whom the owners bless; a kindly helpmeet of servants; (39) a brave assistant in the labours of peace; an unflinching ally in the deeds of war; a sharer in all friendships indispensable. To my friends is given an enjoyment of meats and drinks, which is sweet in itself and devoid of trouble, in that they can endure until desire ripens, and sleep more delicious visits them than those who toil not. Yet they are not pained to part with it; nor for the sake of slumber do they let slip the performance of their duties. Among my followers the youth delights in the praises of his elders, and the old man glories in the honour of the young; with joy they call to memory their deeds of old, and in to-day's well-doing are well pleased. For my sake they are dear in the sight of God, beloved of their friends and honoured by the country of their birth. When the appointed goal is reached they lie not down in oblivion with dishonour, but bloom afresh--their praise resounded on the lips of men for ever. (40) Toils like these, O son of noble parents, Heracles, it is yours to meet with, and having endured, to enter into the heritage assured you of transcendant happiness.'"
(38) Reading {ois prosekei}, or if {proseko}, translate "to whom I am attached."
(40) Or, "so true is it, a branch is left them; undying honour to their name!"
This, Aristippus, in rough sketch is the theme which Prodicus pursues (41) in his "Education of Heracles by Virtue," only he decked out his sentiments, I admit, in far more magnificent phrases than I have ventured on. Were it not well, Aristippus, to lay to heart these sayings, and to strive to bethink you somewhat of that which touches the future of our life?
(41) Reading {diokei}, al. {diokei} = "so Prodicus arranged the parts of his discourse."
II At another time, he had noticed the angry temper shown by Lamprocles, the elder of his sons, towards their mother, and thus addressed himself to the lad.
Soc. Pray, my son, did you ever hear of certain people being called ungrateful?
That I have (replied the young man).
Soc. And have you understood what it is they do to get that bad name?
Lamp. Yes, I have: when any one has been kindly treated, and has it in his power to requite the kindness but neglects to do so, men call him ungrateful.
Soc. And you admit that people reckon the ungrateful among wrongdoers?
Lamp. I do.
Soc. And has it ever struck you to inquire whether, as regards the right or wrong of it, ingratitude may not perhaps resemble some such conduct as the enslavement, say, of prisoners, which is accounted wrong towards friends but justifiable towards enemies?
Lamp. Yes, I have put that question to myself. In my opinion, no matter who confers the kindness, friend or foe, the recipient should endeavour to requite it, failing which he is a wrongdoer.
Soc. Then if that is how the matter stands, ingratitude would be an instance of pure unadulterate wrongdoing?
Lamprocles assented to the proposition.
Soc. It follows, then, that in proportion to the greatness of the benefit conferred, the greater his misdoing who fails to requite the kindness?
Lamprocles again assented.
Socrates continued: And where can we hope to find greater benefits than those which children derive from their parents--their father and mother who brought them out of nothingness into being, who granted them to look upon all these fair sights, and to partake of all those blessings which the gods bestow on man, things so priceless in our eyes that one and all we shudder at the thought of leaving them, and states have made death the penalty for the greatest crimes, because there is no greater evil through fear of which to stay iniquity.
You do not suppose that human beings produce children for the sake of carnal pleasure (1) merely; were this the motive, street and bordell are full of means to quit them of that thrall; whereas nothing is plainer than the pains we take to seek out wives who shall bear us the finest children. (2) With these we wed, and carry on the race. The man has a twofold duty to perform: partly in cherishing her who is to raise up children along with him, and partly towards the children yet unborn in providing them with things that he thinks will contribute to their well-being--and of these as large a store as possible. The woman, conceiving, bears her precious burthen with travail and pain, and at the risk of life itself--sharing with that within her womb the food on which she herself is fed. And when with much labour she has borne to the end and brought forth her offspring, she feeds it and watches over it with tender care--not in return for any good thing previously received, for indeed the babe itself is little conscious of its benefactor and cannot even signify its wants; only she, the mother, making conjecture of what is good for it, and what will please it, essays to satisfy it; (3) and for many months she feeds it night and day, enduring the toil nor recking what return she shall receive for all her trouble. Nor does the care and kindness of parents end with nurture; but when the children seem of an age to learn, they teach them themselves whatever cunning they possess, as a guide to life, or where they feel that another is more competent, to him they send them to be taught at their expense.
