{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1579/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1579","id":"gutenberg_1579","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1579","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Classical literature","Friendship -- Early works to 1800","Socrates, 470 BC-399 BC"],"text":"Produced by Sue Asscher\n\n\n\n\n\nLYSIS\n\nBy Plato\n\n\nTranslated by Benjamin Jowett\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nNo answer is given in the Lysis to the question, 'What is Friendship?'\nany more than in the Charmides to the question, 'What is Temperance?'\nThere are several resemblances in the two Dialogues: the same\nyouthfulness and sense of beauty pervades both of them; they are alike\nrich in the description of Greek life. The question is again raised of\nthe relation of knowledge to virtue and good, which also recurs in the\nLaches; and Socrates appears again as the elder friend of the two boys,\nLysis and Menexenus. In the Charmides, as also in the Laches, he is\ndescribed as middle-aged; in the Lysis he is advanced in years.\n\nThe Dialogue consists of two scenes or conversations which seem to have\nno relation to each other. The first is a conversation between Socrates\nand Lysis, who, like Charmides, is an Athenian youth of noble descent\nand of great beauty, goodness, and intelligence: this is carried on\nin the absence of Menexenus, who is called away to take part in a\nsacrifice. Socrates asks Lysis whether his father and mother do not love\nhim very much? 'To be sure they do.' 'Then of course they allow him\nto do exactly as he likes.' 'Of course not: the very slaves have more\nliberty than he has.' 'But how is this?' 'The reason is that he is not\nold enough.' 'No; the real reason is that he is not wise enough: for\nare there not some things which he is allowed to do, although he is not\nallowed to do others?' 'Yes, because he knows them, and does not know\nthe others.' This leads to the conclusion that all men everywhere will\ntrust him in what he knows, but not in what he does not know; for in\nsuch matters he will be unprofitable to them, and do them no good. And\nno one will love him, if he does them no good; and he can only do them\ngood by knowledge; and as he is still without knowledge, he can have as\nyet no conceit of knowledge. In this manner Socrates reads a lesson\nto Hippothales, the foolish lover of Lysis, respecting the style of\nconversation which he should address to his beloved.\n\nAfter the return of Menexenus, Socrates, at the request of Lysis, asks\nhim a new question: 'What is friendship? You, Menexenus, who have a\nfriend already, can tell me, who am always longing to find one, what is\nthe secret of this great blessing.'\n\nWhen one man loves another, which is the friend--he who loves, or he who\nis loved? Or are both friends? From the first of these suppositions they\nare driven to the second; and from the second to the third; and neither\nthe two boys nor Socrates are satisfied with any of the three or with\nall of them. Socrates turns to the poets, who affirm that God brings\nlike to like (Homer), and to philosophers (Empedocles), who also assert\nthat like is the friend of like. But the bad are not friends, for they\nare not even like themselves, and still less are they like one another.\nAnd the good have no need of one another, and therefore do not care\nabout one another. Moreover there are others who say that likeness is a\ncause of aversion, and unlikeness of love and friendship; and they\ntoo adduce the authority of poets and philosophers in support of their\ndoctrines; for Hesiod says that 'potter is jealous of potter, bard of\nbard;' and subtle doctors tell us that 'moist is the friend of dry, hot\nof cold,' and the like. But neither can their doctrine be maintained;\nfor then the just would be the friend of the unjust, good of evil.\n\nThus we arrive at the conclusion that like is not the friend of like,\nnor unlike of unlike; and therefore good is not the friend of good, nor\nevil of evil, nor good of evil, nor evil of good. What remains but that\nthe indifferent, which is neither good nor evil, should be the friend\n(not of the indifferent, for that would be 'like the friend of like,'\nbut) of the good, or rather of the beautiful?\n\nBut why should the indifferent have this attachment to the beautiful or\ngood? There are circumstances under which such an attachment would be\nnatural. Suppose the indifferent, say the human body, to be desirous of\ngetting rid of some evil, such as disease, which is not essential but\nonly accidental to it (for if the evil were essential the body would\ncease to be indifferent, and would become evil)--in such a case the\nindifferent becomes a friend of the good for the sake of getting rid of\nthe evil. In this intermediate 'indifferent' position the philosopher or\nlover of wisdom stands: he is not wise, and yet not unwise, but he has\nignorance accidentally clinging to him, and he yearns for wisdom as the\ncure of the evil. (Symp.)\n\nAfter this explanation has been received with triumphant accord, a fresh\ndissatisfaction begins to steal over the mind of Socrates: Must not\nfriendship be for the sake of some ulterior end? and what can that final\ncause or end of friendship be, other than the good? But the good is\ndesired by us only as the cure of evil; and therefore if there were no\nevil there would be no friendship. Some other explanation then has to\nbe devised. May not desire be the source of friendship? And desire is of\nwhat a man wants and of what is congenial to him. But then the congenial\ncannot be the same as the like; for like, as has been already shown,\ncannot be the friend of like. Nor can the congenial be the good; for\ngood is not the friend of good, as has been also shown. The problem is\nunsolved, and the three friends, Socrates, Lysis, and Menexenus, are\nstill unable to find out what a friend is.\n\nThus, as in the Charmides and Laches, and several of the other Dialogues\nof Plato (compare especially the Protagoras and Theaetetus), no\nconclusion is arrived at. Socrates maintains his character of a 'know\nnothing;' but the boys have already learned the lesson which he is\nunable to teach them, and they are free from the conceit of knowledge.\n(Compare Chrm.) The dialogue is what would be called in the language\nof Thrasyllus tentative or inquisitive. The subject is continued in the\nPhaedrus and Symposium, and treated, with a manifest reference to\nthe Lysis, in the eighth and ninth books of the Nicomachean Ethics of\nAristotle. As in other writings of Plato (for example, the Republic),\nthere is a progress from unconscious morality, illustrated by the\nfriendship of the two youths, and also by the sayings of the poets ('who\nare our fathers in wisdom,' and yet only tell us half the truth, and\nin this particular instance are not much improved upon by the\nphilosophers), to a more comprehensive notion of friendship. This,\nhowever, is far from being cleared of its perplexity. Two notions appear\nto be struggling or balancing in the mind of Socrates:--First, the sense\nthat friendship arises out of human needs and wants; Secondly, that the\nhigher form or ideal of friendship exists only for the sake of the good.\nThat friends are not necessarily either like or unlike, is also a truth\nconfirmed by experience. But the use of the terms 'like' or 'good' is\ntoo strictly limited; Socrates has allowed himself to be carried away\nby a sort of eristic or illogical logic against which no definition\nof friendship would be able to stand. In the course of the argument\nhe makes a distinction between property and accident which is a real\ncontribution to the science of logic. Some higher truths appear through\nthe mist. The manner in which the field of argument is widened, as in\nthe Charmides and Laches by the introduction of the idea of knowledge,\nso here by the introduction of the good, is deserving of attention. The\nsense of the inter-dependence of good and evil, and the allusion to the\npossibility of the non-existence of evil, are also very remarkable.