Book 3
When someone asked him what seemed to him the best pursuit for a man, he answered: Doing well. Questioned further, whether he thought good luck a pursuit, he said: On the contrary, I think luck and doing are opposite poles. To hit on something right by luck without search I call good luck, to do something well after study and practice I call doing well; and those who pursue this seem to me to do well.
And the best men and dearest to the gods, he added, are those who do their work well; if it is farming, as good farmers; if medicine, as good doctors; if politics, as good politicians. He who does nothing well is neither useful in any way nor dear to the gods.
Then again, whenever he talked with artists who followed their art as a business, he was as useful to them as to others.Thus, on entering the house of Parrhasius the painter one day, he asked in the course of a conversation with him: Is painting a representation of things seen, Parrhasius? Anyhow, you painters with your colours represent and reproduce figures high and low, in light and in shadow, hard and soft, rough and smooth, young and old.True.
And further, when you copy types of beauty, it is so difficult to find a perfect model that you combine the most beautiful details of several, and thus contrive to make the whole figure look beautiful.
Yes, we do!Well now, do you also reproduce the character of the soul, the character that is in the highest degree captivating, delightful, friendly, fascinating, lovable? Or is it impossible to imitate that?Oh no, Socrates; for how could one imitate that which has neither shape nor colour nor any of the qualities you mentioned just now, and is not even visible?
Do human beings commonly express the feelings of sympathy and aversion by their looks?I think so.Then cannot thus much be imitated in the eyes?Undoubtedly.Do you think that the joys and sorrows of their friends produce the same expression on men’s faces, whether they really care or not?Oh no, of course not: they look radiant at their joys, downcast at their sorrows.Then is it possible to represent these looks too?Undoubtedly.
Moreover, nobility and dignity, self-abasement and servility, prudence and understanding, insolence and vulgarity, are reflected in the face and in the attitudes of the body whether still or in motion.True.Then these, too, can be imitated, can they not?Undoubtedly.Now which do you think the more pleasing sight, one whose features and bearing reflect a beautiful and good and lovable character, or one who is the embodiment of what is ugly and depraved and hateful?No doubt there is a great difference, Socrates.
On another occasion he visited Cleiton the sculptor, and while conversing with him said: Cleiton, that your statues of runners, wrestlers, boxers and fighters are beautiful I see and know. But how do you produce in them that illusion of life which is their most alluring charm to the beholder?
As Cleiton was puzzled and did not reply at once, Is it, he added, by faithfully representing the form of living beings that you make your statues look as if they lived?Undoubtedly.Then is it not by accurately representing the different parts of the body as they are affected by the pose — the flesh wrinkled or tense, the limbs compressed or outstretched, the muscles taut or loose — that you make them look more like real members and more convincing?Yes, certainly.
Does not the exact imitation of the feelings that affect bodies in action also produce a sense of satisfaction in the spectator?Oh yes, presumably.Then must not the threatening look in the eyes of fighters be accurately represented, and the triumphant expression on the face of conquerors be imitated?Most certainly.It follows, then, that the sculptor must represent in his figures the activities of the soul.
On visiting Pistias the armourer, who showed him some well-made breastplates, Socrates exclaimed: Upon my word, Pistias, it’s a beautiful invention, for the breastplate covers the parts that need protection without impeding the use of the hands.
But tell me, Pistias, he added, why do you charge more for your breastplates than any other maker, though they are no stronger and cost no more to make?>Because the proportions of mine are better, Socrates.And how do you show their proportions when you ask a higher price — by weight or measure? For I presume you don’t make them all of the same weight or the same size, that is, if you make them to fit.Fit? Why, of course! a breastplate is of no use without that!
Then are not some human bodies well, others ill proportioned?Certainly.Then if a breastplate is to fit an ill-proportioned body, how do you make it well-proportioned?By making it fit; for if it is a good fit it is well-proportioned.
Apparently you mean well-proportioned not absolutely, but in relation to the wearer, as you might call a shield well-proportioned for the man whom it fits, or a military cape — and this seems to apply to everything according to you.
