To my mind it is worth
 while to relate not only the serious acts of great
 and good men but also what they do in their lighter
 moods. I should like to narrate an experience of
 mine that gives me this conviction.

It was on the occasion of
 the horse-races at the greater Panathenaic games;
 Callias, Hipponicus’ son, was enamoured, as it
 happened, of the boy Autolycus, and in honour of his
 victory in the pancratium had brought him to see the spectacle.
 When the racing was over, Callias proceeded on his
 way to his house in the Peiraeus with Autolycus and
 the boy’s father; Niceratus also was in his company.

But on catching sight of a group comprising
 Socrates ,
 Critobulus, Hermogenes, Antisthenes, and Charmides,
 Callias bade one of his servants escort Autolycus
 and the others, and himself going over to
 Socrates 
 and his companions, said,

This is an opportune meeting, for I am about to give a
 dinner in honour of Autolycus and his father; and I
 think that my entertainment would present a great
 deal more brilliance if my dining-room were graced
 with the presence of men like you, whose hearts have
 undergone philosophy’s purification, than it would
 with generals and cavalry commanders and
 office-seekers.

You are always quizzing
 us, replied
 Socrates ;
 for you have yourself paid a good deal of money for
 wisdom to Protagoras, Gorgias, Prodicus, and many
 others, while you see that we are what you might
 call amateurs in philosophy; and so you feel
 supercilious toward us.

Yes, said Callias, so
 far, I admit, I have been keeping you ignorant of my
 ability at profound and lengthy discourse; but now,
 if you will favour me with your company, I will
 prove to you that I am a person of some
 consequence.

Now at first
 Socrates 
 and his companions thanked him for the invitation,
 as might be expected, but would not promise to
 attend the banquet; when it became clear, however,
 that he was taking their refusal very much to heart,
 they went with him. And so his guests arrived, some
 having first taken their exercise and their
 rub-down, others with the addition of a bath.

Autolycus took a seat by his father’s side; the others,
 of course, reclined. 
 A person who took note of
 the course of events would have come at once to the
 conclusion that beauty is in its essence something
 regal, especially when, as in the present case of
 Autolycus, its possessor joins with it modesty and
 sobriety.

For in the first place, just as the sudden glow of a
 light at night draws all eyes to itself, so now the
 beauty of Autolycus compelled every one to look at
 him. And again, there was not one of the onlookers
 who did not feel his soul strangely stirred by the
 boy; some of them grew quieter than before, others
 even assumed some kind of a pose.

Now it is true that all who are under the influence of
 any of the gods seem well worth gazing at; but
 whereas those who are possessed of the other gods
 have a tendency to be sterner of countenance, more
 terrifying of voice, and more vehement, those who
 are inspired by chaste Love have a more tender look,
 subdue their voices to more gentle tones, and assume
 a supremely noble bearing. Such was the demeanour of
 Callias at this time under the influence of Love;
 and therefore he was an object well worth the gaze
 of those initiated into the worship of this god.

The company, then, were
 feasting in silence, as though some one in authority
 had commanded them to do so, when Philip the buffoon
 knocked at the door and told the porter to announce
 who he was and that he desired to be admitted; he
 added that with regard to food he had come all
 prepared, in all varieties—to dine on some other
 person’s,—and that his servant was in great distress
 with the load he carried of—nothing, and with having
 an empty stomach. Hearing this, Callias said,

Well, gentlemen, we cannot decently begrudge him at the
 least the shelter of our roof; so let him come in. 
 With the words he cast a glance at Autolycus,
 obviously trying to make out what he had thought of
 the pleasantry.

But Philip, standing at the threshold of the men’s hall
 where the banquet was served, announced:
 You all know that I am a
 jester; and so I have come here with a will,
 thinking it more of a joke to come to your dinner
 uninvited than to come by invitation. Well, then, 
 said Callias, take a place; for the guests, though
 well fed, as you observe, on seriousness, are
 perhaps rather ill supplied with laughter.

No sooner were they
 engaged in their dinner than Philip attempted a
 witticism, with a view to rendering the service that
 secured him all his dinner engagements; but on
 finding that he did not excite any laughter, he
 showed himself, for the time, considerably vexed. A
 little later, however, he must try another jest; but
 when they would not laugh at him this time either,
 he stopped while the dinner was in full swing,
 covered his head with his cloak, and lay down on his
 couch.

What does this mean, Philip? Callias inquired. Are you
 seized with a pain? Philip replied with a groan,
 Yes, Callias, by Heaven, with a severe one; for
 since laughter has perished from the world, my
 business is ruined. For in times past, the reason
 why I got invitations to dinner was that I might
 stir up laughter among the guests and make them
 merry; but now, what will induce any one to invite
 me? For I could no more turn serious than I could
 become immortal; and certainly no one will invite me
 in the hope of a return invitation, as every one
 knows that there is not a vestige of tradition of
 bringing dinner into my house. As he said this, he
 wiped his nose, and to judge by the sound, he was
 evidently weeping.

All tried to comfort him with the promise that they would
 laugh next time, and urged him to eat; and
 Critobulus actually burst out into a guffaw at his
 lugubrious moaning. The moment Philip heard the
 laughter he uncovered his head, and exhorting his
 spirit to be of good courage, in view of approaching
 engagements, he fell to eating again.

When the tables had been
 removed and the guests had poured a libation and
 sung a hymn, there entered a man from Syracuse , to
 give them an evening’s merriment. He had with him a
 fine flute-girl, a dancing-girl—one of those skilled
 in acrobatic tricks,—and a very handsome boy, who
 was expert at playing the cither and at dancing; the
 Syracusan made money by exhibiting their
 performances as a spectacle.

They now played for the assemblage, the flute-girl on the
 flute, the boy on the cither; and it was agreed that
 both furnished capital amusement. Thereupon
 Socrates 
 remarked: On my word, Callias, you are giving us a
 perfect dinner; for not only have you set before us
 a feast that is above criticism, but you are also
 offering us very delightful sights and sounds.

Suppose we go further, said Callias, and have some one
 bring us some perfume, so that we may dine in the
 midst of pleasant odours, also. No, indeed! 
 replied
 Socrates .
 For just as one kind of dress looks well on a woman
 and another kind on a man, so the odours appropriate
 to men and to women are diverse. No man, surely,
 ever uses perfume for a man’s sake. And as for the
 women, particularly if they chance to be young
 brides, like the wives of Niceratus here and Critobulus,
 how can they want any additional perfume? For that
 is what they are redolent of, themselves. The odour
 of the olive oil, on the other hand, that is used in
 the gymnasium is more delightful when you have it on
 your flesh than perfume is to women, and when you
 lack it, the want of it is more keenly felt.

Indeed, so far as perfume is concerned, when once a man
 has anointed himself with it, the scent forthwith is
 all one whether he be slave or free; but the odours
 that result from the exertions of freemen demand
 primarily noble pursuits engaged in for many years
 if they are to be sweet and suggestive of
 freedom. 
 That may do for young
 fellows, observed Lycon; but what of us who no
 longer exercise in the gymnasia? What should be our
 distinguishing scent? 
 Nobility of soul,
 surely! replied
 Socrates .
 And where may a person
 get this ointment? 
 Certainly not from the
 perfumers, said
 Socrates .
 But where, then? 
 Theognis has said: .
 Good men teach good;
 society with bad 
 Will but corrupt the good
 mind that you had.

Do you hear that, my
 son? asked Lycon.
 Yes, indeed he does, 
 said
 Socrates ;
 and he puts it into practice, too. At any rate,
 when he desired to become a prize-winner in the
 pancratium, [;he availed himself of your help to
 discover the champions in that sport and associated
 with them; and so, if he desires to learn the ways
 of virtue,]; he will again with
 your help seek out the man who seems to him most
 proficient in this way of life and will associate
 with him.

Thereupon there was a
 chorus of voices. Where will he find an instructor
 in this subject? said one. Another maintained that
 it could not be taught at all. A third asserted that
 this could be learned if anything could.

Since this is a debatable matter, suggested
 Socrates ,
 let us reserve it for another time; for the present
 let us finish what we have on hand. For I see that
 the dancing girl here is standing ready, and that
 some one is bringing her some hoops.

At that, the other girl
 began to accompany the dancer on the flute, and a
 boy at her elbow handed her up the hoops until he
 had given her twelve. She took these and as she
 danced kept throwing them whirling into the air,
 observing the proper height to throw them so as to
 catch them in a regular rhythm.

As
 Socrates 
 looked on he remarked: This girl’s feat, gentlemen,
 is only one of many proofs that woman’s nature is
 really not a whit inferior to man’s, except in its
 lack of judgment and physical strength. So if any
 one of you has a wife, let him confidently set about
 teaching her whatever he would like to have her
 know.

