Plato - Lysis, Or Friendship.pdf - Plato - most of his works (this time with full content) - the.prodigy.society

380 BC

LYSIS, OR FRIENDSHIP

by Plato

translated by Benjamin Jowett

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: SOCRATES, who is the narrator; MENEXENUS;

HIPPOTHALES; LYSIS; CTESIPPUS. Scene: A newly-erected Palaestra

outside the walls of Athens.

I was going from the Academy straight to the Lyceum, intending to

take the outer road, which is close under the wall. When I came to the

postern gate of the city, which is by the fountain of Panops, I fell

in with Hippothales, the son of Hieronymus, and Ctesippus the

Paeanian, and a company of young men who were standing with them.

Hippothales, seeing me approach, asked whence I came and whither I was

going.

I am going, I replied, from the Academy straight to the Lyceum.

Then come straight to us, he said, and put in here; you may as well.

Who are you, I said; and where am I to come?

He showed me an enclosed space and an open door over against the

wall. And there, he said, is the building at which we all meet: and

a goodly company we are.

And what is this building, I asked; and what sort of entertainment

have you?

The building, he replied, is a newly erected Palaestra; and the

entertainment is generally conversation, to which you are welcome.

Thank you, I said; and is there any teacher there?

Yes, he said, your old friend and admirer, Miccus.

Indeed, I replied; he is a very eminent professor.

Are you disposed, he said, to go with me and see them?

Yes, I said; but I should like to know first, what is expected of

me, and who is the favourite among you?

Some persons have one favourite, Socrates, and some another, he

said.

And who is yours? I asked: tell me that, Hippothales.

At this he blushed; and I said to him, O Hippothales, thou son of

Hieronymus! do not say that you are, or that you are not, in love; the

confession is too late; for I see that you are not only in love, but

are already far gone in your love. Simple and foolish as I am, the

Gods have given me the power of understanding affections of this kind.

Whereupon he blushed more and more.

Ctesippus said: I like to see you blushing, Hippothales, and

hesitating to tell Socrates the name; when, if he were with you but

for a very short time, you would have plagued him to death by

talking about nothing else. Indeed, Socrates, he has literally

deafened us, and stopped our ears with the praises of Lysis; and if he

is a little intoxicated, there is every likelihood that we may have

our sleep murdered with a cry of Lysis. His performances in prose

are bad enough, but nothing at all in comparison with his verse; and

when he drenches us with his poems and other compositions, it is

really too bad; and worse still is his manner of singing them to his

love; he has a voice which is truly appalling, and we cannot help

hearing him: and now having a question put to him by you, behold he is

blushing.

Who is Lysis? I said: I suppose that he must be young; for the

name does not recall any one to me.

Why, he said, his father being a very well known man, he retains his

patronymic, and is not as yet commonly called by his own name; but,

although you do not know his name, I am sure that you must know his

face, for that is quite enough to distinguish him.

But tell me whose son he is, I said.

He is the eldest son of Democrates, of the deme of Aexone.

Ah, Hippothales, I said; what a noble and really perfect love you

have found! I wish that you would favour me with the exhibition

which you have been making to the rest of the company, and then I

shall be able to judge whether you know what a lover ought to say

about his love, either to the youth himself, or to others.

Nay, Socrates, he said; you surely do not attach any importance to

what he is saying.

Do you mean, I said, that you disown the love of the person whom

he says that you love?

No; but I deny that I make verses or address compositions to him.

He is not in his right mind, said Ctesippus; he is talking nonsense,

and is stark mad.

O Hippothales, I said, if you have ever made any verses or songs

in honour of your favourite, I do not want to hear them; but I want to

know the purport of them, that I may be able to judge of your mode

of approaching your fair one.

Ctesippus will be able to tell you, he said; for if, as he avers,

the sound of my words is always dinning in his ears, he must have a

very accurate knowledge and recollection of them.

Yes, indeed, said Ctesippus; I know only too well; and very

ridiculous the tale is: for although he is a lover, and very devotedly

in love, he has nothing particular to talk about to his beloved

which a child might not say. Now is not that ridiculous? He can only

speak of the wealth of Democrates, which the whole city celebrates,

and grandfather Lysis, and the other ancestors of the youth, and their

stud of horses, and their victory at the Pythian games, and at the

Isthmus, and at Nemea with four horses and single horses-these are the

tales which he composes and repeats. And there is greater twaddle

still. Only the day before yesterday he made a poem in which he

described the entertainment of Heracles, who was a connexion of the

family, setting forth how in virtue of this relationship he was

hospitably received by an ancestor of Lysis; this ancestor was himself

begotten of Zeus by the daughter of the founder of the deme. And these

are the sort of old wives' tales which he sings and recites to us, and

we are obliged to listen to him.

When I heard this, I said: O ridiculous Hippothales! how can you

be making and singing hymns in honour of yourself before you have won?

