His birthplace was the city of sages. When his friends solicited him to marry, for the sake of begetting a progeny, and urged him much, he replied: ‘If there be no escape from matrimony, I shall take a woman notorious for her stupidity and remarkable for her domineering spirit, so that by patiently schooling myself to suffer her tyranny, I may accustom myself to bear with the follies of high and low people.’ His regard for wisdom was so great that he made the acquisition thereof difficult to posterity by prohibiting his disciples to write down any of its maxims, and declaring that, as wisdom is pure and holy, it ought to have no other abode except the breasts of living men, so that the consigning of it to dead skins [parchments] and withered hearts would be blamable. Accordingly he composed no book, and delivered all his lectures extempore, because he had himself likewise received all his instruction only orally from his teacher. He had asked the latter why he would not allow him to note down what fell from him, but he replied: ‘I never say that you should transfer knowledge from a living heart to the skins of dead animals. In like manner, if a person were to ask you something on the road, or to put you a question, it would not look well if you were to tell him that you must return home to inspect your books, but you would rather call your memory to your assistance.’
Soqrât followed the advice of his teacher, and attained the highest proficiency in philosophy. He preferred silence and solitude to the futilities of the world, being contented with his shattered house and termagant wife, in lieu of a palace and a Hûri. It was customary with Greek kings that, when they were under the necessity of waging war against their enemies, they took with them the philosophers of the time for a blessing and good luck. According to that usage, the reigning king caused Soqrât to accompany him on a certain expedition, so that at each halting-place the tent of the sage was likewise pitched. One day the king happened to pass near the aperture of the tent, and saw the philosopher warming himself in the sun. The king asked: ‘What hinders you from keeping us company?’
Soqrât: My occupation is to acquire the necessaries of life.
King: If you come to me I shall give you what you require.
Soqrât: If I had desired that a king should supply my wants I would never have left your service.
King: I have been informed that you despise idols.
Soqrât: I do not say that, but I assert that idolatry is lucrative to your majesty, because the affairs of your subjects may possibly prosper thereby, and taxes can be levied. But as I know that I have a Creator who provides for my wants, and who is able to reward the good, and to punish the wicked, I do not worship idols and inorganic matter.
King: Have you any request to make?
Soqrât: Yes: that you move away from this place because your majesty’s person keeps off the rays of the sun from me.*
The king then ordered a rich dress and plenty of jewels to be given to him, but Soqrât replied: ‘His majesty’s promises are concerning the things of this world, but he cares not for those of the next. I stand in need of no such toys as stones and rags, and I have found what I required, when I discovered the arcana of wisdom. He who desires to attain eternal happiness must, according to his utmost capacity, abstain from all evil passions and manifestations of physical power. A man’s house will never become illuminated unless he shuts its five windows; that is to say, his soul will not become purified unless he subjugates his five senses.’ He also said: ‘Do not overstep the measure, i.e., be just; and be not an ant in the evening, i.e., be not greedy to accumulate riches in old age. There is no period of time which has not its vernal season, i.e., the acquisition of knowledge is never unseasonable.
When the chief priests heard that Soqrât was admonishing the people to abandon idolatry and to worship the only true God, they issued a judicial decree with the intention of depriving him of life, and persisted in their efforts—although they knew that the king was well disposed towards him— because they were convinced that even royal authority was bound to yield to the decision of the judge of Atheniah. His majesty nevertheless attempted to save the life of the philosopher, requesting him to cease his exhortations; but as he refused to comply, the king said: ‘You have incurred the penalty of death, and I cannot endanger the tranquillity of the kingdom for your sake. Select the mode of death which you think to be the easiest.’ Soqrât chose poison, and the king assented. On that occasion the king had despatched a ship to Hengava to bring him some things he needed, and in those times it was a law not to shed the blood of any person before the ship had returned. It happened, however, that the arrival of the ship had been delayed by contrary winds, so that [time was gained, and] Afritûn, who was a disciple of Soqrât and a man of great property, represented that he had, at his own expense, fitted out a ship by which he might escape to Rûmiah. But Soqrât refused, on the plea that his own property did not amount even to four hundred dirhems, which would not suffice to repay the outlay of Afritûn; and when the latter removed this objection by avowing that he and his friends were ready to sacrifice for Soqrât not merely all their wealth, but also their lives, the latter said: ‘This city is the place of my birth, and my antagonists are my own countrymen and acquaintances, who have brought all this trouble upon me because I tried to persuade them to abandon idolatry, and to worship the only true God. My principles will remain the same wherever I may go, and the citizens of Rûmiah are not less unprejudiced than those of Atheniah. If I had to endure such persecution from my own people, what can I expect from the inhabitants of Rûmiah?’ Afritûn replied: ‘Consider the distress into which your family and children will fall.’ Soqrât rejoined: ‘They will not perish among you.’
