smell mortality in an infant's breath; but tell me, dear Ischomachus, if there is any other felicity which you have in store if these should be lost.

ISCHOм. I know of none but these: that my land is good, my wife virtuous, and my son obedient. What more can I possess?

Soc. All these you have by the favor of some god.

ISCHOм. By no other means, at least.
Soc. How may I too attain his favor?
ISCHOм. By prayer and offering.

Soc. Thousands pray for these things, and for other modes of felicity, but you alone possess them. Why is the deity partial, or what is that amazing virtue in you?

ÍSCHOм. I am at a loss to answer. My virtue is unknown to me, if I have it, and the opinion you discover that I alone am happy almost subverts my happiness. Soc. Am I then able with a breath to blow away the favor of heaven?

ISCHOм. It is easy: you might do more, and on a sudden take my life.

Soc. This happiness of yours, like an halcyon's nest, floats upon the sea, in danger of a thousand waves. Is there nothing firm but the rock that may destroy it? ISCHOM. Nothing, as I think. All things move and change, and evils are seasonable: death sweeps all away.

Soc. Is life like the melody of a lyre, sounding and ceasing?

ISCHOм. So it seems.

with these impulses, and is incapable of meditation. But in man there is a power which enables him not only to enjoy, but to meditate upon the variety of enjoyment; not only to suffer, but to observe whether he suffers justly or unjustly.

ISCHOм. But even in this, O Socrates, there is nothing constant: to-day I meditate on my happiness, and to-morrow on my pains; to-day I am just, to-morrow I may be guilty of injustice. This power is, therefore, in no respect immovable or eternal; for if there is anything eternal in man, it should prevail over the transient in him, and men would be always just; and if happiness lies in a good conscience, they should be always happy. But now I see them fluctuating, impulsive, and full of altercation. Thus am I persuaded of the utter insufficiency of reason. I regard men as only a better kind of animals, capable of higher degrees of happiness and misery. If the bliss I now enjoy is to be taken from me to-morrow, there is no refuge but in death. And why not die, when life becomes a burden?

Soc. You astonish me, Ischomachus, and hearing you, I am oppressed with gloom. The guardian genius forbids me to leave you, and now I am forced to begin a war against the demon who overcomes me through you.

ISCHOм. What have I said?

Soc. Did you not say that the gods gave you happiness, in reward of prayer and sacrifice?

ISCHOм. I did so, honestly.

Soc. I fear they will suddenly resume their gifts.

ISCHOм. How say you?

Soc. Observe, good sir, I am neither a seer, nor a master of omens, to predict the conclusion of your bliss; yet I am in fear for you. Who are these gods, or by what sign do we know them?

ISCHOм. Say, first, by what signs you predict my sorrow; but since you ask it, I will answer. We know the deities by the tradition of our fathers, who saw them face to face; and by the favors they confer in answer to our prayers.

Soc. And by the pains they inflict? ISCHOм. Yes, in punishment of wrong. Soc. But is all pain a punishment? ISCHOм. No; the gods, as I think, punish only an intentional wrong; but with the unintentional they are not offended.

Soc. All pain, therefore, is not punishment. If I fall, I may or may not suffer, as it chances; but if I do wrong, the gods, who see all things, and know even the secret thoughts of the mind, are sure to punish me. Is it not so?

ISCHOм. It is, indeed. The deities are perfectly just.

Soc. We believe that they are just! But how is it with dogs and cattle; do they meditate on the divine justice, as we

do now?

ISCHOм. Impossible: they show no sign of reason.

Soc. Reason, it appears, is a faculty given to men, that they may witness divine justice?

ISCHOм. Ay! the eternal justice !

Soc. Even now, Ischomachus, the evil genius leaves me, and it is necessary for you to confess yourself in the wrong. Consider, excellent sir, the consequences of your words. If men are able to behold the justice of the gods, and know that that is justice which they behold, it is necessary to confess that they are endowed with justice, and that they were always so endowed. If any one is incapable of knowing right and wrong, no person regards him as a man: but because of this incapacity we say that he is a brute, and no man; or, that reason is not yet born in him. This, then, is no fluctuating principle, like anger, or desire, but remains from the instant of its birth in the soul, nor is any action of the man possible, over which reason does not in some manner preside.

ISCHOм. I am not convinced that human reason is eternal and divine. That which is eternal cannot be born; but even now you spoke of a birth of reason! Whatever is divine is perfect, as the deities are perfect; but the imperfection of reason is evident to all.

