Complete Works of Xenophon (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (127 page)

“Indeed I do,” replied the young man.

“Do you realise how they come to have this bad name?”

“I do; the word is used of those who do not show the gratitude that it is in their power to show for benefits received.”

“You take it, then, that the ungrateful are reckoned among the unjust?”

“Yes.”
[2]

“Now, seeing that enslavement is considered a just or an unjust act according as the victims are friends or enemies, have you ever considered whether the case of ingratitude is analogous, ingratitude being unjust towards friends, but just towards enemies?”

“Indeed I have; and I think that it is always unjust not to show gratitude for a favour from whomsoever it is received, be he friend or enemy.”
[3]

“If that is so, must not ingratitude be injustice pure and simple?”

He assented.

“Therefore the greater the benefits received the greater the injustice of not showing gratitude?”

He agreed again.

“Now what deeper obligation can we find than that of children to their parents? To their parents children owe their being and their portion of all fair sights and all blessings that the gods bestow on men — gifts so highly prized by us that all will sacrifice anything rather than lose them; and the reason why governments have made death the penalty for the greatest crimes is that the fear of it is the strongest deterrent against crime.
[4]
Of course you don’t suppose that lust provokes men to beget children, when the streets and the stews are full of means to satisfy that? We obviously select for wives the women who will bear us the best children, and then marry them to raise a family.
[5]
The man supports the woman who is to share with him the duty of parentage and provides for the expected children whatever he thinks will contribute to their benefit in life, and accumulates as much of it as he can. The woman conceives and bears her burden in travail, risking her life, and giving of her own food; and, with much labour, having endured to the end and brought forth her child, she rears and cares for it, although she has not received any good thing, and the babe neither recognises its benefactress nor can make its wants known to her: still she guesses what is good for it and what it likes, and seeks to supply these things, and rears it for a long season, enduring toil day and night, nothing knowing what return she will get.
[6]

“Nor are the parents content just to supply food, but so soon as their children seem capable of learning they teach them what they can for their good, and if they think that another is more competent to teach them anything, they send them to him at a cost, and strive their utmost that the children may turn out as well as possible.”

To this the young man replied:
[7]
“Nay, but even if she has done all this and far more than this, no one could put up with her vile temper.”

“Which, think you,” asked Socrates, “is the harder to bear, a wild beast’s brutality or a mother’s?”

“I should say a mother’s, when she is like mine.”

“Well now, many people get bitten or kicked by wild beasts; has she ever done you an injury of that sort?”
[8]

“Oh no, but she says things one wouldn’t listen to for anything in the world.”

“Well, how much trouble do you think you have given her by your peevish words and froward acts day and night since you were a little child; and how much pain when you were ill?”

“But I have never yet said or done anything to cause her shame.”
[9]

“Now do you really think it harder for you to listen to what she says than for actors when they abuse one another in a tragedy?”

“But an actor, I suppose, doesn’t think that a question put to him will lead to punishment, or that a threat means any harm: and so he makes light of it.”

“And why should you be annoyed? You know well that there is no malice in what your mother says to you; on the contrary, she wishes you to be blessed above all other beings — unless, indeed, you suppose that your mother is maliciously set against you?”

“Oh no, I don’t think that.”

Then Socrates exclaimed:
[10]
“So this mother of yours is kindly disposed towards you; she nurses you devotedly in sickness and sees that you want for nothing; more than that, she prays the gods to bless you abundantly and pays vows on your behalf; and yet you say she is a trial! It seems to me that, if you can’t endure a mother like her, you can’t endure a good thing.
[11]
Now tell me, is there any other being whom you feel bound to regard? Or are you set on trying to please nobody, and obeying neither general nor other ruler?”

“Of course not!”
[12]

“Do you want to please your neighbour, for instance, so that he may kindle a fire for you at your need, may support you in prosperity, and in case of accident or failure may be ready to hold out a helping hand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“When you find yourself with a travelling companion on land or at sea, or happen to meet anyone, is it a matter of indifference to you whether he prove a friend or an enemy? Or do you think his goodwill worth cultivating?”

