by Xenophon
3. After this the boy, attuning his lyre to the flute, played and sang, and won the applause of all; and brought from Charmides the remark, “It seems to me, gentlemen, that, as Socrates said of the wine, so this blending of the young people’s beauty and of the notes of the music lulls one’s griefs to sleep and awakens the goddess of Love.” [2]
Then Socrates resumed the conversation. “These people, gentlemen,” said he, “show their competence to give us pleasure; and yet we, I am sure, think ourselves considerably superior to them. Will it not be to our shame, therefore, if we do not make even an attempt, while here together, to be of some service or to give some pleasure one to another?”
At that many spoke up: “You lead the way, then, and tell us what to begin talking about to realize most fully what you have in mind.” [3]
“For my part,” he answered, “I should like to have Callias redeem his promise; for he said, you remember, that if we would take dinner with him, he would give us an exhibition of his profundity.”
“Yes,” rejoined Callias; “and I will do so, if the rest of you will also lay before us any serviceable knowledge that you severally possess.”
“Well,” answered Socrates, “no one objects to telling what he considers the most valuable knowledge in his possession.” [4]
“Very well, then,” said Callias, “I will now tell you what I take greatest pride in. It is that I believe I have the power to make men better.”
“How?” asked Antisthenes. “By teaching them some manual trade, or by teaching nobility of character?”
“The latter, if righteousness is the same thing as nobility.”
“Certainly it is,” replied Antisthenes, “and the least debatable kind, too; for though courage and wisdom appear at times to work injury both to one’s friends and to the state, righteousness and unrighteousness never overlap at a single point.” [5]
“Well, then, when every one of you has named the benefit he can confer, I will not begrudge describing the art that gives me the success that I speak of. And so, Niceratus,” he suggested, “it is your turn; tell us what kind of knowledge you take pride in.”
“My father was anxious to see me develop into a good man,” said Niceratus, “and as a means to this end he compelled me to memorize all of Homer; and so even now I can repeat the whole Iliad and the Odyssey by heart.” [6]
“But have you failed to observe,” questioned Antisthenes, “that the rhapsodes, too, all know these poems?”
“How could I,” he replied, “when I listen to their recitations nearly every day?”
“Well, do you know any tribe of men,” went on the other, “more stupid than the rhapsodes?”
“No, indeed,” answered Niceratus; “not I, I am sure.”
“No,” said Socrates; “and the reason is clear: they do not know the inner meaning of the poems. But you have paid a good deal of money to Stesimbrotus, Anaximander, and many other Homeric critics, so that nothing of their valuable teaching can have escaped your knowledge. [7] But what about you, Critobulus?” he continued. “What do you take greates pride in?”
“In beauty,” he replied.
“What?” exclaimed Socrates. “Are you too going to be able to maintain that you can make us better, and by means of your beauty?”
“Why, otherwise, it is clear enough that I shall cut but an indifferent figure.” [8]
“And you, Antisthenes,” said Socrates, “what do you take pride in?”
“In wealth,” he replied.
Hermogenes asked him whether he had a large amount of money; he swore that he did not have even a penny.
“You own a great deal of land, then?”
“Well, perhaps it might prove big enough,” said he, “for Autolycus here to sand himself in.” [9]
“It looks as if we should have to hear from you, too. And how about you, Charmides?” he continued. “What do you take pride in?”
“What pride,” said he, “on the contrary, is in my poverty.”
“A charming thing, upon my word!” exclaimed Socrates. “It seldom causes envy or is a bone of contention; and it is kept safe without the necessity of a guard, and grows sturdier by neglect!” [10]
“But what of you, Socrates?” said Callias. “What are you proud of?”
Socrates drew up his face into a very solemn expression, and answered, “The trade of procurer.”
After the rest had had a laugh at him, “Very well,” said he, “you may laugh, but I know that I could make a lot of money if I cared to follow the trade.” [11]
“As for you,” said Lycon, addressing Philip, “it is obvious that your pride is in your jesting.”
