Complete Works (160 page)

Well you see, I said, these arguments are very difficult (as is natural, since they come from wise men) and this last one you mention turns out to be particularly difficult to deal with. Whatever in the world do you mean by the expression “be helpless in dealing with,” Dionysodorus? [c] Doesn’t it clearly mean that I am unable to refute the argument? Just tell me, what else is the sense of this phrase “I am helpless in dealing with the argument”?

But at least it is not very difficult to deal with
your
phrase,
¹¹
he said, so go ahead and answer.

Before you answer me, Dionysodorus? I said.

You refuse to answer then? he said.

Well, is it fair?

Perfectly fair, he said.

On what principle? I said. Or isn’t it clearly on this one, that you have come here on the present occasion as a man who is completely skilled in arguments, and you know when an answer should be given and when it [d] should not? So now you decline to give any answer whatsoever because you realize you ought not to?

You are babbling instead of being concerned about answering, he said. But, my good fellow, follow my instructions and answer, since you admit that I am wise.

I must obey then, I said, and it seems I am forced to do so, since you are in command, so ask away.

Now are the things that have sense those that have soul, or do things without soul have sense too?

It is the ones with soul that have sense.

And do you know any phrase that has soul? he asked.

Heavens no, not I.

Then why did you ask me just now what was the sense of my phrase? [e]

I suppose, I said, for no other reason than that I made a mistake on account of being so stupid. Or perhaps I did not make a mistake but was right when I spoke as if phrases had sense? Are you saying that I made a mistake or not? Because if I did not make one you will not refute me no matter how wise you are, and you will be “helpless in dealing with the argument.” And if I did make one, you said the wrong thing when you claimed it was impossible to make mistakes—and I’m not talking
[288]
about things you said last year. So, Dionysodorus and Euthydemus, I said, it looks as if this argument has made no progress and still has the old trouble of falling down itself in the process of knocking down others. And your art has not discovered how to prevent this from happening in spite of your wonderful display of precision in words.

And Ctesippus said, Your manner of speech is certainly remarkable, O [b] men of Thurii or Chios, or from wherever and however you like to be styled, because it matters nothing to you if you talk complete nonsense.

I was worried in case there might be hard words, and started to pacify Ctesippus once again, saying, Ctesippus, let me say to you the same things I was just saying to Clinias, that you fail to recognize how remarkable the strangers’ wisdom is. It’s just that the two of them are unwilling to give us a serious demonstration, but are putting on conjuring tricks in imitation [c] of that Egyptian sophist, Proteus.
¹²
So let us imitate Menelaus and refuse to release the pair until they have shown us their serious side. I really think some splendid thing in them will appear whenever they begin to be in earnest, so let us beg and exhort and pray them to make it known. As for me, I think I ought once again to take the lead and give an indication [d] of what sort of persons I pray they will show themselves to be. Beginning where I left off earlier, I shall do my best to go through what comes next so as to spur them to action and in hopes that out of pity and commiseration for my earnest exertions they may be earnest themselves.

So, Clinias, I said, remind me where we left off. As far as I can remember it was just about at the point where we finally agreed that it was necessary to love wisdom, wasn’t it?

Yes, he said.

Now the love of wisdom, or philosophy, is the acquisition of knowledge, isn’t that so? I said.

Yes, he said.

[e] Well, what sort of knowledge would we acquire if we went about it in the right way? Isn’t the answer simply this, that it would be one which will benefit us?

Certainly, he said.

And would it benefit us in any way if we knew how to go about and discover where in the earth the greatest quantities of gold are buried?

Perhaps, he said.

But earlier,
¹³
I said, we gave a thorough demonstration of the point that even if all the gold in the world should be ours with no trouble and without digging for it, we should be no better off—no, not even if we knew how
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to make stones into gold would the knowledge be worth anything. For unless we also knew how to use the gold, there appeared to be no value in it. Or don’t you remember? I said.

Yes, I remember very well, he said.

Nor does there seem to be any value in any other sort of knowledge which knows how to make things, whether money making or medicine or any other such thing, unless it knows how to use what it makes—isn’t this the case?

He agreed.

[b] And again, if there exists the knowledge of how to make men immortal, but without the knowledge of how to use this immortality, there seems to be no value in it, if we are to conclude anything from what has already been settled.

We agreed on all this.

Then what we need, my fair friend, I said, is a kind of knowledge which combines making and knowing how to use the thing which it makes.

So it appears, he said.

Then it seems not at all needful for us to become lyre makers and skilled [c] in some such knowledge as that. For there the art which makes is one thing and that which uses is another; they are quite distinct although they deal with the same thing. There is a great difference between lyre making and lyre playing, isn’t there?

He agreed.

And it is equally obvious that we stand in no need of the art of flute making, since this is another of the same kind.

He said yes.

Seriously then, said I, if we were to learn the art of writing speeches, is this the art which we would have to get if we are going to be happy?

I don’t think so, said Clinias in answer.

On what ground do you say this? I asked. [d]

Well, he said, I notice that certain speech writers have no idea of how to use the particular speeches they themselves have written, in the same way that the lyre makers have no idea of how to use their lyres. And in the former case too, there are other people who are capable of using what the speech writers have composed but are themselves unable to write. So it is clear that in regard to speeches too, there is one art of making and another of using.

