity
infused into his ordinary moderate tone. On the count of never having
sacrificed to Athene, 'Men of Athens,' he said, 'there is nothing
wonderful in this; it was only that I gave the Goddess credit for being
able to do very well without sacrifices from me.' And in the matter of
the Mysteries, his reason for not following the usual practice was this:
if the Mysteries turned out to be bad, he would never be able to keep
quiet about it to the uninitiated, but must dissuade them from the
ceremony; while, if they were good, humanity would tempt him to
divulge them. The Athenians, stone in hand already, were at once

disarmed, and from that time onwards paid him honour and respect,
which ultimately rose to reverence. Yet he had opened his case with a
bitter enough reproof: 'Men of Athens, you see me ready garlanded;
proceed to sacrifice me, then; your former offering [Footnote: i.e.,
Socrates.] was deficient in this formality.'
I will now give some specimens of his pointed and witty sayings,
which may begin with his answers to Favorinus. The latter had heard
that he