who were with him was neglectful, as he noted, of a friend who was at the pinch of poverty (Antisthenes).[1] Accordingly, in the presence of the negligent person and of several others, he proceeded to question the sufferer.
[1] Antisthenes, 'cynicorum et stoicorum parens.' Cic. 'de Or.' iii. 17; 'ad Att.' xii. 38. See below, III. iii. 17; 'Symp.' passim; Diog. Laert. II. v.; VI. i.
Soc. What say you, Antisthenes?--have friends their values like domestic slaves? One of these latter may be worth perhaps two minae,[2] another only half a mina, a third five, and a fourth as much as ten; while they do say that Nicias,[3] the son of Niceratus, paid a whole talent for a superintendent of his silver mines. And so I propound the question to myself as follows: 'Have friends, like slaves, their market values?'
[2] A mina = L4 circ.
[3] For Nicias see Thuc. vii. 77 foll.; 'Revenues,' iv. 14; Plut. 'Nic.' IV. v.; Lys. 'de bon. Aristoph.' 648.
Not a doubt of it (replied Antisthenes). At any rate, I know that I would rather have such a one as my friend than be paid two minae, and there is such another whose worth I would not estimate at half a mina, and a third with whom I would not part for ten, and then again a fourth whose friendship would be cheap if it cost me all the wealth and pains in the world to purchase it.
Well then (continued Socrates), if that be so, would it not be well if every one were to examine himself: 'What after all may I chance to be worth to my friends?' Should he not try to become as dear as possible, so that his friends will not care to give him up? How often do I hear the complaint: 'My friend So-and-so has given me up'; or 'Such an one, whom I looked upon as a friend, has sacrificed me for a mina.' And every time I hear these remarks, the question arises in my mind: If the vendor of a worthless slave is ready to part with him to a purchaser for what he will fetch--is there not at least a strong temptation to part with a base friend when you have a chance of making something on the exchange? Good slaves, as far as I can see, are not so knocked down to the hammer; no, nor good friends so lightly parted with.
VI
Again, in reference to the test to be applied, if we would gauge the qualifications of a friend worth the winning, the following remarks of Socrates could not fail, I think, to prove instructive.[1]
[1] Or, 'Again, as to establishing a test of character, since a friend worth having must be of a particular type, I cannot but think that the following remarks would prove instructive.'
Tell me (said Socrates, addressing Critobulus), supposing we stood in need of a good friend, how should we set about his discovery? We must, in the first place, I suppose, seek out one who is master of his appetites, not under the dominion, that is, of his belly, not addicted to the wine-cup or to lechery or sleep or idleness, since no one enslaved to such tyrants could hope to do his duty either by himself or by his friends, could he?
Certainly not (Critobulus answered).
Soc. Do you agree, then, that we must hold aloof from every one so dominated?
Cri. Most assuredly.
Well then (proceeded Socrates), what shall we say of the spendthrift who has lost his independence and is for ever begging of his neighbours; if he gets anything out of them he cannot repay, but if he fails to get anything, he hates you for not giving--do you not think that this man too would prove but a disagreeable friend?
Cri. Certainly.
Soc. Then we must keep away from him too?
Cri. That we must.
Soc. Well! and what of the man whose strength lies in monetary transactions?[2] His one craving is to amass money; and for that reason he is an adept at driving a hard bargain[3]--glad enough to take in, but loath to pay out.
[2] Or, 'the money-lender? He has a passion for big money-bags.'
[3] Or, 'hard in all his dealings.'
Cri. In my opinion he will prove even a worse fellow than the last.
Soc. Well! and what of that other whose passion for money-making is so absorbing that he has no leisure for anything else, save how he may add to his gains?
Cri. Hold aloof from him, say I, since there is no good to be got out of him or his society.
Soc. Well! what of the quarrelsome and factious person[4] whose main object is to saddle his friends with a host of enemies?
[4] 'The partisan.'
Cri. For God's sake let us avoid him also.
Soc. But now we will imagine a man exempt indeed from all the above defects--a man who has no objection to receive kindnesses, but it never enters into his head to do a kindness in return.
Cri. There will be no good in him either. But, Socrates, what kind of man shall we endeavour to make our friend? what is he like?
Soc. I should say he must be just the converse of the above: he has control over the pleasures of the body, he is kindly disposed,[5] upright in all his dealings,[6] very zealous is he not to be outdone in kindness by his benefactors, if only his friends may derive some profit from his acquaintance.
[5] Reading {eunous}, or if {euorkos}, transl. 'a man of his word.'
[6] Or, 'easy to deal with.'
Cri. But how are we to test these qualities, Socrates, before acquaintance?
Soc. How do we test the merits of a sculptor?--not by inferences drawn from the talk of the artist merely. No, we look to what he has already achieved. These former statues of his were nobly executed, and we trust he will do equally well with the rest.
Cri. You mean that if we find a man whose kindness to older friends is established, we may take it as proved that he will treat his newer friends as amiably?
Soc. Why, certainly, if I see a man who has shown skill in the handling of horses previously, I argue that he will handle others no less skilfully again.
Cri. Good! and when we have discovered a man whose friendship is worth having, how ought we to make him our friend?
Soc. First we ought to ascertain the will of Heaven whether it be advisable to make him our friend.
Cri. Well! and how are we to effect the capture of this friend of our choice, whom the gods approve? will you tell me that?
Not, in good sooth (replied Socrates), by running him down like a hare, nor by decoying him like a bird, or by force like a wild boar.[7] To capture a friend against his will is a toilsome business, and to bind him in fetters like a slave by no means easy. Those who are so treated are apt to become foes instead of friends.[8]
[7] Reading {kaproi}, al. {ekhthroi}, 'an enemy.'
[8] Or, 'Hate rather than friendship is the outcome of these methods.'
Cri. But how convert them into friends?
Soc. There are certain incantations, we are told, which those who know them have only to utter, and they can make friends of whom they list; and there are certain philtres also which those who have the secret of them may administer to whom they like and win their love.
Cri. From what source shall we learn them?
Soc. You need not go farther than Homer to learn that which the Sirens sang to Odysseus,[9] the first words of which run, I think, as follows:
Hither, come hither, thou famous man, Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans!
[9] 'Od.' xii. 184.
Cri. And did the magic words of this spell serve for all men alike? Had the Sirens only to utter this one incantation, and was every listener constrained to stay?
Soc. No; this was the incantation reserved for souls athirst for fame, of virtue emulous.
Cri. Which is as much as to say, we must suit the incantation to the listener, so that when he hears the words he shall not think that the enchanter is laughing at him in his sleeve. I cannot certainly conceive a method better calculated to excite hatred and repulsion than to go to some one who knows that he is small and ugly and a weakling, and to breathe in his ears the flattering tale that he is beautiful and tall and stalwart. But do you know any other love- charms, Socrates?
Soc. I cannot say that I do; but I have heard that Pericles[10] was skilled in not a few, which he poured into
