Complete Works of Xenophon (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

by Xenophon

  “Does everyone find Chaerophon as disagreeable as you do, Chaerecrates, or do some people think him very pleasant?”

  “Ah, Socrates,” replied he, “this is precisely my reason for hating him: he is pleasant enough to other people, but whenever he is near me, he invariably says and does more to hurt than to help me.” [7]

  “Well now,” said Socrates, “if you try to manage a horse without knowing the right way, he hurts you. Is it so with a brother? Does he hurt if you try to deal with him when you don’t know the way?” [8]

  “What,” exclaimed Chaerecrates, “don’t I know how to deal with a brother, when I know how to requite a kind word and a generous deed? But I can’t speak or act kindly to one who tries to annoy me by his words and actions — and what’s more, I won’t try.”

  “Chaerecrates, you astonish me! [9] Had you a sheep dog that was friendly to the shepherds, but growled when you came near him, it would never occur to you to get angry, but you would try to tame him by kindness. You say that, if your brother treated you like a brother, he would be a great blessing, and you confess that you know how to speak and act kindly: yet you don’t set yourself to contriving that he shall be the greatest possible blessing to you.” [10]

  “I fear, Socrates, that I lack the wisdom to make Chaerophon treat me as he should.”

  “And yet,” said Socrates, “there is no need, so far as I see, of any subtle or strange contriving on your part: I think you know the way to win him and to get his good opinion.” [11]

  “If you have observed that I know some spell without being conscious of my knowledge, pray tell me at once.”

  “Then tell me, now; if you wanted to get an invitation to dine with an acquaintance when he offers sacrifice, what would you do?”

  “Of course I should begin by inviting him myself when I offered sacrifice.” [12]

  “And suppose you wanted to encourage one of your friends to look after your affairs during your absence from home, what would you do?”

  “Of course I should first undertake to look after his affairs in his absence.” [13]

  “And suppose you wanted a stranger to entertain you when you visited his city, what would you do?”

  “Obviously I should first entertain him when he came to Athens. Yes, and if I wanted him to show himself eager in forwarding the business on which I had come, it is obvious that I should first have to do the same by him.” [14]

  “It seems that you have long concealed a knowledge of all spells that were ever discovered. Or is it that you hesitate to make a beginning, for fear of disgracing yourself by first showing kindness to your brother? Yet it is generally thought worthy of the highest praise to anticipate the malevolence of an enemy and the benevolence of a friend. So if I thought Chaerophon more capable than you of showing the way to this friendship, I would try to persuade him to take the first step towards an understanding with you. But as things are, I think the enterprise more likely to succeed under your direction.”

  “Strange sentiments, these, Socrates! [15] It’s quite unlike you to urge me, the junior, to lead the way! And surely all hold the contrary opinion, that the senior, I mean, should always act and speak first?”

  “How so?” said Socrates. [16] “Is it not the general opinion that a young man should make way for an older when they meet, offer his seat to him, give him a comfortable bed, let him have the first word? My good friend, don’t hesitate, but take up the task of pacifying your man, and in no time he will respond to your overtures. Don’t you see how keen and frank he is? Low fellows, it is true, yield most readily to gifts, but kindness is the weapon most likely to prevail with a gentleman.” [17]

  “And what,” asked Chaerecrates, “if all my efforts lead to no improvement?”

  “Well, in that case, I presume you will have shown that you are honest and brotherly, he that he is base and unworthy of kindness. But I am confident that no such result will follow; for I think that, as soon as he is aware of your challenge to this contest, he will be all eagerness to outdo your kind words and actions. [18] What if a pair of hands refused the office of mutual help for which God made them, and tried to thwart each other; or if a pair of feet neglected the duty of working together, for which they were fashioned, and took to hampering each other? That is how you two are behaving at present. [19] Would it not be utterly senseless and disastrous to use for hindrance instruments that were made for help? And, moreover, a pair of brothers, in my judgment, were made by God to render better service one to the other than a pair of hands and feet and eyes and all the instruments that he meant to be used as fellows. For the hands cannot deal simultaneously with things that are more than six feet or so apart: the feet cannot reach in a single stride things that are even six feet apart: and the eyes, though they seem to have a longer range, cannot at the same moment see things still nearer than that, if some are in front and some behind. But two brothers, when they are friends, act simultaneously for mutual benefit, however far parted one from the other.”