Thus they watch over their children, doing all in their power to enable them to grow up to be as good as possible.
(1) Lit. "the joys of Aphrodite."
(2) "For the procreation of children." See below, IV. iv. 22; "Pol.
Lac." i.
(3) Lit. "to leave nought lacking."
So be it (the youth answered); but even if she have done all that, and twenty times as much, no soul on earth could endure my mother's cross-grained temper.
Then Socrates: Which, think you, would be harder to bear--a wild beast's savagery or a mother's?
Lamp. To my mind, a mother's--at least if she be such as mine.
Soc. Dear me! And has this mother ever done you any injury--such as people frequently receive from beasts, by bite or kick?
Lamp. If she has not done quite that, she uses words which any one would sooner sell his life than listen to.
Soc. And how many annoyances have you caused your mother, do you suppose, by fretfulness and peevishness in word and deed, night and day, since you were a little boy? How much sorrow and pain, when you were ill?
Lamp. Well, I never said or did anything to bring a blush to her cheeks.
Soc. No, come now! Do you suppose it is harder for you to listen to your mother's speeches than for actor to listen to actor on the tragic stage, (4) when the floodgates of abuse are opened?
(4) See Grote, "H. G." viii. 457; Plut. "Solon," xxix.
Lamp. Yes; for the simple reason that they know it is all talk on their parts. The inquisitor may cross-question, but he will not inflict a fine; the threatener may hurl his menaces, but he will do no mischief--that is why they take it all so easily.
Soc. Then ought you to fly into a passion, who know well enough that, whatever your mother says, she is so far from meaning you mischief that she is actually wishing blessings to descend upon you beyond all others?
Or do you believe that your mother is really ill disposed towards you?
Lamp. No, I do not think that.
Soc. Then this mother, who is kindly disposed to you, and takes such tender care of you when you are ill to make you well again, and to see that you want for nothing which may help you; and, more than all, who is perpetually pleading for blessings in your behalf and offering her vows to Heaven (5)--can you say of her that she is cross-grained and harsh?
For my part, I think, if you cannot away with such a mother, you cannot away with such blessings either.
(5) Or, "paying vows."
But tell me (he proceeded), do you owe service to any living being, think you? or are you prepared to stand alone? Prepared not to please or try to please a single soul? to follow none? To obey neither general nor ruler of any sort? Is that your attitude, or do you admit that you owe allegiance to somebody?
Lamp. Yes; certainly I owe allegiance.
Soc. May I take it that you are willing to please at any rate your neighbour, so that he may kindle a fire for you in your need, may prove himself a ready helpmate in good fortune, or if you chance on evil and are stumbling, may friendlily stand by your side to aid?
Lamp. I am willing.
Soc. Well, and what of that other chance companion--your fellow-traveller by land or sea? what of any others, you may light upon?
is it indifferent to you whether these be friends or not, or do you admit that the goodwill of these is worth securing by some pains on your part?
Lamp. I do.
Soc. It stands thus then: you are prepared to pay attention to this, that, and the other stranger, but to your mother who loves you more than all else, you are bound to render no service, no allegiance? Do you not know that whilst the state does not concern itself with ordinary ingratitude or pass judicial sentence on it; whilst it overlooks the thanklessness of those who fail to make return for kindly treatment, it reserves its pains and penalties for the special case? If a man render not the service and allegiance due to his parents, on him the finger of the law is laid; his name is struck off the roll; he is forbidden to hold the archonship--which is as much as to say, "Sacrifices in behalf of the state offered by such a man would be no offerings, being tainted with impiety; nor could aught else be 'well and justly' performed of which he is the doer." Heaven help us! If a man fail to adorn the sepulchre of his dead parents the state takes cognisance of the matter, and inquisition is made in the scrutiny of the magistrates. (6) And as for you, my son, if you are in your sober senses, you will earnestly entreat your mother, lest the very gods take you to be an ungrateful being, and on their side also refuse to do you good; and you will beware of men also, lest they should perceive your neglect of your parents, and with one consent hold you in dishonour; (7) and so you find yourself in a desert devoid of friends. For if once the notion be entertained that here is a man ungrateful to his parents, no one will believe that any kindness shown you would be other than thrown away.
