Complete Works (140 page)

He agreed.

“And so a moderate amount of learning is beneficial, but not a great deal of learning?”

He agreed.

“Now suppose we wanted to ask which exercises and which foods are [e] moderate for the body; who would be the right man to ask?”

All three of us agreed that it would be either a doctor or an athletic trainer.

“And who would we ask about the moderate amount of seed to sow?”

The farmer, is what we agreed this time.

“And what about sowing and planting the seeds of learning in the soul? Suppose we wanted to ask which ones and how many were moderate; who would be the right man to ask?”

[135]
At this point we all found ourselves completely at a loss. So I asked them, in fun, “Since we’re all at a loss, would you like it if we asked these boys here? Or perhaps we’re ashamed to do that, like the suitors in Homer, who didn’t expect anybody else to be able to string the bow?”
⁴

At this point they seemed to me to be losing enthusiasm for the argument, so I tried a different approach, and I said, “What would you guess are the main sorts of subjects that a philosopher needs to learn, since he doesn’t need to learn them all, or even a lot of them?”

[b] The wiser one now took up the question and said, “The most admirable and proper sorts of learning are those from which one derives the most fame as a philosopher, and one acquires the most fame by appearing to be an expert in all the skills, or if not in all of them, in most of the really important ones, learning as much of them as is proper for a free man—that is, their theory, not their actual practice.”

[c] “Do you mean,” I said, “something like in the building trade? You can buy a workman for five or six minas, but a master architect will cost you thousands of drachmas, and indeed there are few of them in all of Greece. Do you perhaps mean something like that?” He agreed that what I said was something like what he meant.

Then I asked him if it wasn’t impossible to learn even two of the skills so thoroughly, let alone several important ones.

“You mustn’t think I’m saying, Socrates,” he replied, “that the philosopher [d] needs to understand each skill as thoroughly as the man who makes it his profession. He needs to understand it only as far as is reasonable for a free and educated man, so that he can follow the explanations offered by the tradesman better than everyone else present, and can add his own opinion; that way, he always appears to be the most accomplished and the wisest of those present whenever the skills are discussed or practiced.”

[e] But since I still wasn’t sure what he meant, I asked him, “Am I understanding what sort of man you suppose the philosopher to be? It seems to me that you mean someone like the pentathlon athletes who compete against runners or wrestlers. They lose to the latter in their respective sports and are runners-up behind them, but they place first among the other athletes and defeat them. Perhaps you’re suggesting something along
[136]
those lines, that philosophy produces this result in those who devote themselves to it. In knowledge of the skills, they rank behind those who place first, but as runners-up they remain superior to the rest; and so a man who has studied philosophy becomes a strong competitor in all subjects. You seem to be describing someone like that.”

“You appear to me, Socrates,” he said, “to have just the right conception of the philosopher, when you compare him with the pentathlete. He is just the sort of man not to be enslaved to any one thing, nor to have worked anything out in such detail that, by concentrating on only that [b] one thing, as do the tradesmen, he is left behind in all the others, but has touched on everything to a moderate extent.”

After he’d offered this answer, I was eager to know exactly what he meant, so I asked him whether he supposed that good people were useful or useless.

“Useful, surely, Socrates,” he said.

“So, if good people are useful, then bad people are useless?”

He agreed.

“Well then, do you think that philosophers are useful men, or not?”

He agreed that they were useful, and he added that he held them to be [c] extremely useful.

“Let’s see, then. Supposing what you’re saying is true, when are these people, these runners-up, of any use to us? For it’s obvious that the philosopher is inferior to each of the skilled professionals.”

He agreed.

“And what about you?” I went on. “If it happened that you, or one of your friends about whom you cared a great deal, were to become sick, and you were looking for a cure, would you call that runner-up, the philosopher,
⁵
to your house, or would you call the doctor?”

“I’d call both,” he said. [d]

“No, don’t tell me you’d call both of them; tell me which you’d rather call first.”

“No one would have any doubt,” he said, “about calling the doctor first.”

“Well then, on a ship in stormy weather, to whom would you rather entrust you and your possessions, the pilot or the philosopher?”

“I would prefer the pilot.”

“And isn’t it the same in every other case, that as long as there’s a tradesman, the philosopher is of no use?”

“So it appears,” he said. [e]

“Then isn’t the philosopher actually useless to us? For surely we always have tradesmen. We agreed, however, that good men are useful, and bad men useless.”

He was forced to agree.

“So what follows? Should I question you further, or would that be rude?”

“Ask whatever you like.”

“All I’m trying to do,” I said, “is sum up what’s been said. It was
[137]
something like this: we agreed that philosophy is admirable,
⁶
that philosophers are good, that good men are useful, and that bad men are useless; on the other hand, we agreed that philosophers are of no use whenever there are tradesmen, and that tradesmen are always to be found. Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“It is indeed,” he said.

“We agreed then, it seems, at least according to
your
argument, that if [b] philosophy consists, as you suggest, in knowledge of skills, then philosophers are bad and useless, as long as there are men with skills.

“But no, my friend, philosophers are
not
like that, and philosophy does
not
consist in stooping to a concern with skills nor in learning many things,
⁷
but in something quite different—in fact, I thought that was actually dishonorable, and that people who pursued the skills were called vulgar. But we’ll be able to see more clearly whether what I say is true if you will [c] answer this: who understands how to discipline horses properly, those who make them better
⁸
horses, or someone else?”

“Those who make them better.”

“And as it is with horses, so it is with every other animal?”

“That’s correct.”
⁹

“Well then, aren’t those who know how to make dogs better also those who know how to discipline them properly?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s the same skill which both makes better and properly disciplines?”

“That’s how it seems to me,” he said.