\n\nThe dialectical interest is fully sustained by the dramatic\naccompaniments. Observe, first, the scene, which is a Greek Palaestra,\nat a time when a sacrifice is going on, and the Hermaea are in course of\ncelebration; secondly, the 'accustomed irony' of Socrates, who declares,\nas in the Symposium, that he is ignorant of all other things, but claims\nto have a knowledge of the mysteries of love. There are likewise several\ncontrasts of character; first of the dry, caustic Ctesippus, of whom\nSocrates professes a humorous sort of fear, and Hippothales the flighty\nlover, who murders sleep by bawling out the name of his beloved; there\nis also a contrast between the false, exaggerated, sentimental love of\nHippothales towards Lysis, and the childlike and innocent friendship\nof the boys with one another. Some difference appears to be intended\nbetween the characters of the more talkative Menexenus and the reserved\nand simple Lysis. Socrates draws out the latter by a new sort of irony,\nwhich is sometimes adopted in talking to children, and consists in\nasking a leading question which can only be answered in a sense contrary\nto the intention of the question: 'Your father and mother of course\nallow you to drive the chariot?' 'No they do not.' When Menexenus\nreturns, the serious dialectic begins. He is described as 'very\npugnacious,' and we are thus prepared for the part which a mere youth\ntakes in a difficult argument. But Plato has not forgotten dramatic\npropriety, and Socrates proposes at last to refer the question to some\nolder person.\n\n\nSOME QUESTIONS RELATING TO FRIENDSHIP.\n\nThe subject of friendship has a lower place in the modern than in the\nancient world, partly because a higher place is assigned by us to love\nand marriage. The very meaning of the word has become slighter and more\nsuperficial; it seems almost to be borrowed from the ancients, and has\nnearly disappeared in modern treatises on Moral Philosophy. The received\nexamples of friendship are to be found chiefly among the Greeks and\nRomans. Hence the casuistical or other questions which arise out of the\nrelations of friends have not often been considered seriously in modern\ntimes. Many of them will be found to be the same which are discussed\nin the Lysis. We may ask with Socrates, 1) whether friendship is 'of\nsimilars or dissimilars,' or of both; 2) whether such a tie exists\nbetween the good only and for the sake of the good; or 3) whether there\nmay not be some peculiar attraction, which draws together 'the neither\ngood nor evil' for the sake of the good and because of the evil; 4)\nwhether friendship is always mutual,--may there not be a one-sided and\nunrequited friendship? This question, which, like many others, is only\none of a laxer or stricter use of words, seems to have greatly exercised\nthe minds both of Aristotle and Plato.\n\n5) Can we expect friendship to be permanent, or must we acknowledge\nwith Cicero, 'Nihil difficilius quam amicitiam usque ad extremum vitae\npermanere'? Is not friendship, even more than love, liable to be swayed\nby the caprices of fancy? The person who pleased us most at first sight\nor upon a slight acquaintance, when we have seen him again, and under\ndifferent circumstances, may make a much less favourable impression\non our minds. Young people swear 'eternal friendships,' but at these\ninnocent perjuries their elders laugh. No one forms a friendship with\nthe intention of renouncing it; yet in the course of a varied life it\nis practically certain that many changes will occur of feeling, opinion,\nlocality, occupation, fortune, which will divide us from some persons\nand unite us to others. 6) There is an ancient saying, Qui amicos amicum\nnon habet. But is not some less exclusive form of friendship better\nsuited to the condition and nature of man? And in those especially who\nhave no family ties, may not the feeling pass beyond one or a few,\nand embrace all with whom we come into contact, and, perhaps in a few\npassionate and exalted natures, all men everywhere? 7) The ancients\nhad their three kinds of friendship, 'for the sake of the pleasant, the\nuseful, and the good:' is the last to be resolved into the two first; or\nare the two first to be included in the last? The subject was puzzling\nto them: they could not say that friendship was only a quality, or a\nrelation, or a virtue, or a kind of virtue; and they had not in the age\nof Plato reached the point of regarding it, like justice, as a form or\nattribute of virtue. They had another perplexity: 8) How could one\nof the noblest feelings of human nature be so near to one of the most\ndetestable corruptions of it? (Compare Symposium; Laws).\n\nLeaving the Greek or ancient point of view, we may regard the question\nin a more general way. Friendship is the union of two persons in mutual\naffection and remembrance of one another. The friend can do for his\nfriend what he cannot do for himself. He can give him counsel in time of\ndifficulty; he can teach him 'to see himself as others see him'; he can\nstand by him, when all the world are against him; he can gladden and\nenlighten him by his presence; he 'can divide his sorrows,' he can\n'double his joys;' he can anticipate his wants. He will discover ways\nof helping him without creating a sense of his own superiority; he will\nfind out his mental trials, but only that he may minister to them. Among\ntrue friends jealousy has no place: they do not complain of one another\nfor making new friends, or for not revealing some secret of their lives;\n(in friendship too there must be reserves;) they do not intrude upon one\nanother, and they mutually rejoice in any good which happens to either\nof them, though it may be to the loss of the other. They may live apart\nand have little intercourse, but when they meet, the old tie is as\nstrong as ever--according to the common saying, they find one\nanother always the same. The greatest good of friendship is not daily\nintercourse, for circumstances rarely admit of this; but on the great\noccasions of life, when the advice of a friend is needed, then the word\nspoken in season about conduct, about health, about marriage, about\nbusiness,--the letter written from a distance by a disinterested person\nwho sees with clearer eyes may be of inestimable value. When the heart\nis failing and despair is setting in, then to hear the voice or grasp\nthe hand of a friend, in a shipwreck, in a defeat, in some other failure\nor misfortune, may restore the necessary courage and composure to the\nparalysed and disordered mind, and convert the feeble person into a\nhero; (compare Symposium).\n\nIt is true that friendships are apt to be disappointing: either we\nexpect too much from them; or we are indolent and do not 'keep them in\nrepair;' or being admitted to intimacy with another, we see his faults\ntoo clearly and lose our respect for him; and he loses his affection for\nus. Friendships may be too violent; and they may be too sensitive. The\negotism of one of the parties may be too much for the other. The word of\ncounsel or sympathy has been uttered too obtrusively, at the wrong time,\nor in the wrong manner; or the need of it has not been perceived until\ntoo late. 'Oh if he had only told me' has been the silent thought of\nmany a troubled soul. And some things have to be indicated rather than\nspoken, because the very mention of them tends to disturb the equability\nof friendship. The alienation of friends, like many other human evils,\nis commonly due to a want of tact and insight. There is not enough\nof the Scimus et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim. The sweet\ndraught of sympathy is not inexhaustible; and it tends to weaken the\nperson who too freely partakes of it. Thus we see that there are many\ncauses which impair the happiness of friends.\n\nWe may expect a friendship almost divine, such as philosophers\nhave sometimes dreamed of: we find what is human. The good of it is\nnecessarily limited; it does not take the place of marriage; it affords\nrather a solace than an arm of support. It had better not be based on\npecuniary obligations; these more often mar than make a friendship.\nIt is most likely to be permanent when the two friends are equal and\nindependent, or when they are engaged together in some common work or\nhave some public interest in common. It exists among the bad or inferior\nsort of men almost as much as among the good; the bad and good, and\n'the neither bad nor good,' are drawn together in a strange manner by\npersonal attachment. The essence of it is loyalty, without which it\nwould cease to be friendship.\n\nAnother question 9) may be raised, whether friendship can safely exist\nbetween young persons of different sexes, not connected by ties of\nrelationship, and without the thought of love or marriage; whether,\nagain, a wife or a husband should have any intimate friend, besides his\nor her partner in marriage. The answer to this latter question is rather\nperplexing, and would probably be different in different countries\n(compare Sympos.). While we do not deny that great good may result\nfrom such attachments, for the mind may be drawn out and the character\nenlarged by them; yet we feel also that they are attended with many\ndangers, and that this Romance of Heavenly Love requires a strength, a\nfreedom from passion, a self-control, which, in youth especially, are\nrarely to be found. The propriety of such friendships must be estimated\na good deal by the manner in which public opinion regards them; they\nmust be reconciled with the ordinary duties of life; and they must be\njustified by the result.