If that is your view,
 Socrates , 
 asked Antisthenes, how does it come that you don’t
 practise what you preach by yourself educating
 Xanthippe, but live with a wife who is the hardest
 to get along with of all the women there are—yes, or
 all that ever were, I suspect, or ever will be? 
 Because, he replied, I
 observe that men who wish to become expert horsemen
 do not get the most docile horses but rather those
 that are high-mettled, believing that if they can
 manage this kind, they will easily handle any other.
 My course is similar. Mankind at large is what I
 wish to deal and associate with; and so I have got
 her, well assured that if I can endure her, I shall
 have no difficulty in my relations with all the rest
 of human kind. 
 These words, in the
 judgment of the guests, did not go wide of the mark.

But now there was brought
 in a hoop set all around with upright swords; over
 these the dancer turned somersaults into the hoop
 and out again, to the dismay of the onlookers, who
 thought that she might suffer some mishap. She,
 however, went through this performance fearlessly
 and safely.

Then
 Socrates ,
 drawing Antisthenes’ attention, said: Witnesses of
 this feat, surely, will never again deny, I feel
 sure, that courage, like other things, admits of
 being taught, when this girl, in spite of her sex,
 leaps so boldly in among the swords!

Well, then, asked
 Antisthenes, had this Syracusan not better exhibit
 his dancer to the city and announce that if the
 Athenians will pay him for it he will give all the
 men of Athens the courage to face the
 spear?

Well said! interjected
 Philip. I certainly should like to see Peisander
 the politician learning to turn
 somersaults among the knives; for, as it is now, his
 inability to look spears in the face makes him
 shrink even from joining the army.

At this point the boy
 performed a dance, eliciting from
 Socrates 
 the remark, Did you notice that, handsome as the
 boy is, he appears even handsomer in the poses of
 the dance than when he is at rest? 
 It looks to me, said
 Charmides, as if you were puffing the
 dancing-master.

Assuredly, replied
 Socrates ;
 and I remarked something else, too,—that no part of
 his body was idle during the dance, but neck, legs,
 and hands were all active together. And that is the
 way a person must dance who intends to increase the
 suppleness of his body. And for myself, he
 continued, addressing the Syracusan, I should be
 delighted to learn the figures from you. 
 What use will you make of
 them? the other asked.
 I will dance, by Zeus.

This raised a general
 laugh; but
 Socrates ,
 with a perfectly grave expression on his face, said:
 You are laughing at me, are you? Is it because I
 want to exercise to better my health? Or because I
 want to take more pleasure in my food and my sleep?
 Or is it because I am eager for such exercises as
 these, not like the long-distance runners, who
 develop their legs at the expense of their
 shoulders, nor like the prize-fighters, who develop
 their shoulders but become thin-legged, but rather
 with a view to giving my body a symmetrical
 development by exercising it in every part?

Or are you laughing because I shall not need to hunt up a
 partner to exercise with, or to strip, old as I am,
 in a crowd, but shall find a moderate-sized
 room 
 large enough for me (just as but now this room was
 large enough for the lad here to get up a sweat in),
 and because in winter I shall exercise under cover,
 and when it is very hot, in the shade?

Or is this what provokes your laughter, that I have an
 unduly large paunch and wish to reduce it? Don’t you
 know that just the other day Charmides here caught
 me dancing early in the morning? 
 Indeed I did, said
 Charmides; and at first I was dumbfounded and
 feared that you were going stark mad; but when I
 heard you say much the same things as you did just
 now, I myself went home, and although I did not
 dance, for I had never learned how, I practised
 shadow-boxing, for I knew how to do that.

Undoubtedly, said
 Philip; at any rate, your legs appear so nearly
 equal in weight to your shoulders that I imagine if
 you were to go to the market commissioners and put
 your lower parts in the scale against your upper
 parts, as if they were loaves of bread, they would
 let you off without a fine. 
 When you are ready to
 begin your lessons,
 Socrates , 
 said Callias, pray invite me, so that I may be
 opposite you in the figures and may learn with you.

Come, said Philip, let
 me have some flute music, so that I may dance
 too. 
 So he got up and mimicked
 in detail the dancing of both the boy and the girl.

To begin with, since the company had applauded the way
 the boy’s natural beauty was increased by the grace
 of the dancing postures, Philip made a burlesque out
 of the performance by rendering every part of his
 body that was in motion more grotesque than it
 naturally was; and whereas the girl had bent
 backward until she resembled a hoop, he tried to do
 the same by bending forward. Finally, since they had
 given the boy applause for putting every part of his
 body into play in the dance, he told the flute girl
 to hit up the time faster, and danced away, flinging
 out legs, hands, and head all at the same time;

and when he was quite exhausted, he exclaimed as he laid
 himself down: Here is proof, gentlemen, that my
 style of dancing, also, gives excellent exercise; it
 has certainly given me a thirst; so let the servant
 fill me up the big goblet.

Certainly, replied
 Callias; and the same for us, for we are thirsty
 with laughing at you. 
 Here
 Socrates 
 again interposed. Well, gentlemen, said he, so
 far as drinking is concerned, you have my hearty
 approval; for wine does of a truth moisten the
 soul and lull our
 griefs to sleep just as the mandragora does with
 men, at the same time awakening kindly feelings as
 oil quickens a flame.

However, I suspect that men’s bodies fare the same as
 those of plants that grow in the ground. When God
 gives the plants water in floods to drink, they
 cannot stand up straight or let the breezes blow
 through them; but when they drink only as much as
 they enjoy, they grow up very straight and tall and
 come to full and abundant fruitage.

So it is with us. If we pour ourselves immense draughts,
 it will be no long time before both our bodies and
 our minds reel, and we shall not be able even to
 draw breath, much less to speak sensibly; but if the
 servants frequently besprinkle us—if I too may use
 a Gorgian expression—with small cups,
 we shall thus not be driven on by the wine to a
 state of intoxication, but instead shall be brought
 by its gentle persuasion to a more sportive mood.

This resolution received a
 unanimous vote, with an amendment added by Philip to
 the effect that the wine-pourers should emulate
 skilful charioteers by driving the cups around with
 ever increasing speed. This the wine-pourers
 proceeded to do.

After this the boy,
 attuning his lyre to the flute, played and sang, and
 won the applause of all; and brought from Charmides
 the remark, It seems to me, gentlemen, that, as
 Socrates 
 said of the wine, so this blending of the young
 people’s beauty and of the notes of the music lulls
 one’s griefs to sleep and awakens the goddess of
 Love.

Then
 Socrates 
 resumed the conversation. These people, gentlemen, 
 said he, show their competence to give us pleasure;
 and yet we, I am sure, think ourselves considerably
 superior to them. Will it not be to our shame,
 therefore, if we do not make even an attempt, while
 here together, to be of some service or to give some
 pleasure one to another? 
 At that many spoke up:
 You lead the way, then, and tell us what to begin
 talking about to realize most fully what you have in
 mind.

For my part, he
 answered, I should like to have Callias redeem his
 promise; for he said, you remember, that if we would
 take dinner with him, he would give us an exhibition
 of his profundity. 
 Yes, rejoined Callias;
 and I will do so, if the rest of you will also lay
 before us any serviceable knowledge that you
 severally possess. 
 Well, answered
 Socrates ,
 no one objects to telling what he considers the
 most valuable knowledge in his possession.

Very well, then, said
 Callias, I will now tell you what I take greatest
 pride in. It is that I believe I have the power to
 make men better. 
 How? asked Antisthenes.
 By teaching them some manual trade, or by teaching
 nobility of character? 
 The latter, if
 righteousness is
 the same thing as nobility. 
 Certainly it is, replied
 Antisthenes, and the least debatable kind, too; for
 though courage and wisdom appear at times to work
 injury both to one’s friends and to the state,
 righteousness and unrighteousness never overlap at a
 single point.

Well, then, when every
 one of you has named the benefit he can confer, I
 will not begrudge describing the art that gives me
 the success that I speak of. And so, Niceratus, he
 suggested, it is your turn; tell us what kind of
 knowledge you take pride in. 
 My father was anxious to
 see me develop into a good man, said Niceratus,
 and as a means to this end he compelled me to
 memorize all of Homer; and so even now I can repeat
 the whole Iliad and the
 Odyssey by heart.

But have you failed to
 observe, questioned Antisthenes, that the
 rhapsodes, too, all know these
 poems? 
 How could I, he replied,
 when I listen to their recitations nearly every
 day? 
 Well, do you know any
 tribe of men, went on the other, more stupid than
 the rhapsodes? 
 No, indeed, answered
 Niceratus; not I, I am sure. 
 No, said
 Socrates ;
 and the reason is clear: they do not know the inner
 meaning of the poems. But you have paid a good deal
 of money to Stesimbrotus, Anaximander, and many
 other Homeric critics, so that nothing of their
 valuable teaching can have escaped your knowledge.

