134 Original. BY GEORGE WATERMAN, JR. SOCRATES. sufficient excellence to enjoy a place in the citadel at Athens. Upon the death of his father he was left with a small inheritance, worth about eighty minæ, ($1,400.) Of this small amount he was soon deprived by the dishonesty of a relation whom his father had appointed to TRUE greatness is not the exclusive possession of manage the son's affairs after his own death. Thus any one age or nation. It is often found under cir- left entirely to his own resources he was compelled to cumstances and in situations where we least of all ||labor in Athens for his support. But his mind was not expect to find it. And it frequently attains to the to be confined within the narrow limits of an artist's highest point of human perfection where it has been studio. He had within him a soul which was panting compelled to struggle amid the greatest obstacles. In- for knowledge, and whose longings seemed to increase deed, it is probable that the adverse circumstances with with every difficulty which was thrown in his way. which it has often been compelled to contend have ex-This burning desire for knowledge led him to devote erted the greatest influence in developing those ele-every leisure moment he could command to the study ments which constitute its essential character. If we of philosophy, a term which, as then used, comprereview the history of the truly great men of any one hended almost the whole cycle of human learning. age or people, we shall generally find a very large ma- His diligence and perseverance in thus employing those jority of them have been compelled to struggle with moments which others spent in ignoble pleasure or the greatest difficulties in achieving that which has ren- idleness arrested the attention of a wealthy citizen by dered them immortal. And, generally, those very diffi- the name of Crito. Becoming acquainted with him, culties have made those who contended with them and admiring his ingenious disposition and distinguished what they are. The genius and true greatness of a abilities, he took the young artist under his patronage, Franklin might have slept in eternal night had he been and intrusted him with the education of his children. born an heir to wealth and titled dignity. The same The opportunities which, by this means, Socrates enremark might be made of a very large majority of the joyed of attending the public lectures of the most emibright stars which compose the constellation of Amer-nent philosophers of that day so far increased his thirst ican greatness. And the same is true-although, per-after wisdom that he determined to relinquish his occuhaps, not to the same extent-when we take into con-pation and every prospect of emolument which that sideration the whole field of human excellence. So might afford, in order to devote himself entirely to his true is it that the school of adversity has furnished to favorite pursuit. He attached himself to the most emthe world her brightest ornaments and her noblest sons.inent instructors of the day in the different departments A remarkable illustration of this is found in the history of one of the brightest ornaments of the Grecian constellation-SOCRATES. Born of poor, and, in the world's estimation, of ignoble parentage, compelled to find a subsistence by the labor of his own hands, and doomed to struggle all the way through life with adverse influences, he, by his own efforts, became one of the most distinguished men of his age, and, in truth, of all time. To him is the world indebted for some of the soundest precepts in morality which ever emanated from uninspired lips. And from him-a heathen phi-the midst of danger. losopher-did the distinguished Dr. Paley derive the At the age of sixty he was, for the first time, called outlines and all the essential characteristics of his im- to serve the state in a civil capacity, having been electmortal work on Natural Theology. A mere sketch of ed to the senate of five hundred. Here he manifested his life and manner of communicating truth as a teach-that firm adherence to right which made him the object er of philosophy is all we shall attempt in the present article. Socrates was born at Alopece, a village near Athens, in the year B. C. 469. His father, whose name was Sophronicus, was a statuary, and his mother, Phanarete, a midwife. Young Socrates, contrary to his own inclinations, was brought up to the same profession as his father, in which he became somewhat skilled. But his mind longed for some higher pursuits. While engaged in his business, and while yet young, he made a group of the habited Graces, which were deemed of * Having given, in this number, "The Death of Socrates," some notice of his life and opinions will be satisfactory to our readers.