Economics

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 397 sections

9.16.1
Moreover, I taught her that she should not be vexed that I assigned heavier duties to her than to the servants in respect of our possessions. Servants, I pointed out, carry, tend and guard their master’s property, and only in this sense have a share in it; they have no right to use anything except by the owner’s leave; but everything belongs to the master, to use it as he will.
9.17.1
Therefore, I explained, he who gains most by the preservation of the goods and loses most by their destruction, is the one who is bound to take most care of them.
9.18.1
Well, now, Ischomachus, said I, was your wife inclined to pay heed to your words? Why, Socrates, he cried, she just told me that I was mistaken if I supposed that I was laying a hard task on her in telling her that she must take care of our things. It would have been harder, she said, had I required her to neglect her own possessions, than to have the duty of attending to her own peculiar blessings.
9.19.1
The fact is, he added, just as it naturally comes easier to a good woman to care for her own children than to neglect them, so, I imagine, a good woman finds it pleasanter to look after her own possessions than to neglect them.
10.1.1
Now when I heard that his wife had given him this answer, I exclaimed; Upon my word, Ischomachus, your wife has a truly masculine mind by your showing! Yes, said Ischomachus, and I am prepared to give you other examples of high-mindedness on her part, when a word from me was enough to secure her instant obedience. Tell me what they are, I cried; for if Zeuxis showed me a fair woman’s portrait painted by his own hand, it would not give me half the pleasure I derive from the contemplation of a living woman’s virtues.
10.2.1
Thereupon Ischomachus took up his parable. Well, one day, Socrates, I noticed that her face was made up: she had rubbed in white lead in order to look even whiter than she is, and alkanet juice to heighten the rosy colour of her cheeks; and she was wearing boots with thick soles to increase her height.
10.3.1
So I said to her, Tell me, my dear, how should I appear more worthy of your love as a partner in our goods, by disclosing to you our belongings just as they are, without boasting of imaginary possessions or concealing any part of what we have, or by trying to trick you with an exaggerated account, showing you bad money and gilt necklaces and describing clothes that will fade as real purple?
10.4.1
Hush! she broke in immediately, pray don’t be like that—I could not love you with all my heart if you were like that! Then, are we not joined together by another bond of union, dear, to be partners in our bodies?
10.5.1
The world says so, at any rate. How then should I seem more worthy of your love in this partnership of the body—by striving to have my body hale and strong when I present it to you, and so literally to be of a good countenance in your sight, or by smearing my cheeks with red lead and painting myself under the eyes with rouge before I show myself to you and clasp you in my arms, cheating you and offering to your eyes and hands red lead instead of my real flesh?
10.6.1
Oh, she cried, I would sooner touch you than red lead, would sooner see your own colour than rouge, would sooner see your eyes bright than smeared with grease.
10.7.1
Then please assume, my dear, that I do not prefer white paint and dye of alkanet to your real colour; but just as the gods have made horses to delight in horses, cattle in cattle, sheep in sheep, so human beings find the human body undisguised most delightful.
10.8.1
Tricks like these may serve to gull outsiders, but people who live together are bound to be found out, if they try to deceive one another. For they are found out while they are dressing in the morning; they perspire and are lost; a tear convicts them; the bath reveals them as they are! And, pray, what did she say to that?
10.9.1
I asked. Nothing, he said, only she gave up such practices from that day forward, and tried to let me se her undisguised and as she should be. Still, she did ask whether I could advise her on one point: how she might make herself really beautiful, instead of merely seeming to be so.
10.10.1
And this was my advice, Socrates: Don’t sit about for ever like a slave, but try, God helping you, to behave as a mistress: stand before the loom and be ready to instruct those who know less than you, and to learn from those who know more: look after the bakingmaid: stand by the housekeeper when she is serving out stores: go round and see whether everything is in its place. For I thought that would give her a walk as well as occupation.
10.11.1
I also said it was excellent exercise to mix flour and knead dough; and to shake and fold cloaks and bedclothes; such excercise would give her a better appetite, improve her health, and add natural colour to her cheeks.