(6) Lit. "the docimasia." See Gow, "Companion," xiv.
(7) "Visiti with atimia."
III At another time the differences between two brothers named Chaerephon and Chaerecrates, both well known to him, had drawn his attention; and on seeing the younger of the two he thus addressed him.
Soc. Tell me, Chaerecrates, you are not, I take it, one of those strange people who believe that goods are better and more precious than a brother; (1) and that too although the former are but senseless chattels which need protection, the latter a sensitive and sensible being who can afford it; and what is more, he is himself alone, whilst as for them their name is legion. And here again is a marvellous thing: that a man should count his brother a loss, because the goods of his brother are not his; but he does not count his fellow-citizens loss, and yet their possessions are not his; only it seems in their case he has wits to see that to dwell securely with many and have enough is better than to own the whole wealth of a community and to live in dangerous isolation; but this same doctrine as applied to brothers they ignore. Again, if a man have the means, he will purchase domestic slaves, because he wants assistants in his work; he will acquire friends, because he needs their support; but this brother of his--who cares about brothers? It seems a friend may be discovered in an ordinary citizen, but not in a blood relation who is also a brother. And yet it is a great vantage-ground towards friendship to have sprung from the same loins and to have been suckled at the same breasts, since even among beasts a certain natural craving, and sympathy springs up between creatures reared together. (2) Added to which, a man who has brothers commands more respect from the rest of the world than the man who has none, and who must fight his own battles. (3) (1) Cf. "Merchant of Venice," II. viii. 17: "Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!"
(2) Or, "a yearning after their foster-brothers manifests itself in animals." See "Cyrop." VIII. vii. 14 foll. for a parallel to this discussion.
(3) Lit. "and is less liable to hostility."
Chaer. I daresay, Socrates, where the differences are not profound, reason would a man should bear with his brother, and not avoid him for some mere trifle's sake, for a brother of the right sort is, as you say, a blessing; but if he be the very antithesis of that, why should a man lay his hand to achieve the impossible?
Soc. Well now, tell me, is there nobody whom Chaerephon can please any more than he can please yourself; or do some people find him agreeable enough?
Chaer. Nay, there you hit it. That is just why I have a right to detest him. He can be pleasing enough to others, but to me, whenever he appears on the scene, he is not a blessing--no! but by every manner of means the reverse.
Soc. May it not happen that just as a horse is no gain to the inexpert rider who essays to handle him, so in like manner, if a man tries to deal with his brother after an ignorant fashion, this same brother will kick?
Chaer. But is it likely now? How should I be ignorant of the art of dealing with my brother if I know the art of repaying kind words and good deeds in kind? But a man who tries all he can to annoy me by word and deed, I can neither bless nor benefit, and, what is more, I will not try.
Soc. Well now, that is a marvellous statement, Chaerecrates. Your dog, the serviceable guardian of your flocks, who will fawn and lick the hand of your shepherd, when you come near him can only growl and show his teeth. Well; you take no notice of the dog's ill-temper, you try to propitiate him by kindness; but your brother? If your brother were what he ought to be, he would be a great blessing to you--that you admit; and, as you further confess, you know the secret of kind acts and words, yet you will not set yourself to apply means to make him your best of friends.
Chaer. I am afraid, Socrates, that I have no wisdom or cunning to make Chaerephon bear himself towards me as he should.
Soc. Yet there is no need to apply any recondite or novel machinery.
Only bait your hook in the way best known to yourself, and you will capture him; whereupon he will become your devoted friend.
Chaer. If you are aware that I know some love-charm, Socrates, of which I am the happy but unconscious possessor, pray make haste and enlighten me.
Soc. Answer me then. Suppose you wanted to get some acquaintance to invite you to dinner when he next keeps holy day, (4) what steps would you take?
(4) "When he next does sacrifice"; see "Hiero," viii. 3. Cf. Theophr.
"Char." xv. 2, and Prof. Jebb's note ad loc.
Chaer. No doubt I should set him a good example by inviting him myself on a like occasion.