But what about you, Critobulus? he continued. 
 What do
 you take greates pride in? 
 In beauty, he
 replied.
 What? exclaimed
 Socrates .
 Are you too going to be able to maintain that you
 can make us better, and by means of your
 beauty? 
 Why, otherwise, it is
 clear enough that I shall cut but an indifferent
 figure.

And you, Antisthenes, 
 said
 Socrates ,
 what do you take pride in? 
 In wealth, he
 replied.
 Hermogenes asked him
 whether he had a large amount of money; he swore
 that he did not have even a penny.
 You own a great deal of
 land, then? 
 Well, perhaps it might
 prove big enough, said he, for Autolycus here to
 sand himself in.

It looks as if we should
 have to hear from you, too. And how about you,
 Charmides? he continued. What do you take pride
 in? 
 What pride, said he, on
 the contrary, is in my poverty. 
 A charming thing, upon my
 word! exclaimed
 Socrates .
 It seldom causes envy or is a bone of contention;
 and it is kept safe without the necessity of a
 guard, and grows sturdier by neglect!

But what of you,
 Socrates ? 
 said Callias. What are you proud of? 
 Socrates 
 drew up his face into a very solemn expression, and
 answered, The trade of procurer. 
 After the rest had had a
 laugh at him, Very well, said he, you may laugh,
 but I know that I could make a lot of money if I
 cared to follow the trade.

As for you, said Lycon,
 addressing Philip, it is obvious that your pride is
 in your jesting. 
 And my pride is better
 founded, I think, replied Philip, than that of
 Callippides, the actor, who is consumed
 with vanity because he can fill the seats with
 audiences that weep.

Will you also not tell
 us, Lycon, said Antisthenes, what it is that you
 take pride in? 
 Don’t you all know, he
 answered, that it is in my son here? 
 And as for him, said
 one, it is plain that he is proud at having taken a
 prize. 
 At this Autolycus blushed
 and said, No, indeed, not that.

All looked at him,
 delighted to hear him speak, and one asked, What is
 it, then, Autolycus, that you are proud of? and he
 answered, My father, and with the words nestled
 close against him.
 When Callias saw this, Do
 you realize, Lycon, said he, that you are the
 richest man in the world? 
 No, indeed, the other
 replied, I certainly do not know that. 
 Why, are you blind to the
 fact that you would not part with your son for the
 wealth of the Great King? 
 I am caught, was the
 answer, red-handed; it does look as if I were the
 richest man in the world.

What about you,
 Hermogenes? said Niceratus. What do you delight in
 most? 
 In the goodness and the
 power of my friends, he answered, and in the fact
 that with all their excellence they have regard for
 me. 
 Thereupon all eyes were
 turned toward him, and many speaking at once asked
 him whether he would not discover these friends to
 them; and he answered that he would not be at all
 loath to do so.

At this point
 Socrates 
 said: I suspect that it remains now for each one of
 us to prove that what he engaged himself to champion
 is of real worth. 
 You may hear me first, 
 said Callias. While I listen to your philosophical
 discussions of what righteousness is, I am all the
 time actually rendering men more righteous. 
 How so, my good friend? 
 asked
 Socrates .
 Why, by giving them
 money.

Then Antisthenes got up
 and in a very argumentative fashion interrogated
 him. Where do you think men harbour their
 righteousness, Callias, in their souls or in their
 purses? 
 In their souls, he
 replied.
 So you make their souls
 more righteous by putting money into their
 purses? 
 I surely do. 
 How? 
 Because they know that
 they have the wherewithal to buy the necessities of
 life, and so they are reluctant to expose themselves
 to the hazards of crime.

And do they repay you, 
 he asked, the money that they get from you? 
 Heavens, no! he
 replied.
 Well, do they substitute
 thanks for money payment? 
 No, indeed, nor that
 either, he said. On the contrary, some of them
 have an even greater dislike of me than before they
 got the money. 
 It is remarkable, said
 Antisthenes, looking fixedly at him as though he had
 him in a corner, that you can make them righteous
 toward others but not toward yourself.

What is there remarkable
 about that? asked Callias. Do you not see plenty
 of carpenters, also, and architects that build
 houses for many another person but cannot do it for
 themselves, but live in rented houses? Come now, my
 captious friend, take your medicine and own that you
 are beaten.

By all means, said
 Socrates ,
 let him do so. For even the soothsayers have the
 reputation, you know, of prophesying the future for
 others but of not being able to foresee their own
 fate. 
 Here the discussion of
 this point ended.

Then Niceratus remarked:
 You may now hear me tell wherein you will be
 improved by associating with me. You know,
 doubtless, that the sage Homer has written about
 practically everything pertaining to man. Any one of
 you, therefore, who wishes to acquire the art of the
 householder, the political leader, or the general,
 or to become like Achilles or Ajax or Nestor or
 Odysseus, should seek my favour, for I understand
 all these things. 
 Ha! said Antisthenes;
 do you understand how to play the king, too,
 knowing, as you do, that Homer praised
 Agamemnon for being
 both goodly king and spearman strong ? 
 Yes, indeed! said he;
 and I know also that in driving a chariot one must
 run close to the goalpost at the turn and 
 Himself lean lightly to the
 left within The polished car, the right-hand
 trace-horse goad, Urge him with shouts, and let
 him have the reins. 
 Hom. Il. 23.335-337

And beside this I know something else, which you may test
 immediately. For Homer says somewhere: An onion,
 too, a relish for the drink. Now if some one will bring an onion,
 you will receive this benefit, at any rate, without
 delay; for you will get more pleasure out of your
 drinking.

Gentlemen, said
 Charmides, Niceratus is intent on going home
 smelling of onions to make his wife believe that no
 one would even have conceived the thought of kissing
 him. 
 Undoubtedly, said
 Socrates .
 But we run the risk of getting a different sort of
 reputation, one that will bring us ridicule. For
 though the onion seems to be in the truest sense a
 relish, since it adds to our enjoyment not only of
 food, but also of drink, yet if we eat it not only
 with our dinner but after it as well, take care that
 some one does not say of us that on our visit to
 Callias we were merely indulging our appetites.

Heaven forbid,
 Socrates ! 
 was the reply. I grant that when a man is setting
 out for battle, it is well for him to nibble an
 onion, just as some people give their game-cocks a
 feed of garlic before pitting them together in the
 ring; as for us, however, our plans perhaps look
 more to getting a kiss from some one than to
 fighting. 
 That was about the way the
 discussion of this point ended.

Then Critobulus said:
 Shall I take my turn now and tell you my grounds
 for taking pride in my handsomeness? 
 Do, they said.
 Well, then, if I am not
 handsome, as I think I am, you could fairly be sued
 for misrepresentation; for though no one asks you
 for an oath, you are always swearing that I am
 handsome. And indeed I believe you; for I consider
 you to be honourable men.

But, on the other hand, if I really am handsome and you
 have the same feelings toward me that I have toward
 the one who is handsome in my eyes, I swear by all
 the gods that I would not take the kingdom of
 Persia in
 exchange for the possession of beauty.

For as it is, I would rather gaze at Cleinias than
 at all the other beautiful objects in the world. I
 would rather be blind to all things else than to
 Cleinias alone. I chafe at both night and sleep
 because then I do not see him; I feel the deepest
 gratitude to day and the sun because they reveal
 Cleinias to me.

We handsome people have a right to be proud of this fact,
 too, that whereas the strong man must get the good
 things of his desire by toil, and the brave man by
 adventure, and the wise man by his eloquence, the
 handsome person can attain all his ends without
 doing anything.

So far as I, at least, am concerned, although I realize
 that money is a delightful possession, I should take
 more delight in giving what I have to Cleinias than
 in adding to my possessions from another person’s;
 and I should take more delight in being a slave than
 in being a free man, if Cleinias would deign to be
 my master. For I should find it easier to toil for
 him than to rest, and it would be more delightful to
 risk my life for his sake than to live in safety.

And so, Callias, if you are proud of your ability to make
 people more righteous, I have a better right than
 you to claim that I can influence men toward every
 sort of virtue. For since we handsome men exert a
 certain inspiration upon the amorous, we make them
 more generous in money matters, more strenuous and
 heroic amid dangers, yes, and more modest and
 self-controlled also; for they feel abashed about
 the very things that they want most.

Madness is in those people, too, who do not elect the
 handsome men as generals; I certainly would go
 through fire with Cleinias, and I know that you
 would, also, with me. Therefore,
 Socrates ,
 do not puzzle any more over the question whether or
 not my beauty will be of any benefit to men.