\n\nYet another question, 10). Admitting that friendships cannot be always\npermanent, we may ask when and upon what conditions should they be\ndissolved. It would be futile to retain the name when the reality has\nceased to be. That two friends should part company whenever the relation\nbetween them begins to drag may be better for both of them. But then\narises the consideration, how should these friends in youth or friends\nof the past regard or be regarded by one another? They are parted, but\nthere still remain duties mutually owing by them. They will not\nadmit the world to share in their difference any more than in their\nfriendship; the memory of an old attachment, like the memory of the\ndead, has a kind of sacredness for them on which they will not allow\nothers to intrude. Neither, if they were ever worthy to bear the name\nof friends, will either of them entertain any enmity or dislike of the\nother who was once so much to him. Neither will he by 'shadowed hint\nreveal' the secrets great or small which an unfortunate mistake has\nplaced within his reach. He who is of a noble mind will dwell upon his\nown faults rather than those of another, and will be ready to take upon\nhimself the blame of their separation. He will feel pain at the loss of\na friend; and he will remember with gratitude his ancient kindness.\nBut he will not lightly renew a tie which has not been lightly\nbroken...These are a few of the Problems of Friendship, some of them\nsuggested by the Lysis, others by modern life, which he who wishes to\nmake or keep a friend may profitably study. (Compare Bacon, Essay on\nFriendship; Cic. de Amicitia.)\n\n\n\n\nLYSIS, OR FRIENDSHIP\n\n\n\n\nPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE:\n\nSocrates, who is the narrator, Menexenus, Hippothales, Lysis, Ctesippus.\n\nSCENE: A newly-erected Palaestra outside the walls of Athens.\n\n\nI was going from the Academy straight to the Lyceum, intending to\ntake the outer road, which is close under the wall. When I came to the\npostern gate of the city, which is by the fountain of Panops, I fell in\nwith Hippothales, the son of Hieronymus, and Ctesippus the Paeanian, and\na company of young men who were standing with them. Hippothales, seeing\nme approach, asked whence I came and whither I was going.\n\nI am going, I replied, from the Academy straight to the Lyceum.\n\nThen come straight to us, he said, and put in here; you may as well.\n\nWho are you, I said; and where am I to come?\n\nHe showed me an enclosed space and an open door over against the wall.\nAnd there, he said, is the building at which we all meet: and a goodly\ncompany we are.\n\nAnd what is this building, I asked; and what sort of entertainment have\nyou?\n\nThe building, he replied, is a newly erected Palaestra; and the\nentertainment is generally conversation, to which you are welcome.\n\nThank you, I said; and is there any teacher there?\n\nYes, he said, your old friend and admirer, Miccus.\n\nIndeed, I replied; he is a very eminent professor.\n\nAre you disposed, he said, to go with me and see them?\n\nYes, I said; but I should like to know first, what is expected of me,\nand who is the favourite among you?\n\nSome persons have one favourite, Socrates, and some another, he said.\n\nAnd who is yours? I asked: tell me that, Hippothales.\n\nAt this he blushed; and I said to him, O Hippothales, thou son of\nHieronymus! do not say that you are, or that you are not, in love; the\nconfession is too late; for I see that you are not only in love, but are\nalready far gone in your love. Simple and foolish as I am, the Gods have\ngiven me the power of understanding affections of this kind.\n\nWhereupon he blushed more and more.\n\nCtesippus said: I like to see you blushing, Hippothales, and hesitating\nto tell Socrates the name; when, if he were with you but for a very\nshort time, you would have plagued him to death by talking about nothing\nelse. Indeed, Socrates, he has literally deafened us, and stopped our\nears with the praises of Lysis; and if he is a little intoxicated, there\nis every likelihood that we may have our sleep murdered with a cry of\nLysis. His performances in prose are bad enough, but nothing at all in\ncomparison with his verse; and when he drenches us with his poems and\nother compositions, it is really too bad; and worse still is his manner\nof singing them to his love; he has a voice which is truly appalling,\nand we cannot help hearing him: and now having a question put to him by\nyou, behold he is blushing.\n\nWho is Lysis? I said: I suppose that he must be young; for the name does\nnot recall any one to me.\n\nWhy, he said, his father being a very well-known man, he retains his\npatronymic, and is not as yet commonly called by his own name; but,\nalthough you do not know his name, I am sure that you must know his\nface, for that is quite enough to distinguish him.\n\nBut tell me whose son he is, I said.\n\nHe is the eldest son of Democrates, of the deme of Aexone.\n\nAh, Hippothales, I said; what a noble and really perfect love you have\nfound! I wish that you would favour me with the exhibition which you\nhave been making to the rest of the company, and then I shall be able to\njudge whether you know what a lover ought to say about his love, either\nto the youth himself, or to others.\n\nNay, Socrates, he said; you surely do not attach any importance to what\nhe is saying.\n\nDo you mean, I said, that you disown the love of the person whom he says\nthat you love?\n\nNo; but I deny that I make verses or address compositions to him.\n\nHe is not in his right mind, said Ctesippus; he is talking nonsense, and\nis stark mad.\n\nO Hippothales, I said, if you have ever made any verses or songs in\nhonour of your favourite, I do not want to hear them; but I want to\nknow the purport of them, that I may be able to judge of your mode of\napproaching your fair one.\n\nCtesippus will be able to tell you, he said; for if, as he avers, the\nsound of my words is always dinning in his ears, he must have a very\naccurate knowledge and recollection of them.\n\nYes, indeed, said Ctesippus; I know only too well; and very ridiculous\nthe tale is: for although he is a lover, and very devotedly in love, he\nhas nothing particular to talk about to his beloved which a child might\nnot say. Now is not that ridiculous? He can only speak of the wealth of\nDemocrates, which the whole city celebrates, and grandfather Lysis, and\nthe other ancestors of the youth, and their stud of horses, and their\nvictory at the Pythian games, and at the Isthmus, and at Nemea with\nfour horses and single horses--these are the tales which he composes\nand repeats. And there is greater twaddle still. Only the day before\nyesterday he made a poem in which he described the entertainment of\nHeracles, who was a connexion of the family, setting forth how in virtue\nof this relationship he was hospitably received by an ancestor of\nLysis; this ancestor was himself begotten of Zeus by the daughter of the\nfounder of the deme. And these are the sort of old wives' tales which he\nsings and recites to us, and we are obliged to listen to him.\n\nWhen I heard this, I said: O ridiculous Hippothales! how can you be\nmaking and singing hymns in honour of yourself before you have won?\n\nBut my songs and verses, he said, are not in honour of myself, Socrates.\n\nYou think not? I said.\n\nNay, but what do you think? he replied.\n\nMost assuredly, I said, those songs are all in your own honour; for if\nyou win your beautiful love, your discourses and songs will be a glory\nto you, and may be truly regarded as hymns of praise composed in honour\nof you who have conquered and won such a love; but if he slips away from\nyou, the more you have praised him, the more ridiculous you will look at\nhaving lost this fairest and best of blessings; and therefore the wise\nlover does not praise his beloved until he has won him, because he is\nafraid of accidents. There is also another danger; the fair, when any\none praises or magnifies them, are filled with the spirit of pride and\nvain-glory. Do you not agree with me?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd the more vain-glorious they are, the more difficult is the capture\nof them?\n\nI believe you.\n\nWhat should you say of a hunter who frightened away his prey, and made\nthe capture of the animals which he is hunting more difficult?