Lysis | Page 4

then the just would be the friend of the
unjust, good of evil. Thus we arrive at the conclusion that like is not the
friend of like, nor unlike of unlike; and therefore good is not the friend
of good, nor evil of evil, nor good of evil, nor evil of good. What
remains but that the indifferent, which is neither good nor evil, should
be the friend (not of the indifferent, for that would be 'like the friend of
like,' but) of the good, or rather of the beautiful? But why should the
indifferent have this attachment to the beautiful or good? There are
circumstances under which such an attachment would be natural.
Suppose the indifferent, say the human body, to be desirous of getting
rid of some evil, such as disease, which is not essential but only
accidental to it (for if the evil were essential the body would cease to be
indifferent, and would become evil)--in such a case the indifferent
becomes a friend of the good for the sake of getting rid of the evil. In
this intermediate 'indifferent' position the philosopher or lover of
wisdom stands: he is not wise, and yet not unwise, but he has ignorance
accidentally clinging to him, and he yearns for wisdom as the cure of

the evil. (Symp.) After this explanation has been received with
triumphant accord, a fresh dissatisfaction begins to steal over the mind
of Socrates: Must not friendship be for the sake of some ulterior end?
and what can that final cause or end of friendship be, other than the
good? But the good is desired by us only as the cure of evil; and
therefore if there were no evil there would be no friendship. Some other
explanation then has to be devised. May not desire be the source of
friendship? And desire is of what a man wants and of what is congenial
to him. But then the congenial cannot be the same as the like; for like,
as has been already shown, cannot be the friend of like. Nor can the
congenial be the good; for good is not the friend of good, as has been
also shown. The problem is unsolved, and the three friends, Socrates,
Lysis, and Menexenus, are still unable to find out what a friend is. Thus,
as in the Charmides and Laches, and several of the other Dialogues of
Plato (compare especially the Protagoras and Theaetetus), no
conclusion is arrived at. Socrates maintains his character of a 'know
nothing;' but the boys have already learned the lesson which he is
unable to teach them, and they are free from the conceit of knowledge.
(Compare Chrm.) The dialogue is what would be called in the language
of Thrasyllus tentative or inquisitive. The subject is continued in the
Phaedrus and Symposium, and treated, with a manifest reference to the
Lysis, in the eighth and ninth books of the Nicomachean Ethics of
Aristotle. As in other writings of Plato (for example, the Republic),
there is a progress from unconscious morality, illustrated by the
friendship of the two youths, and also by the sayings of the poets ('who
are our fathers in wisdom,' and yet only tell us half the truth, and in this
particular instance are not much improved upon by the philosophers),
to a more comprehensive notion of friendship. This, however, is far
from being cleared of its perplexity. Two notions appear to be
struggling or balancing in the mind of Socrates:--First, the sense that
friendship arises out of human needs and wants; Secondly, that the
higher form or ideal of friendship exists only for the sake of the good.
That friends are not necessarily either like or unlike, is also a truth
confirmed by experience. But the use of the terms 'like' or 'good' is too
strictly limited; Socrates has allowed himself to be carried away by a
sort of eristic or illogical logic against which no definition of friendship
would be able to stand. In the course of the argument he makes a

distinction between property and accident which is a real contribution
to the science of logic. Some higher truths appear through the mist. The
manner in which the field of argument is widened, as in the Charmides
and Laches by the introduction of the idea of knowledge, so here by the
introduction of the good, is deserving of attention. The sense of the
inter-dependence of good and evil, and the allusion to the possibility of
the non-existence of evil, are also very remarkable. The dialectical
interest is fully sustained by the dramatic accompaniments. Observe,
first, the scene, which is a Greek Palaestra, at a time when a sacrifice is
going on, and the Hermaea are in course of celebration; secondly, the
'accustomed irony' of Socrates, who declares, as