But more than that, beauty is not to be contemned on this
 ground, either, that it soon passes its prime; for
 just as we recognize beauty in a boy, so we do in a
 youth, a full-grown man, or an old man. Witness the
 fact that in selecting garlandbearers for Athena
 they choose beautiful old men, thus intimating that
 beauty attends every period of life.

Furthermore, if it is pleasurable to attain one’s desires
 with the good will of the giver, I know very well
 that at this very moment, without uttering a word, I
 could persuade this boy or this girl to give me a
 kiss sooner than you could,
 Socrates ,
 no matter how long and profoundly you might argue.

How now? exclaimed
 Socrates .
 You boast as though you actually thought yourself a
 handsomer man than me. 
 Of course, was
 Critobulus’s reply; otherwise I should be the
 ugliest of all the Satyrs ever on the stage. 
 Now
 Socrates ,
 as fortune would have it, really resembled these
 creatures.

Come, come, said
 Socrates ;
 see that you remember to enter a beauty contest
 with me when the discussion now under way has gone
 the rounds. And let our judges be not Alexander,
 Priam’s son, but these very
 persons whom you consider eager to give you a kiss.

Would you not entrust the
 arbitrament to Cleinias,
 Socrates ? 
 Aren’t you ever going to
 get your mind off Cleinias? was the rejoinder.
 If I refrain from
 mentioning his name, do you suppose that I shall
 have him any the less in mind? Do you not know that
 I have so clear an image of him in my heart that had
 I ability as a sculptor or a painter I could produce
 a likeness of him from this image that would be
 quite as close as if he were sitting for me in
 person?

Why do you annoy me,
 then, was
 Socrates ’
 retort, and keep taking me about to places where
 you can see him in person, if you possess so
 faithful an image of him? 
 Because,
 Socrates ,
 the sight of him in person has the power to delight
 one, whereas the sight of the image does not give
 pleasure, but implants a craving for him.

For my part,
 Socrates , 
 said Hermogenes, I do not regard it as at all like
 you to countenance such a mad passion of love in
 Critobulus. 
 What? Do you suppose, 
 asked
 Socrates ,
 that this condition has arisen since he began
 associating with me? 
 If not, when did it? 
 Do you not notice that
 the soft down is just beginning to grow down in
 front of his ears, while that of Cleinias is already
 creeping up the nape of his neck? Well, then, this
 hot flame of his was kindled in the days when they
 used to go to school together.

It was the discovery of this that caused his father to
 put him into my hands, in the hope that I might do
 him some good. And without question he is already
 much improved. For awhile ago he was like those who
 look at the Gorgons—he would gaze at Cleinias with a
 fixed and stony stare and would never leave his
 presence; but now I have seen him actually close his
 eyes in a wink.

But to tell you the truth, gentlemen, he continued, by
 Heaven! it does look to me—to speak
 confidentially—as if he had also kissed Cleinias;
 and there is nothing more terribly potent than this
 at kindling the fires of passion. For it is
 insatiable and holds out seductive hopes.

For this reason I maintain that one who intends to
 possess the power of self-control must refrain from
 kissing those in the bloom of beauty.

But why in the world,
 Socrates , 
 Charmides now asked, do you flourish your bogeys so
 to frighten us, your friends, away from the
 beauties, when, by Apollo! I have seen you
 yourself, he continued, when the two of you were
 hunting down something in the same book-roll at the
 school, sitting head to head, with your nude
 shoulder pressing against Critobulus’s nude
 shoulder?

Dear me! exclaimed
 Socrates .
 So that is what affected me like the bite of a wild
 animal! And for over five days my shoulder smarted
 and I felt as if I had something like a sting in my
 heart. But now, Critobulus, said he, in the
 presence of all these witnesses I warn you not to
 lay a finger on me until you get as much hair on
 your chin as you have on your head. 
 Such was the mingled
 raillery and seriousness that these indulged in.

But Callias now remarked,
 It is your turn, Charmides, to tell us why poverty
 makes you feel proud. 
 Very well, said he. So
 much, at least, every one admits, that assurance is
 preferable to fear, freedom to slavery, being the
 recipient of attention to being the giver of it, the
 confidence of one’s country to its distrust.

Now, as for my situation in our commonwealth, when I was
 rich, I was, to begin with, in dread of some one’s
 digging through the wall of my house and not only
 getting my money but also doing me a mischief
 personally; in the next place, I knuckled down to
 the blackmailers, knowing well enough that my
 abilities lay more in the direction of suffering
 injury than of inflicting it on them. Then, too, I
 was for ever being ordered by the government to
 undergo some expenditure or other, and I never had
 the opportunity for foreign travel.

Now, however, since I am stripped of my property over the
 border and get no income from the property in
 Attica ,
 and my household effects have been sold, I stretch
 out and enjoy a sound sleep, I have gained the
 confidence of the state, I am no longer subjected to
 threats but do the threatening now myself; and I
 have the free man’s privilege of going abroad or
 staying here at home as I please. People now
 actually rise from their seats in deference to me,
 and rich men obsequiously give me the right of way
 on the street.

Now I am like a despot; then I was clearly a slave. Then
 I paid a revenue to the body politic; now I live on
 the tribute that the state pays to me.
 Moreover, people used to vilify me, when I was
 wealthy, for consorting with
 Socrates ;
 but now that I have got poor, no one bothers his
 head about it any longer. Again, when my property
 was large, either the government or fate was
 continually making me throw some of it to the winds;
 but now, far from throwing anything away (for I
 possess nothing), I am always in expectation of
 acquiring something.

Your prayers, also, said
 Callias, are doubtless to the effect that you may
 never be rich; and if you ever have a fine dream you
 sacrifice, do you not, to the deities who avert
 disasters? 
 Oh, no! was the reply;
 I don’t go so far as that; I hazard the danger with
 great heroism if I have any expectation of getting
 something from some one.

Come, now, Antisthenes, 
 said
 Socrates ,
 take your turn and tell us how it is that with such
 slender means you base your pride on wealth. 
 Because, sirs, I conceive
 that people’s wealth and poverty are to be found not
 in their real estate but in their hearts.

For I see many persons, not in office, who though
 possessors of large resources, yet look upon
 themselves as so poor that they bend their backs to
 any toil, any risk, if only they may increase their
 holdings; and again I know of brothers, with equal
 shares in their inheritance, where one of them has
 plenty, and more than enough to meet expenses, while
 the other is in utter want.

Again, I am told of certain despots, also, who have such
 a greedy appetite for riches that they commit much
 more dreadful crimes than they who are afflicted
 with the direst poverty. For it is of course their
 want that makes some people steal, others commit
 burglary, others follow the slave trade; but there
 are some despots who destroy whole families, kill
 men wholesale, oftentimes enslave even entire
 cities, for the sake of money.

As for such men, I pity them deeply for their malignant
 disease; for in my eyes their malady resembles that
 of a person who possessed abundance but though
 continually eating could never be satisfied. For my
 own part, my possessions are so great that I can
 hardly find them myself; yet I have enough so that I
 can eat until I reach a point where I no longer feel
 hungry and drink until I do not feel thirsty and
 have enough clothing so that when out of doors I do
 not feel the cold any more than my superlatively
 wealthy friend Callias here;

and when I get into the house I look on my walls as
 exceedingly warm tunics and the roofs as
 exceptionally thick mantles; and the bedding that I
 own is so satisfactory that it is actually a hard
 task to get me awake in the morning. If I ever feel
 a natural desire for converse with women, I am so
 well satisfied with whatever chance puts in my way
 that those to whom I make my addresses are more than
 glad to welcome me because they have no one else who
 wants to consort with them.

In a word, all these items appeal to me as being so
 conducive to enjoyment that I could not pray for
 greater pleasure in performing any one of them, but
 could pray rather for less—so much more pleasurable
 do I regard some of them than is good for one.

But the most valuable parcel of my wealth I reckon to be
 this, that even though some one were to rob me of
 what I now possess, I see no occupation so humble
 that it would not give me adequate fare.

For whenever I feel an inclination to indulge my
 appetite, I do not buy fancy articles at the market
 (for they come high), but I draw on the store-house
 of my soul. And it goes a long way farther toward
 producing enjoyment when I take food only after
 awaiting the craving for it than when I partake of
 one of these fancy dishes, like this fine Thasian
 wine that fortune has put in my way and I am
 drinking without the promptings of thirst.

Yes, and it is natural that those whose eyes are set on
 frugality should be more honest than those whose
 eyes are fixed on money-making. For those who are
 most contented with what they have are least likely
 to covet what belongs to others.