\n\nHe would be a bad hunter, undoubtedly.\n\nYes; and if, instead of soothing them, he were to infuriate them with\nwords and songs, that would show a great want of wit: do you not agree.\n\nYes.\n\nAnd now reflect, Hippothales, and see whether you are not guilty of all\nthese errors in writing poetry. For I can hardly suppose that you will\naffirm a man to be a good poet who injures himself by his poetry.\n\nAssuredly not, he said; such a poet would be a fool. And this is the\nreason why I take you into my counsels, Socrates, and I shall be glad of\nany further advice which you may have to offer. Will you tell me by what\nwords or actions I may become endeared to my love?\n\nThat is not easy to determine, I said; but if you will bring your love\nto me, and will let me talk with him, I may perhaps be able to show you\nhow to converse with him, instead of singing and reciting in the fashion\nof which you are accused.\n\nThere will be no difficulty in bringing him, he replied; if you will\nonly go with Ctesippus into the Palaestra, and sit down and talk,\nI believe that he will come of his own accord; for he is fond of\nlistening, Socrates. And as this is the festival of the Hermaea, the\nyoung men and boys are all together, and there is no separation between\nthem. He will be sure to come: but if he does not, Ctesippus with whom\nhe is familiar, and whose relation Menexenus is his great friend, shall\ncall him.\n\nThat will be the way, I said. Thereupon I led Ctesippus into the\nPalaestra, and the rest followed.\n\nUpon entering we found that the boys had just been sacrificing; and this\npart of the festival was nearly at an end. They were all in their white\narray, and games at dice were going on among them. Most of them were\nin the outer court amusing themselves; but some were in a corner of the\nApodyterium playing at odd and even with a number of dice, which\nthey took out of little wicker baskets. There was also a circle of\nlookers-on; among them was Lysis. He was standing with the other boys\nand youths, having a crown upon his head, like a fair vision, and not\nless worthy of praise for his goodness than for his beauty. We left\nthem, and went over to the opposite side of the room, where, finding\na quiet place, we sat down; and then we began to talk. This attracted\nLysis, who was constantly turning round to look at us--he was evidently\nwanting to come to us. For a time he hesitated and had not the courage\nto come alone; but first of all, his friend Menexenus, leaving his play,\nentered the Palaestra from the court, and when he saw Ctesippus and\nmyself, was going to take a seat by us; and then Lysis, seeing him,\nfollowed, and sat down by his side; and the other boys joined. I should\nobserve that Hippothales, when he saw the crowd, got behind them, where\nhe thought that he would be out of sight of Lysis, lest he should anger\nhim; and there he stood and listened.\n\nI turned to Menexenus, and said: Son of Demophon, which of you two\nyouths is the elder?\n\nThat is a matter of dispute between us, he said.\n\nAnd which is the nobler? Is that also a matter of dispute?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nAnd another disputed point is, which is the fairer?\n\nThe two boys laughed.\n\nI shall not ask which is the richer of the two, I said; for you are\nfriends, are you not?\n\nCertainly, they replied.\n\nAnd friends have all things in common, so that one of you can be no\nricher than the other, if you say truly that you are friends.\n\nThey assented. I was about to ask which was the juster of the two, and\nwhich was the wiser of the two; but at this moment Menexenus was called\naway by some one who came and said that the gymnastic-master wanted him.\nI supposed that he had to offer sacrifice. So he went away, and I asked\nLysis some more questions. I dare say, Lysis, I said, that your father\nand mother love you very much.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd they would wish you to be perfectly happy.\n\nYes.\n\nBut do you think that any one is happy who is in the condition of a\nslave, and who cannot do what he likes?\n\nI should think not indeed, he said.\n\nAnd if your father and mother love you, and desire that you should\nbe happy, no one can doubt that they are very ready to promote your\nhappiness.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd do they then permit you to do what you like, and never rebuke you or\nhinder you from doing what you desire?\n\nYes, indeed, Socrates; there are a great many things which they hinder\nme from doing.\n\nWhat do you mean? I said. Do they want you to be happy, and yet hinder\nyou from doing what you like? for example, if you want to mount one\nof your father's chariots, and take the reins at a race, they will not\nallow you to do so--they will prevent you?\n\nCertainly, he said, they will not allow me to do so.\n\nWhom then will they allow?\n\nThere is a charioteer, whom my father pays for driving.\n\nAnd do they trust a hireling more than you? and may he do what he likes\nwith the horses? and do they pay him for this?\n\nThey do.\n\nBut I dare say that you may take the whip and guide the mule-cart if you\nlike;--they will permit that?\n\nPermit me! indeed they will not.\n\nThen, I said, may no one use the whip to the mules?\n\nYes, he said, the muleteer.\n\nAnd is he a slave or a free man?\n\nA slave, he said.\n\nAnd do they esteem a slave of more value than you who are their son? And\ndo they entrust their property to him rather than to you? and allow him\nto do what he likes, when they prohibit you? Answer me now: Are you your\nown master, or do they not even allow that?\n\nNay, he said; of course they do not allow it.\n\nThen you have a master?\n\nYes, my tutor; there he is.\n\nAnd is he a slave?\n\nTo be sure; he is our slave, he replied.\n\nSurely, I said, this is a strange thing, that a free man should be\ngoverned by a slave. And what does he do with you?\n\nHe takes me to my teachers.\n\nYou do not mean to say that your teachers also rule over you?\n\nOf course they do.\n\nThen I must say that your father is pleased to inflict many lords and\nmasters on you. But at any rate when you go home to your mother,\nshe will let you have your own way, and will not interfere with your\nhappiness; her wool, or the piece of cloth which she is weaving, are\nat your disposal: I am sure that there is nothing to hinder you from\ntouching her wooden spathe, or her comb, or any other of her spinning\nimplements.\n\nNay, Socrates, he replied, laughing; not only does she hinder me, but I\nshould be beaten if I were to touch one of them.\n\nWell, I said, this is amazing. And did you ever behave ill to your\nfather or your mother?\n\nNo, indeed, he replied.\n\nBut why then are they so terribly anxious to prevent you from being\nhappy, and doing as you like?--keeping you all day long in subjection\nto another, and, in a word, doing nothing which you desire; so that you\nhave no good, as would appear, out of their great possessions, which are\nunder the control of anybody rather than of you, and have no use of your\nown fair person, which is tended and taken care of by another; while\nyou, Lysis, are master of nobody, and can do nothing?\n\nWhy, he said, Socrates, the reason is that I am not of age.\n\nI doubt whether that is the real reason, I said; for I should imagine\nthat your father Democrates, and your mother, do permit you to do many\nthings already, and do not wait until you are of age: for example, if\nthey want anything read or written, you, I presume, would be the first\nperson in the house who is summoned by them.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd you would be allowed to write or read the letters in any order which\nyou please, or to take up the lyre and tune the notes, and play with the\nfingers, or strike with the plectrum, exactly as you please, and neither\nfather nor mother would interfere with you.\n\nThat is true, he said.\n\nThen what can be the reason, Lysis, I said, why they allow you to do the\none and not the other?\n\nI suppose, he said, because I understand the one, and not the other.\n\nYes, my dear youth, I said, the reason is not any deficiency of years,\nbut a deficiency of knowledge; and whenever your father thinks that\nyou are wiser than he is, he will instantly commit himself and his\npossessions to you.\n\nI think so.\n\nAye, I said; and about your neighbour, too, does not the same rule\nhold as about your father? If he is satisfied that you know more of\nhousekeeping than he does, will he continue to administer his affairs\nhimself, or will he commit them to you?\n\nI think that he will commit them to me.