On the day after the return of the ship priests and idolaters visited him, remained awhile, took off his fetters, and departed. The gaolers then admitted his disciples, and removed Soqrât from his couch, who began to rub his legs, which had been injured by the heavy chains, and said: ‘How marvellous is the providence of God, which associates contrasts, so that no pleasure may be enjoyed without its counterbalancing pain.’ These words became a thesis of discussion to them, and the students began asking questions. Some of his more advanced disciples proposed questions on spiritual matters, which he solved in such a manner as to leave no longer any doubts in their minds. He was as cheerful as usual, and not at all distressed on account of the impending separation from his friends, nor did the apprehension of his approaching death disquiet his mind in the least. Whilst all present admired his equanimity, and were loath to part with him, Soqrât spake as follows: ‘Between the state in which I now am and my ordinary position I make no distinction, because although I shall be compelled to part with many beloved companions, I shall rejoin others who have preceded me in their journey to the next world.’
After they had terminated their discussion concerning the soul, they conversed about the structure of the universe, the motions of the heavenly bodies, and the elements; and having satisfied them on these points, Soqrât calmly expounded to them some theological principles and divine arcana. Then he said: ‘The time is at hand for the religious ablution and prayers, which will save the people the trouble of washing my body after I am dead. Now you may return to your homes.’ After having terminated his ablution and prayer he again came out, called for his friends and children, of whom he took leave. Then his executioners entered, one of whom presented him with the cup of poison, performed an act of prostration, apologized to Soqrât, and said: ‘I am aware that I have injured thee, but I acted by command. He who acts thus ought to be excused, and you must drink this [poison].’ Having said these words, he went out, and after Soqrât had swallowed the potion his disciples uttered shouts of lamentation; but he said: ‘I have sent away the females to spare myself the noisy grief to which they would give way in consequence of their weak constitution, but now I behold men acting like women.’ He continued to walk about until the poison had taken effect, whereon weakness overpowered him, so that he was unable to move. Accordingly he sat down, a slave rubbed both his legs, and he engaged in prayer to the Almighty.
On that occasion Afritûn requested him to inform him of his last wish, but Soqrât replied: ‘Be contented with the advice and instruction you have received from me ere this,’ and taking hold of his friend’s hand, placed it on his own face, opened his eyes, and said: ‘I surrender my life to the grasper of souls. “To Allah we belong, and unto Him we return.”’*
It is related that Soqrât was a very devout man, given to solitude, abstemious in eating and drinking, and frequently remembering death, of which he was not in the least afraid. He attained the age of one hundred and nine years, and left twelve thousand disciples. O God, have mercy on him! The following are some of his sayings: ‘A noble mind can be discerned from a base one, inasmuch as the former is eager to embrace truth, and the latter falsehood.—When a man abstains from speaking on a science concerning the truth whereof he has no knowledge, strife concerning it will subside among men, and the flames of contention will die away.—Be on your guard of anyone whom your heart points out as an enemy.—He is a man of perfect understanding, of whom his enemies need apprehend nothing, and not he whom even his friends most dread.— Worldly occupations resemble a fire made on the road; whoever takes up only as much of it as suffices to enable him to pursue his journey is safe, but whoever covets more of it may be burnt thereby.’
