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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 1 for being
Yes, indeed! said he; and I know also that in driving a chariot one must run close to the goalpost at the turn 2 and
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.
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.
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.
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. 6
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, 7 but these very persons whom you consider eager to give you a kiss.
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?
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.
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.
But 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?
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.
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.
Your prayers, also, said Callias, are doubtless to the effect that you may never be rich; and if you ever have a fine dream you sacrifice, do you not, to the deities who avert disasters?
Oh, no! was the reply; I don’t go so far as that; I hazard the danger with great heroism if I have any expectation of getting something from some one.
Come, now, Antisthenes, said Socrates, take your turn and tell us how it is that with such slender means you base your pride on wealth.
Because, sirs, I conceive that people’s wealth and poverty are to be found not in their real estate but in their hearts.
Such was the thesis maintained by Antisthenes. So help me Hera, commented Callias, among the numerous reasons I find for congratulating you on your wealth, one is that the government does not lay its commands on you and treat you as a slave, another is that people do not feel resentful at your not making them a loan.
Do not be congratulating him, said Niceratus; because I am about to go and get him to make me a loan—of his contentment with his lot, schooled as I am by Homer to count
A burst of laughter from the whole company greeted this admission; for they considered that he had told nothing more than the truth.
Hermogenes, it devolves on you, some one now remarked, to mention who your friends are and to demonstrate their great power and their solicitude for you, so that your pride in them may appear justified.
Very well; in the first place, it is clear as day that both Greeks and barbarians believe that the gods know everything both present and to come; at any rate, all cities and all races ask the gods, by the diviner’s art, for advice as to what to do and what to avoid. Second, it is likewise manifest that we consider them able to work us good or ill; at all events, every one prays the gods to avert evil and grant blessings.
None of these statements, said Socrates, is incredible. But what I should like very much to know is how you serve them to keep them so friendly.
A very economical service it is, I declare! responded Hermogenes. I sound their praises,—which costs nothing; I always restore them part of what they give me; I avoid profanity of speech as far as I can; and I never wittingly lie in matters wherein I have invoked them to be my witnesses.
Truly, said Socrates, if it is conduct like this that gives you their friendship, then the gods also, it would seem, take delight in nobility of soul!
Such was the serious turn given to the discussion of this topic.
When they got around to Philip, they asked him what he saw in the jester’s profession to feel proud of it.
Have I not a right to be proud, said he, when all know that I am a jester, and so whenever they have a bit of good fortune, give me hearty invitations to come and join them, but when they suffer some reverse, run from me with never a glance behind, in dread that they may be forced to laugh in spite of themselves?
Your pride is abundantly justified, said Niceratus. In my case, on the contrary, those friends who enjoy success keep out of my way, but those that run into some mishap reckon up their kinship to me on the family tree, and I can’t get rid of them.
No doubt, said Charmides; and then, turning to the Syracusan, What is it that you are proud of? The boy, I suppose?
Quite the contrary, was the reply; I am instead in extreme apprehension about him. For I understand that there are certain persons plotting his undoing.
On receiving this information, Good Heavens! exclaimed Socrates; what wrong do they imagine your lad has done them that is grave enough to make them wish to kill him?
Syr. It is not killing him that they desire; oh, no! but to persuade him to sleep with them.
Soc. Your belief, then, if I mistake not, is that if this happened, he would be undone?
Syr. Aye, utterly!
Soc. Do you not then sleep in his bed yourself?
Syr. Most certainly, all night and every night.
Soc. Marry, you are in great luck to be formed of such flesh that you are unique in not corrupting those that sleep with you. And so you have a right to be proud of your flesh if of nothing else.
Syr. And yet that is not the basis of my pride.
Soc. What is, then?
Syr. Fools, in faith. They give me a livelihood by coming to view my marionettes.
Ah! ejaculated Philip; that explains the prayer I heard you uttering the other day, that wherever you were the gods would grant you an abundant harvest of grain but a crop-failure of wits!
Good! said Callias. And now, Socrates, what can you advance in support of your pride in that disreputable profession that you mentioned?
Let us first, said he, come to an understanding on the functions that belong to the procurer. Do not hesitate to answer all the questions I ask you, so that we may know our points of agreement. Is that your pleasure? he asked.
Certainly, was their reply; and when they had once started with certainly, that was the regular answer they all made to his questions thereafter.
Soc. Well, then, you consider it the function of a good procurer to render the man or the woman whom he is serving attractive to his or her associates?
All. Certainly.
Soc. Now, one thing that contributes to rendering a person attractive is a comely arrangement of hair and clothing, is it not?
All. Certainly.
This, also, we know, do we not, that it is in a man’s power to use the one pair of eyes to express both friendship and hostility?
Certainly.
And again, it is possible to speak both modestly and boldly with the same voice?
Certainly.
Moreover, are there not words that create ill feeling and others that conduce to friendliness?
Certainly.
Now the good procurer would teach only the words that tend to make one attractive, would he not?
Certainly.
Which one would be the better? he continued, the one who could make people attractive to a single person or the one who could make them attractive to many?
This question brought a division; some said, Clearly the one who could make them attractive to a great many; the others merely repeated, Certainly.
Remarking that they were all of one mind on this point as on the others, he went on: If a person could render people attractive to the entire community, would he not satisfy the requirements of the ideal procurer?
Indubitably, they all said.
And so, if one could produce men of this type out of his clients, he would be entitled to feel proud of his profession and to receive a high remuneration, would he not?
All agreeing on this point, too, he added, Antisthenes here seems to me to be a man of just that sort.
Antisthenes asked, Are you resigning your profession to me, Socrates?
Assuredly, was the answer. For I see that you have brought to a high state of perfection the complementary trade.
What is that?
The profession of go-between, he said.
Antisthenes was much incensed and asked, What knowledge can you possibly have of my being guilty of such a thing as that?
I know several instances, he replied. I know that you acted the part between Callias here and the scholar Prodicus, when you saw that Callias was in love with philosophy and that Prodicus wanted money. I know also that you did the same for Hippias, the Elean, from whom Callias got his memory system; and as a result, Callias has become more amorous than ever, because he finds it impossible to forget any beauty he sees.
But, indeed, that is all over now, he replied; for with this power mine I shall find my soul chock-full of riches.
And so this round of discourse was brought to a close.
Symposium. Xenophon. Otis Johnson Todd (Translator). Cambridge, MA. 1923.
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