  4. Again, I once heard him give a discourse on friendship that was likely, as I thought, to help greatly in the acquisition and use of friends.

  For he said that he often heard it stated that of all possessions the most precious is a good and sincere friend. “And yet,” he said, “there is no transaction most men are so careless about as the acquisition of friends. [2] For I find that they are careful about getting houses and lands and slaves and cattle and furniture, and anxious to keep what they have; but though they tell one that a friend is the greatest blessing, I find that most men take no thought how to get new friends or how to keep their old ones. [3] Indeed, if one of their friends and one of their servants fall ill at the same time, I find that some call in the doctor to attend the servant and are careful to provide everything that may contribute to his recovery, whereas they take no heed of the friend. In the event of both dying, they are vexed at losing the servant, but don’t feel that the death of the friend matters in the least. And though none of their other possessions is uncared for and unconsidered, they are deaf to their friends’ need of attention. [4] And besides all this, I find that most men know the number of their other possessions, however great it may be, yet cannot tell the number of their friends, few as they are; and, if they are asked and try to make a list, they will insert names and presently remove them. So much for the thought they give to their friends! [5] Yet surely there is no other possession that can compare with a good friend. For what horse, what yoke of oxen is so good a servant as the good friend? What slave so loyal and constant? or what possession so serviceable? [6] The good friend is on the watch to supply whatever his friend wants for building up his private fortune and forwarding his public career. If generosity is called for, he does his part: if fear harasses, he comes to the rescue, shares expenses, helps to persuade, bears down opposition: he is foremost in delighting him when he is prosperous and raising him up when he falls. [7] Of all that a man can do with his hands, see for himself with his eyes, hear for himself with his ears or accomplish with his feet, in nothing is a friend backward in helping. Nevertheless, while some strive to cultivate a tree for its fruit, most bestow but an idle and listless care on their most fruitful possession, the name of which is ‘friend.’”

  5. Again, I once heard him exhort a listener — for so I interpreted his words — to examine himself and to ask how much he was worth to his friends. For he had noticed that one of his companions was neglecting a poverty-stricken friend; so he put a question to Antisthenes in the presence of several others, including the careless friend. [2] “Antisthenes,” he said, “have friends like servants their own values? For one servant, I suppose, may be worth two minas, another less than half a mina, another five minas, another no less than ten. Nicias, son of Niceratus, is said to have given a whole talent for a manager of his silver-mine. So I am led to inquire whether friends too may not differ in value.” [3]

  “Oh yes,” replied Antisthenes, “there are men whose friendship I, at any rate, would
rather have than two minas: others I should value at less than half a mina: others I would prefer to ten minas: others I would sacrifice any sum and take any trouble to have among my friends.” [4]

  “Then if that is so,” said Socrates, “were it not well that one should ask himself how much he is really worth to his friends, and try to make himself as precious as possible, in order that his friends may not be tempted to betray him? For my part, I often hear complaints of this sort: ‘A friend betrayed me,’ ‘one whom I regarded as my friend gave me up for the sake of a mina.’ [5] I think over such matters and reflect that, when a man sells a bad slave he takes anything he can get for him; and perhaps it is tempting to sell a bad friend when there is a chance of getting more than he is worth. Good servants, I find, are not offered for sale, nor are good friends betrayed.”

  6. In the following conversation I thought he gave instruction for testing the qualities that make a man’s friendship worth winning.