-ED. of knowledge, where his mind greedily drank in all of truth which could be derived from such shallow and corrupted fountains. Thus instructed in philosophy, geometry, eloquence, poetry, and music, Socrates appeared in Athens under the respectable characters of a good citizen and a true philosopher. In the long struggle which soon afterward commenced between Athens and Sparta, he was called to take up arms in behalf of his country's rights. In several engagements he sig nalized himself by the utmost coolness and courage in of hatred to the enemies of his country, and even fear to the more timid of its friends. After the overthrow of the Athenian democracy, and while that state was under the cruel dynasty of the thirty tyrants, we find him still the same unintimidated, unyielding friend of right and justice, constantly seeking the highest good of all. Yet such was the man whom, after the re-establishment of the democracy, the Athenians tried, and condemned to drink the fatal hemlock. The principal charges brought against him were those of neglecting the popular religion, and of corrupting the youth of the city. These charges, unsustained as they were by valid evidence, were, however, sufficient to secure his death by the popular vote. The thrilling scenes connected with that mournful event our|| in giving any legal decision, he laid his premises so far limits, at present, forbid us to enter upon. It is suffi- back that no one could tell on which side his opinion cient to remark that the principles of eternal truth could be found, and therefore felt no hesitancy in aswhich he had discovered by the dim light of nature, senting to the proposed truth. But when assent was and which he had fearlessly followed through life, pro- given to the first proposition, no one who followed him duced that calmness and tranquility in his death to could resist the conclusion to which he arrived. Such which the vicious are strangers. But Socrates was a was the method of Socrates. heathen. Whether the grace of Christ ever extends to such cases as his, or whether such as he could be sanctified and saved through the merits of an atonement to him unknown, are questions which require for their solution the omniscience of Jehovah. In his hands we leave him, confidently believing that he will do all things right. In the life of Socrates are many characteristics upon which the eye of truth and philanthropy delights to rest. In him disinterestedness and benevolence shine forth conspicuously. As an example of the former, it is related of him, that in an engagement in the Thracian expedition, in which he saw Alcibiades, whom he accompanied during the expedition, "falling down, wounded, he advanced to defend him, and saved both him and his arms, and then, with the utmost generosity, entreated the judges to give the prize of valor, although justly his own due, to the young Alcibiades." Of his benevolence and philanthropy his whole public life was an illustration. Seeing the manner in which || the professed instructors of the people imparted false ideas, and those which, in many instances, were highly injurious to the morals of the community, he devoted himself to the great work of imparting correct knowledge. In fact, he well deserves the distinctive and distinguished appellation of the "FATHER OF PHILOSOPHY." Unlike his illustrious successors in the department of philosophy-Aristotle, Plato, and others-he had no distinct system which bears his name. The Socratic system, as it is sometimes called, consisted more in the manner of conveying truth than in the truths conveyed. Socrates mingled with the PEOPLE themselves whom he wished to benefit. He did not assume the character of a public lecturer, but wherever he went it was his great business to disseminate truth. "Looking upon the whole city of Athens as his school, and all who were disposed to lend their attention as his pupils, he seized every occasion of communicating moral wisdom to his fellow citizens." It was his custom to visit in the morning the places of public resort, at noon to appear in the market places or the courts of law, and to spend the rest of the day in such places as he would be most likely to meet with the greatest number of men. The method of instruction which Socrates pursued was characterized by eminent simplicity. His general method was interrogatory. He first proposed some question of a general nature, and from that proceeded, without any intimation of his design, till the person with whom he was conversing was led to some new and unforeseen conclusion which previous admissions prevented him from escaping. This manner of argumentation was pursued most successfully by the late Chief Justice Marshall. It is related of him, that We have already stated that Paley's Natural Theology was founded upon a discourse of Socrates on the nature of the Deity held with Aristodemos. As the argument is exceedingly beautiful as well as important, and as it well illustrates the manner of Socrates in imparting knowledge, we shall close this article with a translation of it as found in Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates. "Learning that he (Aristodemos) neither sacrificed to the gods, nor used divination, but ridiculed those doing so: "Tell me, Aristodemos,' said he, 'are there are any among men whom you admire for their excellence?' "Certainly,' replied the other. "And who are they? mention their names.' "For epic poetry I admire Homer above every other; for dithyrambic Milanippides; Sophocles for tragedy; Polykleitos for statuary, and Zeuxis for painting. "Do those making images devoid of sense and motion appear more worthy of your admiration than those making living, intelligent, and active beings?' "Truly, by far those making living beings, if they made them by design, and not by accident (chance.)' But of those things that afford no conjecture why they exist, and of those that are certainly useful, which do you suppose to be the work of chance, and which of design?' "Indeed, those that are useful declare themselves plainly to be the works of design.' "Therefore, does not He who made men at the beginning, seem to you to have bestowed upon them, for useful purposes, each of those things by which they acquire knowledge?—the eyes, that they may see those things which can be seen-the ears, that they may hear what can be heard? Indeed, of what use would odors be to us, unless nostrils had also been given? And what perception would there be of sweet things and sour, and of all the pleasures arising from the taste, unless the tongue had produced these ideas? "Moreover, does not this appear to you a work of design, viz., the protecting of the sight, since it is very delicate, with eyelids like doors which open when there is any occasion for using it, and close during sleep? and that even the winds may not injure it, the providing of eyelashes like a seive, and the guarding of those parts above the eyes with eyebrows, in the manner of eaves, so that not even the sweat may injure them? and that the ear is capable of receiving all sounds, but is never filled? that the front teeth in all animals are adapted to cut their food, and the back teeth, receiving it from these, to masticate it? These things, made with such evidence of forethought, do you esteem as works of chance or design?' "Truly,' replied he, 'to one considering them thus, || ing received all that is valuable in both, think that the these things verily seem the work of some wise and gods feel no interest in you? benevolent agent.' * 66 6 The producing, also, a love of children-the im- "Come, now, learn that your mind, which is within planting in the mother a desire to nourish her off-you, manages your body as it pleases. Therefore, it is spring-and in those nourished the greatest desire of || proper to suppose that the intelligence in every one so life, and the greatest fear of death?' orders all things as may appear, upon the whole, pleas"Certainly, these animated beings appear to be the ant; and it is not proper to suppose that your eye can mechanism of some one possessed of wisdom and fore-survey many stadia, but that the eye of the Divinity thought.' cannot at one glance see all things, or that your mind can reflect upon things near at hand, or upon those in Egypt, or in Sicily, and that the mind of the Divinity is not competent to exercise its care upon all things at "And do you think that these worlds, so immense, and infinite in number, move in such perfect order without pre-arrangement?' "No, indeed; yet I do not see the gods as authors the same time. of things which now exist.' "Nor do you see your own mind, which is the mistress of your body; therefore, with equal propriety, you may say that you do nothing by design, but every thing by accident.' "Then said Aristodemos, 'Certainly, Socrates, I do not despise the Deity, but I consider him too exalted to need my service.' "If, therefore, having rendered assistance to your fellow men, you can distinguish those willing to render assistance in return, and having manifested kindness, you can discover those willing to reciprocate, and having mingled in councils you can discern the prudent, so, also, by serving, you may make trial of the gods, and you will know the Divinity, that he is abundantly able at the same time to see all things, and to hear all things, and to be everywhere present, and that they* "Therefore, by as much as he is exalted above the need of your service, by so much should he be hon-exercise their watchful care over all.'" ored.' "Be assured that if I could think the gods cared in any degree for men I would not neglect them.' THE TONGUE. "Do you not, then, suppose, that they cared for IT has been well observed, that the tongue discovers man, who at the first caused man alone, of all living the state of the mind, no less than that of the body; animals, to walk erect (and this erect position gives but, in either case, before the philosopher or the physihim the power of seeing farther beyond him, of behold-cian can