“Well then, is the skill that makes them better and properly disciplines them the same as that which distinguishes between the good ones and the bad ones, or is it a different skill?”

“It’s the same,” he said.

[d] “And are you prepared to agree to this point concerning people, that the skill which makes them better is the same as that which disciplines them and that which distinguishes between the good ones and the bad?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“And a skill that can do this with one can also do it with many, and vice versa?”

“Yes.”

“Now what kind of knowledge is it that properly disciplines the undisciplined and lawless people in cities? Is it not knowledge of the law?”

“Yes.”

“Now is what you call justice the same as this or is it different?”

“No, it’s the same.”

[e] “Isn’t the knowledge used in disciplining people properly the same as that used in knowing the good ones from the bad?”

“It’s the same.”

“And whoever has such knowledge with regard to one person will also have it with regard to many?”

“Yes.”

“And whoever is ignorant with regard to many is also ignorant with regard to one?”

“That’s correct.”

“So if one were a horse and didn’t know good horses from bad horses, then one also wouldn’t know what sort of horse one was oneself?”

“That’s right.”

“And if one were an ox and didn’t know bad oxen from good ones, then one also wouldn’t know what sort of ox one was?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Likewise if one were a dog?”

He agreed.

“Well then, if a human being didn’t know good human beings from
[138]
bad ones, wouldn’t he fail to know whether he himself was good or bad, since he is in fact a human being?”

He conceded that.

“And not knowing yourself, is that being sensible, or is it not being sensible?”

“Not being sensible.”

“Then knowing yourself is being sensible?”

“It is,” he said.

“So it is this, it seems, which is prescribed in the Delphic inscription, to exercise good sense and justice.”

“It would seem so.”

“And this is how we understand how to discipline properly?”

“Yes.”

“So the way we understand how to discipline properly is justice, and [b] the way we evaluate ourselves and others is good sense.”

“It would seem so,” he said.

“So justice and good sense are one and the same.”

“Apparently.”

“And isn’t it also the case that cities are well governed when the unjust are punished?”

“That’s true,” he said.

“And this is political skill.”

He agreed.

“Well then, when one man properly governs a city, isn’t he called a tyrant or a king?”

“He is.”

“And isn’t it by means of kingly or tyrannical skill that he governs?”

“That’s right.”

“These skills, then, are the same as the previous ones?”

“So they seem.”

[c] “Well then, when one man governs a household properly, what’s the name for him? Isn’t it ‘head of the household’, and ‘master of slaves’?”

“Yes.”

“And isn’t it also by means of justice that he governs his household well, or is it through some other skill?”

“It’s through justice.”

“So they are all the same, it seems: king, tyrant, politician, head of the household, master of slaves, sensible man, and just man. And they are all one skill: kingly, tyrannical, political, managerial and household skills, and justice and good sense.”

[d] “So it seems,” he said.

“Now if it is contemptible for the philosopher to be unable to follow what the doctor says when he talks about sick people or to add any opinion of his own regarding what’s being said or done, and to be in the same situation whenever any other tradesman does or says something—when it’s a judge speaking or a king or any of those others we’ve just been talking about—wouldn’t it be contemptible for him to be able neither to follow what is said nor to add his own opinion?”

“How could it not be contemptible, Socrates, for him to be incapable of contributing an opinion concerning such matters?”

[e] “So,” I said, “are we to say that he needs to be a pentathlete and a runner-up in these areas as well?
¹⁰
To begin with, surely he shouldn’t hand over control of his own household to anybody else or take second place in it, but should himself administer justice and discipline, if his household is to be well governed?”

He conceded this point to me.

“And furthermore, if his friends entrust him with the settling of some
[139]
dispute, or if the city commissions him to investigate or pass judgment on something, wouldn’t it surely be contemptible in these cases, my friend, for him to appear second or third and not to take the lead?”

“I think it would.”

“So for us to say, my friend, that philosophy consists in learning many things and busying oneself with skills, would be very far from the truth.”

When I said this, the wise fellow was ashamed at what he’d said before and fell silent, while the unlearned one said that I was right; and the others approved of what I’d said.

1
. Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, the fifth century
B.C.
philosopher of nature, is reported to have worked on problems of geometry; Oenopides of Chios, a younger contemporary, was a mathematical astronomer.

2
. The activities over which the Muses presided, especially music, poetry, literature, and philosophy.

3
. This verse (frg. 18 Edmonds,
Elegy and Iambus
, Loeb, vol. I) is also quoted at
Laches
189a5 and alluded to at
Republic
536d.

4
. Cf.
Odyssey
xxi.285 ff.: Penelope’s suitors, ashamed at having proven unable to string Odysseus’ bow, are reluctant to permit Odysseus (disguised as a beggar) to attempt it.

5
. Reading
ton philosophon
at c10.

6
. Accepting a conjectural deletion of
kai autoi philosophoi einai
at a2.

7
. Accepting a conjectural deletion of
espoudakenai, oude polupragmonounta
at b3.

8
. Reading
beltious
rather than
beltistous
at c1, c2, c3, c6, c9, and d1.

9
. Moving this and the preceding line (137d8-9), so as to make them follow c2 (a conjectural transposition).

10
. Accepting a conjectural deletion of
kai taut
ē
s … tout
ō
n tis
ē
i
(e2–4).

THEAGES

Translated by Nicholas D. Smith.

Theages
tells the story of the first encounter between Socrates and the young
Theages, who hoped to fulfill his political ambitions by learning whatever Socrates
had to teach him. We also hear about Theages in Plato’s
Republic,
where we
learn that his poor health (the ‘bridle of Theages’) frustrated his political ambitions,
and in Plato’s
Apology,
where we learn that he died before Socrates.
Theages
provides a vivid and distinctive account of what was unusual about
Socrates: his divine inner voice and the magical effect he had on his students.