And it is worth noting that wealth of this kind makes
 people generous, also. My friend
 Socrates 
 here and I are examples. For
 Socrates ,
 from whom I acquired this wealth of mine, did not
 come to my relief with limitation of number and
 weight, but made over to me all that I could carry.
 And as for me, I am now niggardly to no one, but
 both make an open display of my abundance to all my
 friends and share my spiritual wealth with any one
 of them that desires it.

But—most exquisite possession of all!—you observe that I
 always have leisure, with the result that I can go
 and see whatever is worth seeing, and hear whatever
 is worth hearing and—what I prize highest—pass the
 whole day, untroubled by business, in
 Socrates ’
 company. Like me, he does not bestow his admiration
 on those who count the most gold, but spends his
 time with those who are congenial to him.

Such was the thesis
 maintained by Antisthenes. So help me Hera, 
 commented Callias, among the numerous reasons I
 find for congratulating you on your wealth, one is
 that the government does not lay its commands on you
 and treat you as a slave, another is that people do
 not feel resentful at your not making them a
 loan. 
 Do not be congratulating
 him, said Niceratus; because I am about to go and
 get him to make me a loan—of his contentment with
 his lot, schooled as I am by Homer to count 
 Seven pots unfired, ten
 talents’ weight of gold, A score of gleaming
 cauldrons, chargers twelve, 
 Hom. Iliad 9.122 f., 264 f. 
 weighing and calculating until I am never
 done with yearning for vast riches; as a result,
 some people perhaps regard me as just a bit fond of
 lucre. 
 A burst of laughter from
 the whole company greeted this admission; for they
 considered that he had told nothing more than the
 truth.

Hermogenes, it devolves
 on you, some one now remarked, to mention who your
 friends are and to demonstrate their great power and
 their solicitude for you, so that your pride in them
 may appear justified.

Very well; in the first
 place, it is clear as day that both Greeks and
 barbarians believe that the gods know everything
 both present and to come; at any rate, all cities
 and all races ask the gods, by the diviner’s art,
 for advice as to what to do and what to avoid.
 Second, it is likewise manifest that we consider
 them able to work us good or ill; at all events,
 every one prays the gods to avert evil and grant
 blessings.

Well, these gods, omniscient and omnipotent, feel so
 friendly toward me that their watchfulness over me
 never lets me out of their ken night or day, no
 matter where I am going or what business I have in
 view. They know the results also that will follow
 any act; and so they send me as messengers omens of
 sounds, dreams, and birds, and thus indicate what I
 ought to do and what I ought not to do. And when I
 do their bidding, I never regret it; on the other
 hand, I have before now disregarded them and have
 been punished for it.

None of these
 statements, said
 Socrates ,
 is incredible. But what I should like very much to
 know is how you serve them to keep them so
 friendly. 
 A very economical service
 it is, I declare! responded Hermogenes. I sound
 their praises,—which costs nothing; I always restore
 them part of what they give me; I avoid profanity of
 speech as far as I can; and I never wittingly lie in
 matters wherein I have invoked them to be my
 witnesses. 
 Truly, said
 Socrates ,
 if it is conduct like this that gives you their
 friendship, then the gods also, it would seem, take
 delight in nobility of soul! 
 Such was the serious turn
 given to the discussion of this topic.

When they got around to
 Philip, they asked him what he saw in the jester’s
 profession to feel proud of it.
 Have I not a right to be
 proud, said he, when all know that I am a jester,
 and so whenever they have a bit of good fortune,
 give me hearty invitations to come and join them,
 but when they suffer some reverse, run from me with
 never a glance behind, in dread that they may be
 forced to laugh in spite of themselves?

Your pride is abundantly
 justified, said Niceratus. In my case, on the
 contrary, those friends who enjoy success keep out
 of my way, but those that run into some mishap
 reckon up their kinship to me on the family tree,
 and I can’t get rid of them.

No doubt, said
 Charmides; and then, turning to the Syracusan, What
 is it that you are proud of? The boy, I
 suppose? 
 Quite the contrary, was
 the reply; I am instead in extreme apprehension
 about him. For I understand that there are certain
 persons plotting his undoing.

On receiving this
 information, Good Heavens! exclaimed
 Socrates ;
 what wrong do they imagine your lad has done them
 that is grave enough to make them wish to kill
 him? 
 Syr. It is not killing
 him that they desire; oh, no! but to persuade him to
 sleep with them. 
 Soc. Your belief, then,
 if I mistake not, is that if this happened, he would
 be undone? 
 Syr. Aye, utterly!

Soc. Do you not then
 sleep in his bed yourself? 
 Syr. Most certainly, all
 night and every night. 
 Soc. Marry, you are in
 great luck to be formed of such flesh that you are
 unique in not corrupting those that sleep with you.
 And so you have a right to be proud of your flesh if
 of nothing else.

Syr. And yet that is not
 the basis of my pride. 
 Soc. What is, then? 
 Syr. Fools, in faith.
 They give me a livelihood by coming to view my
 marionettes. 
 Ah! ejaculated Philip;
 that explains the prayer I heard you uttering the
 other day, that wherever you were the gods would
 grant you an abundant harvest of grain but a
 crop-failure of wits!

Good! said Callias. And
 now,
 Socrates ,
 what can you advance in support of your pride in
 that disreputable profession that you
 mentioned? 
 Let us first, said he,
 come to an understanding on the functions that
 belong to the procurer. Do not hesitate to answer
 all the questions I ask you, so that we may know our
 points of agreement. Is that your pleasure? he
 asked.
 Certainly, was their
 reply; and when they had once started with
 certainly, that was the regular answer they all
 made to his questions thereafter.

Soc. Well, then, you
 consider it the function of a good procurer to
 render the man or the woman whom he is serving
 attractive to his or her associates? 
 All. Certainly. 
 Soc. Now, one thing that
 contributes to rendering a person attractive is a
 comely arrangement of hair and clothing, is it
 not? 
 All. Certainly.

This, also, we know, do
 we not, that it is in a man’s power to use the one
 pair of eyes to express both friendship and
 hostility? 
 Certainly. 
 And again, it is possible
 to speak both modestly and boldly with the same
 voice? 
 Certainly. 
 Moreover, are there not
 words that create ill feeling and others that
 conduce to friendliness? 
 Certainly.

Now the good procurer
 would teach only the words that tend to make one
 attractive, would he not? 
 Certainly. 
 Which one would be the
 better? he continued, the one who could make
 people attractive to a single person or the one who
 could make them attractive to many? 
 This question brought a
 division; some said, Clearly the one who could make
 them attractive to a great many ; the others merely
 repeated, Certainly.

Remarking that they were
 all of one mind on this point as on the others, he
 went on: If a person could render people attractive
 to the entire community, would he not satisfy the
 requirements of the ideal procurer? 
 Indubitably, they all
 said.
 And so, if one could
 produce men of this type out of his clients, he
 would be entitled to feel proud of his profession
 and to receive a high remuneration, would he not?

All agreeing on this
 point, too, he added, Antisthenes here seems to me
 to be a man of just that sort. 
 Antisthenes asked, Are
 you resigning your profession to me,
 Socrates ? 
 Assuredly, was the
 answer. For I see that you have brought to a high
 state of perfection the complementary trade. 
 What is that? 
 The profession of
 go-between, he said.

Antisthenes was much
 incensed and asked, What knowledge can you possibly
 have of my being guilty of such a thing as
 that? 
 I know several
 instances, he replied. I know that you acted the
 part between Callias here and the scholar Prodicus,
 when you saw that Callias was in love with
 philosophy and that Prodicus wanted money. I know
 also that you did the same for Hippias, the Elean,
 from whom Callias got his memory system; and as a
 result, Callias has become more amorous than ever,
 because he finds it impossible to forget any beauty
 he sees.

And just recently, you remember, you introduced the
 stranger from Heraclea to me,
 after arousing my keen interest in him by your
 commendations. For this I am indeed grateful to you;
 for I look upon him as endowed with a truly noble
 nature. And did you not laud Aeschylus the
 Phleiasian to me and me to him until you brought
 us to such a pass that in mutual yearning, excited
 by your words, we went coursing like hounds to find
 each other?

It is the witnessing of your talent at achieving such a
 result that makes me judge you an excellent
 go-between. For the man who can recognize those who
 are fitted to be mutually helpful and can make them
 desire one another’s acquaintance, that man, in my
 opinion, could also create friendship between cities
 and arrange suitable marriages, and would be a very
 valuable acquisition as friend or ally for both
 states and individuals. But you got indignant, as if
 you had received an affront, when I said that you
 were a good go-between. 
 But, indeed, that is all
 over now, he replied; for with this power mine I
 shall find my soul chock-full of riches. 
 And so this round of
 discourse was brought to a close.