judge, the patient must open his mouth. Some ing those things which are above him, and exposes him men envelop themselves in such an impenetrable cloak to less danger,) and who have also given him eyes, ears, and mouth? Have they given feet to reptiles, which afford only the power of locomotion, but to man have added hands, which perform the greatest number of useful acts, and by the use of which we are far more blest than they? "Of all the animals possessing a tongue, the gods have made that of man only capable of articulating sounds, and to signify to one another whatever we may wish. "Yet it was not enough to the Divinity to have provided for the body, but (which is by far the greatest act) he has also created in man a most excellent mind. The mind of what other animal has ever perceived the existence of the gods who perform the greatest and noblest actions? What tribe of animated existence, other than man, worships the gods? What mind is more capable than the human to provide, before-hand, against hunger, or thirst, or cold, or heat, or to ward off disease, or to protect the strength of the body, or to acquire knowledge? or what more capable of remembering whatever it may hear, or see, or learn? of silence, that the tongue will afford us no symptoms of the temperament of the mind. Such taciturnity, indeed, is wise if they are fools, but foolish if they are wise; and the only method to form a judgment of these mutes, is narrowly to observe when, where, and how they smile. It shows much more stupidity to be grave at a good thing, than to be merry at a bad one; and of all ignorance, that which is silent is the least productive, for praters may suggest an idea if they cannot start one. - TRIALS. A CHRISTIAN without trials would be like a mill without wind or water; the contrivance and design of the wheel-work within-side would be unnoticed and unknown, without something to put it in motion without. Nor would our graces grow, unless they were called into exercise; the trials and difficulties we meet with not only prove, but also strengthen the graces of the Spirit. If a person were always to sit still, he would probably soon lose the power of moving his limbs at last; but by walking and working he becomes strong and active.-Rev. J. Newton. "Is it not very evident to you that, next to the gods, men exist, surpassing naturally all other animals, both in body and mind? No one, having the body of an ox and the intelligence of a man, could do whatever he pleased. Nor can any animal, possessing hands, but destitute of mind, accomplish more. But do you, hav-|| chy. * Throughout this discussion Socrates speaks of the Divinity (Theion) and the gods (Theoi) interchangeably; but by the former we are to understand the Supreme Existence, and by the latter subordinate existences belonging to the celestial hierar Original. "In differing creeds, whatever faults we see, van, loaded camels with rich presents for the Arabs, and explored every part of Syria. She sojourned at Jerusalem, Damascus, Aleppo, Balbec and Palmyra. "It was at this latter place," says Lamartine, "that the numerous tribes of wandering Arabs assembled, Is all this wide world of sin and suffering, there and charmed with her beauty, her grace and her splencan be no more soul-saddening sight to the Chris- dor, proclaimed her Queen of Palmyra. They gave tian believer-one who feels his own heart warming, to her firmans, by which it was agreed by them that and his pathway brightening, as he approaches Jor-every European who received her protection should dan-than to meet with an aged fellow-mortal, gifted pass unmolested and secure through the Desert, and and influential, and with the frosts of time gathering about his head, who is yet living without hope and without God in the world! And the picture becomes still more painful when this is an individual who has once known the true and living way of ap-mation, and Lady Hester had retired from public life. proach unto God; but who, having departed from the In one of her pilgrimages she narrowly escaped being / simplicity of the faith once delivered to the saints, carried off by a hostile tribe of Arabs. To a casual, and having followed the new lights of philosophy, though timely warning, and to the fleetness of her (falsely so called,) is at last left on the very shores Arabian horse, she owed her escape. of time to his own delusions, uncertain and unconcerned about all beyond. Such an one the pious Lamartine met with in his travels in the east, in the person of Lady Hester Stanhope. The reader will remember that she was an English lady of birth, talent and beauty, and niece to the statesman Pitt. After the death of her uncle, this lady left England to travel over Europe; and being young, and possessing many attractions, she was courted and admired wherever she moved, and was sought in marriage by many distinguished men; but she rejected them all, manifesting no preference for