George Macdonald Fraser wrote:
The Candlemass Road: "Here is any one of you, in a lonely place, as a little cabin in the wilderness, with no neighbours or friends by, and ye are sick and feeble, and with you your wife and two fair daughters…. As ye lie there helpless, there approach three great thieves and murderers that ye know to be crueller than any devils…. [A]s ye lie in terror for what is to come, a knock falls on the nether door of your poor cabin, as it may be some wayfarer seeking lodging or refreshment. Aye, and it may be he will lend you aid against your enemies approaching! You bid your wife open in haste. Now tell me, scholars, what men do you hope to see there when she opens? The learned, gentle Aristotle and St. Francis the meek, or Attila the great Hun armed cap-a-pie with Chingis at his elbow? From which pair, in your sore need, shall you hope to have the greater good, the saintly philosophers or the lusty men of war?"
All in all, I'd rather have Socrates, in full hoplite armor, thereby obtaining the best of both possibilities.