Soc. And if you wanted to induce some friend to look after your affairs during your absence abroad, how would you achieve your purpose?
Chaer. No doubt I should present a precedent in undertaking to look after his in like circumstances.
Soc. And if you wished to get some foreign friend to take you under his roof while visiting his country, what would you do?
Chaer. No doubt I should begin by offering him the shelter of my own roof when he came to Athens, in order to enlist his zeal in furthering the objects of my visit; it is plain I should first show my readiness to do as much for him in a like case.
Soc. Why, it seems you are an adept after all in all the philtres known to man, only you chose to conceal your knowledge all the while; or is it that you shrink from taking the first step because of the scandal you will cause by kindly advances to your brother? And yet it is commonly held to redound to a man's praise to have outstripped an enemy in mischief or a friend in kindness. Now if it seemed to me that Chaerephon were better fitted to lead the way towards this friendship, (5) I should have tried to persuade him to take the first step in winning your affection, but now I am persuaded the first move belongs to you, and to you the final victory.
(5) Reading {pros ten philian}, or if {phusin}, transl. "natural disposition."
Chaer. A startling announcement, Socrates, from your lips, and most unlike you, to bid me the younger take precedence of my elder brother.
Why, it is contrary to the universal custom of mankind, who look to the elder to take the lead in everything, whether as a speaker or an actor.
Soc. How so? Is it not the custom everywhere for the younger to step aside when he meets his elder in the street and to give him place? Is he not expected to get up and offer him his seat, to pay him the honour of a soft couch, (6) to yield him precedence in argument?
(6) Lit. "with a soft bed," or, as we say, "the best bedroom."
My good fellow, do not stand shilly-shallying, (7) but put out your hand caressingly, and you will see the worthy soul will respond at once with alacrity. Do you not note your brother's character, proud and frank and sensitive to honour? He is not a mean and sorry rascal to be caught by a bribe--no better way indeed for such riff-raff. No! gentle natures need a finer treatment. You can best hope to work on them by affection.
(7) Or, "have no fears, essay a soothing treatment."
Chaer. But suppose I do, and suppose that, for all my attempts, he shows no change for the better?
Soc. At the worst you will have shown yourself to be a good, honest, brotherly man, and he will appear as a sorry creature on whom kindness is wasted. But nothing of the sort is going to happen, as I conjecture.
My belief is that as soon as he hears your challenge, he will embrace the contest; pricked on by emulous pride, he will insist upon getting the better of you in kindness of word and deed.
At present you two are in the condition of two hands formed by God to help each other, but which have let go their business and have turned to hindering one another all they can. You are a pair of feet fashioned on the Divine plan to work together, but which have neglected this in order to trammel each other's gait. Now is it not insensate stupidity (8) to use for injury what was meant for advantage? And yet in fashioning two brothers God intends them, methinks, to be of more benefit to one another than either two hands, or two feet, or two eyes, or any other of those pairs which belong to man from his birth. (9) Consider how powerless these hands of ours if called upon to combine their action at two points more than a single fathom's length apart; (10) and these feet could not stretch asunder (11) even a bare fathom; and these eyes, for all the wide-reaching range we claim for them, are incapable of seeing simultaneously the back and front of an object at even closer quarters.
But a pair of brothers, linked in bonds of amity, can work each for the other's good, though seas divide them. (12) (8) "Boorishness verging upon monomania."
(9) "With which man is endowed at birth."
(10) "More than an 'arms'-stretch' asunder."
(11) Lit. "reach at one stretch two objects, even over that small distance."
(12) "Though leagues separate them."
IV I have at another time heard him discourse on the kindred theme of friendship in language well calculated, as it seemed to me, to help a man to choose and also to use his friends aright.
He (Socrates) had often heard the remark made that of all possessions there is none equal to that of a good and sincere friend; but, in spite of this assertion, the mass of people, as far as he could see, concerned themselves about nothing so little as the acquisition of friends.