Soc. Shall we confess that all things were produced as they are-the perfect and the imperfect-by some Being who is One, and all-sufficient, but whom it is unlawful to name?

ISCHOм. We must admit this.

Soc. We are not, therefore, to conclude that he is imperfect or transient, because he creates the transient; nor that

he is imperfect, because he beholds imperfection. Much less, then, is the reason of man to be held imperfect, because it beholds and permits imperfections, even in the body which it inspires. But you say, "that which is eternal cannot be born;""that which is born must die." The body of a man is born; it therefore dies. Out of earth it rose, and to earth it must return. But see, O friend, the beauty of this image of a birth. The body is inspired, first, by sensuous desires, and we say they are born in it: we should rather say it is born in them, for they are intelligent, but the body is material; they belong to the system of the world, and inspire myriads of bodies, as the quality of heaviness inspires myriads of stones. Then follows another "birth," and by this figure we imply that this body has become a vehicle of divine reason, or of the spirit of Justice, and is thus born into that spirit, and is reunited with it, as with its first Cause.

As fire to the nitre, so is the spirit of reason to the body of man. But the spirit that is in me differs not in being from that which is in all men, or even in the gods. That which is all-pervading is everywhere the same. Is not my justice one with yours? Or is there a justice of Socrates, which is not of Ischomachus?

ISCHOм. But this spirit of which you speak is not the spirit of a man, but of a god.

Soc. Of a god, indeed; for in the body, and in the sensual soul, we found nothing permanent.

ISCHOм. Is man, therefore, not man only, but a mixture of spirit and matter, of mortal and immortal?

Soc. What else?

ISCHOм. Thus far I have gone with you, as with one walking in his sleep; you lead me by a forbidden path to the verge of an abyss.

Soc. Let us return to the point from whence we came. But answer me: are you still of this first opinion that there is nothing permanent, but that all things fail and are annihilated?

ISCHOM. All things are fluctuating and mortal; but the sources of things are permanent.

Soc. What then of this human reason; is that a "thing," or a "source of things?"

ISCHOм. Not a thing, indeed! nor yet a source. Reason is thought, and thought, though spiritual, is yet transient. When I cease to think of reason, where,

Where, when

then, is my reason? I am asleep or intoxicated? Where, when I am annihilated?

Soc. Is reason yours or mine, that we ask "where is it?" or whether it comes to us, or departs from us? or do we know that it is neither of this man nor of that, but pervades and inspires all with one and the same power, from the beginning even to this day. Why, then, do you ask, Where is my reason when I am intoxicated, or asleep, or deceased?" ISCHOм. I am still dark.

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Soc. Do you say, then, that if my reason is not mine, nor proper to me, I then am nothing?

ISCHOм. So it seems to me.

Soc. A perfect agreement appears between your thoughts and mine; for, but now you were grieved with the imperfection, the transiency and nothingness of each particular man; but you dwelt with fervor upon the all-sufficiency of deity. There is none good by God. There is no good but Him. But reason is pure good, and the greatest good. It is therefore of God. But it is in man; somewhat of God, therefore, is in man.

ISCHOм. I am unwilling to believe that so wretched an animal as man became the temple of a deity.

Soc. How say you? Is this a matter of opinion, or is it perfectly established? ISCHOM. A wonderful proof you offer, O Socrates, to make me confess that there is a god in me. I, who am a poor and ignorant citizen. But I am persuaded of the truth of what you assert. My intellect lothly confesses that it is the slave of a divine reason.

Soc. Which of the gods is in you? How say you?

ISCHOм. Which of the gods? I am unable to discover which it is that inspires me; but whoever it may be, whether Zeus or Hermes, I desire he may never leave me.

Soc. Is it the same who gave this happiness, of which you said that a god conferred it?

ISCHOм. I made offering and supplication to Athene.

Soc. The power who is divine prudence, who presides over the affairs of the city, and over enterprises.

ISCHOм. The same. Soc. Why to her? Why had she your offerings?

ISCHOм. I wished to be inspired with prudence, for the management of my house, and the conduct of my affairs.

Soc. Is it customary for those who go with gifts to the temple to make such a request of any deity?

ISCHOм. No. I followed the custom awhile, and prayed for wealth and prosperity, as others do; but these prayers, like most that are made, came all to nought.

Soc. I desire greatly to know, if you are willing, by what chance or by what reason, you learned this new kind of

prayer.