\n\nWill not the Athenian people, too, entrust their affairs to you when\nthey see that you have wisdom enough to manage them?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd oh! let me put another case, I said: There is the great king, and he\nhas an eldest son, who is the Prince of Asia;--suppose that you and I go\nto him and establish to his satisfaction that we are better cooks than\nhis son, will he not entrust to us the prerogative of making soup, and\nputting in anything that we like while the pot is boiling, rather than\nto the Prince of Asia, who is his son?\n\nTo us, clearly.\n\nAnd we shall be allowed to throw in salt by handfuls, whereas the son\nwill not be allowed to put in as much as he can take up between his\nfingers?\n\nOf course.\n\nOr suppose again that the son has bad eyes, will he allow him, or will\nhe not allow him, to touch his own eyes if he thinks that he has no\nknowledge of medicine?\n\nHe will not allow him.\n\nWhereas, if he supposes us to have a knowledge of medicine, he will\nallow us to do what we like with him--even to open the eyes wide and\nsprinkle ashes upon them, because he supposes that we know what is best?\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd everything in which we appear to him to be wiser than himself or his\nson he will commit to us?\n\nThat is very true, Socrates, he replied.\n\nThen now, my dear Lysis, I said, you perceive that in things which\nwe know every one will trust us,--Hellenes and barbarians, men and\nwomen,--and we may do as we please about them, and no one will like to\ninterfere with us; we shall be free, and masters of others; and these\nthings will be really ours, for we shall be benefited by them. But in\nthings of which we have no understanding, no one will trust us to do as\nseems good to us--they will hinder us as far as they can; and not only\nstrangers, but father and mother, and the friend, if there be one, who\nis dearer still, will also hinder us; and we shall be subject to others;\nand these things will not be ours, for we shall not be benefited by\nthem. Do you agree?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd shall we be friends to others, and will any others love us, in as\nfar as we are useless to them?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nNeither can your father or mother love you, nor can anybody love anybody\nelse, in so far as they are useless to them?\n\nNo.\n\nAnd therefore, my boy, if you are wise, all men will be your friends\nand kindred, for you will be useful and good; but if you are not wise,\nneither father, nor mother, nor kindred, nor any one else, will be your\nfriends. And in matters of which you have as yet no knowledge, can you\nhave any conceit of knowledge?\n\nThat is impossible, he replied.\n\nAnd you, Lysis, if you require a teacher, have not yet attained to\nwisdom.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd therefore you are not conceited, having nothing of which to be\nconceited.\n\nIndeed, Socrates, I think not.\n\nWhen I heard him say this, I turned to Hippothales, and was very nearly\nmaking a blunder, for I was going to say to him: That is the way,\nHippothales, in which you should talk to your beloved, humbling and\nlowering him, and not as you do, puffing him up and spoiling him. But I\nsaw that he was in great excitement and confusion at what had been said,\nand I remembered that, although he was in the neighbourhood, he did not\nwant to be seen by Lysis; so upon second thoughts I refrained.\n\nIn the meantime Menexenus came back and sat down in his place by Lysis;\nand Lysis, in a childish and affectionate manner, whispered privately in\nmy ear, so that Menexenus should not hear: Do, Socrates, tell Menexenus\nwhat you have been telling me.\n\nSuppose that you tell him yourself, Lysis, I replied; for I am sure that\nyou were attending.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nTry, then, to remember the words, and be as exact as you can in\nrepeating them to him, and if you have forgotten anything, ask me again\nthe next time that you see me.\n\nI will be sure to do so, Socrates; but go on telling him something new,\nand let me hear, as long as I am allowed to stay.\n\nI certainly cannot refuse, I said, since you ask me; but then, as you\nknow, Menexenus is very pugnacious, and therefore you must come to the\nrescue if he attempts to upset me.\n\nYes, indeed, he said; he is very pugnacious, and that is the reason why\nI want you to argue with him.\n\nThat I may make a fool of myself?\n\nNo, indeed, he said; but I want you to put him down.\n\nThat is no easy matter, I replied; for he is a terrible fellow--a pupil\nof Ctesippus. And there is Ctesippus himself: do you see him?\n\nNever mind, Socrates, you shall argue with him.\n\nWell, I suppose that I must, I replied.\n\nHereupon Ctesippus complained that we were talking in secret, and\nkeeping the feast to ourselves.\n\nI shall be happy, I said, to let you have a share. Here is Lysis, who\ndoes not understand something that I was saying, and wants me to ask\nMenexenus, who, as he thinks, is likely to know.\n\nAnd why do you not ask him? he said.\n\nVery well, I said, I will; and do you, Menexenus, answer. But first I\nmust tell you that I am one who from my childhood upward have set my\nheart upon a certain thing. All people have their fancies; some desire\nhorses, and others dogs; and some are fond of gold, and others of\nhonour. Now, I have no violent desire of any of these things; but I have\na passion for friends; and I would rather have a good friend than the\nbest cock or quail in the world: I would even go further, and say the\nbest horse or dog. Yea, by the dog of Egypt, I should greatly prefer a\nreal friend to all the gold of Darius, or even to Darius himself: I am\nsuch a lover of friends as that. And when I see you and Lysis, at your\nearly age, so easily possessed of this treasure, and so soon, he of\nyou, and you of him, I am amazed and delighted, seeing that I myself,\nalthough I am now advanced in years, am so far from having made a\nsimilar acquisition, that I do not even know in what way a friend is\nacquired. But I want to ask you a question about this, for you have\nexperience: tell me then, when one loves another, is the lover or the\nbeloved the friend; or may either be the friend?\n\nEither may, I should think, be the friend of either.\n\nDo you mean, I said, that if only one of them loves the other, they are\nmutual friends?\n\nYes, he said; that is my meaning.\n\nBut what if the lover is not loved in return? which is a very possible\ncase.\n\nYes.\n\nOr is, perhaps, even hated? which is a fancy which sometimes is\nentertained by lovers respecting their beloved. Nothing can exceed their\nlove; and yet they imagine either that they are not loved in return, or\nthat they are hated. Is not that true?\n\nYes, he said, quite true.\n\nIn that case, the one loves, and the other is loved?\n\nYes.\n\nThen which is the friend of which? Is the lover the friend of the\nbeloved, whether he be loved in return, or hated; or is the beloved the\nfriend; or is there no friendship at all on either side, unless they\nboth love one another?\n\nThere would seem to be none at all.\n\nThen this notion is not in accordance with our previous one. We were\nsaying that both were friends, if one only loved; but now, unless they\nboth love, neither is a friend.\n\nThat appears to be true.\n\nThen nothing which does not love in return is beloved by a lover?\n\nI think not.\n\nThen they are not lovers of horses, whom the horses do not love in\nreturn; nor lovers of quails, nor of dogs, nor of wine, nor of gymnastic\nexercises, who have no return of love; no, nor of wisdom, unless wisdom\nloves them in return. Or shall we say that they do love them, although\nthey are not beloved by them; and that the poet was wrong who sings--\n\n'Happy the man to whom his children are dear, and steeds having single\nhoofs, and dogs of chase, and the stranger of another land'?\n\nI do not think that he was wrong.\n\nYou think that he is right?\n\nYes.\n\nThen, Menexenus, the conclusion is, that what is beloved, whether loving\nor hating, may be dear to the lover of it: for example, very young\nchildren, too young to love, or even hating their father or mother when\nthey are punished by them, are never dearer to them than at the time\nwhen they are being hated by them.\n\nI think that what you say is true.\n\nAnd, if so, not the lover, but the beloved, is the friend or dear one?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the hated one, and not the hater, is the enemy?\n\nClearly.\n\nThen many men are loved by their enemies, and hated by their friends,\nand are the friends of their enemies, and the enemies of their friends.