Callias now said,
 Critobulus, are you going to refuse to enter the
 lists in the beauty contest with
 Socrates ? 
 Undoubtedly! said
 Socrates ;
 for probably he notices that the procurer stands
 high in the favour of the judges.

But yet in spite of
 that, retorted Critobulus, I do not shun the
 contest. So make your plea, if you can produce any
 profound reason, and prove that you are more
 handsome than I. Only, he added, let some one
 bring the light close to him. 
 The first step, then, in
 my suit, said
 Socrates ,
 is to summon you to the preliminary hearing; be so
 kind as to answer my questions. 
 And you proceed to put
 them.

Do you hold, then, that
 beauty is to be found only in man, or is it also in
 other objects? 
 Crit. In faith, my
 opinion is that beauty is to be found quite as well
 in a horse or an ox or in any number of inanimate
 things. I know, at any rate, that a shield may be
 beautiful, or a sword, or a spear.

Soc. How can it be that
 all these things are beautiful when they are
 entirely dissimilar? 
 Why, they are beautiful
 and fine, answered Critobulus, if they are
 well made for the respective functions for which we
 obtain them, or if they are naturally well
 constituted to serve our needs.

Soc. Do you know the
 reason why we need eyes? 
 Crit. Obviously to see
 with. 
 In that case, it would
 appear without further ado that my eyes are finer
 ones than yours. 
 How so? 
 Because, while yours see
 only straight ahead, mine, by bulging out as they
 do, see also to the sides. 
 Crit. Do you mean to say
 that a crab is better equipped visually than any
 other creature? 
 Soc. Absolutely; for its
 eyes are also better set to insure strength.

Crit. Well, let that
 pass; but whose nose is finer, yours or mine? 
 Soc. Mine, I consider,
 granting that Providence made us noses to smell
 with. For your nostrils look down toward the ground,
 but mine are wide open and turned outward so that I
 can catch scents from all about. 
 But how do you make a
 snub nose handsomer than a straight one? 
 Soc. For the reason that
 it does not put a barricade between the eyes but
 allows them unobstructed vision of whatever they
 desire to see; whereas a high nose, as if in
 despite, has walled the eyes off one from the
 other.

As for the mouth, said
 Critobulus, I concede that point. For if it is
 created for the purpose of biting off food, you
 could bite off a far bigger mouthful than I could.
 And don’t you think that your kiss is also the more
 tender because you have thick lips? 
 Soc. According to your
 argument, it would seem that I have a mouth more
 ugly even than an ass’s. But do you not reckon it a
 proof of my superior beauty that the River Nymphs,
 goddesses as they are, bear as their offspring the
 Seileni, who resemble me more closely than they do
 you?

I cannot argue any longer
 with you, answered Critobulus; let them distribute
 the ballots, so that I may know without suspense
 what fine or punishment I must undergo. Only, he
 continued, let the balloting be secret, for I am
 afraid that the wealth you and Antisthenes possess
 will overmaster me.

So the maiden and the lad
 turned in the ballots secretly. While this was going
 on, Socrates 
 saw to it that the light should be brought in front
 of Critobulus, so that the judges might not be
 misled, and stipulated that the prize given by the
 judges to crown the victor should be kisses and not
 ribbons.

When the ballots were turned out of the urn and proved to
 be a unanimous verdict in favour of Critobulus,
 Faugh! exclaimed
 Socrates ;
 your money, Critobulus, does not appear to resemble
 Callias’s. For his makes people more honest, while
 yours is about the most potent to corrupt men,
 whether members of a jury or judges of a contest.

At this some of the
 company urged Critobulus to take his kisses, the
 need of victory; others advised him to get the
 consent of the young people’s legal guardian; and
 others indulged in other badinage. But even then
 Hermogenes kept silent. And
 Socrates ,
 calling him by name, inquired, Hermogenes, could
 you define convivial unpleasantness for us? 
 If you ask me what it
 actually is, he answered, I do not know; but I am
 willing to tell you what I think it is. 
 Soc. Very well, tell us
 that.

Herm. My definition of
 convivial unpleasantness is the annoying of one’s
 companions at their drink. 
 Soc. Well, do you realize
 that at the present moment you conform to the
 definition by annoying us with your
 taciturnity? 
 Herm. What! while you are
 talking? 
 No, but in the
 intervals. 
 Why, don’t you see that a
 person could not insert even a hair in the
 interstices of your talk, much less a word?

Callias, said
 Socrates ,
 appealing to him, could you come to the rescue of a
 man hard put to it for an answer? 
 Yes, indeed, said he:
 we are absolutely quiet every time the flute is
 played. 
 Hermogenes retorted, Is
 it your wish that I should converse with you to the
 accompaniment of a flute, the way the actor
 Nicostratus used to recite tetrameter verses?

In Heaven’s name, do so,
 Hermogenes, urged
 Socrates .
 For I believe that precisely as a song is more
 agreeable when accompanied on the flute, so your
 discourse would be embellished somewhat by the
 music, especially if you were to gesticulate and
 pose, like the flute-girl, to point your words.

What is the tune to be, 
 asked Callias, when Antisthenes here gets some one
 at the banquet cornered in an argument? 
 For the discomfited
 disputant, said Antisthenes, I think the
 appropriate music would be a hissing.

The Syracusan, seeing that
 with such conversation going on the banqueters were
 paying no attention to his show, but were enjoying
 one another’s company, said spitefully to
 Socrates ,
 Socrates ,
 are you the one nick-named the Thinker ? 
 Well, isn’t that
 preferable, he rejoined, to being called the
 Thoughtless ? 
 Yes, if it were not that
 you are supposed to be a thinker on celestial
 subjects.

Do you know, asked
 Socrates ,
 anything more celestial than the gods? 
 Syr. No; but that is not
 what people say you are concerned with, but rather
 with the most unbeneficial things. 
 Soc. Even granting the
 expression, it would still be the gods that are my
 concern; for (1) they cause rain under the heavens
 and so are beneficial , and (2) they produce light,
 also under the heavens, and are thus again
 beneficial . If the pun is strained, he added, you
 have only yourself to blame for it, for annoying
 me.

Syr. Well, let that pass.
 But tell me the distance between us in flea’s feet;
 for people say that your geometry includes such
 measurements as that. 
 At this Antisthenes said
 to Philip: You are clever at hitting off a person’s
 likeness; wouldn’t you say that our friend here
 resembles one with a penchant for abuse? 
 Yes, indeed, came the
 answer; and I see a resemblance in him to many
 another kind of person, too.

Nevertheless, interposed
 Socrates ,
 do not draw the comparison, lest you take on a
 similar likeness to one stooping to abuse. 
 But suppose I am likening
 him to all the upright, the very elite; then I
 should deserve to be compared to a eulogist, rather
 than to a detractor. 
 Ah, you resemble the
 latter right now, for you are asserting that every
 one is better than he.

Would you have me compare
 him to those who excel him in villainy? 
 No, not those,
 either. 
 What, to no one? 
 No; don’t compare him to
 any one in any particular. 
 But if I hold my peace, I
 do not understand how I am going to render services
 suitable to such a fine dinner. 
 That is easily effected, 
 said
 Socrates ,
 if you will be reticent on matters that should not
 be talked about. 
 Thus was quenched this bit
 of convivial unpleasantness.

Then some among the rest
 of the banqueters kept urging Philip to go on with
 his comparisons, while others opposed. As the
 clamour rose to some height,
 Socrates 
 once more interposed, saying: Since we all want to
 talk, would this not be a fine time to join in
 singing? And with the words he began a song.

When they had finished, a potter’s wheel was brought in
 for the dancing girl on which she intended
 performing some feats of jugglery.
 This prompted
 Socrates 
 to observe to the Syracusan: Sir, it is quite
 probable that, to use your words, I am indeed a
 thinker ; at any rate, I am now considering how it
 might be possible for this lad of yours and this
 maid to exert as little effort as may be, and at the
 same time give us the greatest possible amount of
 pleasure in watching them,—this being your purpose,
 also, I am sure.

Now, turning somersaults in among knives seems to me to
 be a dangerous exhibition, which is utterly out of
 place at a banquet. Also, to write or read aloud on
 a whirling potter’s wheel may perhaps be something
 of a feat; yet I cannot conceive what pleasure even
 this can afford. Nor is it any more diverting to
 watch the young and beautiful going through bodily
 contortions and imitating hoops than to contemplate
 them in repose.

For it is of course no rare event to meet with marvels,
 if that is what one’s mind is set on. He may marvel
 at what he finds immediately at hand,—for instance,
 why the lamp gives light owing to its having a
 bright flame, while a bronze mirror, likewise
 bright, does not produce light but instead reflects
 other things that appear in it; or how it comes
 about that olive oil, though wet, makes the flame
 higher, while water, because it is wet, puts the
 fire out.