But my songs and verses, he said, are not in honour of myself,

Socrates.

You think not? I said.

Nay, but what do you think? he replied.

Most assuredly, I said, those songs are all in your own honour;

for if you win your beautiful love, your discourses and songs will

be a glory, to you, and may be truly regarded as hymns of praise

composed in honour of you who have conquered and won such a love;

but if he slips away from you, the more you have praised him, the more

ridiculous you will look at having lost this fairest and best of

blessings; and therefore the wise lover does not praise his beloved

until he has won him, because he is afraid of accidents. There is also

another danger; the fair, when any one praises or magnifies them,

are filled with the spirit of pride and vain-glory. Do you not agree

with me?

Yes, he said.

And the more vain-glorious they are, the more difficult is the

capture of them?

I believe you.

What should you say of a hunter who frightened away his prey, and

made the capture of the animals which he is hunting more difficult?

He would be a bad hunter, undoubtedly.

Yes; and if, instead of soothing them, he were to infuriate them

with words and songs, that would show a great want of wit: do you

not agree.

Yes.

And now reflect, Hippothales, and see whether you are not guilty

of all these errors in writing poetry. For I can hardly suppose that

you will affirm a man to be a good poet who injures himself by his

poetry.

Assuredly not, he said; such a poet would be a fool. And this is the

reason why I take you into my counsels, Socrates, and I shall be

glad of any further advice which you may have to offer. Will you

tell me by what words or actions I may become endeared to my love?

That is not easy to determine, I said; but if you will bring your

love to me, and will let me talk with him, I may perhaps be able to

show you how to converse with him, instead of singing and reciting

in the fashion of which you are accused.

There will be no difficulty in bringing him, he replied; if you will

only go with Ctesippus into the Palaestra, and sit down and talk, I

believe that he will come of his own accord; for he is fond of

listening, Socrates. And as this is the festival of the Hermaea, the

young men and boys are all together, and there is no separation

between them. He will be sure to come: but if he does not, Ctesippus

with whom he is familiar, and whose relation Menexenus is his great

friend, shall call him.

That will be the way, I said. Thereupon I led Ctesippus into the

Palaestra, and the rest followed.

Upon entering we found that the boys had just been sacrificing;

and this part of the festival was nearly at an end. They were all in

their white array, and games at dice were going on among them. Most of

them were in the outer court amusing themselves; but some were in a

corner of the Apodyterium playing at odd and even with a number of

dice, which they took out of little wicker baskets. There was also a

circle of lookers-on; among them was Lysis. He was standing with the

other boys and youths, having a crown upon his head, like a fair

vision, and not less worthy of praise for his goodness than for his

beauty. We left them, and went over to the opposite side of the

room, where, finding a quiet place, we sat down; and then we began

to talk. This attracted Lysis, who was constantly turning round to

look at us -he was evidently wanting to come to us. For a time he

hesitated and had not the courage to come alone; but first of all, his

friend Menexenus, leaving his play, entered the Palaestra from the

court, and when he saw Ctesippus and myself, was going to take a

seat by us; and then Lysis, seeing him, followed, and sat down by

his side; and the other boys joined. I should observe that

Hippothales, when he saw the crowd, got behind them, where he

thought that he would be out of sight of Lysis, lest he should anger

him; and there he stood and listened.

I turned to Menexenus, and said: Son of Demophon, which of you two

youths is the elder?

That is a matter of dispute between us, he said.

And which is the nobler? Is that also a matter of dispute?

Yes, certainly.

And another disputed point is, which is the fairer?

The two boys laughed.

I shall not ask which is the richer of the two, I said; for you

are friends, are you not?

Certainly, they replied.

And friends have all things in common, so that one of you can be

no richer than the other, if you say truly that you are friends.

They assented. I was about to ask which was the juster of the two,

and which was the wiser of the two; but at this moment Menexenus was

called away by some one who came and said that the gymnastic-master

wanted him. I supposed that he had to offer sacrifice. So he went

away, and I asked Lysis some more questions. I dare say, Lysis, I

said, that your father and mother love you very much.

Certainly, he said.

And they would wish you to be perfectly happy.

Yes.

But do you think that any one is happy who is in the condition of

a slave, and who cannot do what he likes?

I should think not indeed, he said.

And if your father and mother love you, and desire that you should

be happy, no one can doubt that they are very ready to promote your

happiness.

Certainly, he replied.

And do they then permit you to do what you like, and never rebuke

you or hinder you from doing what you desire?

Yes, indeed, Socrates; there are a great many things which they

hinder me from doing.

What do you mean? I said. Do they want you to be happy, and yet

hinder you from doing what you like? For example, if you want to mount

one of your father's chariots, and take the reins at a race, they will

not allow you to do so-they will prevent you?

Certainly, he said, they will not allow me to do so.

Whom then will they allow?

There is a charioteer, whom my father pays for driving.