ISCHOм. It happened as you shall hear. On a certain occasion, when I was oppressed with evil fortune and an extreme sadness, I met an old man at the entrance of the temple, whose venerable figure struck me with awe. Observing that I wore a wreath, as is usual with those who sacrifice, he saluted me courteously and inquired whether I entered there for my own sake or for that of another; for I perceive, he continued, that you are oppressed with some unusual grief. Remarking in him a certain superiority, as of a father, I answered willingly that my own misfortunes brought me there, and that though I meant to supplicate, I had no hope of favor. For the goddess had received my offering for the hundredth time, but had given me nothing in return. I perceive, my son, replied the sagewhom I now saw to be a priest-that you are not perfectly acquainted with your own necessities, or with the power of the goddess. Riches and fortune are in the hands of fate alone. Athene presides over prudence; and it is her part to confer prudence upon those who ask it. Pray, then, for this virtue, having first considered its meaning. If any supplicant is careful to know the nature of the gift he asks, he will always obtain it.

Soc. Can you tell me the name of this venerable person? I desire greatly to see and converse with him.

ISCHOм. I saw him only on this occasion. He resembled no other person that I had ever seen. Thus, then, I answered: Is it so difficult a matter to discover the nature of one's own necessities? Tell me, replied he, if you were about to pray for prudence, for what would you pray? You mean, said I, to discover whether I have a right notion of prudence, or whether I am able to attain such a notion. I do, he answered. Say, then, while we are walking here in the portico, (for I perceive you are not yet able to sacrifice successfully,) what is this prudence which so few possess, but which

none will ask for because they imagine they possess it? They, answered I, are prudent who so conduct their affairs as to secure the greatest good to themselves.

PRIEST. You describe the effects of a certain virtue; but for the virtue itself, let us come a little nearer to a knowledge of it.

ISCHOм. I confess, reverend sir, it is impossible for me to tell you in the proper words, what I imagine to be the nature of this virtue. But I know that if I saw any one acting prudently, I should understand what I saw.

PRIEST. Say, then, what are the actions of the prudent man?

ISCHOм. He is careful of his health, assiduous in business, and avoids danger. PRIEST. A prudent man is he, therefore, who, without the least regard for others, provides cunningly for the wants and pleasures of his own body.

ISCHOм. He is, as I think, what you describe.

PRIEST. In regard of prudence, it appears that men differ in no respect from such animals as the rat and the fox; for they are wonderfully provident, and excel in cunning and caution. But will the goddess listen to a prayer such as this: "Give me, O Daughter of Wisdom, the cunning of the fox, the avarice of the rat, and the caution of the serpent, for thou president over these; and I know that thou art able to confer them upon whom thou pleasest."

ISCHOм. Who would dare to offer so blasphemous a prayer?

PRIEST. Say, then, is prudence a mortal or an immortal quality?

ISCHOм. I begin to surmise that it is a virtue of the immortal kind.

PRIEST. And therefore proper to a deity?

ISCHOм. Yes; but I am unable to form a true conception of it.

PRIEST. What can you say of Athene herself?

ISCHOм. That she is the daughter of wisdom, and presides over affairs that require prudence.

PRIEST. Is that all? Consider a moment. This virtue, it appears, is in the gift of a deity; and we know that it is not conferred upon brutes; but that they, on the contrary, exercise a selfish heed in which there is no virtue. But we, too, exercise this heed; and, when it appears nakedly as in a brute, we instantly condemn and execrate it, and even visit it with punishment and provide laws and

fetters for those who are possessed with it. Is there, then, a power in man which restricts the exercise of this quality and disciplines the animal soul, that it shall not utterly absorb and waste the life of man, or lead him to a blind and isolating selfishness.

ISCHOм. What is this power? I desire to know.

PRIEST. Athene, the divine prudence.
ISCHOм. Is it she, then, that aids us?

PRIEST. Yes, it is she; but when you pray, supplicate the divine prudence, and name her not, for she has no name; neither is she a goddess, or a nymph, but of no sex or figure.

ISCHOм. (Continues.) Thus he instructed me. I made my petition to power in the manner he advised, and from that period my felicity began.

Soc. Did the power confer wealth upon you?

ISCHOм. I have no more than at that time; but the little I have is vastly more serviceable.

Soc. Did it never occur to you that this venerable person might be Athene herself, in the guise of a priest?

ISCHOм. I confess it seemed so.

Soc. I am persuaded that it was a god who instructed you, speaking out of the body of a man.

ISCHOм. I believe it; but why should I be so favored? What had I done to deserve it?

