The ancient Pagans were not so exclusive and aristocratic as the Christians of our day, who are ambitious of social position.  Socrates never seemed to think about his social position at all, and uniformly acted as if he were well known and prominent.  He was listened to because he was eloquent.  His conversation is said to have been charming, and even fascinating.  He was an original and ingenious man, different from everybody else, and was therefore what we call “a character.”

But there was nothing austere or gloomy about him.  Though lofty in his inquiries, and serious in his mind, he resembled neither a Jewish prophet nor a mediaeval sage in his appearance.  He looked rather like a Silenus,—­very witty, cheerful, good-natured, jocose, and disposed to make people laugh.  He enjoined no austerities or penances.  He was very attractive to the young, and tolerant of human infirmities, even when he gave the best advice.  He was the most human of teachers.  Alcibiades was completely fascinated by his talk, and made good resolutions.

His great peculiarity in conversation was to ask questions,—­sometimes to gain information, but oftener to puzzle and raise a laugh.  He sought to expose ignorance, when it was pretentious; he made all the quacks and shams appear ridiculous.  His irony was tremendous; nobody could stand before his searching and unexpected questions, and he made nearly every one with whom he conversed appear either as a fool or an ignoramus.  He asked his questions with great apparent modesty, and thus drew a mesh over his opponents from which they could not extricate themselves.  His process was the reductio ad absurdum.  Hence he drew upon himself the wrath of the Sophists.  He had no intellectual arrogance, since he professed to know nothing himself, although he was conscious of his own intellectual superiority.  He was contented to show that others knew no more than he.  He had no passion for admiration, no political ambition, no desire for social distinction; and he associated with men not for what they could do for him, but for what he could do for them.  Although poor, he charged nothing for his teachings.  He seemed to despise riches, since riches could only adorn or pamper the body.  He did not live in a cell or a cave or a tub, but among the people, as an apostle.  He must have accepted gifts, since his means of living were exceedingly small, even for Athens.

He was very practical, even while he lived above the world, absorbed in lofty contemplations.  He was always talking with such as the skin-dressers and leather-dealers, using homely language for his illustrations, and uttering plain truths.  Yet he was equally at home with poets and philosophers and statesmen.  He did not take much interest in that knowledge which was applied merely to rising in the world.  Though plain, practical, and even homely in his conversation, he was not utilitarian.  Science had no charm to him, since it was directed to utilitarian ends