Complete Works (139 page)

[e] F
RIEND
: Of course, for that is indeed the case.

S
OCRATES
: Value, then, is what brings profit, whether it’s small or large, and what has no value brings no profit.

F
RIEND
: Yes.

S
OCRATES
: And by “value,” do you mean anything other than “valuable to possess”?

F
RIEND
: Yes, “valuable to possess.”

S
OCRATES
: Moreover, by “valuable to possess,” do you mean the unbeneficial or the beneficial?

F
RIEND
: The beneficial, surely.

S
OCRATES
: Well, isn’t the beneficial good?

F
RIEND
: Yes.

[232]
S
OCRATES
: And so, my valiant warrior, haven’t we once again, for the third or fourth time, come to the agreement that what’s profitable is good?

F
RIEND
: So it seems.

S
OCRATES
: Do you remember the point from which this discussion of ours arose?

F
RIEND
: I think so.

S
OCRATES
: If not, I’ll remind you. You disagreed with me, claiming that good people do not want to make just any sort of profit, but only those that are good ones, and not the wicked ones.

F
RIEND
: Yes indeed.

S
OCRATES
: And doesn’t the argument now force us to agree that all gains, [b] small and large, are good?

F
RIEND
: It forces me, Socrates, rather than persuades me.

S
OCRATES
: Well, perhaps later it will also persuade you. But for now, whatever condition you’re in—persuaded or not—you do at least agree with us that all profits are good, both small and large.

F
RIEND
: I do agree.

S
OCRATES
: And do you agree that all virtuous people want all good things, or not?

F
RIEND
: I agree.

S
OCRATES
: Well now, you yourself said that wicked people love profits, [c] both small and large.

F
RIEND
: I did.

S
OCRATES
: So according to your argument, all people would be greedy, both the virtuous and the wicked.

F
RIEND
: Apparently.

S
OCRATES
: So, therefore, it is not a correct reproach, if someone reproaches another as being greedy—for it turns out that he who makes this reproach is greedy himself.

1
. The Greek words for “seasons and soils” rhyme.

2
. Omitting
all
’ in d4.

3
. Anacreon and Simonides were lyric poets of the sixth and early fifth centuries.

4
. Herms were statues with full heads of Hermes, the god of travellers, on rectangular pillars, often placed along roadways.

5
. The local districts into which Attica was divided.

6
. A mythical golden age when Cronus, the father of Zeus, ruled.

7
. A ritual in the Panathenaic procession.

RIVAL LOVERS

Translated by Jeffrey Mitscherling. In preparing this translation we have consulted, in addition to Burnet’s edition, that of Antonio Carlini,
Platone: Alcibiade, Alcibiade Secondo, Ipparco, Rivali
(Turin, 1964).

Socrates encounters a young man who is keen to learn something about everything
and who sneers at his rival, a young man whose strength is not knowledge
but athletic discipline. The young polymath supposes that in pursuing
universal general knowledge he is pursuing philosophy. Socrates rejects this
conception of philosophy. Since no generalist can master a number of subjects
to the same standard as a specialist can master his speciality, no one with general
knowledge can ever excel in any field, but must be like the pentathlete who
may win overall but be only a runner-up in each individual competition. No
generalist can therefore ever claim any right to authority, not even over mere
workmen—as the true philosopher must. For Socrates, philosophy is essentially
a discipline of authority—the authority to evaluate, improve, and discipline oneself
and others, an authority based on justice, good sense, and self-knowledge.

The dialogue’s charming setting and amusing touches invite comparison
with Plato’s
Charmides,
where the Socratic ideal of self-control and good
sense through self-knowledge is shown to involve subtleties that need exploring
in a deeper philosophical investigation. Elsewhere Plato argued that the (very
few) people who are capable of intelligent self-control and authority over others
should enjoy a highly focused and disciplined education (
Republic
521c–535a;
Laws
965a–968a); the wide learning favored by the young polymath of
Rival Lovers
is rejected (
Laws
817e–819a). The author of
Rival Lovers
also agrees
with Plato in recognizing only one kind of authority, whether practiced by politician,
king, head of household, or master of slaves (
Statesman
258a–259d).

Standing on the other side of these issues was Aristotle, a student of Plato
who embraced a research project to search for the general principles of every
branch of knowledge, including those of humble workmen (
Parts of Animals
639a1–12;
Metaphysics
982a8–983a10). Aristotle held (especially in his lost
dialogue
On Justice
) that there are many kinds of authority and justice, which
differ according to the context in which they are exercised (
Politics
1278b30–
79a21;
Eudemian Ethics
1231b27–40;
Nicomachean Ethics
1160b22–61a9).
“Those who think it is the same thing to be able to be a politician, a king, a
head of a household, or a master of slaves, are mistaken” (
Politics
1252a7–9).

There was probably a lively debate along these lines within the Academy
while Aristotle was still a member, and
Rival Lovers
might have been a contribution
to that debate in the years before Plato’s death in 347
B.C.
Or else it
might be a diatribe aimed by one of his former Academic colleagues against Aristotle’s
way of thinking, written after he began teaching in the Lyceum in Athens,
in which case it dates from the last third of the fourth century. It was
probably someone familiar with
Rival Lovers
who gave the nicknames “Pentathlete”
and “Runner-up” to Eratosthenes of Cyrene, an accomplished scholar
and polymath who studied philosophy in Athens in the early third century
B.C.

A note on the title: in an ancient list of the works of Plato, the title is
Rival Lovers
(and the word for ‘rival lover’ introduces the young polymath at 132c),
but the manuscripts carry the title
Lovers,
as do many editions and translations.