any individual of them; her affections having been given, as is said, in early life, to a British officer. be permitted to visit the ruins of Palmyra, provided they pledged themselves to pay a certain tribute." And this contract was still respected when Lamartine was there, although a long time had elapsed since its for After leading a wandering life for several years, she finally settled herself in an almost inaccessible solitude on one of the mountains of Lebanon, near ancient Sidon. Here she built houses, created artificial gardens in the Turkish style, surrounded them with a sort of fortification, adorned them with sculptures, waterjets, and marble gutters, &c.; she formed alcoves of the lemon, the olive, and fig trees; and being surrounded by a numerous retinue of Arab and European friends, and a host of slaves, she lived in perfectly oriental splendor. At length her fortune was exhausted, her friends fell off, or died, and she was left alone in her solitude. Lady Hester had been educated in the doctrines of the Established Church of England, and when she left that country was a firm believer in all that it inculcates. Although she was a woman of strong mind, she was She was accompanied abroad by several friends, male and female; and after having spent some years in traveling, they all embarked, with a numerous train of attendants, for Constantinople. Here they remain-weak in principle; and it appears that she had no ed several years, living in the greatest luxury of that sooner got beyond the pale of her own Church than luxurious city, which at length they left for Syria in her faith became entirely unsettled, and she seems to an English vessel, in which was embarked the greater have taken, from time to time, the line of whatever part of her fortune. The ship was overtaken by a religion in her various wanderings she had become asstorm in the Bay of Macri, on the coast of Caramani, sociated with, and out of all of them to have comnear the Island of Rhodes, and a few rods from the pounded one of her own-a jargon of idle ceremonials, shore she struck the rocks and went to pieces, and all of unintelligible mysteries, and of jarring creeds-until her treasures were buried in the deep. Lady Hester || shade after shade her mind darkened into utter night, escaped upon a wreck of the vessel, on a small, unin- and she became equally charitable to Jews, Turks and habited island, where she remained twenty-four hours, without food or aid. She was at length found by some fishermen, who were in search of the remains of the wreck. They brought her into Rhodes, where, having made herself known to the English consul at that place, she got temporary relief. She subsequently returned to England, and nothing discouraged by her dis-was, as we have said, finally merged in the enthusiasm asters and her losses, she collected the remains of her fortune, and again set sail for Syria, where she arrived in safety. She fixed herself in its environs, and set herself to the task of learning the Arab language, of which she soon became perfect mistress; and after having become familiarized with the manners and customs of the country, she organized a numerous cara-had some religious conversation with her, which, as a VOL. III.-18 infidels. She threw aside the volume of inspiration, forsook the God who had preserved her on the deep, who guarded her in all her wanderings, and saved her from the hostile Arabs; and she turned from the worship of this gracious Being, to consult the stars, and to become a believer in all the wonders of astrology, and of her own character, and the superstitious delusions of those about her; and when Lamartine visited her in 1837 she was nearly sixty years of age, broken in health and spirits, but still clinging to her heathen notions. She had adopted the costume of the country-in the girdle of her tunic she wore a dagger. He 138 THE SYROPHENECIAN WOMAN. woman of breeding she permitted, but evidently con- || her daughter die? No; she had heard of the mighty sidered as evidence of superstitious weakness on his works and unbounded compassion of Christ, and hoppart; and freely confessed to him that she herself "cared for none of these things." And although the good Lamartine was probably not allowed to pray with her, doubtless the pious aspiration arose in his heart for her, that the light of the Spirit might break upon her poor benighted soul before death. But her offended Maker seems to have "let her alone;" for a later traveler in that region informs us that she died "under the cloud," and that with her last breath she ordered from her stable her Arabian horses-two animals of superior breed, which she had kept for years awaiting her last hour; one of them she intended for the Messiah, whom she expected personally, and the other was for herself; and when she felt death approaching she ordered them to be made ready, and in the firm belief of this absurd fable, half