  “Tell me, Critobulus,” he said, “if we wanted a good friend, how should we start on the quest? Should we seek first for one who is no slave to eating and drinking, lust, sleep, idleness? For the thrall of these masters cannot do his duty by himself or his friend.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you think we should avoid one who is subject to them?”

  “I do, certainly.” [2]

  “Now what about the spendthrift who is never satisfied, who is always appealing to his neighbours for help, if he receives something, makes no return, if he receives nothing, resents it? Don’t you think he too is a troublesome friend?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Then we must avoid him too?”

  “We must indeed.” [3]

  “Again, what about the skilful man of business who is eager to make money, and consequently drives a hard bargain, who likes to receive but is disinclined to repay?”

  “So far as I see, he is even worse than the last.” [4]

  “And what of the man who is such a keen man of business that he has no leisure for anything but the selfish pursuit of gain?”

  “We must avoid him too, I think. There is no profit in knowing him.”

  “And what of the quarrelsome person who is willing to provide his friends with plenty of enemies?”

  “We must shun him too, of course.”

  “Suppose that a man is free from all these faults, but stoops to receive kindness with no thought of returning it?”

  “There is no profit in him either. But what are the qualities for which we shall try to win a man’s friendship, Socrates?”

  “The opposite of these, I suppose. [5] We shall look for one who controls his indulgence in the pleasures of the body, who is truly hospitable and fair in his dealings and eager to do as much for his benefactors as he receives from them, so that he is worth knowing.” [6]

  “Then how can we test these qualities, Socrates, before intimacy begins?”

  “What test do we apply to a sculptor? We don’t judge by what he says, but we look at his statues, and if we see that the works he has already produced are beautiful, we feel confident that his future works will be as good.” [7]

  “You mean that anyone whose good works wrought upon his old friends are manifest will clearly prove a benefactor to new friends also?”

  “Yes; for when I find that an owner of horses has been in the habit of treating his beasts well I think that he will treat others equally well.” [8]

  “Granted! but when we have found a man who seems worthy of our friendship, how are we to set about making him our friend?”

  “First we should seek guidance from the gods, whether they counsel us to make a friend of him.”

  “And next? Supposing that we have chosen and the gods approve him, can you say how is he to be hunted?” [9]

  “Surely not like a hare by swift pursuit, nor like birds by cunning, nor like enemies by force. It is no light task to capture a friend against his will, and hard to keep him a prisoner like a slave. Hatred, rather than friendship, comes of that treatment.” [10]

  “But how does friendship come?”

  “There are spells, they say, wherewith those who know charm whom they will and make friends of them, and drugs which those who know give to whom they choose and win their love.” [11]

  “How then can we learn them?”

  “You have heard from Homer the spell that the Sirens put on Odysseus. It begins like this:

  “‘Hither, come hither, renowned Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans.’

  “

  “Then did the Sirens chant in this strain for other folk too, Socrates, so as to keep those who were under the spell from leaving them?” [12]

  “No, only for those that yearned for the fame that virtue gives.”

  “You mean, I take it, that the spell must be fitted to the listener, so that he may not take the praise for mockery.”

  “Yes; for to praise one for his beauty, his stature and his strength who is conscious that he is short, ugly and puny, is the way to repel him and make him dislike you more.”

  “Do you know any other spells?” [13]

  “No, but I have heard that Pericles knew many and put them on the city, and so made her love him.”

  “And how did Themistocles make the city love him?”

  “Not by spells: no, no; but by hanging some good amulet about her.” [14]

  “I think you mean, Socrates, that if we are to win a good man’s friendship, we ourselves must be good in word and deed alike?”

  “But you imagined that a bad man could win the friendship of honest men?” [15]

  “I did,” answered Critobulus, “for I saw that poor orators have good speakers among their friends, and some who are incapable of commanding an army are intimate with great generals.” [16]

  “Coming then to the point under discussion, do you know cases of useless persons making useful friends?”