D.S.H.

I walked into the school of Dionysius the grammarian and saw there
[132]
some extremely attractive young men of good family; their lovers were there too. Two of the boys happened to be arguing about something, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was. They appeared, however, to be arguing about Anaxagoras or Oenopides; in any event, they appeared to [b] be drawing circles and holding their hands at angles to depict certain astronomical inclinations, and they were very serious about it.
¹
And I—I’d sat down next to the lover of one of them—I nudged him with my elbow and asked him what it could be that the boys were arguing about so seriously and said, “It must be something important and admirable for them to be putting such serious effort into it.”

“What?!” he said. “Important and admirable? Those guys are just babbling about things up in the sky and talking philosophical nonsense.”

Astonished at his reply, I asked him, “Young man, does the pursuit of [c] philosophy seem to you to be contemptible? Why do you speak of it so harshly?”

And the other one—a rival lover of the boy, you see, happened to be sitting next to him—the other one heard my question and his reply and said, “You’re wasting your time, Socrates, asking
him
whether he thinks philosophy is a contemptible pursuit. Don’t you realize that he’s spent his whole life wrestling, stuffing himself and sleeping? How could you expect him to give any answer
other
than that philosophy is contemptible?”

Of the two lovers, this one spent all his time pursuing the liberal studies,
²
[d] while the other, the one he’d just insulted, spent all his time on athletics. And it seemed to me that I ought to leave off questioning the one I’d just asked—as he didn’t claim to be any good with words, but only with deeds—and instead direct my questions to the one who claimed to be the wiser, on the chance that I might somehow be able to benefit from him. So then I said, “My question was addressed to everybody, and if you think you can give a better answer, then I’ll ask you the same thing: do you think the pursuit of philosophy is admirable, or not?”
[133]

At about this point in our conversation, the two boys overheard us and fell silent, and, putting aside their argument, came over to listen to us. Now, I don’t know what their lovers were feeling, but I was struck senseless—as always happens to me when I’m around beautiful young men. It did seem to me, however, that the other lover was struggling no less than I was. And yet he did manage to answer me, and in a very self-important manner. [b] “Socrates,” he said, “if I ever came to regard philosophy as contemptible, I would no longer consider myself a human being, nor anybody else who felt that way!” As he said this he gestured toward his rival and raised his voice so that his young favorite would be sure to get the message.

“So,” I said, “you think philosophy is an admirable pursuit.”

“Certainly,” he said.

“Well then,” I said, “do you think it’s possible for someone to know whether a thing is admirable or contemptible unless he first knows what it is?”

“No,” he said.

[c] “So you know what philosophy is,” I went on.

“Certainly,” he said.

“What is it, then?” I asked.

“What else but what Solon says it is? He says somewhere, ‘I continue to learn many things as I grow old.’
³
And I agree with him that someone who wants to pursue philosophy, whether young or old, should always be learning one thing or another in order to learn as many things as possible in life.”

Now at first I thought there was something to this, but after I thought it over a bit I asked him if he thought philosophy consisted in learning many things.

[d] “Precisely that,” he said.

“And do you believe,” I went on, “that philosophy is only admirable, or that it’s also good?”

“It’s also good,” he said, “of course it is.”

“Do you regard this property as something peculiar to philosophy, or do you think it belongs to other things as well? For example, do you believe athletics to be not only admirable but also good, or don’t you?”

[e] Very sarcastically, he gave me two answers: “To
him
I would say that it is neither. But with you, Socrates, I agree that it is both admirable and good, for I believe this to be correct.”

Then I asked him, “And do you think athletics consists in doing lots of exercise?”

“Indeed,” he said, “just as I think philosophy consists in learning many things.”

And then I said, “Do you think that athletes desire anything other than what will bring about their good physical condition?”

“Just that,” he said.

“And is it true,” I went on, “that it’s by doing lots of exercise that one gets into good physical condition?”

“Obviously,” he said, “for how could anyone get into good physical
[134]
condition by doing only a little exercise?”

It seemed to me appropriate at this point to get the athlete going, so that he might offer me some assistance drawn from his experience in athletics. So I asked him, “How can you sit there so quietly, my friend, with this man saying these things? Does it seem to you too that people get into good physical condition by exercising a lot, or by exercising moderately?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Socrates,” he said, “I thought even a pig would know, as they say, that it’s moderate exercise that produces good physical [b] condition, so why shouldn’t a man who doesn’t sleep or eat know this, somebody who’s out of shape and scrawny from sitting around meditating?” The boys were amused by what he said, and they snickered, while the other lover blushed.

And I said, “Well then, do
you
now grant that it’s neither lots of exercise nor a little, but a moderate amount, that produces good physical condition? Or do you want to fight out the argument against the two of us?”

Then he said, “With
him
I would very happily fight it out, and I’m sure [c] that I would be able to support the claim I made, even if my position were far weaker than it is—for he’s no competition. But there’s no need to compete with you about my opinion. I agree that it’s not lots of athletics but a moderate amount that produces good physical condition in people.”

“And what about food?” I said. “A moderate amount or a lot?”

He agreed about food as well.

And then I also made him agree that with everything else concerning [d] the body the moderate is the most beneficial, neither a large nor a small amount; and he agreed with me about that.

“And what about the soul?” I said. “Does it benefit most from having moderate or immoderate amounts of things administered to it?”

“Moderate amounts,” he said.

“And isn’t learning something that’s administered to the soul?”