Houses, and fields, and slaves, and cattle, and furniture of all sorts (he said) they were at pains to acquire, and they strove hard to keep what they had got; but to procure for themselves this greatest of all blessings, as they admitted a friend to be, or to keep the friends whom they already possessed, not one man in a hundred ever gave himself a thought. It was noticeable, in the case of a sickness befalling a man's friend and one of his own household simultaneously, the promptness with which the master would fetch the doctor to his domestic, and take every precaution necessary for his recovery, with much expenditure of pains; but meanwhile little account would be taken of the friend in like condition, and if both should die, he will show signs of deep annoyance at the death of his domestic, which, as he reflects, is a positive loss to him; but as regards his friend his position is in no wise materially affected, and thus, though he would never dream of leaving his other possessions disregarded and ill cared for, friendship's mute appeal is met with flat indifference. (1) (1) Or, "the cry of a friend for careful tending falls on deaf ears."
Or to take (said he) a crowning instance: (2) with regard to ordinary possessions, however multifarious these may be, most people are at least acquainted with their number, but if you ask a man to enumerate his friends, who are not so very many after all perhaps, he cannot; or if, to oblige the inquirer, he essays to make a list, he will presently retract the names of some whom he had previously included. (3) Such is the amount of thought which people bestow upon their friends.
(2) Or, "Nor had he failed to observe another striking contrast." Cf.
Cic. "Lael." 17; Diog. Laert. ii. 30.
And yet what thing else may a man call his own is comparable to this one best possession! what rather will not serve by contrast to enhance the value of an honest friend! Think of a horse or a yoke of oxen; they have their worth; but who shall gauge the worth of a worthy friend? Kindlier and more constant than the faithfullest of slaves--this is that possession best named all-serviceable. (4) Consider what the post is that he assigns himself! to meet and supplement what is lacking to the welfare of his friends, to promote their private and their public interests, is his concern. Is there need of kindly action in any quarter? he will throw in the full weight of his support. Does some terror confound? he is at hand to help and defend by expenditure of money and of energy, (5) by appeals to reason or resort to force. His the privilege alike to gladden the prosperous in the hour of success and to sustain their footing who have well-nigh slipped. All that the hands of a man may minister, all that the eyes of each are swift to see, the ears to hear, and the feet to compass, he with his helpful arts will not fall short of. Nay, not seldom that which a man has failed to accomplish for himself, has missed seeing or hearing or attaining, a friend acting in behalf of friend will achieve vicariously. And yet, albeit to try and tend a tree for the sake of its fruit is not uncommon, this copious mine of wealth--this friend--attracts only a lazy and listless attention on the part of more than half the world.
(4) "A vessel fit for all work indeed is this friend." Cf. Ar. "Ach."
936, {pagkhreston aggos estai}, like the "leather bottel."
(5) Or, "by dint of his diplomacy."
V I remember listening to another argument of his, the effect of which would be to promote self-examination. The listener must needs be brought to ask himself, "Of what worth am I to my friends?" It happened thus.
One of those who were with him was neglectful, as he noted, of a friend who was at the pinch of poverty (Antisthenes). (1) Accordingly, in the presence of the negligent person and of several others, he proceeded to question the sufferer.
(1) Antisthenes, "cynicorum et stoicorum parens." Cic. "de Or." iii.
17; "ad Att." xii. 38. See below, III. iii. 17; "Symp." passim; Diog. Laert. II. v.; VI. i.
Soc. What say you, Antisthenes?--have friends their values like domestic slaves? One of these latter may be worth perhaps two minae, (2) another only half a mina, a third five, and a fourth as much as ten; while they do say that Nicias, (3) the son of Niceratus, paid a whole talent for a superintendent of his silver mines. And so I propound the question to myself as follows: "Have friends, like slaves, their market values?"
(3) For Nicias see Thuc. vii. 77 foll.; "Revenues," iv. 14; Plut.
"Nic." IV. v.; Lys. "de bon. Aristoph." 648.
Not a doubt of it (replied Antisthenes). At any rate, I know that I would rather have such a one as my friend than be paid two minae, and there is such another whose worth I would not estimate at half a mina, and a third with whom I would not part for ten, and then again a fourth whose friendship would be cheap if it cost me all the wealth and pains in the world to purchase it.