10.12.1
Besides, when a wife’s looks outshine a maid’s and she is fresher and more becomingly dressed, they’re a ravishing sight, especially when the wife is also willing to oblige, whereas the girl’s services are compulsory.
10.13.1
But wives who sit about like fine ladies, expose themselves to comparison with painted and fraudulent hussies. And now, Socrates, you may be sure, my wife’s dress and appearance are in accord with my instructions and with my present description.
11.1.1
At this point I said, Ischomachus, I think your account of your wife’s occupations is sufficient for the present—and very creditable it is to both of you. But now tell me of your own: thus you will have the satisfaction of stating the reasons why you are so highly respected, and I shall be much beholden to you for a complete account of a gentleman’s occupations, and if my understanding serves, for a thorough knowledge of them.
11.2.1
Well then, Socrates, answered Ischomachus, it will be a very great pleasure to me to give you an account of my daily occupations, that you may correct me if you think there is anything amiss in my conduct.
11.3.1
As to that, said I, how could I presume to correct a perfect gentleman, I who am supposed to be a mere chatterer with my head in the air, I who am called—the most senseless of all taunts—a poor beggar?
11.4.1
I do assure you, Ischomachus, this last imputation would have driven me to despair, were it not that a day or two ago I came upon the horse of Nicias the foreigner. I saw a crowd walking behind the creature and staring, and heard some of them talking volubly about him. Well, I went up to the groom and asked him if the horse had many possessions.
11.5.1
The man looked at me as if I must be mad to ask such a question, and asked me how a horse could own property. At that I recovered, for his answer showed that it is possible even for a poor horse to be a good one, if nature has given him a good spirit.
11.6.1
Assume, therefore, that it is possible for me to be a good man, and give me a complete account of your occupations, that, so far as my understanding allows me, I may endeavour to follow your example from to-morrow morning; for that’s a good day for entering on a course of virtue.
11.7.1
You’re joking, Socrates, said Ischomachus; nevertheless I will tell you what principles I try my best to follow consistently in life.
11.8.1
For I seem to realise that, while the gods have made it impossible for men to prosper without knowing and attending to the things they ought to do, to some of the wise and careful they grant prosperity, and to some deny it; and therefore I begin by worshipping the gods, and try to conduct myself in such a way that I may have health and strength in answer to my prayers, the respect of my fellow-citizens, the affection of my friends, safety with honour in war, and wealth increased by honest means.
11.9.1
What, Ischomachus, I asked on hearing that, do you really want to be rich and to have much, along with much trouble to take care of it? The answer to your questions, said he, is, Yes, I do indeed. For I would fain honour the gods without counting the cost, Socrates, help friends in need, and look to it that the city lacks no adornment that my means can supply.
11.10.1
Truly noble aspirations, Ischomachus, I cried, and worthy of a man of means, no doubt! Seeing that there are many who cannot live without help from others, and many are content if they can get enough for their own needs, surely those who can maintain their own estate and yet have enough left to adorn the city and relieve their friends may well be thought high and mighty men.
11.11.1
However, I added, praise of such men is a commonplace among us. Please return to your first statement, Ischomachus, and tell me how you take care of your health and your strength, how you make it possible to come through war with safety and honour. I shall be content to hear about your money-making afterwards.
11.12.1
Well, Socrates, replied Ischomachus, all these things hang together, so far as I can see. For if a man has plenty to eat, and works off the effects properly, I take it that he both insures his health and adds to his strength. By training himself in the arts of war he is more qualified to save himself honourably, and by due diligence and avoidance of loose habits, he is more likely to increase his estate.
11.13.1
So far, Ischomachus, I follow you, I answered. You mean that by working after meals, by diligence and by training, a man is more apt to obtain the good things of life. But now I should like you to give me details. By what kind of work do you endeavour to keep your health and strength? How do you train yourself in the arts of war? What diligence do you use to have a surplus from which to help friends and strengthen the city?