“And my pride is better founded, I think,” replied Philip, “than that of Callippides, the actor, who is consumed with vanity because he can fill the seats with audiences that weep.” [12]
“Will you also not tell us, Lycon,” said Antisthenes, “what it is that you take pride in?”
“Don’t you all know,” he answered, “that it is in my son here?”
“And as for him,” said one, “it is plain that he is proud at having taken a prize.”
At this Autolycus blushed and said, “No, indeed, not that.” [13]
All looked at him, delighted to hear him speak, and one asked, “What is it, then, Autolycus, that you are proud of?” and he answered, “My father,” and with the words nestled close against him.
When Callias saw this, “Do you realize, Lycon,” said he, “that you are the richest man in the world?”
“No, indeed,” the other replied, “I certainly do not know that.”
“Why, are you blind to the fact that you would not part with your son for the wealth of the Great King?”
“I am caught,” was the answer, “red-handed; it does look as if I were the richest man in the world.” [14]
“What about you, Hermogenes?” said Niceratus. “What do you delight in most?”
“In the goodness and the power of my friends,” he answered, “and in the fact that with all their excellence they have regard for me.”
Thereupon all eyes were turned toward him, and many speaking at once asked him whether he would not discover these friends to them; and he answered that he would not be at all loath to do so.
4. At this point Socrates said: “I suspect that it remains now for each one of us to prove that what he engaged himself to champion is of real worth.”
“You may hear me first,” said Callias. “While I listen to your philosophical discussions of what righteousness is, I am all the time actually rendering men more righteous.”
“How so, my good friend?” asked Socrates.
“Why, by giving them money.” [2]
Then Antisthenes got up and in a very argumentative fashion interrogated him. “Where do you think men harbour their righteousness, Callias, in their souls or in their purses?”
“In their souls,” he replied.
“So you make their souls more righteous by putting money into their purses?”
“I surely do.”
“How?”
“Because they know that they have the wherewithal to buy the necessities of life, and so they are reluctant to expose themselves to the hazards of crime.” [3]
“And do they repay you,” he asked, “the money that they get from you?”
“Heavens, no!” he replied.
“Well, do they substitute thanks for money payment?”
“No, indeed, nor that either,” he said. “On the contrary, some of them have an even greater dislike of me than before they got the money.”
“It is remarkable,” said Antisthenes, looking fixedly at him as though he had him in a corner, “that you can make them righteous toward others but not toward yourself.” [4]
“What is there remarkable about that?” asked Callias. “Do you not see plenty of carpenters, also, and architects that build houses for many another person but cannot do it for themselves, but live in rented houses? Come now, my captious friend, take
your medicine and own that you are beaten.” [5]
“By all means,” said Socrates, “let him do so. For even the soothsayers have the reputation, you know, of prophesying the future for others but of not being able to foresee their own fate.”
Here the discussion of this point ended. [6]
Then Niceratus remarked: “You may now hear me tell wherein you will be improved by associating with me. You know, doubtless, that the sage Homer has written about practically everything pertaining to man. Any one of you, therefore, who wishes to acquire the art of the householder, the political leader, or the general, or to become like Achilles or Ajax or Nestor or Odysseus, should seek my favour, for I understand all these things.”
“Ha!” said Antisthenes; “do you understand how to play the king, too, knowing, as you do, that Homer praised Agamemnon for being ‘both goodly king and spearman strong’?”