And perhaps there is another important advantage in a good fit.Tell it me, if you know, Socrates.The good fit is less heavy to wear than the misfit, though both are of the same weight. For the misfit, hanging entirely from the shoulders, or pressing on some other part of the body, proves uncomfortable and irksome; but the good fit, with its weight distributed over the collar-bone and shoulder-blades, the shoulders, chest, back and belly, may almost be called an accessory rather than an encumbrance.
The advantage you speak of is the very one which I think makes my work worth a big price. Some, however, prefer to buy the ornamented and the gold-plated breastplates.Still, if the consequence is that they buy misfits, it seems to me they buy ornamented and gold-plated trash.
However, as the body is not rigid, but now bent, now straight, how can tight breastplates fit? They can’t.You mean that the good fits are not the tight ones, but those that don’t chafe the wearer?That is your own meaning, Socrates, and you have hit the right nail on the head.
At one time there was in Athens a beautiful woman named Theodoté, who was ready to keep company with anyone who pleased her. One of the bystanders mentioned her name, declaring that words failed him to describe the lady’s beauty, and adding that artists visited her to paint her portrait, and she showed them as much as decency allowed. We had better go and see her, cried Socrates; of course what beggars description can’t very well be learned by hearsay.
Come with me at once, returned his informant. So off they went to Theodoté’s house, where they found her posing before a painter, and looked on.When the painter had finished, Socrates said: My friends, ought we to be more grateful to Theodoté for showing us her beauty, or she to us for looking at it? Does the obligation rest with her, if she profits more by showing it, but with us, if we profit more by looking?
When someone answered that this was a fair way of putting it, Well now, he went on, she already has our praise to her credit, and when we spread the news, she will profit yet more; whereas we already long to touch what we have seen, and we shall go away excited and shall miss her when we are gone. The natural consequence is that we become her adorers, she the adored.Then, if that is so, exclaimed Theodoté, of course I ought to be grateful to you for looking.
At this point Socrates noticed that she was sumptuously dressed, and that her mother at her side was wearing fine clothes and jewellery; and she had many pretty maids, who also were well cared for, and her house was lavishly furnished.Tell me, Theodoté, he said, have you a farm?Not I, she answered.Or a house, perhaps, that brings in money?No, nor a house.Some craftsmen, possibly?No, none.Then where do you get your supplies from?I live on the generosity of any friend I pick up.
A fine property, upon my word, Theodoté, and much better than abundance of sheep and goats and oxen. But, he went on, do you trust to luck, waiting for friends to settle on you like flies, or have you some contrivance of your own?
How could I invent a contrivance for that?Much more conveniently, I assure you, than the spiders. For you know how they hunt for a living: they weave a thin web, I believe, and feed on anything that gets into it.
And do you advise me, then, to weave a trap of some sort?Of course not. Don’t suppose you are going to hunt friends, the noblest game in the world, by such crude methods. Don’t you notice that many tricks are employed even for hunting such a poor thing as the hare?Cyropaedia I. vi. 40.
Since hares feed by night, hounds specially adapted for night work are provided to hunt them; and since they run away at daybreak, another pack of hounds is obtained for tracking them by the scent along the run from the feeding ground to the form; and since they are so nimble that once they are off they actually escape in the open, yet a third pack of speedy hounds is formed to catch them by hot pursuit; and as some escape even so, nets are set up in the tracks where they escape, that they may be driven into them and stopped dead.
Then can I adapt this plan to the pursuit of friends?Of course you can, if for the hound you substitute an agent who will track and find rich men with an eye for beauty, and will then contrive to chase them into your nets.
Nets! What nets have I got?One, surely, that clips close enough — your body! And inside it you have a soul that teaches you what glance will please, what words delight, and tells you that your business is to give a warm welcome to an eager suitor, but to slam the door upon a coxcomb; yes, and when a friend has fallen sick, to show your anxiety by visiting him; and when he has had a stroke of good fortune, to congratulate him eagerly; and if he is eager in his suit, to put yourself at his service heart and soul. As for loving, you know how to do that, I am sure, both tenderly and truly; and that your friends give you satisfaction, you convince them, I know, not by words but by deeds.Upon my word, said Theodoté, I don’t contrive one of these things.