11.14.1
Well now, Socrates, replied Ischomachus, I rise from my bed at an hour when, if I want to call on anyone, I am sure to find him still at home. If I have any business to do in town, I make it an opportunity for getting a walk.
11.15.1
If there is nothing pressing to be done in town, my servant leads my horse to the farm, and I make my walk by going to it on foot, with more benefit, perhaps, Socrates, than if I took a turn in the arcade.
11.16.1
When I reach the farm, I may find planting, clearing, sowing or harvesting in progress. I superintend all the details of the work, and make any improvements in method that I can suggest.
11.17.1
After this, I usually mount my horse and go through exercises, imitating as closely as I can the exercises needed in warfare. I avoid neither slope nor steep incline, ditch nor watercourse, but I use all possible care not to lame my horse when he takes them.
11.18.1
After I have finished, the servant gives the horse a roll and leads him home, bringing with him from the farm anything we happen to want in the city. I divide the return home between walking and running. Arrived, I clean myself with a strigil, and then I have luncheon, Socrates, eating just enough to get through the day neither empty-bellied nor too full.
11.19.1
Upon my word, Ischomachus, cried I, I am delighted with your activities. For you have a pack of appliances for securing health and strength, of exercises for war and specifies for getting rich, and you use them all at the same time! That does seem to me admirable!
11.20.1
And in fact you afford convincing proofs that your method in pursuing each of these objects is sound. For we see you generally in the enjoyment of health and strength, thanks to the gods, and we know that you are considered one of our best horsemen and wealthiest citizens.
11.21.1
And what comes of these activities, Socrates? Not, as you perhaps expected to hear, that I am generally dubbed a gentleman, but that I am persistently slandered.
11.22.1
Ah, said I, but I was meaning to ask you, Ischomachus, whether you include in your system ability to conduct a prosecution and defence, in case you have to appear in the courts? Why, Socrates, he answered, do you not see that this is just what I am constantly practising—showing my traducers that I wrong no man and do all the good I can to many? And do you not think that I practise myself in accusing, by taking careful note of certain persons who are doing wrong to many individuals and to the state, and are doing no good to anyone?
11.23.1
But tell me one thing more, Ischomachus, I said; do you also practise the art of expounding these matters? Why, Socrates, he replied, I assiduously practise the art of speaking. For I get one of the servants to act as prosecutor or defendant, and try to confute him; or I praise or blame someone before his friends; or I act as peace-maker between some of my acquaintances by trying to show them that it is to their interest to be friends rather than enemies.
11.24.1
I assist at a court-martial and censure a soldier, or take turns in defending a man who is unjustly blamed, or in accusing one who is unjustly honoured. We often sit in counsel and speak in support of the course we want to adopt and against the course we want to avoid.
11.25.1
I have often been singled out before now, Socrates, and condemned to suffer punishment or pay damages. By whom, Ischomachus? I asked; I am in the dark about that!’ By my wife, was his answer. And, pray, how do you plead? said I. Pretty well, when it is to my interest to speak the truth. But when lying is called for, Socrates, I can’t make the worse cause appear the better—oh no, not at all. Perhaps, Ischomachus, I commented, you can’t make the falsehood into the truth!
12.1.1
But perhaps I am keeping you, Ischomachus, I continued, and you want to get away now? Oh no, Socrates, he answered; I should not think of going before the market empties.
12.2.1
To be sure, I continued; you take the utmost care not to forfeit your right to be called a gentleman! For I daresay there are many things claiming your attention now; but, as you have made an appointment with those strangers, you are determined not to break it. But I assure you, Socrates, I am not neglecting the matters you refer to, either; for I keep bailiff’s on my farms.
12.3.1
And when you want a bailiff, Ischomachus, do you look out for a man qualified for such a post, and then try to buy him—when you want a builder, I feel sure you inquire for a qualified man and try to get him—or do you train your bailiff’s yourself?
12.4.1
Of course I try to train them myself, Socrates. For the man has to be capable of taking charge in my absence; so why need he know anything but what I know myself? For if I am fit to manage the farm, I presume I can teach another man what I know myself.