Aflatûn [Plato] the divine was one of his disciples, and having to undertake a journey on a certain occasion, he waited on his master to take leave, and to ask for instructions. Soqrât said: ‘Be not suspicious of one you know, but be suspicious of a person you know not, even if he should attach himself to you during your journey as a servant; beware, however, of giving way to ill-humour on account of that. Whenever you make a halt for the night, remain in your place. Eat not vegetables with the nature whereof you are not acquainted. Be not deceived by the pretended short-cuts of unknown roads, nor tired of the monotony of well-known highways.’ To another of his disciples Soqrât said: ‘My son, if the society of women be indispensable to you, use it like carrion food, of which no one partakes more than necessity compels him; and if he does [the contrary], he not only falls sick, but dies.’ Once Soqrât happened to travel in the company of a very rich man, and when they were attacked by robbers, the wealthy fellow said: ‘Alas, if they were to recognise me!’ and Soqrât also said: ‘Alas, if they were to recognise me!’
The following are likewise his maxims: ‘When the fire of your wrath blazes up, suffocate it by meekness.—This life is a picture, drawn on a sheet, portions whereof are now exposed to view, but rolled up anon.—Praise your friends whenever you meet them by mentioning their good qualities; for, if you mention their bad ones, you will make them your enemies.’ Aflatûn asked Soqrât the following questions: ‘Who is to be pitied? When is the trouble of man useless? How may the favour of God be acquired?’ Soqrât replied: ‘Three kinds of persons are to be pitied: (1) a good man who serves a bad master, but always sees and hears things which he ought neither to see nor to hear, and is therefore in an unhappy state of mind; (2) an intelligent man whose benefactor is a fool, and constantly torments himself with labour and grief; (3) and a noble-minded individual who has fallen into the meshes of a despicable wretch, whom he is compelled to obey, and to whom he must humble himself. The trouble of men is lost when the remedy is in the hands of an individual from whom they do not want to accept it; when a person takes up arms and is unable to use them; and when wealth falls into the possession of a man who is unable to utilize it. The favour of God (w. n. b. gl.) may be acquired by abundant gratitude, piety, and abstinence from every sin.’ After hearing these words, Aflatûn attached himself to Boqrât [Hippocrates], from whose company he was severed by death only.
When asked what gain there is in the study of philosophy, Soqrât replied: ‘What greater profit can there be than to behold myself on the shore, while others are being drowned?’ Once a man said to him: ‘I mentioned your name to a certain person, but he knew nothing about you.’ He replied: ‘The loss is on his part, and not on mine. It is not my duty to court the acquaintance of mean persons, but anyone to whom I am not known is a mean person.’ To a soldier who had run away he said: ‘To flee from a battle is a disgrace.’ The fugitive replied: ‘Death is a greater disgrace than flight.’ Soqrât rejoined: ‘Life is preferable to death when the value of it has been enhanced by bodily encountering the latter; but the latter is preferable to the former preserved by cowardice.’ In an assembly a man sought precedence over him by occupying a higher place; but he was not in the least dismayed thereby, and when asked why he had not manifested his displeasure at such incivility, he replied: ‘There is no doubt that the wall opposite to us is much higher than anyone present; nevertheless, no one gets angry with the wall. Had his aspirations been higher than mine, I might have become angry; such, however, not being the case, his place is in reality lower than mine.’ The following are also of his sayings: ‘Be not ashamed to receive the truth from anyone who utters it, even if he be poor and despicable; because the pearl loses nothing in value by the poverty of the diver.—Whoever loves you for your own sake, love him in return.—If you be ignorant on a subject, ask for information.—If you have committed a fault and repent of it, cease to persevere in it.—If you cannot help a man, cover his faults.—If you cannot give a man anything else, give him good words.—If a man desires to mix with friends, he must first examine himself whether he can bear with their foibles, else it will be better to abstain from intercourse, and to prefer solitude.—The weakness of a man may be discerned by three things: from his disregard for the regulation of his own mind, from his slender resistance to passion, and from his giving credit to the opinions of a woman, whether she understands a matter or not.’ When asked why he had never been seen in a state of melancholy, he replied, because he had nothing the loss whereof he might regret. There are six kinds of persons who are always unhappy: the envious and the covetous, persons who have suddenly become rich, those who are in constant fear of poverty and distress, ambitious men who aim higher than their capacities entitle them to, and fools who associate with polished and learned men. A man asked him: ‘You study philosophy all day, inducing also others to do so, but spend your nights in poverty; then what has your philosophy made you independent of?’ He replied: ‘Of the pangs of envy, with which you are inspired towards me.’ He also said: ‘A man’s knowledge of his own mind, and of the occupation most suitable for it, is one of the portions of philosophy most useful to him.’