You seem to me, I said, to have sufficient ground for stating that the art of speech writing is not the one a man would be happy if he acquired. And yet it was in this connection that I expected the very knowledge we have been seeking all this time would put in an appearance. Because, as [e] far as I am concerned, whenever I have any contact with these same men who write speeches, they strike me as being persons of surpassing wisdom, Clinias; and this art of theirs seems to me something marvelous and lofty. Though after all there is nothing remarkable in this, since it is part of the enchanters’ art and but slightly inferior to it. For the enchanters’ art consists
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in charming vipers and spiders and scorpions and other wild things, and in curing diseases, while the other art consists in charming and persuading the members of juries and assemblies and other sorts of crowds. Or do you have some other notion of it? I said.

No, he said, it seems to me to be just as you say.

Where should we turn next, then? I asked. To which one of the arts?

I find myself at a loss, he said.

But I think I have discovered it, said I.

Which one is it? said Clinias.

The art of generalship seems to me, I said, to be the one which, more [b] than any other, a man would be happy if he acquired.

It doesn’t seem so to me, he said.

How is that? said I.

Well, this art is a kind of man hunting.

What then? I said.

No art of actual hunting, he said, extends any further than pursuing and capturing: whenever the hunters catch what they are pursuing they are incapable of using it, but they and the fishermen hand over their prey [c] to the cooks. And again, geometers and astronomers and calculators (who are hunters too, in a way, for none of these make their diagrams; they simply discover those which already exist), since they themselves have no idea of how to use their prey but only how to hunt it, hand over the task of using their discoveries to the dialecticians—at least, those of them do so who are not completely senseless.

Well done, I said, most handsome and clever Clinias! And is this really the case?

[d] Very much so. And the same is true of the generals, he said. Whenever they capture some city, or a camp, they hand it over to the statesmen—for they themselves have no idea of how to use the things they have captured—just in the same way, I imagine, that quail hunters hand theirs over to quail keepers. So, he said, if we are in need of that art which will itself know how to use what it acquires through making or capturing, and if it is an art of this sort which will make us happy, then, he said, we must look for some other art besides that of generalship.

[e] C
RITO
: What do you mean, Socrates? Did that boy utter all this?

S
OCRATES
: You’re not convinced of it, Crito?

C
RITO
: Good heavens no! Because, in my opinion, if he spoke like that, he needs no education, either from Euthydemus or anyone else.

S
OCRATES
: Dear me, then perhaps after all it was Ctesippus who said this, and I am getting absent-minded.

[291]
C
RITO
: Not my idea of Ctesippus!

S
OCRATES
: But I’m sure of one thing at least, that it was neither Euthydemus nor Dionysodorus who said it. Do you suppose, my good Crito, that some superior being was there and uttered these things—because I am positive I heard them.

C
RITO
: Yes, by heaven, Socrates, I certainly think it was some superior being, very much so. But after this did you still go on looking for the art? And did you find the one you were looking for or not?

[b] S
OCRATES
: Find it, my dear man—I should think not! We were really quite ridiculous—just like children running after crested larks; we kept thinking we were about to catch each one of the knowledges, but they always got away. So why should I recount the whole story? When we got to the kingly art and were giving it a thorough inspection to see whether it might be the one which both provided and created happiness, just there we got into a sort of labyrinth: when we thought we had come to the end, [c] we turned round again and reappeared practically at the beginning of our search in just as much trouble as when we started out.

C
RITO
: And how did this come about, Socrates?

S
OCRATES
: I shall tell you. We had the idea that the statesman’s art and the kingly art were the same.

C
RITO
: And then what?

S
OCRATES
: It was due to this art that generalship and the others handed over the management of the products of which they themselves were the craftsmen, as if this art alone knew how to use them. It seemed clear to us that this was the art we were looking for, and that it was the cause of right action in the state, and, to use the language of Aeschylus, that this [d] art alone sits at the helm of the state, governing all things, ruling all things, and making all things useful.
¹⁴

C
RITO
: And wasn’t your idea a good one, Socrates?
¹⁵

S
OCRATES
: You will form an opinion, Crito, if you like to hear what happened to us next. We took up the question once again in somewhat this fashion: Well, does the kingly art, which rules everything, produce some result for us, or not? Certainly it does, we said to each other. Wouldn’t [e] you say so too, Crito?

C
RITO
: Yes, I would.

S
OCRATES
: Then what would you say its result was? For instance, if I should ask you what result does medicine produce, when it rules over all the things in its control, would you not say that this result was health?

C
RITO
: Yes, I would.

S
OCRATES
: And what about your own art of farming, when it rules over all the things in its control—what result
¹⁶
does it produce? Wouldn’t you
[292]
say that it provides us with nourishment from the earth?

C
RITO
: Yes, I would.

S
OCRATES
: Now what about the kingly art; when it rules over all the things in its control—what does it produce? Perhaps you won’t find the answer quite so easy in this case.

C
RITO
: No, I certainly don’t, Socrates.

S
OCRATES
: Nor did we, Crito. But you are aware of this point at least, that if this is to be the art we are looking for, it must be something useful.

C
RITO
: Yes indeed.

S
OCRATES
: And it certainly must provide us with something good?

C
RITO
: Necessarily, Socrates.

S
OCRATES
: And Clinias and I of course agreed that nothing is good except [b] some sort of knowledge.

C
RITO
: Yes, you said that.

S
OCRATES
: Then the other results which a person might attribute to the statesman’s art—and these, of course, would be numerous, as for instance, making the citizens rich and free and not disturbed by faction—all these appeared to be neither good nor evil;
¹⁷
but this art had to make them wise and to provide them with a share of knowledge if it was to be the one [c] that benefited them and made them happy.