However, these questions also fail to promote the same
 object that wine does; but if the young people were
 to have a flute accompaniment and dance figures
 depicting the Graces, the Horae, and the Nymphs, I
 believe that they would be far less wearied
 themselves and that the charms of the banquet would
 be greatly enhanced. 
 Upon my word,
 Socrates , 
 replied the Syracusan, you are quite right; and I
 will bring in a spectacle that will delight you.

So the Syracusan withdrew
 amid applause.
 Socrates 
 now opened up another new topic for discussion.
 Gentlemen, said he, it is to be expected of us,
 is it not, when in the presence of a mighty deity
 that is coeval with the eternal gods, yet youngest
 of them all in appearance, in magnitude encompassing
 the universe, but enthroned in the heart of man,—I
 mean Love,—that we should not be unmindful of him,
 particularly in view of the fact that we are all of
 his following?

For I cannot name a time when I was not in love with some
 one, and I know that Charmides here has gained many
 lovers and has in some instances felt the passion
 himself; and Critobulus, though even yet the object
 of love, is already beginning to feel this passion
 for others.

Nay, Niceratus too, so I am told, is in love with his
 wife and finds his love reciprocated. And as for
 Hermogenes, who of us does not know that he is
 pining away with love for nobility of character,
 whatever that may be? Do you not observe how serious
 his brows are, how calm his gaze, how modest his
 words, how gentle his voice, how genial his
 demeanour? That though he enjoys the friendship of
 the most august gods, yet he does not disdain us
 mortals? Are you the only person, Antisthenes, in
 love with no one?

No, by Heaven! replied
 he; I am madly in love—with you. 
 And
 Socrates ,
 banteringly, pretending to be coquettish, said:
 Don’t pester me just now; I am engaged in other
 business, as you see.

How transparent you are,
 sir procurer of your own charms, Antisthenes
 rejoined, in always doing something like this; at
 one time you refuse me audience on the pretext of
 your divine sign, at another time
 because you have some other purpose in mind.

In Heaven’s name,
 Antisthenes, implored
 Socrates ,
 only refrain from beating me; any other
 manifestation of your bad temper I am wont to
 endure, and shall continue to do so, in a friendly
 spirit. But, he went on, let us keep your love a
 secret, because it is founded not on my spirit but
 on my physical beauty.

But as for you, Callias, all the city knows that you are
 in love with Autolycus, and so, I think, do a great
 many men from abroad. The reason for this is the
 fact that you are both sons of distinguished fathers
 and are yourselves in the public eye.

Now, I have always felt an admiration for your character,
 but at the present time I feel a much keener one,
 for I see that you are in love with a person who is
 not marked by dainty elegance nor wanton effeminacy,
 but shows to the world physical strength and
 stamina, virile courage and sobriety. Setting one’s
 heart on such traits gives an insight into the
 lover’s character.

Now, whether there is one Aphrodite or two, Heavenly 
 and Vulgar, I do not know; for even Zeus, though
 considered one and the same, yet has many by-names.
 I do know, however, that in the case of Aphrodite
 there are separate altars and temples for the two,
 and also rituals, those of the Vulgar Aphrodite
 excelling in looseness, those of the Heavenly in
 chastity.

One might conjecture, also, that different types of love
 come from the different sources, carnal love from
 the Vulgar Aphrodite, and from the Heavenly 
 spiritual love, love of friendship and of noble
 conduct. That is the sort of love, Callias, that
 seems to have you in its grip.

I infer this from the noble nature of the one you love
 and because I see that you include his father in
 your meetings with him. For the virtuous lover does
 not make any of these matters a secret from the
 father of his beloved.

Marry, quoth Hermogenes,
 you arouse my admiration in numerous ways,
 Socrates ,
 but now more than ever, because in the very act of
 flattering Callias you are in fact educating him to
 conform to the ideal. 
 True, he replied; and
 to add to his pleasure, I wish to bear testimony to
 him that spiritual love is far superior to carnal.

For we all know that there is no converse worth the
 mention that does not comprise affection. Now
 affection on the part of those who feel admiration
 for character is commonly termed a pleasant and
 willing constraint; whereas many of those who have a
 merely physical concupiscence reprehend and detest
 the ways of those they love.

But suppose they are satisfied on both scores; yet the
 bloom of youth soon passes its prime, and as this
 disappears, affection also inevitably fades away as
 fast; but the soul becomes more and more lovable the
 longer it progresses toward wisdom.

Besides, in the enjoyment of physical beauty there is a
 point of surfeit, so that one cannot help feeling
 toward his favourite the same effect that he gets
 toward food by gratification of the appetite. But
 affection for the soul, being pure, is also less
 liable to satiety, though it does not follow, as one
 might suppose, that it is also less rich in the
 graces of Aphrodite; on the contrary, our prayer
 that the goddess will bestow her grace on our words
 and deeds is manifestly answered.

Now, no further argument is necessary to show that a soul
 verdant with the beauty of freeborn men and with a
 disposition that is reverent and noble, a soul that
 from the very first displays its leadership among
 its own fellows and is kindly withal, feels an
 admiration and an affection for the object of its
 love; but I will go on to prove the reasonableness
 of the position that such a lover will have his
 affection returned.

First, who could feel dislike for one by whom he knew
 himself to be regarded as the pattern of nobleness,
 and, in the next place, saw that he made his
 favourite’s honour of more account than his own
 pleasure, and beside this felt assured that this
 affection would not be lessened under any
 circumstances, no matter whether he suffered some
 reverse or lost his comeliness through the ravages
 of illness?

Moreover, must not those who enjoy a mutual affection
 unavoidably take pleasure in looking into each
 other’s faces, converse in amity, and trust and be
 trusted, and not only take thought each for the
 other but also take a common joy in prosperity and
 feel a common distress if some ill fortune befall,
 and live in happiness when their society is attended
 by sound health, but be much more constantly
 together if one or the other become ill, and be even
 more solicitous, each for the other, when absent
 than when present? Are not all these things marked
 by Aphrodite’s grace? It is by conducting themselves
 thus that men continue mutually to love friendship
 and enjoy it clear down to old age.

But what is there to induce a favourite to make a return
 of affection to a lover who bases his feeling solely
 on the flesh? Would it be the consideration that the
 lover allots to himself the joys he desires but
 gives the favourite only what excites the deepest
 contempt? Or that he conceals, as best he can, from
 the favourite’s relatives the ends that he is bent
 on attaining?

As for his using entreaty rather than coercion, that is
 all the stronger reason for detestation. For any one
 who applies force merely discovers his rascality,
 but he who uses persuasion corrupts the soul of the
 one upon whom he prevails.

Once more, how will he who traffics in his beauty feel
 greater affection toward the buyer than he who puts
 his produce up for sale and disposes of it in the
 open market? For assuredly he will not be moved to
 affection because he is a youthful companion to one
 who is not youthful, or because he is handsome when
 the other is no longer so, or because he is
 untouched by passion when the other is in its sway.
 For a youth does not share in the pleasure of the
 intercourse as a woman does, but looks on, sober, at
 another in love’s intoxication.

Consequently, it need not excite any surprise if contempt
 for the lover is engendered in him. If one looked
 into the matter, also, he would descry no ill effect
 when people are loved for their personality, but
 that many shocking results have come from
 companionship lost to shame.

I will now go on to show also that the union is servile
 when one’s regard is for the body rather than when
 it is for the soul. For he who inculcates right
 speech and conduct would merit the honour given by
 Achilles to Cheiron and Phoenix; but the man who lusts only after
 the flesh would with good reason be treated like a
 mendicant; for he is always dogging the footsteps of
 his favourite, begging and beseeching the favour of
 one more kiss or some other caress.

Do not be surprised at my plain speaking; the wine helps
 to incite me, and the kind of love that ever dwells
 with me spurs me on to say what I think about its
 opposite.

For, to my way of thinking, the man whose attention is
 attracted only by his beloved’s appearance is like
 one who has rented a farm; his aim is not to
 increase its value but to gain from it as much of a
 harvest as he can for himself. On the other hand,
 the man whose goal is friendship is more like one
 possessing a farm of his own; at any rate he
 utilizes all sources to enhance his loved one’s
 worth.

Furthermore, the favourite who realizes that he who
 lavishes physical charms will be the lover’s
 sovereign will in all likelihood be loose in his
 general conduct; but the one who feels that he
 cannot keep his lover faithful without nobility of
 character will more probably give heed to virtue.

But the greatest blessing that befalls the man who yearns
 to render his favourite a good friend is the
 necessity of himself making virtue his habitual
 practice. For one cannot produce goodness in his
 companion while his own conduct is evil, nor can he
 himself exhibit shamelessness and incontinence and
 at the same time render his beloved self-controlled
 and reverent.