12.5.1
Then the first requirement will be that he should be loyal to you and yours, if he is to represent you in your absence. For if a steward is not loyal, what is the good of any knowledge he may possess? None, of course; but I may tell you, loyalty to me and to mine is the first lesson I try to teach.
12.6.1
And how, in heaven’s name, do you teach your man to be loyal to you and yours? By rewarding him, of course, whenever the gods bestow some good thing on us in abundance.
12.7.1
You mean, then, that those who enjoy a share of your good things are loyal to you and want you to prosper? Yes, Socrates, I find that is the best instrument for producing loyalty.
12.8.1
But, now, if he is loyal to you, Ischomachus, will that be enough to make him a competent bailiff? Don’t you see that though all men, practically, wish themselves well, yet there are many who won’t take the trouble to get for themselves the good things they want to have?
12.9.1
Well, when I want to make bailiffs of such men, of course I teach them also to be careful. Pray how do you do that?
12.10.1
I was under the impression that carefulness is a virtue that can’t possibly be taught. True, Socrates, it isn’t possible to teach everyone you come across to be careful.
12.11.1
Very well; what sort of men can be taught? Point these out to me, at all events. In the first place, Socrates, you can’t make careful men of hard drinkers; for drink makes them forget everything they ought to do.
12.12.1
Then are drunkards the only men who will never become careful, or are there others? Of course there are—sluggards must be included; for you can’t do your own business when you are asleep, nor make others do theirs.
12.13.1
Well, then, will these make up the total of persons incapable of learning this lesson, or are there yet others besides? I should add that in my opinion a man who falls desperately in love is incapable of giving more attention to anything than he gives to the object of his passion.
12.14.1
For it isn’t easy to find hope or occupation more delightful than devotion to the darling! aye, and when the thing to be done presses, no harder punishment can easily be thought of than the prevention of intercourse with the beloved! Therefore I shrink from attempting to make a manager of that sort of man too.
12.15.1
And what about the men who have a passion for lucre? Are they also incapable of being trained to take charge of the work of a farm? Not at all; of course not. In fact, they very easily qualify for the work. It is merely necessary to point out to them that diligence is profitable.
12.16.1
And assuming that the others are free from the faults that you condemn and are covetous of gain in a moderate degree, how do you teach them to be careful in the affairs you want them to superintend? By a very simple plan, Socrates. Whenever I notice that they are careful, I commend them and try to show them honour; but when they appear careless, I try to say and do the sort of things that will sting them.
12.17.1
Turn now, Ischomachus, from the subject of the men in training for the occupation, and tell me about the system: is it possible for anyone to make others careful if he is careless himself?
12.18.1
Of course not: an unmusical person could as soon teach music. For it is hard to learn to do a thing well when the teacher prompts you badly; and when a master prompts a servant to be careless, it is difficult for the man to become a good servant.
12.19.1
To put it shortly, I don’t think I have discovered a bad master with good servants: I have, however, come across a good master with bad servants—but they suffered for it! If you want to make men fit to take charge, you must supervise their work and examine it, and be ready to reward work well carried through, and not shrink from punishing carelessness as it deserves.
12.20.1
I like the answer that is attributed to the Persian. The king, you know, had happened on a good horse, and wanted to fatten him as speedily as possible. So he asked one who was reputed clever with horses what is the quickest way of fattening a horse. The master’s eye, replied the man. I think we may apply the answer generally, Socrates, and say that the master’s eye in the main does the good and worthy work.
13.1.1
When you have impressed on a man, I resumed, the necessity of careful attention to the duties you assign to him, will he then be competent to act as bailiff, or must he learn something besides, if he is to be efficient?
13.2.1
Of course, answered Ischomachus, he has still to understand what he has to do, and when and how to do it. Otherwise how could a bailiff be of more use than a doctor who takes care to visit a patient early and late, but has no notion of the right way to treat his illness?
13.3.1
Well, but suppose he has learned how farm-work is to be done, will he want something more yet, or will your man now be a perfect bailiff? I think he must learn to rule the labourers.
