“The eldest son of Democrates, of Æxone,” he replied.
“Well done, Hippothales,” said I, “what a noble and in every way
admirable love is this you have met with! Come then, display to me what
you display to these also, that I may discover whether you know what a
lover ought to say about his favourite, either to himself or to others.”
“Do you really put any weight, Socrates,” said he, “on any thing that he
says?”
“Do you deny,” said I, “that you are in love with the person whom he
speaks of?”
“I do not,” said he, “but I do deny that I make verses on my favourite
or compose speeches.”
“He is not in his right senses,” said Ctesippus, “but is delirious and
mad.”
Upon this I said, “Hippothales, I do not wish to hear your verses, nor
any song that you may have made on the youth, but their meaning, that I
may know in what way you behave towards your favourite.”
“He doubtless will tell you,” said he, “for he knows and remembers it
well, since, as he says, he has been stunned by constantly hearing it
from me.”
5. “By the gods,” said Ctesippus, “assuredly I do; and ridiculous it is
too, Socrates. For that being a lover, and devoting himself to the youth
beyond all others, he should have nothing of his own to say, that even a
boy might not say, how can it be otherwise than ridiculous? For what the
whole city resounds with about Democrates and Lysis the boy’s
grandfather, and all his ancestors, their wealth, their breed of horses,
and their victories in the Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean games, with
four horses and with one, these things he puts into poems and speeches,
and besides these, things still more absurd: for he lately described to
us in a poem, the entertainment of Hercules, how an ancestor of theirs
received Hercules on account of his relationship to him, being himself
sprung from Jupiter and the daughter of the founder of his borough, such
things as old women sing, and many others of the same kind, Socrates. 6.
These are the things that he speaks of and sings and compels us to
listen to.”
Upon hearing this, I said, “O ridiculous Hippothales, before you have
gained the victory do you compose and sing an encomium on yourself?”
“But I neither compose nor sing on myself, Socrates.”
“You do not think so,” I replied.
“How is that?” said he.
“These songs,” said I, “most of all relate to you. For if you gain your
favourite being such as you describe, what you have said and sung will
be an honour to you, and in reality an encomium on yourself as
victorious in having won such a favourite. But if he should escape you,
by how much greater the encomiums are which you uttered on your
favourite, by so much the more ridiculous will you appear in being
deprived of greater blessings. Whoever therefore, my friend, is skilled
in matters of love, does not praise his beloved before he has caught
him, fearing how the event will turn out. Moreover such as are beautiful
when any one praises and extols them, are filled with pride and
arrogance. Do you not think so?”
“I do,” he replied.
7. “And by how much the more arrogant they are, are they not more
difficult to be caught?”
“That is probable at least.”
“What sort of huntsman, then, would he appear to you to be, who in
hunting should scare away his prey, and make it more difficult to be
caught?”
“Without doubt, a bad one.”
“And by speeches and songs not to soothe but exasperate, shews a great
want of skill; does it not?”
“It appears so to me.”
“Consider then, Hippothales, whether you will not expose yourself to all
these charges by your poetry. Though I think you would not be willing to
allow that a man who harms himself by his poetry can be a good poet, in
that he harms himself.”
“No, by Jupiter,” said he, “for that would be a great piece of folly.
But on this very account, Socrates, I communicate the matter to you, and
if you have any thing else to suggest, advise me, by saying what or by
doing what one may win the affections of one’s favourite.”
“It is not easy to say,” I replied: “but if you will make Lysis himself
converse with me, I could perhaps shew you what you ought to say to him,
instead of the things which your friends allege that you say and sing.”
8. “There is no difficulty in that,” he replied. “For if you will enter
with Ctesippus here, and sit down and converse, I think that he will
join you of his own accord, for he is exceedingly fond of listening,
Socrates, and moreover, as they are celebrating the Hermæa, young men
and boys are all mixed up together. He will therefore join you: but if
not, he is intimate with Ctesippus, through his cousin Menexenus; for
Menexenus is his most particular friend. Let him call him, therefore, if
he does not join you of his own accord.”
“This,” said I, “we must do.” And at the same time, laying hold of
Ctesippus, I entered the palæstra, and the others came after us.