  “Assuredly not; but if it is impossible that the bad should gain the friendship of gentlemen, then I am anxious to know whether it is quite easy for a gentleman as a matter of course to be the friend of gentlemen?” [17]

  “Your trouble is, Critobulus, that you often find men who do good and shun evil not on friendly terms, but apt to quarrel and treat one another more harshly than worthless fellows.” [18]

  “Yes,” said Critobulus, “and such conduct is not confined to individuals, but even the cities that care most for the right and have least liking for the wrong are often at enmity. [19] These thoughts make me despair about the acquisition of friends. For I see on the one hand that rogues cannot be friends with one another — for how could the ungrateful, the careless, the selfish, the faithless, the incontinent, form friendships? I feel sure, then, that rogues are by their nature enemies rather than friends. [20] But then, as you point out, neither can rogues ever join in friendship with honest men, for how can wrongdoers become friendly with those who hate their conduct? And if we must add that the votaries of virtue strive with one another for headship in cities, and envy and hate one another, who then will be friends and where shall loyalty and faithfulness be found?” [21]

  “Ah, Critobulus, but there is a strange complication in these matters. Some elements in man’s nature make for friendship: men need one another, feel pity, work together for their common good, and, conscious of the facts, are grateful to one another. But there are hostile elements in men. For, holding the same things to be honourable and pleasant, they fight for them, fall out and take sides. Strife and anger lead to hostility, covetousness to enmity, jealousy to hatred. [22] Nevertheless through all these barriers friendship slips, and unites the gentle natures. For thanks to their virtue these prize the untroubled security of moderate possessions above sovereignty won by war; despite hunger and thirst, they can share their food and drink without a pang; and although they delight in the charms of beauty they can resist the lure and avoid offending those whom they should respect; [23] they can not only share wealth lawfully and keep from covet
ousness, but also supply one another’s wants; they can compose strife not only without pain, but with advantage to one another, and prevent anger from pursuing its way towards remorse: but jealousy they take away utterly, regarding their own good things as belonging to their friends, and thinking their friend’s good things to be their own. [24] Surely, then, it is likely that true gentlemen will share public honours too not only without harm to one another, but to their common benefit? For those who desire to win honour and to bear rule in their cities that they may have power to embezzle, to treat others with violence, to live in luxury, are bound to be unjust, unscrupulous, incapable of unity. [25] But if a man seeks to be honoured in a state that he may not be the victim of injustice himself and may help his friends in a just cause, and when he takes office may try to do some good to his country, why should he be incapable of union with one like himself? Will his connexion with other gentlemen render him less capable of serving his friends? Will he be less able to benefit his city with the help of other gentlemen? [26] Even in the public games it is clear that, if the strongest competitors were allowed to join forces against the weaker, they would win all the events, they would carry off all the prizes. True, that is not permitted in the games; but in politics, where the gentlemen are the strongest, nobody prevents anyone from forming any combination he may choose for the benefit of the state; surely, then, in public life it is a gain to make friends with the best, and to see in them partners and fellow-workers in a common cause, and not rivals. [27] But, again, it is equally clear that anyone who goes to war will need allies, and more of them if he is to fight an army of gentlemen. Moreover, those who are willing to fight at your side must be well treated that they may be willing to exert themselves; and it is a far sounder plan to show kindness to the best, who are fewer in number, than to the worst, who are the greater company; for the bad want many more kindnesses than the good. [28] Courage, Critobulus; try to be good, and when you have achieved that, set about catching your gentleman. Maybe, I myself, as an adept in love, can lend you a hand in the pursuit of gentlemen. For when I want to catch anyone it’s surprising how I strain every nerve to have my love returned, my longing reciprocated by him, in my eagerness that he shall want me as much as I want him. [29] I see that you too will feel this need when you want to form a friendship. So do not hide from me the names of those whom you wish to make your friends; for I am careful to please him who pleases me, and so, I think, I am not without experience in the pursuit of men.” [30]