And do they trust a hireling more than you? and may he do what he

likes with the horses? and do they pay him for this?

They do.

But I dare say that you may take the whip and guide the mule-cart if

you like;-they will permit that?

Permit me! indeed they will not.

Then, I said, may no one use the whip to the mules?

Yes, he said, the muleteer.

And is he a slave or a free man?

A slave, he said.

And do they esteem a slave of more value than you who are their son?

And do they entrust their property to him rather than to you? and

allow him to do what he likes, when they prohibit you? Answer me

now: Are you your own master, or do they not even allow that?

Nay, he said; of course they do not allow it.

Then you have a master?

Yes, my tutor; there he is.

And is he a slave?

To be sure; he is our slave, he replied.

Surely, I said, this is a strange thing, that a free man should be

governed by a slave. And what does he do with you?

He takes me to my teachers.

You do not mean to say that your teachers also rule over you?

Of course they do.

Then I must say that your father is pleased to inflict many lords

and masters on you. But at any rate when you go home to your mother,

she will let you have your own way, and will not interfere with your

happiness; her wool, or the piece of cloth which she is weaving, are

at your disposal: I am sure that there is nothing to hinder you from

touching her wooden spathe, or her comb, or any other of her

spinning implements.

Nay, Socrates, he replied, laughing; not only does she hinder me,

but I should be beaten if I were to touch one of them.

Well, I said, this is amazing. And did you ever behave ill to your

father or your mother?

No, indeed, he replied.

But why then are they so terribly anxious to prevent you from

being happy, and doing as you like?-keeping you all day long in

subjection to another, and, in a word, doing nothing which you desire;

so that you have no good, as would appear, out of their great

possessions, which are under the control of anybody rather than of

you, and have no use of your own fair person, which is tended and

taken care of by another; while you, Lysis, are master of nobody,

and can do nothing?

Why, he said, Socrates, the reason is that I am not of age.

I doubt whether that is the real reason, I said; for I should

imagine that your father Democrates, and your mother, do permit you to

do many things already, and do not wait until you are of age: for

example, if they want anything read or written, you, I presume,

would be the first person in the house who is summoned by them.

Very true.

And you would be allowed to write or read the letters in any order

which you please, or to take up the lyre and tune the notes, and

play with the fingers, or strike with the plectrum, exactly as you

please, and neither father nor mother would interfere with you.

That is true, he said.

Then what can be the reason, Lysis, I said, why they allow you to do

the one and not the other?

I suppose, he said, because I understand the one, and not the other.

Yes, my dear youth, I said, the reason is not any deficiency of

years, but a deficiency of knowledge; and whenever your father

thinks that you are wiser than he is, he will instantly commit himself

and his possessions to you.

I think so.

Aye, I said; and about your neighbour, too, does not the same rule

hold as about your father? If he is satisfied that you know more of

housekeeping than he does, will he continue to administer his

affairs himself, or will he commit them to you?

I think that he will commit them to me.

Will not the Athenian people, too, entrust their affairs to you when

they see that you have wisdom enough to manage them?

Yes.

And oh! let me put another case, I said: There is the great king,

and he has an eldest son, who is the Prince of Asia;-suppose that

you and I go to him and establish to his satisfaction that we are

better cooks than his son, will he not entrust to us the prerogative

of making soup, and putting in anything that we like while the pot

is boiling, rather than to the Prince of Asia, who is his son?

To us, clearly.

And we shall be allowed to throw in salt by handfuls, whereas the

son will not be allowed to put in as much as he can take up between

his fingers?

Of course.

Or suppose again that the son has bad eyes, will he allow him, or

will he not allow him, to touch his own eyes if he thinks that he

has no knowledge of medicine?

He will not allow him.

Whereas, if he supposes us to have a knowledge of medicine, he

will allow us to do what we like with him-even to open the eyes wide

and sprinkle ashes upon them, because he supposes that we know what is

best?

That is true.

And everything in which we appear to him to be wiser than himself or

his son he will commit to us?

That is very true, Socrates, he replied.

Then now, my dear Lysis, I said, you perceive that in things which

we know every one will trust us-Hellenes and barbarians, men and

women-and we may do as we please about them, and no one will like to

interfere with us; we shall be free, and masters of others; and

these things will be really ours, for we shall be benefited by them.

But in things of which we have no understanding, no one will trust

us to do as seems good to us-they will hinder us as far as they can;

and not only strangers, but father and mother, and the friend, if

there be one, who is dearer still, will also hinder us; and we shall

be subject to others; and these things will not be ours, for we

shall not be benefited by them. Do you agree?

He assented.

And shall we be friends to others, and will any others love us, in

as far as we are useless to them?

Certainly not.

Neither can your father or mother love you, nor can anybody love

anybody else, in so far as they are useless to them?

No.

And therefore, my boy, if you are wise, -all men will be your

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