On entering there, we found that the boys had finished their sacrifices,
and, the ceremonies being now nearly ended, playing at dice, and all
full dressed. 9. Many of them were playing in the court outside, but
some in a corner of the dressing-room were playing at odd and even with
a great number of dice which they drew out of certain little baskets.
Others stood round these, looking on; and among them was Lysis, and he
stood in the midst of the boys and youths, crowned, and surpassing them
in form, so as not only to deserve to be called beautiful, but beautiful
and noble. Then we withdrawing to the opposite side sat down, (for it
was quiet there,) and entered into conversation with each other. Lysis,
thereupon, turning round, frequently looked at us, and was evidently
anxious to come to us; but for some time he hesitated, and was averse to
approach alone. Then, Menexenus comes in, in the midst of his game from
the court, and as soon as he saw me and Ctesippus, came and seated
himself by us. 10. Lysis, therefore, seeing him, followed, and sat down
by the side of Menexenus. Others likewise came up, and moreover
Hippothales, when he saw a good many standing round, concealing himself
behind them, took up a position where he thought Lysis could not see
him, fearing lest he should give him offence, and in this position he
listened to our discourse. And I, looking towards Menexenus, said, “Son
of Demophon, which of you is the elder?”
“We are in doubt,” he replied.
“Should you not also contend which of you is the more noble?” said I.
“Certainly,” said he.
“And in like manner, which of you is the more beautiful?”
Hereupon they both laughed. “However,” said I, “I will not ask which of
you is the more rich, for you are friends; are you not?”
“Certainly,” they replied.
“Now the property of friends is said to be common, so that in this
respect there will be no difference between you if what you say about
friendship is true.”
They assented.
After this, I was purposing to ask, which of them was the more just and
the more wise; but in the meanwhile some one came and made Menexenus get
up, saying that the master of the palæstra called him; for he appeared
to me to be one concerned in the sacrifices. He therefore left us; and I
questioned Lysis: 11. “Doubtless,” said I, “Lysis, your father and
mother love you very much?”
“Certainly,” he replied.
“Would they not, then, wish you to be as happy as possible?”
“How not?”
“Does a man appear to you to be happy who is a slave, and who is not
permitted to do any thing he desires?”
“By Jupiter, no,” said he.
“If, therefore, your father and mother love you and wish that you may be
happy, this is quite evident, that they endeavour to make you happy?”
“How should they not?” said he.
“Do they, therefore, permit you to do what you please, and in no respect
find fault with you or hinder you from doing whatever you desire?”
“By Jupiter, Socrates,” said he, “they do indeed hinder me in very many
things.”
“How say you?” I asked, “wishing you to be happy do they hinder you from
doing whatever you please? Answer me thus; If you should desire to mount
on one of your father’s chariots, and to take the reins when a race is
to be run, would he not allow you, but hinder you?”
“By Jupiter,” said he, “he would not allow me.”
“Whom would he then?”
“There is a charioteer who receives pay from my father.”
12. “How say you? Do they suffer a hired servant rather than you to do
what he pleases with the horses, and moreover pay him money for so
doing?”
“Why not?” said he.
“But I suppose they suffer you to drive the pair of mules and, if you
wish to take the whip and beat them, they would allow you.”
“Why allow me?” said he.
“But what?” said I, “is no one allowed to beat them?”
“Certainly,” said he, “the mule-driver.”
“Is he a slave, or free?”.
“A slave,” he replied.
“They think more of a slave then, as it seems, than of you, their son,
and commit their property to him rather than to you, and allow him to do
what he pleases, but you they hinder. Tell me this too. Do they allow
you to govern yourself; or do they not even suffer this?”
“How should they suffer it?” he said.
“Who then governs you?”
“My pædagogue here,” said he.
“Is he a slave?”
“How should he be otherwise? ours though,” said he.
“It is shameful, surely,” said I, “that a freeman should be governed by
a slave. And by doing what does this pædagogue govern you?”
“Of course,” said he, “he conducts me to my masters.”
“And do they too govern you, the masters?
“Assuredly.”
13. “Your father, then, voluntarily sets over you many rulers and
governors. But when you return home to your mother, does she allow you
to do whatever you please, that you may be happy as far as she is
concerned, either with her wool or her loom when she is spinning? She
surely does not hinder you from touching the comb or the shuttle, or any
other of her spinning instruments.”
