Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens

by Alfred John Church

Callias said that he did.

“An excellent likeness! is it not? Who would think that such features concealed a soul so divinely beautiful? Did you have any talk with him when you were in Athens?”

“Yes,” replied Callias, “and I admired above all things his practical wisdom. But what was that to what I afterwards saw of him?”

And he went on to relate how the philosopher stood firm, though in imminent peril of his life, and had steadfastly refused to put the unconstitutional proposal of Callixenus to the assembly.

Alcibiades heard the story with uncontrollable delight. He started up from his seat, and walked up and down the room with flashing eyes. “Tell me everything about it,” he said, and he insisted upon the repetition of every detail. “That is magnificent,” he cried, when his curiosity had been satisfied. “That is exactly what one would have expected from Socrates. I suppose that it is the very first time that he ever acted as presiding magistrate—he had never been so, I know, when I left Athens, nor have I heard of his having been since—and that first time he did what nobody else dared to do. You say that the others gave way?”

“Yes,” replied Callias, “they stood up against it at first, but gave in afterwards. Socrates was absolutely alone, and at last they put the question without him.”

“It is just like him,” cried Alcibiades with enthusiasm.

“He is simply the bravest and most enduring man alive. I could tell you stories about him that would astonish you. We served together in the campaign at Potidæa. Indeed we were in the same mess. When we had short commons, as we had many a time, there was no one like him in holding out. He seemed to be able to go without food altogether, but when we had plenty, he could enjoy it as well as anybody. We had a foolish way, as young men will, of making people drink whether they wished it or not. But nothing ever affected Socrates. No one ever saw him one whit the worse for what he had taken. And as for the way in which he bore cold, it was absolutely incredible, only that one saw it with one’s own eyes. The winters here are terrible, as you will find out, if, as I hope you will, you stop with me, but he used to make nothing of them. During the very hardest frost we had, when every one who could, stayed in doors, and those who were obliged to go out, wrapped themselves till you would hardly know them, he wore nothing but his common cloak, and went absolutely barefoot.

“Once, I remember, something came into his mind. That was in the early morning. Well, he stood trying to think it out till noon, and from noon he went on till evening. Some Greeks from Asia wanted to see how long this would go on; so, after dinner, they brought out their mattresses, and took up their quarters for the night in the open air—it was summer-time, you must understand. Some of them slept, and some watched him, taking it by turns. Their report was that he stood there till morning, and the sun rose, and that then he made a prayer to the sun, and so went to his quarters.

“His courage, too, is astonishing. In one of the battles at Potidæa he saved my life. I had been wounded and must infallibly have been killed, if it had not been for him. He took me up and carried me off to our line. The generals gave me the prize for valor, when they ought, by right, to have given it to him. But they took account of my family and rank, and curiously enough, he was just as anxious as they were that I should have it and not he. Then at Delium, again, when the day went against us, and the army was in full retreat, I was in the cavalry; he was serving as a foot soldier. Our men would not keep together, and he and Laches—he was killed, afterward, at Mantinea—were making the best of their way back. I rode up to them and told them to keep up their courage and I would not leave them. A cavalry soldier has, you know, a great advantage in a retreat. There was no need to tell Socrates to keep up his courage. Laches, I could see, though a brave enough man, was terribly frightened; but Socrates was as cool as a man could be. He held up his head finely, and marched steadily on. It was plain enough to see that anyone who meddled with him would find out his mistake. The end of it was that he got back safe, and brought Laches back safe also. The fact is that at such times it is the men who are in a hurry to get away that are cut down. I do not think that there ever was a braver man than Socrates. And what you have just been telling me bears it out. A man may be brave enough in battle and be timidly frightened when the assembly is howling and raging against him. This has been a dismal business of the generals and I have never been so near despairing of my country, as I have since I heard it. How is it possible to help a city that makes such a requital to those who save her? But still, while there are men like Socrates in her, all is not lost. But no more now; you must be weary, and ready to sleep. There will be plenty of time hereafter to talk. And now farewell.”