13.4.1
And do you train your bailiffs to be competent to rule too? Yes, I try, anyhow. And pray tell me how you train them to be rulers of men. By a childishly easy method, Socrates. I daresay you’ll laugh if I tell you.
13.5.1
Oh, but it is certainly not a laughing matter, Ischomachus. For anyone who can make men fit to rule others can also teach them to be masters of others; and if he can make them fit to be masters, he can make them fit to be kings. So anyone who can do that seems to me to deserve high praise rather than laughter.
13.6.1
Well now, Socrates, other creatures learn obedience in two ways—by being punished when they try to disobey, and by being rewarded when they are eager to serve you.
13.7.1
Colts, for example, learn to obey the horsebreaker by getting something they like when they are obedient, and suffering inconvenience when they are disobedient, until they carry out the horsebreaker’s intentions.
13.8.1
Puppies, again, are much inferior to men in intelligence and power of expression; and yet they learn to run in circles and turn somersaults and do many other tricks in the same way; for when they obey they get something that they want, and when they are careless, they are punished.
13.9.1
And men can be made more obedient by word of mouth merely, by being shown that it is good for them to obey. But in dealing with slaves the training thought suitable for wild animals is also a very effective way of teaching obedience; for you will do much with them by filling their bellies with the food they hanker after. Those of an ambitious disposition are also spurred on by praise, some natures being hungry for praise as others for meat and drink.
13.10.1
Now these are precisely the things that I do myself with a view to making men more obedient; but they are not the only lessons I give to those whom I want to appoint my bailiffs. I have other ways of helping them on. For the clothes that I must provide for my work-people and the shoes are not all alike. Some are better than others, some worse, in order that I may reward the better servant with the superior articles, and give the inferior things to the less deserving.
13.11.1
For I think it is very disheartening to good servants, Socrates, when they see that they do all the work, and others who are not willing to work hard and run risks when need be, get the same as they.
13.12.1
For my part, then, I don’t choose to put the deserving on a level with the worthless, and when I know that my bailiffs have distributed the best things to the most deserving, I commend them; and if I see that flattery or any other futile service wins special favour, I don’t overlook it, but reprove the bailiff, and try to show him, Socrates, that such favouritism is not even in his own interest.
14.1.1
Now, Ischomachus, said I, when you find your man so competent to rule that he can make them obedient, do you think him a perfect bailiff, or does he want anything else, even with the qualifications you have mentioned?
14.2.1
Of course, Socrates, returned Ischomachus, he must be honest and not touch his master’s property. For if the man who handles the crops dares to make away with them, and doesn’t leave enough to give a profit on the undertaking, what good can come of farming under his management?
14.3.1
Then do you take it on yourself to teach this kind of justice too? Certainly: I don’t find, however, that all readily pay heed to this lesson.
14.4.1
Nevertheless I guide the servants into the path of justice with the aid of maxims drawn from the laws of Draco and Solon. For it seems to me that these famous men enacted many of their laws with an eye on this particular kind of justice.
14.5.1
For it is written: thieves shall be fined for their thefts, and anyone guilty of attempt shall be imprisoned if taken in the act, and put to death. The object of these enactments was clearly to make covetousness unprofitable to the offender.
14.6.1
By applying some of these clauses and other enactments found in the Persian king’s code, I try to make my servants upright in the matters that pass through their hands.
14.7.1
For while those laws only penalise the wrongdoer, the king’s code not only punishes the guilty, but also benefits the upright. Thus, seeing that the honest grow richer than the dishonest, many, despite their love of lucre, are careful to remain free from dishonesty.
14.8.1
And if I find any attempting to persist in dishonesty, although they are well treated, I regard them as incorrigibly greedy, and have nothing more to do with them.
14.9.1
On the other hand, if I discover that a man is inclined to be honest not only because he gains by his honesty, but also from a desire to win my approbation, I treat him like a free man by making him rich; and not only so, but I honour him as a gentleman.