Whereupon, he laughing replied, “By Jupiter, Socrates, she not only
hinders me, but I should be beaten too if I touched them.”
“By Hercules,” said I, “have you in any way injured your father or your
mother?”
“By Jupiter, not I,” he said.
“For what reason, then, do they so shamefully hinder you from being
happy and doing what you please, and bring you up throughout the whole
day in subjection to some one, and in a word let you do scarcely any
thing that you wish? So that, as it seems, neither have you any
advantage from such great riches, but any one manages them rather than
you, nor from your person, which is so noble, but this too another tends
and takes care of: but you, Lysis, neither govern any thing, nor do any
thing that you wish.”
14, “For I am not yet old enough, Socrates,” said he.
“That should not hinder you, son of Democrates: since thus far, I think,
both your father and mother permit you and do not wait till you are old
enough: for when they wish any thing to be read to or written for them,
they appoint you, I think, first of all in the house to this office; do
they not?”
“Certainly,” said he.
“Are you allowed then, in this case, to write whichever letter you
please first, and which second, and are you allowed to read in like
manner? And when you take the lyre, I think, neither your father nor
your mother hinder you from tightening and loosening any string you
please, and from twanging and striking them with the quill; do they
hinder you?”
“By no means.”
“What then can be the cause, Lysis, that in these cases they do not
hinder you, but do hinder you in those that we just now mentioned?”
“Because, I think,” said he, “I know the one, but not the other.”
15. “Be it so,” said I, “my excellent youth; your father, then, is not
waiting for your being old enough to entrust every thing to you, but on
the very day that he shall think you are wiser than he is, he will
entrust to you both himself and his property?”
“I think he will,” said he.
“Be it so,” said I, “what then? Will not your neighbour follow the same
rule as your father respecting you? Do you think he will entrust you
with the management of his household when he thinks you are wiser than
himself with respect to household-management, or will he preside over it
himself?”
“I think he will entrust it to me.”
“But what? do you think the Athenians will entrust their affairs to you,
when they perceive that you are wise enough?”
“I do.”
“By Jupiter,” said I, “what then as to the great king? Would he suffer
his eldest son, who will succeed to the government of Asia, when his
meat is being cooked, to throw into the sauce whatever he pleases,
rather than us, if we should go to him and shew that we are more skilled
in the preparation of dishes than his son?”
“Us, clearly,” he replied.
16. “And he would not allow him to throw any thing in, however trifling,
but us he would allow, even if we wished to throw in salt by the
handful.”
“How not?”
“But what if his son should be diseased in his eyes, would he allow him
to touch his own eyes, not considering him a physician, or would he
hinder him?”
“He would hinder him.”
“But if he supposed we were good physicians, even if we wished to open
his eyes and sprinkle them with ashes, I think he would not hinder us,
considering we judged rightly.”
“You say true.”
“Would he not entrust every thing else to us rather than to himself or
his son, with respect to which we appeared to him to be wiser than
either of them?”
“Necessarily so, Socrates,” he replied.
“This, then, is the case,” said I, “my dear Lysis, all persons, both
Greeks and barbarians, men and women, will entrust us with those things
with respect to which we are found to be wise, and we shall do in them
whatever we please, nor will any one purposely hinder us, but we shall
both be free ourselves in these matters, and governors over others, and
these things will be our own, for we shall derive benefit from them. 17.
But those things about which we have no knowledge no one will suffer us
to do as we think proper, but all men will hinder us as much as they are
able, not only strangers, but even our own father and mother, and any
one else who is more nearly related to us than them, and in these
matters we ourselves shall be subject to others, and they will be
strange to us, for we shall derive no benefit from them. Do you admit
that this is the case?”
“I do.”
“Shall we, then, be friends to any one, and will any one love us in
those things in which we are of no use?”
“No, surely,” said he.
“Now, then, neither does your father love you, nor does any one else
love another person, in so far as he is useless?”
“It appears not,” he said.
“If, then, you become wise, my boy, all men will be your friends, and
all men will be attached to you, for you will be useful and good. But if
not, neither will any one else, nor your father be a friend to you, nor
your mother, nor any of your kindred. Is it possible, then, Lysis, that
any one can deem himself wise in those things of which as yet he has no
knowledge at all?”
“How can he?” said he.
“If, then, you require a teacher, you are not yet wise?”