“Yes, I do.”
[13]

“And yet, when you are resolved to cultivate these, you don’t think courtesy is due to your mother, who loves you more than all? Don’t you know that even the state ignores all other forms of ingratitude and pronounces no judgment on them, caring nothing if the recipient of a favour neglects to thank his benefactor, but inflicts penalties on the man who is discourteous to his parents and rejects him as unworthy of office, holding that it would be a sin for him to offer sacrifices on behalf of the state and that he is unlikely to do anything else honourably and rightly? Aye, and if one fail to honour his parents’ graves, the state inquires into that too, when it examines the candidates for office.
[14]
Therefore, my boy, if you are prudent, you will pray the gods to pardon your neglect of your mother, lest they in turn refuse to be kind to you, thinking you an ingrate; and you will beware of men, lest all cast you out, perceiving that you care nothing for your parents, and in the end you are found to be without a friend. For, should men suppose you to be ungrateful to your parents, none would think you would be grateful for any kindness he might show you.”

3.
On another occasion he found that two brothers, Chaerophon and Chaerecrates, whom he knew well, were quarrelling. On seeing the latter, he cried, “Surely, Chaerecrates, you are not one of those who hold that there is more value in goods and chattels than in a brother, when they are senseless but he is sensible; they are helpless but he is helpful; when, moreover, you have many goods, but only one brother.
[2]
It is strange too that a man should think he loses by his brothers because he cannot have their possessions as well as his own, and yet should not think that he loses by his fellow-citizens because their possessions are not his; and whereas in this case men can reflect that it is better to belong to a community, secure in the possession of a sufficiency, than to dwell in solitude with a precarious hold on all the property of their fellow-citizens, they fail to see that the same principle applies to brothers.
[3]
Again, those who have the means by servants to relieve them of work, and make friends because they feel the need of help; but they care nothing for their brothers, as though friendship can exist between fellow-citizens, but not between brothers!
[4]
Yet common parentage and common upbringing are strong ties of affection, for even brute beasts reared together feel a natural yearning for one another. Besides, our fellow-men respect those of us who have brothers more than those who have none, and are less ready to quarrel with them.”
[5]

“If only the difference between us were a slight one, Socrates,” replied Chaerecrates, “it might perhaps be my duty to put up with my brother and not allow trifles to separate us. For a brother who behaves like a brother is, as you say, a blessing; but if his conduct is nothing like that, and is, in fact, just the opposite of what it should be, what is the use of attempting impossibilities?”
[6]

“Does everyone find Chaerophon as disagreeable as you do, Chaerecrates, or do some people think him very pleasant?”

“Ah, Socrates,” replied he, “this is precisely my reason for hating him: he is pleasant enough to other people, but whenever he is near me, he invariably says and does more to hurt than to help me.”
[7]

“Well now,” said Socrates, “if you try to manage a horse without knowing the right way, he hurts you. Is it so with a brother? Does he hurt if you try to deal with him when you don’t know the way?”
[8]

“What,” exclaimed Chaerecrates, “don’t I know how to deal with a brother, when I know how to requite a kind word and a generous deed? But I can’t speak or act kindly to one who tries to annoy me by his words and actions — and what’s more, I won’t try.”

“Chaerecrates, you astonish me!
[9]
Had you a sheep dog that was friendly to the shepherds, but growled when you came near him, it would never occur to you to get angry, but you would try to tame him by kindness. You say that, if your brother treated you like a brother, he would be a great blessing, and you confess that you know how to speak and act kindly: yet you don’t set yourself to contriving that he shall be the greatest possible blessing to you.”
[10]

“I fear, Socrates, that I lack the wisdom to make Chaerophon treat me as he should.”

“And yet,” said Socrates, “there is no need, so far as I see, of any subtle or strange contriving on your part: I think you know the way to win him and to get his good opinion.”
[11]

“If you have observed that I know some spell without being conscious of my knowledge, pray tell me at once.”

“Then tell me, now; if you wanted to get an invitation to dine with an acquaintance when he offers sacrifice, what would you do?”

“Of course I should begin by inviting him myself when I offered sacrifice.”
[12]

“And suppose you wanted to encourage one of your friends to look after your affairs during your absence from home, what would you do?”

“Of course I should first undertake to look after his affairs in his absence.”
[13]

“And suppose you wanted a stranger to entertain you when you visited his city, what would you do?”