Nevertheless, he continued, it is very important that your behaviour to a man should be both natural and correct. For assuredly you can neither catch a friend nor keep him by violence;Cyropaedia VIII. vii. 13. it is kindness and sweetness that catch the creature and hold him fast.True, she said.
First, then, you must ask such favours of your suitors as they will grant without a moment’s hesitation; and next you must repay their favours in the same coin; for in this way they will prove most sincerely your friends, most constant in their affection and most generous.
And they will appreciate your favours most highly if you wait till they ask for them. The sweetest meats, you see, if served before they are wanted, seem sour, and to those who have had enough they are positively nauseating; but even poor fare is very welcome when offered to a hungry man.
And how can I make them hunger for my fare?Why, in the first place, you must not offer it to them when they have had enough, nor prompt them until they have thrown off the surfeit and are beginning to want more; then, when they feel the want, you must prompt them by behaving as a model of propriety, by a show of reluctance to yield, and by holding back until they are as keen as can be; for then the same gifts are much more to the recipient than when they are offered before they are desired.
Then, Socrates, exclaimed Theodoté, why don’t you become my partner in the pursuit of friends?By all means — if you persuade me.And how am I to persuade you?That you will find out and contrive for yourself, if you want my help.Come and see me often, then.
Ah! said Socrates, making fun of his own leisurely habits, it’s not so easy for me to find time. For I have much business to occupy me, private and public; and I have the dear girls, who won’t leave me day or night; they are studying potions with me and spells.
Indeed! do you understand these things too, Socrates?Why, what is the reason that master Apollodorus and Antisthenes never leave me, do you suppose? And why do Cebes and Simmias come to me from Thebes? I assure you these things don’t happen without the help of many potions and spells and magic wheels.
Do lend me your wheel, that I may turn it first to draw you.But of course I don’t want to be drawn to you: I want you to come to me.Oh, I’ll come: only mind you welcome me.Oh, you shall be welcome — unless there’s a dearer girl with me!
On noticing that Epigenes, one of his companions, was in poor condition, for a young man, he said: You look as if you need exercise,ἰδιώτης is one who is ignorant of any profession or occupation: ἰδιωτικῶς ἔχειν here means to be ignorant of athletic training. Epigenes.Well, he replied, I’m not an athlete, Socrates.Just as much as the competitors entered for Olympia, he retorted. Or do you count the life and death struggle with their enemies, upon which, it may be, the Athenians will enter, but a small thing?
Why, many, thanks to their bad condition, lose their life in the perils of war or save it disgracefully: many, just for this same cause, are taken prisoners, and then either pass the rest of their days, perhaps, in slavery of the hardest kind, or, after meeting with cruel sufferings and paying, sometimes, more than they have, live on, destitute and in misery. Many, again, by their bodily weakness earn infamy, being thought cowards.
Or do you despise these, the rewards of bad condition, and think that you can easily endure such things? And yet I suppose that what has to be borne by anyone who takes care to keep his body in good condition is far lighter and far pleasanter than these things. Or is it that you think bad condition healthier and generally more serviceable than good, or do you despise the effects of good condition?
And yet the results of physical fitness are the direct opposite of those that follow from unfitness. The fit are healthy and strong; and many, as a consequence, save themselves decorously on the battle-field and escape all the dangers of war; many help friends and do good to their country and for this cause earn gratitude; get great glory and gain very high honours, and for this cause live henceforth a pleasanter and better life, and leave to their children better means of winning a livelihood.
I tell you, because military training is not publicly recognised by the state, you must not make that an excuse for being a whit less careful in attending to it yourself. For you may rest assured that there is no kind of struggle, apart from war, and no undertaking in which you will be worse off by keeping your body in better fettle. For in everything that men do the body is useful; and in all uses of the body it is of great importance to be in as high a state of physical efficiency as possible.