14.10.1
For I think, Socrates, that the difference between ambition and greed consists in this, that for the sake of praise and honour the ambitious are willing to work properly, to take risks and refrain from dishonest gain.
15.1.1
Well, well, I won’t go on to ask whether anything more is wanting to your man, after you have implanted in him a desire for your prosperity and have made him also careful to see that you achieve it, and have obtained for him, besides, the knowledge needful to ensure that every piece of work done shall add to the profits, and, further, have made him capable of ruling, and when, besides all this, he takes as much delight in producing heavy crops for you in due season as you would take if you did the work yourself. For it seems to me that a man like that would make a very valuable bailiff. Nevertheless, Ischomachus, don’t leave a gap in that part of the subject to which we have given the most cursory attention. Which is it? asked Ischomachus.
15.2.1
You said, you know, that the greatest lesson to learn is how things ought to be done; and added that, if a man is ignorant what to do and how to do it, no good can come of his management.
15.3.1
Then he said, Socrates, are you insisting now that I should teach the whole art and mystery of agriculture? Yes, said I; for maybe it is just this that makes rich men of those who understand it, and condemns the ignorant to a life of penury, for all their toil.
15.4.1
Well, Socrates, you shall now hear how kindly a thing is this art. Helpful, pleasant, honourable, dear to gods and men in the highest degree, it is also in the highest degree easy to learn. Noble qualities surely! As you know, we call those creatures noble that are beautiful, great and helpful, and yet gentle towards men.
15.5.1
Ah, but I think, Ischomachus, that I quite understand your account of these matters—I mean how to teach a bailiff; for I think I follow your statement that you make him loyal to you, and careful and capable of ruling and honest.
15.6.1
But you said that one who is to be successful in the management of a farm must learn what to do and how and when to do it. That is the subject that we have treated, it seems to me, in a rather cursory fashion,
15.7.1
as if you said that anyone who is to be capable of writing from dictation and reading what is written must know the alphabet. For had I been told that, I should have been told, to be sure, that I must know the alphabet, but I don’t think that piece of information would help me to know it.
15.8.1
So too now; I am easily convinced that a man who is to manage a farm successfully must understand farming, but that knowledge doesn’t help me to understand how to farm.
15.9.1
Were I to decide this very moment to be a farmer, I think I should be like that doctor who goes round visiting the sick, but has no knowledge of the right way to treat them. Therefore, that I may not be like him, you must teach me the actual operations of farming.
15.10.1
Why, Socrates, farming is not troublesome to learn, like other arts, which the pupil must study till he is worn out before he can earn his keep by his work. Some things you can understand by watching men at work, others by just being told, well enough to teach another if you wish. And I believe that you know a good deal about it yourself, without being aware of the fact.
15.11.1
The truth is that, whereas other artists conceal more or less the most important points in their own art, the farmer who plants best is most pleased when he is being watched, so is he who sows best. Question him about any piece of work well done: and he will tell you exactly how he did it.
15.12.1
So farming, Socrates, more than any other calling, seems to produce a generous disposition in its followers.
15.13.1
An excellent preamble, I cried, and not of a sort to damp the hearer’s curiosity. Come, describe it to me, all the more because it is so simple to learn. For it is no disgrace to you to teach elementary lessons, but far more a disgrace to me not to understand them, especially if they are really useful.
16.1.1
First then, Socrates, I want to show you that what is called the most complicated problem in agriculture by the authors who write most accurately on the theory of the subject, but are not practical farmers, is really a simple matter.
16.2.1
For they tell us that to be a successful farmer one must first know the nature of the soil. Yes, and they are right, I remarked; for if you don’t know what the soil is capable of growing, you can’t know, I suppose, what to plant or what to sow.
16.3.1
Well then, said Ischomachus, you can tell by looking at the crops and trees on another man’s land what the soil can and what it cannot grow. But when you have found out, it is useless to fight against the gods. For you are not likely to get a better yield from the land by sowing and planting what you want instead of the crops and trees that the land prefers.

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0032.tlg003.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0. Source.