Well then (continued Socrates), if that be so, would it not be well if every one were to examine himself: "What after all may I chance to be worth to my friends?" Should he not try to become as dear as possible, so that his friends will not care to give him up? How often do I hear the complaint: "My friend So-and-so has given me up"; or "Such an one, whom I looked upon as a friend, has sacrificed me for a mina." And every time I hear these remarks, the question arises in my mind: If the vendor of a worthless slave is ready to part with him to a purchaser for what he will fetch--is there not at least a strong temptation to part with a base friend when you have a chance of making something on the exchange?
Good slaves, as far as I can see, are not so knocked down to the hammer; no, nor good friends so lightly parted with.
VI Again, in reference to the test to be applied, if we would gauge the qualifications of a friend worth the winning, the following remarks of Socrates could not fail, I think, to prove instructive. (1) (1) Or, "Again, as to establishing a test of character, since a friend worth having must be of a particular type, I cannot but think that the following remarks would prove instructive."
Tell me (said Socrates, addressing Critobulus), supposing we stood in need of a good friend, how should we set about his discovery? We must, in the first place, I suppose, seek out one who is master of his appetites, not under the dominion, that is, of his belly, not addicted to the wine-cup or to lechery or sleep or idleness, since no one enslaved to such tyrants could hope to do his duty either by himself or by his friends, could he?
Certainly not (Critobulus answered).
Soc. Do you agree, then, that we must hold aloof from every one so dominated?
Cri. Most assuredly.
Well then (proceeded Socrates), what shall we say of the spendthrift who has lost his independence and is for ever begging of his neighbours; if he gets anything out of them he cannot repay, but if he fails to get anything, he hates you for not giving--do you not think that this man too would prove but a disagreeable friend?
Cri. Certainly.
Soc. Then we must keep away from him too?
Cri. That we must.
Soc. Well! and what of the man whose strength lies in monetary transactions? (2) His one craving is to amass money; and for that reason he is an adept at driving a hard bargain (3)--glad enough to take in, but loath to pay out.
(2) Or, "the money-lender? He has a passion for big money-bags."
(3) Or, "hard in all his dealings."
Cri. In my opinion he will prove even a worse fellow than the last.
Soc. Well! and what of that other whose passion for money-making is so absorbing that he has no leisure for anything else, save how he may add to his gains?
Cri. Hold aloof from him, say I, since there is no good to be got out of him or his society.
Soc. Well! what of the quarrelsome and factious person (4) whose main object is to saddle his friends with a host of enemies?
(4) "The partisan."
Cri. For God's sake let us avoid him also.
Soc. But now we will imagine a man exempt indeed from all the above defects--a man who has no objection to receive kindnesses, but it never enters into his head to do a kindness in return.
Cri. There will be no good in him either. But, Socrates, what kind of man shall we endeavour to make our friend? what is he like?
Soc. I should say he must be just the converse of the above: he has control over the pleasures of the body, he is kindly disposed, (5) upright in all his dealings, (6) very zealous is he not to be outdone in kindness by his benefactors, if only his friends may derive some profit from his acquaintance.
(5) Reading {eunous}, or if {euorkos}, transl. "a man of his word."
(6) Or, "easy to deal with."
Cri. But how are we to test these qualities, Socrates, before acquaintance?
Soc. How do we test the merits of a sculptor?--not by inferences drawn from the talk of the artist merely. No, we look to what he has already achieved. These former statues of his were nobly executed, and we trust he will do equally well with the rest.
Cri. You mean that if we find a man whose kindness to older friends is established, we may take it as proved that he will treat his newer friends as amiably?
Soc. Why, certainly, if I see a man who has shown skill in the handling of horses previously, I argue that he will handle others no less skilfully again.
Cri. Good! and when we have discovered a man whose friendship is worth having, how ought we to make him our friend?
Soc. First we ought to ascertain the will of Heaven whether it be advisable to make him our friend.
Cri. Well! and how are we to effect the capture of this friend of our choice, whom the gods approve? will you tell me that?
Not, in good sooth (replied Socrates), by running him down like a hare, nor by decoying him like a bird, or by force like a wild boar. (7) To capture a friend against his will is a toilsome business, and to bind him in fetters like a slave by no means easy. Those who are so treated are apt to become foes instead of friends. (8) (7) Reading {kaproi}, al. {ekhthroi}, "an enemy."