Soc. We forget easily what we learn late. But now, Ischomachus, you agreed with me in thinking that men differ from the inferior animals by the favor of the divine powers, who enter into and inspire them with reason. Why, then, should not this venerable instructor have been a mortal, speaking by the favor of an immortal power; a goddess, Athene, a god, Zeus, or whom you will?

ISCHOм. What you say appears reasonable. I cannot object to it. But now relate to me the fable of Prometheus, not the one of Eschylus, but that Thracian tradition. It seems in some manner to bear upon our present inquiry.

Soc. It does so, and happily. Come, then, let us recline under this olive, and I will relate it.

At the close of the golden age, two beings were produced-Prometheus, whose parentage is unknown, and Zeus, the son of Saturn and Rhea. Saturn ruled over the world, but Zeus deprived him of his kingdom. Prometheus wandered solitarily, planning vengeance in secret against

the usurper. After a time he created a second race of mortals, in place of those who were destroyed by Zeus when he seized the empire of the world. These new beings, though animated and intelligent, were altogether childish and irrational, without foresight and without constancy, but full of love and obedience. Being unable to confer reason upon them by his own power, the maker bethought himself of a stratagem. He invited the nine principal gods to a banquet, and after showing them many wonderful and curious devices of his own invention, he brought them to a cave in the summit of Caucasus, where they heard a mysterious music issuing from the mountain. The nine deities, overpowered by the charm, entered the cave, and were instantly imprisoned by Prometheus, who rolled a rock over the entrance, and held it there by the power of his will. When the deities found their united strength insufficient to remove the rock while Prometheus willed it should remain, they began to parley with him, and offered one half the universe for ransom. Find ing him inflexible, they made other larger promises, vowing that he should be the Sovereign of the world, and that they, the nine principal gods, should submit themselves in all particulars to his will, if he would suffer them to remove the rock. When the maker of men had sufficiently humbled and subdued the gods, holding them imprisoned for a thousand years, he offered them liberty on this condition: that they should confer reason upon men by entering into them at birth; and, resigning in his favor the empire of the earth, the sea and the air, should have no other power than such as might be exerted through the energy of man himself. Then all the nine gods took an oath that they would observe the conditions of their ransom from the instant of their liberation; but when the maker of men permitted them to roll away the rock, they seized him and bound him with chains of adamant upon the side of Caucasus. Notwithstanding his durance, he became the sovereign of the elements, and from his snowy throne distributes clouds, commands the winds, and shakes earth and ocean in the recurring agony of his rage.

The deities observed with equal care the other condition of their liberty-that they should enter and possess the human nature. By means of mortal energies they rule over and subdue the elements,

and in some measure counteract the power of Prometheus; with whom, in this manner, they maintain perpetual war. By their means men are become miserable, and contemn their own bodies, the handiwork of Prometheus. Inspired by Bacchus, Juno and Mars, they rage against and destroy each other, using foresight and reason. Those who are inspired by Apollo, or by Mercury, or by Venus Urania, are enslaved and oppressed by these powers; while the favorites of Zeus and Pluto suffer all the pains and weight of their terrible masters. Of all the deities, one only, the wise Athene, uses man kindly, out of an ancient affection which she bore their maker.

ISCHOм. I thank you, Socrates, for the fable. But now, if you are at leisure, let us return to the topic we began with, the instability and insufficiency of human reason-of which your last relation is a kind of proof; for by this story it appears that the gods are not of themselves the cause of happiness to men, though they inspire them. Is it not evident that Athene herself, though she be well-disposed toward us, is unable to insure us any good beyond that of her own nature and dominion? As for Zeus, Apollo, and the others, they continually inflict misery on those who serve them. The gods are hard masters, and the worse that men are their sole dominion.

Soc. Let us beware how we incur their displeasure, or refuse to obey them. The natural man is unable to sustain his being. If the deities oppress, they also preserve and elevate the race of men. But who are we that say this? Is it necessary always to interpose an allegory between deity and intellect?

ISCHOм. Speak, then, without mystery. I desire to know esoterically what is true.

Soc. Hear, then, the ancient doctrine; and if it seems absurd, blame the weakness of my language, which is unable to express it aright. I received it from Diotime-she who teaches the doctrine of Love; but it came to her through Manes the Egyptian, who learned it in the temple of Ammon.

The universe is inspired by three Principles, who govern and compose all that is, and all that exists. The first of these is Phtha, the Primeval Substance, and the Being of being, out of whom all things arise, and into whom they return. They proceed from him because he wills that they should become. They return