\nYet how absurd, my dear friend, or indeed impossible is this paradox of\na man being an enemy to his friend or a friend to his enemy.\n\nI quite agree, Socrates, in what you say.\n\nBut if this cannot be, the lover will be the friend of that which is\nloved?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the hater will be the enemy of that which is hated?\n\nCertainly.\n\nYet we must acknowledge in this, as in the preceding instance, that a\nman may be the friend of one who is not his friend, or who may be his\nenemy, when he loves that which does not love him or which even hates\nhim. And he may be the enemy of one who is not his enemy, and is even\nhis friend: for example, when he hates that which does not hate him, or\nwhich even loves him.\n\nThat appears to be true.\n\nBut if the lover is not a friend, nor the beloved a friend, nor both\ntogether, what are we to say? Whom are we to call friends to one\nanother? Do any remain?\n\nIndeed, Socrates, I cannot find any.\n\nBut, O Menexenus! I said, may we not have been altogether wrong in our\nconclusions?\n\nI am sure that we have been wrong, Socrates, said Lysis. And he blushed\nas he spoke, the words seeming to come from his lips involuntarily,\nbecause his whole mind was taken up with the argument; there was no\nmistaking his attentive look while he was listening.\n\nI was pleased at the interest which was shown by Lysis, and I wanted to\ngive Menexenus a rest, so I turned to him and said, I think, Lysis, that\nwhat you say is true, and that, if we had been right, we should never\nhave gone so far wrong; let us proceed no further in this direction (for\nthe road seems to be getting troublesome), but take the other path into\nwhich we turned, and see what the poets have to say; for they are to us\nin a manner the fathers and authors of wisdom, and they speak of friends\nin no light or trivial manner, but God himself, as they say, makes\nthem and draws them to one another; and this they express, if I am not\nmistaken, in the following words:--\n\n'God is ever drawing like towards like, and making them acquainted.'\n\nI dare say that you have heard those words.\n\nYes, he said; I have.\n\nAnd have you not also met with the treatises of philosophers who say\nthat like must love like? they are the people who argue and write about\nnature and the universe.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nAnd are they right in saying this?\n\nThey may be.\n\nPerhaps, I said, about half, or possibly, altogether, right, if their\nmeaning were rightly apprehended by us. For the more a bad man has to do\nwith a bad man, and the more nearly he is brought into contact with him,\nthe more he will be likely to hate him, for he injures him; and injurer\nand injured cannot be friends. Is not that true?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nThen one half of the saying is untrue, if the wicked are like one\nanother?\n\nThat is true.\n\nBut the real meaning of the saying, as I imagine, is, that the good are\nlike one another, and friends to one another; and that the bad, as\nis often said of them, are never at unity with one another or with\nthemselves; for they are passionate and restless, and anything which\nis at variance and enmity with itself is not likely to be in union or\nharmony with any other thing. Do you not agree?\n\nYes, I do.\n\nThen, my friend, those who say that the like is friendly to the like\nmean to intimate, if I rightly apprehend them, that the good only is the\nfriend of the good, and of him only; but that the evil never attains to\nany real friendship, either with good or evil. Do you agree?\n\nHe nodded assent.\n\nThen now we know how to answer the question 'Who are friends?' for the\nargument declares 'That the good are friends.'\n\nYes, he said, that is true.\n\nYes, I replied; and yet I am not quite satisfied with this answer. By\nheaven, and shall I tell you what I suspect? I will. Assuming that like,\ninasmuch as he is like, is the friend of like, and useful to him--or\nrather let me try another way of putting the matter: Can like do\nany good or harm to like which he could not do to himself, or suffer\nanything from his like which he would not suffer from himself? And if\nneither can be of any use to the other, how can they be loved by one\nanother? Can they now?\n\nThey cannot.\n\nAnd can he who is not loved be a friend?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nBut say that the like is not the friend of the like in so far as he is\nlike; still the good may be the friend of the good in so far as he is\ngood?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut then again, will not the good, in so far as he is good, be\nsufficient for himself? Certainly he will. And he who is sufficient\nwants nothing--that is implied in the word sufficient.\n\nOf course not.\n\nAnd he who wants nothing will desire nothing?\n\nHe will not.\n\nNeither can he love that which he does not desire?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nAnd he who loves not is not a lover or friend?\n\nClearly not.\n\nWhat place then is there for friendship, if, when absent, good men have\nno need of one another (for even when alone they are sufficient for\nthemselves), and when present have no use of one another? How can such\npersons ever be induced to value one another?\n\nThey cannot.\n\nAnd friends they cannot be, unless they value one another?\n\nVery true.\n\nBut see now, Lysis, whether we are not being deceived in all this--are\nwe not indeed entirely wrong?\n\nHow so? he replied.\n\nHave I not heard some one say, as I just now recollect, that the like\nis the greatest enemy of the like, the good of the good?--Yes, and he\nquoted the authority of Hesiod, who says:\n\n'Potter quarrels with potter, bard with bard, Beggar with beggar;'\n\nand of all other things he affirmed, in like manner, 'That of necessity\nthe most like are most full of envy, strife, and hatred of one another,\nand the most unlike, of friendship. For the poor man is compelled to be\nthe friend of the rich, and the weak requires the aid of the strong,\nand the sick man of the physician; and every one who is ignorant, has\nto love and court him who knows.' And indeed he went on to say in\ngrandiloquent language, that the idea of friendship existing between\nsimilars is not the truth, but the very reverse of the truth, and that\nthe most opposed are the most friendly; for that everything desires not\nlike but that which is most unlike: for example, the dry desires the\nmoist, the cold the hot, the bitter the sweet, the sharp the blunt, the\nvoid the full, the full the void, and so of all other things; for the\nopposite is the food of the opposite, whereas like receives nothing from\nlike. And I thought that he who said this was a charming man, and that\nhe spoke well. What do the rest of you say?\n\nI should say, at first hearing, that he is right, said Menexenus.\n\nThen we are to say that the greatest friendship is of opposites?\n\nExactly.\n\nYes, Menexenus; but will not that be a monstrous answer? and will\nnot the all-wise eristics be down upon us in triumph, and ask, fairly\nenough, whether love is not the very opposite of hate; and what answer\nshall we make to them--must we not admit that they speak the truth?\n\nWe must.\n\nThey will then proceed to ask whether the enemy is the friend of the\nfriend, or the friend the friend of the enemy?\n\nNeither, he replied.\n\nWell, but is a just man the friend of the unjust, or the temperate of\nthe intemperate, or the good of the bad?\n\nI do not see how that is possible.\n\nAnd yet, I said, if friendship goes by contraries, the contraries must\nbe friends.\n\nThey must.\n\nThen neither like and like nor unlike and unlike are friends.\n\nI suppose not.\n\nAnd yet there is a further consideration: may not all these notions of\nfriendship be erroneous? but may not that which is neither good nor evil\nstill in some cases be the friend of the good?\n\nHow do you mean? he said.\n\nWhy really, I said, the truth is that I do not know; but my head\nis dizzy with thinking of the argument, and therefore I hazard the\nconjecture, that 'the beautiful is the friend,' as the old proverb says.\nBeauty is certainly a soft, smooth, slippery thing, and therefore of a\nnature which easily slips in and permeates our souls. For I affirm that\nthe good is the beautiful. You will agree to that?\n\nYes.\n\nThis I say from a sort of notion that what is neither good nor evil is\nthe friend of the beautiful and the good, and I will tell you why I\nam inclined to think so: I assume that there are three principles--the\ngood, the bad, and that which is neither good nor bad. You would\nagree--would you not?