At this point I said, Ischomachus, I think your account of your wife’s occupations is sufficient for the present—and very creditable it is to both of you. But now tell me of your own: thus you will have the satisfaction of stating the reasons why you are so highly respected, and I shall be much beholden to you for a complete account of a gentleman’s occupations, and if my understanding serves, for a thorough knowledge of them.
Well then, Socrates, answered Ischomachus, it will be a very great pleasure to me to give you an account of my daily occupations, that you may correct me if you think there is anything amiss in my conduct.
As to that, said I, how could I presume to correct a perfect gentleman, I who am supposed to be a mere chatterer with my head in the air, 1 I who am called—the most senseless of all taunts—a poor beggar?
You’re joking, Socrates, said Ischomachus; nevertheless I will tell you what principles I try my best to follow consistently in life.
What, Ischomachus, I asked on hearing that, do you really want to be rich and to have much, along with much trouble to take care of it?
The answer to your questions, said he, is, Yes, I do indeed. For I would fain honour the gods without counting the cost, Socrates, help friends in need, and look to it that the city lacks no adornment that my means can supply.
Truly noble aspirations, Ischomachus, I cried, and worthy of a man of means, no doubt! Seeing that there are many who cannot live without help from others, and many are content if they can get enough for their own needs, surely those who can maintain their own estate and yet have enough left to adorn the city and relieve their friends may well be thought high and mighty men.
Well, Socrates, replied Ischomachus, all these things hang together, so far as I can see. For if a man has plenty to eat, and works off the effects 3 properly, I take it that he both insures his health and adds to his strength. By training himself in the arts of war he is more qualified to save himself honourably, and by due diligence and avoidance of loose habits, he is more likely to increase his estate.
So far, Ischomachus, I follow you, I answered. You mean that by working after meals, by diligence and by training, a man is more apt to obtain the good things of life. But now I should like you to give me details. By what kind of work do you endeavour to keep your health and strength? How do you train yourself in the arts of war? What diligence do you use to have a surplus from which to help friends and strengthen the city?
Well now, Socrates, replied Ischomachus, I rise from my bed at an hour when, if I want to call on anyone, I am sure to find him still at home. If I have any business to do in town, I make it an opportunity for getting a walk.
Upon my word, Ischomachus, cried I, I am delighted with your activities. For you have a pack of appliances for securing health and strength, of exercises for war and specifies for getting rich, and you use them all at the same time! That does seem to me admirable!
And what comes of these activities, Socrates? Not, as you perhaps expected to hear, that I am generally dubbed a gentleman, but that I am persistently slandered.
Ah, said I, but I was meaning to ask you, Ischomachus, whether you include in your system ability to conduct a prosecution and defence, in case you have to appear in the courts?
Why, Socrates, he answered, do you not see 4 that this is just what I am constantly practising—showing my traducers that I wrong no man and do all the good I can to many? And do you not think that I practise myself in accusing, by taking careful note of certain persons who are doing wrong to many individuals and to the state, and are doing no good to anyone?
But tell me one thing more, Ischomachus, I said; do you also practise the art of expounding these matters?
Why, Socrates, he replied, I assiduously practise the art of speaking. For I get one of the servants to act as prosecutor or defendant, and try to confute him; or I praise or blame someone before his friends; or I act as peace-maker between some of my acquaintances by trying to show them that it is to their interest to be friends rather than enemies.
By whom, Ischomachus? I asked; I am in the dark about that!’
By my wife, was his answer.
And, pray, how do you plead? said I.
Pretty well, when it is to my interest to speak the truth. But when lying is called for, Socrates, I can’t make the worse cause appear the better—oh no, not at all.
Perhaps, Ischomachus, I commented, you can’t make the falsehood into the truth!
Economics. Xenophon. Edgar Carew Marchant (Translator). Cambridge, MA. 1923.
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