“Yes, indeed!” said he; “and I know also that in driving a chariot one must run close to the goalpost at the turn and” Himself lean lightly to the left within The polished car, the right-hand trace-horse goad, Urge him with shouts, and let him have the reins.” Hom. Il. 23.335-337 [7] And beside this I know something else, which you may test immediately. For Homer says somewhere: ‘An onion, too, a relish for the drink.’ Now if some one will bring an onion, you will receive this benefit, at any rate, without delay; for you will get more pleasure out of your drinking.” [8]
“Gentlemen,” said Charmides, “Niceratus is intent on going home smelling of onions to make his wife believe that no one would even have conceived the thought of kissing him.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Socrates. “But we run the risk of getting a different sort of reputation, one that will bring us ridicule. For though the onion seems to be in the truest sense a relish, since it adds to our enjoyment not only of food, but also of drink, yet if we eat it not only with our dinner but after it as well, take care that some one does not say of us that on our visit to Callias we were merely indulging our appetites.” [9]
“Heaven forbid, Socrates!” was the reply. “I grant that when a man is setting out for battle, it is well for him to nibble an onion, just as some people give their game-cocks a feed of garlic before pitting them together in the ring; as for us, however, our plans perhaps look more to getting a kiss from some one than to fighting.”
That was about the way the discussion of this point ended. [10]
Then Critobulus said: “Shall I take my turn now and tell you my grounds for taking pride in my handsomeness?”
“Do,” they said.
“Well, then, if I am not handsome, as I think I am, you could fairly be sued for misrepresentation; for though no one asks you for an oath, you are always swearing that I am handsome. And indeed I believe you; for I consider you to be honourable men. [11] But, on the other hand, if I really am handsome and you have the same feelings toward me that I have toward the one who is handsome in my eyes, I swear by all the gods that I would not take the kingdom of Persia in exchange for the possession of beauty. [12] For as it is, I would rather gaze at Cleinias than at all the other beautiful objects in the world. I would rather be blind to all things else than to Cleinias alone. I chafe at both night and sleep because then I do not see him; I feel the deepest gratitude to day and the sun because they reveal Cleinias to me. [13] We handsome people have a right to be proud of this fact, too, that whereas the strong man must get the good things of his desire by toil, and the brave man by adventure, and the wise man by his eloquence, the handsome person can attain all his ends without doing anything. [14] So far as I, at least, am concerned, although I realize that money is a delightful possession, I should take more delight in giving what I have to Cleinias than in adding to my possessions from another person’s; and I should take more delight in being a slave than in being a free man, if Cleinias would deign to be my master. For I should find it easier to toil for him than to rest, and it would be more delightful to risk my life for his sake than to live in safety. [15] And so, Callias, if you are proud of your ability to make people more righteous, I have a better ‘right’ than you to claim that I can influence men toward every sort of virtue. For since we handsome men exert a certain inspiration upon the amorous, we make them more generous in money matters, more strenuous and heroic amid dangers, yes, and more modest and self-controlled also; for they feel abashed about the very things that they want most. [16] Madness is in those people, too, who do not elect the handsome men as generals; I certainly would go through fire with Cleinias, and I know that you would, also, with me. Therefore, Socrates, do not puzzle any more over the question whether or not my beauty will be of any benefit to men. [17] But more than that, beauty is not to be contemned on this ground, either, that it soon passes its prime; for just as we recognize beauty in a boy, so we do in a youth, a full-grown man, or an old man. Witness the fact that in selecting garlandbearers for Athena they choose beautiful old men, thus intimating that beauty attends every period of life. [18] Furthermore, if it is pleasurable to attain one’s desires with the good will of the giver, I know very well that at this very moment, without uttering a word, I could persuade this boy or this girl to give me a kiss sooner than you could, Socrates, no matter how long and profoundly you might argue.” [19]
“How now?” exclaimed Socrates. “You boast as though you actually thought yourself a handsomer man than me.”
“Of course,” was Critobulus’s reply; “otherwise I should be the ugliest of all the Satyrs ever on the stage.”
Now Socrates, as fortune would have it, really resembled these creatures. [20]
“Come, come,” said Socrates; “see that you remember to enter a beauty contest with me when the discussion now under way has gone the rounds. And let our judges be not Alexander, Priam’s son, but these very persons whom you consider eager to give you a kiss.” [21]
“Would you not entrust the arbitrament to Cleinias, Socrates?”
“Aren’t you ever going to get your mind off Cleinias?” was the rejoinder.