“Obviously I should first entertain him when he came to Athens. Yes, and if I wanted him to show himself eager in forwarding the business on which I had come, it is obvious that I should first have to do the same by him.”
[14]

“It seems that you have long concealed a knowledge of all spells that were ever discovered. Or is it that you hesitate to make a beginning, for fear of disgracing yourself by first showing kindness to your brother? Yet it is generally thought worthy of the highest praise to anticipate the malevolence of an enemy and the benevolence of a friend. So if I thought Chaerophon more capable than you of showing the way to this friendship, I would try to persuade him to take the first step towards an understanding with you. But as things are, I think the enterprise more likely to succeed under your direction.”

“Strange sentiments, these, Socrates!
[15]
It’s quite unlike you to urge me, the junior, to lead the way! And surely all hold the contrary opinion, that the senior, I mean, should always act and speak first?”

“How so?” said Socrates.
[16]
“Is it not the general opinion that a young man should make way for an older when they meet, offer his seat to him, give him a comfortable bed, let him have the first word? My good friend, don’t hesitate, but take up the task of pacifying your man, and in no time he will respond to your overtures. Don’t you see how keen and frank he is? Low fellows, it is true, yield most readily to gifts, but kindness is the weapon most likely to prevail with a gentleman.”
[17]

“And what,” asked Chaerecrates, “if all my efforts lead to no improvement?”

“Well, in that case, I presume you will have shown that you are honest and brotherly, he that he is base and unworthy of kindness. But I am confident that no such result will follow; for I think that, as soon as he is aware of your challenge to this contest, he will be all eagerness to outdo your kind words and actions.
[18]
What if a pair of hands refused the office of mutual help for which God made them, and tried to thwart each other; or if a pair of feet neglected the duty of working together, for which they were fashioned, and took to hampering each other? That is how you two are behaving at present.
[19]
Would it not be utterly senseless and disastrous to use for hindrance instruments that were made for help? And, moreover, a pair of brothers, in my judgment, were made by God to render better service one to the other than a pair of hands and feet and eyes and all the instruments that he meant to be used as fellows. For the hands cannot deal simultaneously with things that are more than six feet or so apart: the feet cannot reach in a single stride things that are even six feet apart: and the eyes, though they seem to have a longer range, cannot at the same moment see things still nearer than that, if some are in front and some behind. But two brothers, when they are friends, act simultaneously for mutual benefit, however far parted one from the other.”

4.
Again, I once heard him give a discourse on friendship that was likely, as I thought, to help greatly in the acquisition and use of friends.

For he said that he often heard it stated that of all possessions the most precious is a good and sincere friend. “And yet,” he said, “there is no transaction most men are so careless about as the acquisition of friends.
[2]
For I find that they are careful about getting houses and lands and slaves and cattle and furniture, and anxious to keep what they have; but though they tell one that a friend is the greatest blessing, I find that most men take no thought how to get new friends or how to keep their old ones.
[3]
Indeed, if one of their friends and one of their servants fall ill at the same time, I find that some call in the doctor to attend the servant and are careful to provide everything that may contribute to his recovery, whereas they take no heed of the friend. In the event of both dying, they are vexed at losing the servant, but don’t feel that the death of the friend matters in the least. And though none of their other possessions is uncared for and unconsidered, they are deaf to their friends’ need of attention.
[4]
And besides all this, I find that most men know the number of their other possessions, however great it may be, yet cannot tell the number of their friends, few as they are; and, if they are asked and try to make a list, they will insert names and presently remove them. So much for the thought they give to their friends!
[5]
Yet surely there is no other possession that can compare with a good friend. For what horse, what yoke of oxen is so good a servant as the good friend? What slave so loyal and constant? or what possession so serviceable?
[6]
The good friend is on the watch to supply whatever his friend wants for building up his private fortune and forwarding his public career. If generosity is called for, he does his part: if fear harasses, he comes to the rescue, shares expenses, helps to persuade, bears down opposition: he is foremost in delighting him when he is prosperous and raising him up when he falls.
[7]
Of all that a man can do with his hands, see for himself with his eyes, hear for himself with his ears or accomplish with his feet, in nothing is a friend backward in helping. Nevertheless, while some strive to cultivate a tree for its fruit, most bestow but an idle and listless care on their most fruitful possession, the name of which is ‘friend.’”