pantheistic, half visionary, she expired! What a lesson to proud humanity! And here I would remark, strange as it may seem, that strong minds are more apt to be led astray in this particular than those less gifted; for, confiding in their own strength, they speculate, whilst the more simple trust. And so, they are "in wandering mazes lost." C. A. B. ing against hope, she prostrates herself before him and prays, "Lord help me." What a prayer! How short, and yet how full of meaning and of faith! "Lord help me." How suitable to poor helpless mortality! There was help no where else; she trusted she would yet find it in the "Son of David." Was such a prayer ever uttered without moving the heart of the Savior? Will not mercy say, "Arise and go, thy daughter liveth?" The mother, in breathless expectation, awaits the answer. Does it not seem to be putting her faith to too severe a trial, when Jesus says, "It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the dogs?" Will not every ray of hope be now extinguished, and the gloominess of despair prevent all further effort? Yea, will not resentment be aroused, when she hears the Gentiles compared to dogs, while the Jews are spoken of as children? Thus short-sighted man might view it, but not thus the omniscient Jehovah. Jesus knew her faith, and he wished to draw it forth for our example, that those who seek the mercy of God in all ages may not despair. Instead of rising in anger, or in hopelessness to depart, a ray of hope dawned upon her heart from the very words of the refusal. "Truth Lord," she replies, "but the dogs may eat of the crumbs that fall from the children's table." "O! woman," said Jesus, "great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." The joyful mother returned to embrace her daughter, who "was made whole from that very hour." Blessed Jesus! thou art no respecter of persons; but the wretched and the disconsolate, the vile and the guilty, may come to thee in the confident expectation of finding mercy and pardon. Though the blessing should seem to be delayed, thou hast taught that "men should pray always and not faint," for thou art FAMILY LOVE. J. M. M. Original. THE SYROPHENECIAN WOMAN. As Jesus on one occasion visited the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, a certain woman cried to him to have mercy on her daughter, who was "grievously vexed with a devil." This was a Gentile woman, a Syrophenecian; but she was a mother, and appears to have felt all a mother's affection for her daughter. The brief history of the evangelist does not inform us whether she was rich or poor, honored by the world," exalted a Prince and a Savior, to give repentance and or humble and unknown. We have, however, an forgiveness of sins." account of her earnest, persevering prayer, and her steadfast faith, which are matters of much greater importance. She had an afflicted daughter, over whom she watched with the deepest solicitude; for affliction only strengthens maternal attachment. Must her daughter die? was there no hope, no remedy? Yes, she heard of Jesus, the promised Messiah of the Jews. The fame of his miracles had filled the land, and none, she learned, had been turned away from him unblest. She heard with joy that he was in her neighborhood, and pressing her way to him she cried, "Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David, for my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." But what must have been her grief and mortification when "Jesus answered not a word." "Alas!" perhaps she thought, "I am a poor Gentile, he will not attend to my prayer." The disciples interposed, and besought the Lord to bless her and send her away. Hope again springs up in the poor mother's heart; but it was soon to be chilled by the discouraging answer, "I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." Will she not now give up in utter despair, and return to see ed by a humane and Christian legislation.-Lamartine. THE spirit of family is the second soul of humanity. Modern legislators have too often forgotten this. They think only of nations and individuals. They omit the family, that only source of a pure and healthy population; the sanctuary of traditions and manners, in which all the social virtues acquire fresh vigor. Legislation, ever since the introduction of Christianity, has been barbarous in this respect. It repulses man from the spirit of family, instead of encouraging it in him. It interdicts, to one half of mankind, wife, child, the possession of a home or a field. It owes these blessings to all as soon as they arrive at manhood. It ought to have interdicted them only to culprits. A family is society in miniature; but it is that society in which the laws are natural, because they are sentiments. To interdict a man from the possession of family comforts, should have been the greatest reprobation, the last punishment of the law. It should have been the only bane of death inflict |