So, happening one day to see him sitting in the cloister of the temple of Zeus Eleutherius apparently at leisure, I approached, and sitting down at his side, said:
Why sitting still, Ischomachus? You are not much in the habit of doing nothing; for generally when I see you in the market-place you are either busy or at least not wholly idle.
True, and you would not have seen me so now, Socrates, had I not made an appointment with some strangers here.
Pray where do you spend your time, said I, and what do you do when you are not engaged in some such occupation? For I want very much to learn how you came to be called a gentleman, since you do not pass your time indoors, and your condition does not suggest that you do so.
Smiling at my question,
Ah, Ischomachus, said I, that is just what I want to hear from you. Did you yourself train your wife to be of the right sort, or did she know her household duties when you received her from her parents?
Why, what knowledge could she have had, Socrates, when I took her for my wife? She was not yet fifteen years old when she came to me, and up to that time she had lived in leading-strings, seeing, hearing and saying as little as possible.
But in other respects did you train your wife yourself, Ischomachus, so that she should be competent to perform her duties?
Oh no, Socrates; not until I had first offered sacrifice and prayed that I might really teach, and she learn what was best for us both.
Did not your wife join with you in these same sacrifices and prayers?
Oh yes, earnestly promising before heaven to behave as she ought to do; and it was easy to see that she would not neglect the lessons I taught her.
Pray tell me, Ischomachus, what was the first lesson you taught her, since I would sooner hear this from your lips than an account of the noblest athletic event or horse-race?
Well, Socrates, as soon as I found her docile and sufficiently domesticated to carry on conversation, I questioned her to this effect:
Tell me, dear, have you realised for what reason I took you and your parents gave you to me?
My wife’s answer was as follows, Socrates: How can I possibly help you? What power have I? Nay, all depends on you. My duty, as my mother told me, is to be discreet.
Yes, of course, dear, I said, my father said the same to me. But discretion both in a man and a woman, means acting in such a manner that their possessions shall be in the best condition possible, and that as much as possible shall be added to them by fair and honourable means.
And what do you see that I can possibly do to help in the improvement of our property? asked my wife.
Why, said I, of course you must try to do as well as possible what the gods made you capable of doing and the law sanctions.
And pray, what is that? said she.
Things of no small moment, I fancy, replied I, unless, indeed, the tasks over which the queen bee in the hive presides are of small moment.
For he made the man’s body and mind more capable of enduring cold and heat, and journeys and campaigns; and therefore imposed on him the outdoor tasks. To the woman, since he has made her body less capable of such endurance, I take it that God has assigned the indoor tasks.
Now since we know, dear, what duties have been assigned to each of us by God, we must endeavour, each of us, to do the duties allotted to us as well as possible.
And pray, said she, how do the queen bee’s tasks resemble those that I have to do?
How? she stays in the hive, I answered, and does not suffer the bees to be idle; but those whose duty it is to work outside she sends forth to their work; and whatever each of them brings in, she knows and receives it, and keeps it till it is wanted. And when the time is come to use it, she portions out the just share to each.
Then shall I too have to do these things? said my wife.
Indeed you will, said I; your duty will be to remain indoors and send out those servants whose work is outside, and superintend those who are to work indoors, and to receive the incomings,
Oh no, cried my wife, it will be delightful, assuming that those who are well cared for are going to feel grateful and be more loyal than before.
Why, my dear, cried I, delighted with her answer, what makes the bees so devoted to their leader in the hive, that when she forsakes it, they all follow her, and not one thinks of staying behind? Is it not the result of some such thoughtful acts on her part?
It would surprise me, answered my wife, if the leader’s activities did not concern you more than me. For my care of the goods indoors and my management would look rather ridiculous, I fancy, if you did not see that something is gathered in from outside.
And my ingathering would look ridiculous, I countered, if there were not someone to keep what is gathered in. Don’t you see how they who draw water in a leaky jar, as the saying goes, are pitied, because they seem to labour in vain?
Of course, she said, for they are indeed in a miserable plight if they do that.
But I assure you, dear, there are other duties peculiar to you that are pleasant to perform. It is delightful to teach spinning to a maid who had no knowledge of it when you received her, and to double her worth to you: to take in hand a girl who is ignorant of housekeeping and service, and after teaching her and making her trustworthy and serviceable to find her worth any amount: to have the power of rewarding the discreet and useful members of your household, and of punishing anyone who turns out to be a rogue.
Such was the tenor of my earliest talks with her, Socrates, so far as I can recall them.
Economics. Xenophon. Edgar Carew Marchant (Translator). Cambridge, MA. 1923.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB Project.