My heart is set on showing you, Callias, on the basis of
 olden tales, also, that not only humankind but also
 gods and demi-gods set higher value on the
 friendship of the spirit than on the enjoyment of
 the body.

For in all cases where Zeus became enamoured of mortal
 women for their beauty, though he united with them
 he suffered them to remain mortal; but all those
 persons whom he delighted in for their souls’ sake
 he made immortal. Among the latter are Heracles and
 the Sons of Zeus; and tradition includes
 others also.

And I aver that even in the case of Ganymede, it was not
 his person but his spiritual character that
 influenced Zeus to carry him up to Olympus . This is
 confirmed by his very name. Homer, you remember, has
 the words, 
 He joys to hear; 
 Perhaps Homeric Poems 
 that is to say, he rejoices to hear ; and in
 another place, 
 harbouring shrewd devices in
 his heart. 
 Perhaps Iliad , 7.278, 17.325,
 18.363, 24.88, 282, 674 or Odyssey ,
 2.38, 11.445, 19.353, 20.46. 
 This, again, means harbouring wise counsels
 in his heart. So the name given Ganymede,
 compounded of the two foregoing elements, signifies
 not physically but mentally attractive; hence his honour
 among the gods.

Or again, Niceratus, Homer pictures us Achilles looking
 upon Patroclus not as the object of his passion but
 as a comrade, and in this spirit signally avenging
 his death. So we have songs telling also how
 Orestes, Pylades, Theseus, Peirithous, and many
 other illustrious demi-gods wrought glorious deeds
 of valour side by side, not because they shared a
 common bed but because of mutual admiration and
 respect.

Moreover, take the splendid feats of the present day;
 would not a person discover that they are all done
 for glory’s sake by persons willing to endure
 hardship and jeopardy, rather than by those who are
 drifting into the habit of preferring pleasure to a
 good name? Yet Pausanias, the lover of the poet
 Agathon, has said in his defence of those who wallow
 in lasciviousness that the most valiant army, even,
 would be one recruited of lovers and their
 favourites!

For these, he said, would in his opinion be most likely
 to be prevented by shame from deserting one
 another,—a strange assertion, indeed, that persons
 acquiring an habitual indifference to censure and to
 abandoned conduct toward one another will be most
 likely to be deterred by shame from any infamous
 act.

But he went further and adduced as evidence in support of
 his position both the Thebans and the Eleans,
 alleging that this was their policy; he stated, in
 fine, that though sharing common beds they
 nevertheless assigned to their favourites places
 alongside themselves in the battle-line. But this is
 a false analogy; for such practices, though normal
 among them, with us are banned by the severest
 reprobation. My own view is that those who assign
 these posts in battle suggest thereby that they are
 suspicious that the objects of their love, if left
 by themselves, will not perform the duties of brave
 men.

In contrast to this, the Lacedaemonians, who hold that if
 a person so much as feels a carnal concupiscence he
 will never come to any good end, cause the objects
 of their love to be so consummately brave that even
 when arrayed with foreigners and even when not
 stationed in the same line with their lovers they
 just as surely feel ashamed to desert their
 comrades. For the goddess they worship is not
 Impudence but Modesty.

We could all come to one mind, I think, on the point I am
 trying to make, if we were to consider the question
 in this way: of two lads, the objects of the
 different types of love, which one would a person
 prefer to trust with his money, or his children, or
 to lay under the obligation of a favour? My own
 belief is that even the person whose love is founded
 on the loved one’s physical beauty would in all
 these cases rather put his trust in him whose
 loveliness is of the spirit.

In your case, Callias, I deem it meet that you should
 thank Heaven for inspiring you with love for
 Autolycus. For his ardour for glory is manifest,
 inasmuch as he undergoes many toils and many bodily
 discomforts to ensure his being proclaimed victor in
 the pancratium.

Now if he were to believe that he is going not merely to
 shed lustre on himself and his father but also to
 acquire through his manly virtue the ability to
 serve his friends and to exalt his country by
 setting up trophies of victory over its enemies, and
 for these reasons draw the admiring glances of all
 and be famous among both Greeks and barbarians, do
 you not suppose that he would esteem and honour
 highly any one whom he looked upon as the best
 partner in furthering these designs?

If, then, you would be in his good graces, you must try
 to find out what sort of knowledge it was that made
 Themistocles able to give Greece liberty; you
 must try to find out what kind of knowledge it was
 that gave Pericles the name of being his country’s
 wisest counsellor; you must reflect, further, how it
 was that Solon by deep meditation established in his
 city laws of surpassing worth; you must search and
 find out what kind of practices it is that gives the
 Lacedaemonians the reputation of being pre-eminent
 military commanders; for you are their
 proxenus, and their
 foremost citizens are always being entertained at
 your house.

You may regard it as certain, therefore, that our city
 would be quick to entrust itself to your hands, if
 you so desire. For you possess the highest
 qualifications for such a trust: you are of
 aristocratic birth, of Erechtheus’ line, a priest serving the gods who under
 the leadership of Iacchus took the field against the
 barbarian; and in
 our day you outshine your predecessors in the
 splendour of your priestly office in the
 festival; and you possess a
 person more goodly to the eye than any other in the
 city and one at the same time able to withstand
 effort and hardship.

If what I say appears to you gentlemen to be too grave
 and earnest for a drinking party, I beg you again
 not to be surprised. For during practically all my
 life I have been at one with the commonwealth in
 loving men who to a nature already good add a
 zealous desire for virtue.

The rest of the company
 now engaged in a discussion of the views propounded
 by Socrates ;
 but Autolycus kept his eyes fixed on Callias. And
 Callias, addressing
 Socrates ,
 but looking beyond him and returning the gaze of
 Autolycus, said: So you intend acting the procurer,
 do you,
 Socrates ,
 to bring me to the attention of the commonwealth, so
 that I may enter politics, and the state may always
 look upon me with favour?

Assuredly, was the
 reply, that is, if people see that you set your
 heart on virtue, not in pretence, but in reality.
 For false reputation is soon exposed when tried by
 experience, whereas true manly virtue,—barring the
 interposition of Providence,—confers ever more and
 more brilliant glory when put to the test of actual
 deeds.

Their conversation ended
 here. Autolycus got up to go out for a walk (it
 being now his usual time); and his father Lycon, as
 he was departing to accompany him, turned back and
 said: So help me Hera, Socrates, you seem to me to
 have a truly noble character.

After he had withdrawn, a
 chair of state, first of all, was set down in the
 room, and then the Syracusan came in with the
 announcement: Gentlemen, Ariadne will now enter the
 chamber set apart for her and Dionysus; after that,
 Dionysus, a little flushed with wine drunk at a
 banquet of the gods, will come to join her; and then
 they will disport themselves together.

Then, to start
 proceedings, in came Ariadne, apparelled as a bride,
 and took her seat in the chair. Dionysus being still
 invisible, there was heard the Bacchic music played
 on a flute. Then it was that the assemblage was
 filled with admiration of the dancing master. For as
 soon as Ariadne heard the strain, her action was
 such that every one might have perceived her joy at
 the sound; and although she did not go to meet
 Dionysus, nor even rise, yet it was clear that she
 kept her composure with difficulty.

But when Dionysus caught sight of her, he came dancing
 toward her and in a most loving manner sat himself
 on her lap, and putting his arms about her gave her
 a kiss. Her demeanour was all modesty, and yet she
 returned his embrace with affection. As the
 banqueters beheld it, they kept clapping and crying
 encore!

Then when Dionysus arose and gave his hand to Ariadne to
 rise also, there was presented the impersonation of
 lovers kissing and caressing each other. The
 onlookers viewed a Dionysus truly handsome, an
 Ariadne truly fair, not presenting a burlesque but
 offering genuine kisses with their lips; and they
 were all raised to a high pitch of enthusiasm as
 they looked on.

For they overheard Dionysus asking her if she loved him,
 and heard her vowing that she did, so earnestly that
 not only Dionysus but all the bystanders as well
 would have taken their oaths in confirmation that
 the youth and the maid surely felt a mutual
 affection. For theirs was the appearance not of
 actors who had been taught their poses but of
 persons now permitted to satisfy their
 long-cherished desires.

At last, the banqueters, seeing them in each other’s
 embrace and obviously leaving for the bridal couch,
 those who were unwedded swore that they would take
 to themselves wives, and those who were already
 married mounted horse and rode off to their wives
 that they might enjoy them. As for Socrates and the
 others who had lingered behind, they went out with
 Callias to join Lycon and his son in their walk.
 So broke up the banquet
 held that evening.