(8) Or, "Hate rather than friendship is the outcome of these methods."
Cri. But how convert them into friends?
Soc. There are certain incantations, we are told, which those who know them have only to utter, and they can make friends of whom they list; and there are certain philtres also which those who have the secret of them may administer to whom they like and win their love.
Cri. From what source shall we learn them?
Soc. You need not go farther than Homer to learn that which the Sirens sang to Odysseus, (9) the first words of which run, I think, as follows: Hither, come hither, thou famous man, Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans!
(9) "Od." xii. 184.
Cri. And did the magic words of this spell serve for all men alike? Had the Sirens only to utter this one incantation, and was every listener constrained to stay?
Soc. No; this was the incantation reserved for souls athirst for fame, of virtue emulous.
Cri. Which is as much as to say, we must suit the incantation to the listener, so that when he hears the words he shall not think that the enchanter is laughing at him in his sleeve. I cannot certainly conceive a method better calculated to excite hatred and repulsion than to go to some one who knows that he is small and ugly and a weakling, and to breathe in his ears the flattering tale that he is beautiful and tall and stalwart. But do you know any other love-charms, Socrates?
Soc. I cannot say that I do; but I have heard that Pericles (10) was skilled in not a few, which he poured into the ear of our city and won her love.
(10) See above, I. ii. 40; "Symp." viii. 39.
Cri. And how did Themistocles (11) win our city's love?
(11) See below, III. vi. 2; IV. ii. 2.
Soc. Ah, that was not by incantation at all. What he did was to encircle our city with an amulet of saving virtue. (12) (12) See Herod. vii. 143, "the wooden wall"; Thuc. i. 93, "'the walls' of Athens."
Cri. You would imply, Socrates, would you not, that if we want to win the love of any good man we need to be good ourselves in speech and action?
And did you imagine (replied Socrates) that it was possible for a bad man to make good friends?
Cri. Why, I could fancy I had seen some sorry speech-monger who was fast friends with a great and noble statesman; or again, some born commander and general who was boon companion with fellows quite incapable of generalship. (13) (13) Or, "Why, yes, when I see some base orator fast friends with a great leader of the people; or, again, some fellow incapable of generalship a comrade to the greatest captains of his age."
Soc. But in reference to the point we were discussing, may I ask whether you know of any one who can attach a useful friend to himself without being of use in return? (14) Can service ally in friendship with disservice?
(14) Add, "Can service ally in friendship with disservice? Must there not be a reciprocity of service to make friendship lasting?"
Cri. In good sooth no. But now, granted it is impossible for a base man to be friends with the beautiful and noble, (14) I am concerned at once to discover if one who is himself of a beautiful and noble character can, with a wave of the hand, as it were, attach himself in friendship to every other beautiful and noble nature.
(14) {kalous kagathous}.
Soc. What perplexes and confounds you, Critobulus, is the fact that so often men of noble conduct, with souls aloof from baseness, are not friends but rather at strife and discord with one another, and deal more harshly by one another than they would by the most good-for-nothing of mankind.
Cri. Yes, and this holds true not of private persons only, but states, the most eager to pursue a noble policy and to repudiate a base one, are frequently in hostile relation to one another. As I reason on these things my heart fails me, and the question, how friends are to be acquired, fills me with despondency. The bad, as I see, cannot be friends with one another. For how can such people, the ungrateful, or reckless, or covetous, or faithless, or incontinent, adhere together as friends? Without hesitation I set down the bad as born to be foes not friends, and as bearing the birthmark of internecine hate. But then again, as you suggest, no more can these same people harmonise in friendship with the good. For how should they who do evil be friends with those who hate all evil-doing? And if, last of all, they that cultivate virtue are torn by party strife in their struggle for the headship of the states, envying one another, hating one another, who are left to be friends? where shall goodwill and faithfulness be found among men?
Soc. The fact is there is some subtlety in the texture of these things.
(15) Seeds of love are implanted in man by nature. Men have need of one another, feel pity, help each other by united efforts, and in recognition of the fact show mutual gratitude. But there are seeds of war implanted also. The same objects being regarded as beautiful or