less manifest. Indeed that saying of his, "A divinity[2] gives me a
sign," was on everybody's lips. So much so that, if I am not mistaken,
it lay at the root of the imputation that he imported novel
divinities; though there was no greater novelty in his case than in
that of other believers in oracular help, who commonly rely on omens
of all sorts: the flight or cry of birds, the utterances of man,
chance meetings,[3] or a victim's entrails. Even according to the
popular conception, it is not the mere fowl, it is not the chance
individual one meets, who knows what things are profitable for a man,
but it is the gods who vouchsafe by such instruments to signify the
same. This was also the tenet of Socrates. Only, whereas men
ordinarily speak of being turned aside, or urged onwards by birds, or
other creatures encountered on the path, Socrates suited his language
to his conviction. "The divinity," said he, "gives me a sign."
Further, he would constantly advise his associates to do this, or
beware of doing that, upon the authority of this same divine voice;
and, as a matter of fact, those who listened to his warnings
prospered, whilst he who turned a deaf ear to them repented
afterwards.[4] Yet, it will be readily conceded, he would hardly
desire to present himself to his everyday companions in the character
of either knave or fool. Whereas he would have appeared to be both,
supposing[5] the God-given revelations had but revealed his own
proneness to deception. It is plain he would not have ventured on
forecast at all, but for his belief that the words he spoke would in
fact be verified. Then on whom, or what, was the assurance rooted, if
not upon God? And if he had faith in the gods, how could he fail to
recognise them?

[2] Or, "A divine something." See "Encyc. Brit." "Socrates." Dr. H.
Jackason; "The Daemon of Socrates," F. W. H. Myers; K. Joel, "Der