“If I refrain from mentioning his name, do you suppose that I shall have him any the less in mind? Do you not know that I have so clear an image of him in my heart that had I ability as a sculptor or a painter I could produce a likeness of him from this image that would be quite as close as if he were sitting for me in person?” [22]
“Why do you annoy me, then,” was Socrates’ retort, “and keep taking me about to places where you can see him in person, if you possess so faithful an image of him?”
“Because, Socrates, the sight of him in person has the power to delight one, whereas the sight of the image does not give pleasure, but implants a craving for him.” [23]
“For my part, Socrates,” said Hermogenes, “I do not regard it as at all like you to countenance such a mad passion of love in Critobulus.”
“What? Do you suppose,” asked Socrates, “that this condition has arisen since he began associating with me?”
“If not, when did it?”
“Do you not notice that the soft down is just beginning to grow down in front of his ears, while that of Cleinias is already creeping up the nape of his neck? Well, then, this hot flame of his was kindled in the days when they used to go to school together. [24] It was the discovery of this that caused his father to put him into my hands, in the hope that I might do him some good. And without question he is already much improved. For awhile ago he was like those who look at the Gorgons — he would gaze at Cleinias with a fixed and stony stare and would never leave his presence; but now I have seen him actually close his eyes in a wink. [25] But to tell you the truth, gentlemen,” he continued, “by Heaven! it does look to me — to speak confidentially — as if he had also kissed Cleinias; and there is nothing more terribly potent than this at kindling the fires of passion. For it is insatiable and holds out seductive hopes. [26] For this reason I maintain that one who intends to possess the power of self-control must refrain from kissing those in the bloom of beauty.” [27]
“Bu
t why in the world, Socrates,” Charmides now asked, “do you flourish your bogeys so to frighten us, your friends, away from the beauties, when, by Apollo! I have seen you yourself,” he continued, “when the two of you were hunting down something in the same book-roll at the school, sitting head to head, with your nude shoulder pressing against Critobulus’s nude shoulder?” [28]
“Dear me!” exclaimed Socrates. “So that is what affected me like the bite of a wild animal! And for over five days my shoulder smarted and I felt as if I had something like a sting in my heart. But now, Critobulus,” said he, “in the presence of all these witnesses I warn you not to lay a finger on me until you get as much hair on your chin as you have on your head.”
Such was the mingled raillery and seriousness that these indulged in. [29]
But Callias now remarked, “It is your turn, Charmides, to tell us why poverty makes you feel proud.”
“Very well,” said he. “So much, at least, every one admits, that assurance is preferable to fear, freedom to slavery, being the recipient of attention to being the giver of it, the confidence of one’s country to its distrust. [30] Now, as for my situation in our commonwealth, when I was rich, I was, to begin with, in dread of some one’s digging through the wall of my house and not only getting my money but also doing me a mischief personally; in the next place, I knuckled down to the blackmailers, knowing well enough that my abilities lay more in the direction of suffering injury than of inflicting it on them. Then, too, I was for ever being ordered by the government to undergo some expenditure or other, and I never had the opportunity for foreign travel. [31] Now, however, since I am stripped of my property over the border and get no income from the property in Attica, and my household effects have been sold, I stretch out and enjoy a sound sleep, I have gained the confidence of the state, I am no longer subjected to threats but do the threatening now myself; and I have the free man’s privilege of going abroad or staying here at home as I please. People now actually rise from their seats in deference to me, and rich men obsequiously give me the right of way on the street, [32] Now I am like a despot; then I was clearly a slave. Then I paid a revenue to the body politic; now I live on the tribute that the state pays to me. Moreover, people used to vilify me, when I was wealthy, for consorting with Socrates; but now that I have got poor, no one bothers his head about it any longer. Again, when my property was large, either the government or fate was continually making me throw some of it to the winds; but now, far from throwing anything away (for I possess nothing), I am always in expectation of acquiring something.” [33]