\n\nI agree.\n\nAnd neither is the good the friend of the good, nor the evil of the\nevil, nor the good of the evil;--these alternatives are excluded by the\nprevious argument; and therefore, if there be such a thing as friendship\nor love at all, we must infer that what is neither good nor evil must\nbe the friend, either of the good, or of that which is neither good nor\nevil, for nothing can be the friend of the bad.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut neither can like be the friend of like, as we were just now saying.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd if so, that which is neither good nor evil can have no friend which\nis neither good nor evil.\n\nClearly not.\n\nThen the good alone is the friend of that only which is neither good nor\nevil.\n\nThat may be assumed to be certain.\n\nAnd does not this seem to put us in the right way? Just remark, that the\nbody which is in health requires neither medical nor any other aid,\nbut is well enough; and the healthy man has no love of the physician,\nbecause he is in health.\n\nHe has none.\n\nBut the sick loves him, because he is sick?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd sickness is an evil, and the art of medicine a good and useful\nthing?\n\nYes.\n\nBut the human body, regarded as a body, is neither good nor evil?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the body is compelled by reason of disease to court and make friends\nof the art of medicine?\n\nYes.\n\nThen that which is neither good nor evil becomes the friend of good, by\nreason of the presence of evil?\n\nSo we may infer.\n\nAnd clearly this must have happened before that which was neither good\nnor evil had become altogether corrupted with the element of evil--if\nitself had become evil it would not still desire and love the good; for,\nas we were saying, the evil cannot be the friend of the good.\n\nImpossible.\n\nFurther, I must observe that some substances are assimilated when others\nare present with them; and there are some which are not assimilated:\ntake, for example, the case of an ointment or colour which is put on\nanother substance.\n\nVery good.\n\nIn such a case, is the substance which is anointed the same as the\ncolour or ointment?\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nThis is what I mean: Suppose that I were to cover your auburn locks with\nwhite lead, would they be really white, or would they only appear to be\nwhite?\n\nThey would only appear to be white, he replied.\n\nAnd yet whiteness would be present in them?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut that would not make them at all the more white, notwithstanding the\npresence of white in them--they would not be white any more than black?\n\nNo.\n\nBut when old age infuses whiteness into them, then they become\nassimilated, and are white by the presence of white.\n\nCertainly.\n\nNow I want to know whether in all cases a substance is assimilated\nby the presence of another substance; or must the presence be after a\npeculiar sort?\n\nThe latter, he said.\n\nThen that which is neither good nor evil may be in the presence of evil,\nbut not as yet evil, and that has happened before now?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd when anything is in the presence of evil, not being as yet evil,\nthe presence of good arouses the desire of good in that thing; but the\npresence of evil, which makes a thing evil, takes away the desire and\nfriendship of the good; for that which was once both good and evil has\nnow become evil only, and the good was supposed to have no friendship\nwith the evil?\n\nNone.\n\nAnd therefore we say that those who are already wise, whether Gods or\nmen, are no longer lovers of wisdom; nor can they be lovers of wisdom\nwho are ignorant to the extent of being evil, for no evil or ignorant\nperson is a lover of wisdom. There remain those who have the misfortune\nto be ignorant, but are not yet hardened in their ignorance, or void of\nunderstanding, and do not as yet fancy that they know what they do\nnot know: and therefore those who are the lovers of wisdom are as yet\nneither good nor bad. But the bad do not love wisdom any more than the\ngood; for, as we have already seen, neither is unlike the friend of\nunlike, nor like of like. You remember that?\n\nYes, they both said.\n\nAnd so, Lysis and Menexenus, we have discovered the nature of\nfriendship--there can be no doubt of it: Friendship is the love which\nby reason of the presence of evil the neither good nor evil has of the\ngood, either in the soul, or in the body, or anywhere.\n\nThey both agreed and entirely assented, and for a moment I rejoiced and\nwas satisfied like a huntsman just holding fast his prey. But then\na most unaccountable suspicion came across me, and I felt that\nthe conclusion was untrue. I was pained, and said, Alas! Lysis and\nMenexenus, I am afraid that we have been grasping at a shadow only.\n\nWhy do you say so? said Menexenus.\n\nI am afraid, I said, that the argument about friendship is false:\narguments, like men, are often pretenders.\n\nHow do you mean? he asked.\n\nWell, I said; look at the matter in this way: a friend is the friend of\nsome one; is he not?\n\nCertainly he is.\n\nAnd has he a motive and object in being a friend, or has he no motive\nand object?\n\nHe has a motive and object.\n\nAnd is the object which makes him a friend, dear to him, or neither dear\nnor hateful to him?\n\nI do not quite follow you, he said.\n\nI do not wonder at that, I said. But perhaps, if I put the matter in\nanother way, you will be able to follow me, and my own meaning will be\nclearer to myself. The sick man, as I was just now saying, is the friend\nof the physician--is he not?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd he is the friend of the physician because of disease, and for the\nsake of health?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd disease is an evil?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd what of health? I said. Is that good or evil, or neither?\n\nGood, he replied.\n\nAnd we were saying, I believe, that the body being neither good nor\nevil, because of disease, that is to say because of evil, is the friend\nof medicine, and medicine is a good: and medicine has entered into this\nfriendship for the sake of health, and health is a good.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd is health a friend, or not a friend?\n\nA friend.\n\nAnd disease is an enemy?\n\nYes.\n\nThen that which is neither good nor evil is the friend of the good\nbecause of the evil and hateful, and for the sake of the good and the\nfriend?\n\nClearly.\n\nThen the friend is a friend for the sake of the friend, and because of\nthe enemy?\n\nThat is to be inferred.\n\nThen at this point, my boys, let us take heed, and be on our guard\nagainst deceptions. I will not again repeat that the friend is the\nfriend of the friend, and the like of the like, which has been declared\nby us to be an impossibility; but, in order that this new statement may\nnot delude us, let us attentively examine another point, which I will\nproceed to explain: Medicine, as we were saying, is a friend, or dear to\nus for the sake of health?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd health is also dear?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd if dear, then dear for the sake of something?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd surely this object must also be dear, as is implied in our previous\nadmissions?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd that something dear involves something else dear?\n\nYes.\n\nBut then, proceeding in this way, shall we not arrive at some first\nprinciple of friendship or dearness which is not capable of being\nreferred to any other, for the sake of which, as we maintain, all other\nthings are dear, and, having there arrived, we shall stop?\n\nTrue.\n\nMy fear is that all those other things, which, as we say, are dear for\nthe sake of another, are illusions and deceptions only, but where that\nfirst principle is, there is the true ideal of friendship. Let me put\nthe matter thus: Suppose the case of a great treasure (this may be a\nson, who is more precious to his father than all his other treasures);\nwould not the father, who values his son above all things, value other\nthings also for the sake of his son? I mean, for instance, if he knew\nthat his son had drunk hemlock, and the father thought that wine would\nsave him, he would value the wine?\n\nHe would.\n\nAnd also the vessel which contains the wine?\n\nCertainly.\n\nBut does he therefore value the three measures of wine, or the earthen\nvessel which contains them, equally with his son? Is not this rather\nthe true state of the case? All his anxiety has regard not to the means\nwhich are provided for the sake of an object, but to the object for the\nsake of which they are provided. And although we may often say that gold\nand silver are highly valued by us, that is not the truth; for there is\na further object, whatever it may be, which we value most of all, and\nfor the sake of which gold and all our other possessions are acquired by\nus. Am I not right?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nAnd may not the same be said of the friend? That which is only dear to\nus for the sake of something else is improperly said to be dear, but\nthe truly dear is that in which all these so-called dear friendships\nterminate.\n\nThat, he said, appears to be true.\n\nAnd the truly dear or ultimate principle of friendship is not for the\nsake of any other or further dear.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen we have done with the notion that friendship has any further\nobject. May we then infer that the good is the friend?\n\nI think so.\n\nAnd the good is loved for the sake of the evil? Let me put the case in\nthis way: Suppose that of the three principles, good, evil, and that\nwhich is neither good nor evil, there remained only the good and the\nneutral, and that evil went far away, and in no way affected soul or\nbody, nor ever at all that class of things which, as we say, are neither\ngood nor evil in themselves;--would the good be of any use, or other\nthan useless to us? For if there were nothing to hurt us any longer,\nwe should have no need of anything that would do us good. Then would\nbe clearly seen that we did but love and desire the good because of the\nevil, and as the remedy of the evil, which was the disease; but if there\nhad been no disease, there would have been no need of a remedy. Is not\nthis the nature of the good--to be loved by us who are placed between\nthe two, because of the evil? but there is no use in the good for its\nown sake.\n\nI suppose not.\n\nThen the final principle of friendship, in which all other friendships\nterminated, those, I mean, which are relatively dear and for the sake of\nsomething else, is of another and a different nature from them. For they\nare called dear because of another dear or friend. But with the true\nfriend or dear, the case is quite the reverse; for that is proved to\nbe dear because of the hated, and if the hated were away it would be no\nlonger dear.\n\nVery true, he replied: at any rate not if our present view holds good.\n\nBut, oh! will you tell me, I said, whether if evil were to perish, we\nshould hunger any more, or thirst any more, or have any similar desire?\nOr may we suppose that hunger will remain while men and animals remain,\nbut not so as to be hurtful? And the same of thirst and the other\ndesires,--that they will remain, but will not be evil because evil has\nperished? Or rather shall I say, that to ask what either will be then or\nwill not be is ridiculous, for who knows? This we do know, that in our\npresent condition hunger may injure us, and may also benefit us:--Is not\nthat true?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd in like manner thirst or any similar desire may sometimes be a good\nand sometimes an evil to us, and sometimes neither one nor the other?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nBut is there any reason why, because evil perishes, that which is not\nevil should perish with it?\n\nNone.\n\nThen, even if evil perishes, the desires which are neither good nor evil\nwill remain?\n\nClearly they will.\n\nAnd must not a man love that which he desires and affects?\n\nHe must.\n\nThen, even if evil perishes, there may still remain some elements of\nlove or friendship?\n\nYes.\n\nBut not if evil is the cause of friendship: for in that case nothing\nwill be the friend of any other thing after the destruction of evil; for\nthe effect cannot remain when the cause is destroyed.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd have we not admitted already that the friend loves something for a\nreason? and at the time of making the admission we were of opinion that\nthe neither good nor evil loves the good because of the evil?\n\nVery true.\n\nBut now our view is changed, and we conceive that there must be some\nother cause of friendship?\n\nI suppose so.\n\nMay not the truth be rather, as we were saying just now, that desire is\nthe cause of friendship; for that which desires is dear to that which\nis desired at the time of desiring it? and may not the other theory have\nbeen only a long story about nothing?\n\nLikely enough.\n\nBut surely, I said, he who desires, desires that of which he is in want?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd that of which he is in want is dear to him?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd he is in want of that of which he is deprived?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen love, and desire, and friendship would appear to be of the natural\nor congenial. Such, Lysis and Menexenus, is the inference.\n\nThey assented.\n\nThen if you are friends, you must have natures which are congenial to\none another?\n\nCertainly, they both said.\n\nAnd I say, my boys, that no one who loves or desires another would ever\nhave loved or desired or affected him, if he had not been in some way\ncongenial to him, either in his soul, or in his character, or in his\nmanners, or in his form.\n\nYes, yes, said Menexenus. But Lysis was silent.\n\nThen, I said, the conclusion is, that what is of a congenial nature must\nbe loved.\n\nIt follows, he said.\n\nThen the lover, who is true and no counterfeit, must of necessity be\nloved by his love.\n\nLysis and Menexenus gave a faint assent to this; and Hippothales changed\ninto all manner of colours with delight.\n\nHere, intending to revise the argument, I said: Can we point out any\ndifference between the congenial and the like? For if that is possible,\nthen I think, Lysis and Menexenus, there may be some sense in our\nargument about friendship. But if the congenial is only the like, how\nwill you get rid of the other argument, of the uselessness of like to\nlike in as far as they are like; for to say that what is useless is\ndear, would be absurd? Suppose, then, that we agree to distinguish\nbetween the congenial and the like--in the intoxication of argument,\nthat may perhaps be allowed.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd shall we further say that the good is congenial, and the evil\nuncongenial to every one? Or again that the evil is congenial to the\nevil, and the good to the good; and that which is neither good nor evil\nto that which is neither good nor evil?\n\nThey agreed to the latter alternative.\n\nThen, my boys, we have again fallen into the old discarded error; for\nthe unjust will be the friend of the unjust, and the bad of the bad, as\nwell as the good of the good.\n\nThat appears to be the result.\n\nBut again, if we say that the congenial is the same as the good, in that\ncase the good and he only will be the friend of the good.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut that too was a position of ours which, as you will remember, has\nbeen already refuted by ourselves.\n\nWe remember.\n\nThen what is to be done? Or rather is there anything to be done? I can\nonly, like the wise men who argue in courts, sum up the arguments:--If\nneither the beloved, nor the lover, nor the like, nor the unlike, nor\nthe good, nor the congenial, nor any other of whom we spoke--for there\nwere such a number of them that I cannot remember all--if none of these\nare friends, I know not what remains to be said.\n\nHere I was going to invite the opinion of some older person, when\nsuddenly we were interrupted by the tutors of Lysis and Menexenus, who\ncame upon us like an evil apparition with their brothers, and bade them\ngo home, as it was getting late. At first, we and the by-standers drove\nthem off; but afterwards, as they would not mind, and only went on\nshouting in their barbarous dialect, and got angry, and kept calling the\nboys--they appeared to us to have been drinking rather too much at the\nHermaea, which made them difficult to manage--we fairly gave way and\nbroke up the company.\n\nI said, however, a few words to the boys at parting: O Menexenus and\nLysis, how ridiculous that you two boys, and I, an old boy, who would\nfain be one of you, should imagine ourselves to be friends--this is what\nthe by-standers will go away and say--and as yet we have not been able\nto discover what is a friend!","title":"Lysis","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":12500}