now they are just prancing and dancing about you, and will next proceed to
initiate you; imagine then that you have gone through the first part of the
sophistical ritual, which, as Prodicus says, begins with initiation into
the correct use of terms. The two foreign gentlemen, perceiving that you
did not know, wanted to explain to you that the word 'to learn' has two
meanings, and is used, first, in the sense of acquiring knowledge of some
matter of which you previously have no knowledge, and also, when you have
the knowledge, in the sense of reviewing this matter, whether something
done or spoken by the light of this newly-acquired knowledge; the latter is
generally called 'knowing' rather than 'learning,' but the word 'learning'
is also used; and you did not see, as they explained to you, that the term
is employed of two opposite sorts of men, of those who know, and of those
who do not know. There was a similar trick in the second question, when
they asked you whether men learn what they know or what they do not know.
These parts of learning are not serious, and therefore I say that the
gentlemen are not serious, but are only playing with you. For if a man had
all that sort of knowledge that ever was, he would not be at all the wiser;
he would only be able to play with men, tripping them up and oversetting
them with distinctions of words. He would be like a person who pulls away
a stool from some one when he is about to sit down, and then laughs and
makes merry at the sight of his friend overturned and laid on his back.
And you must regard all that has hitherto passed between you and them as
merely play. But in what is to follow I am certain that they will exhibit
to you their serious purpose, and keep their promise (I will show them
how); for they promised to give me a sample of the hortatory philosophy,
but I suppose that they wanted to have a game with you first. And now,
Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, I think that we have had enough of this. Will
you let me see you explaining to the young man how he is to apply himself
to the study of virtue and wisdom? And I will first show you what I
conceive to be the nature of the task, and what sort of a discourse I
desire to hear; and if I do this in a very inartistic and ridiculous
manner, do not laugh at me, for I only venture to improvise before you
because I am eager to hear your wisdom: and I must therefore ask you and
your disciples to refrain from laughing. And now, O son of Axiochus, let
me put a question to you: Do not all men desire happiness? And yet,
perhaps, this is one of those ridiculous questions which I am afraid to
ask, and which ought not to be asked by a sensible man: for what human
being is there who does not desire happiness?
There is no one, said Cleinias, who does not.
Well, then, I said, since we all of us desire happiness, how can we be
happy?--that is the next question. Shall we not be happy if we have many
good things? And this, perhaps, is even a more simple question than the
first, for there can be no doubt of the answer.
He assented.
And what things do we esteem good? No solemn sage is required to tell us
this, which may be easily answered; for every one will say that wealth is a
good.
Certainly, he said.
And are not health and beauty goods, and other personal gifts?
He agreed.
Can there be any doubt that good birth, and power, and honours in one's own
land, are goods?
He assented.
And what other goods are there? I said. What do you say of temperance,
justice, courage: do you not verily and indeed think, Cleinias, that we
shall be more right in ranking them as goods than in not ranking them as
goods? For a dispute might possibly arise about this. What then do you
say?
They are goods, said Cleinias.
Very well, I said; and where in the company shall we find a place for
wisdom--among the goods or not?
Among the goods.
And now, I said, think whether we have left out any considerable goods.
I do not think that we have, said Cleinias.
Upon recollection, I said, indeed I am afraid that we have left out the
greatest of them all.
What is that? he asked.
Fortune, Cleinias, I replied; which all, even the most foolish, admit to be
the greatest of goods.
True, he said.
On second thoughts, I added, how narrowly, O son of Axiochus, have you and
I escaped making a laughing-stock of ourselves to the strangers.
Why do you say so?
Why, because we have already spoken of good-fortune, and are but repeating
ourselves.
What do you mean?
I mean that there is something ridiculous in again putting forward good-
fortune, which has a place in the list already, and saying the same thing
twice over.
He asked what was the meaning of this, and I replied: Surely wisdom is
good-fortune; even a child may know that.
The simple-minded youth was amazed; and, observing his surprise, I said to
him: Do you not know, Cleinias, that flute-players are most fortunate and
successful in performing on the flute?
He assented.
And are not the scribes most fortunate in writing and reading letters?
Certainly.
Amid the dangers of the sea, again, are any more fortunate on the whole
than wise pilots?
None, certainly.
And if you were engaged in war, in whose company would you rather take the
risk--in company with a wise general, or with a foolish one?
With a wise one.
And if you were ill, whom would you rather have as a companion in a
dangerous illness--a wise physician, or an ignorant one?
A wise one.
You think, I said, that to act with a wise man is more fortunate than to
act with an ignorant one?
He assented.
Then wisdom always makes men fortunate: for by wisdom no man would ever
err, and therefore he must act rightly and succeed, or his wisdom would be
wisdom no longer.
We contrived at last, somehow or other, to agree in a general conclusion,
that he who had wisdom had no need of fortune. I then recalled to his mind
the previous state of the question. You remember, I said, our making the
admission that we should be happy and fortunate if many good things were
present with us?
He assented.
And should we be happy by reason of the presence of good things, if they
profited us not, or if they profited us?
If they profited us, he said.
And would they profit us, if we only had them and did not use them? For
example, if we had a great deal of food and did not eat, or a great deal of
drink and did not drink, should we be profited?
Certainly not, he said.
Or would an artisan, who had all the implements necessary for his work, and
did not use them, be any the better for the possession of them? For
example, would a carpenter be any the better for having all his tools and
plenty of wood, if he never worked?
Certainly not, he said.
And if a person had wealth and all the goods of which we were just now
speaking, and did not use them, would he be happy because he possessed
them?
No indeed, Socrates.
Then, I said, a man who would be happy must not only have the good things,
but he must also use them; there is no advantage in merely having them?
True.
Well, Cleinias, but if you have the use as well as the possession of good
things, is that sufficient to confer happiness?
Yes, in my opinion.
And may a person use them either rightly or wrongly?
He must use them rightly.
That is quite true, I said. And the wrong use of a thing is far worse than
the non-use; for the one is an evil, and the other is neither a good nor an
evil. You admit that?
He assented.
Now in the working and use of wood, is not that which gives the right use
simply the knowledge of the carpenter?
Nothing else, he said.
And surely, in the manufacture of vessels, knowledge is that which gives
the right way of making them?
He agreed.
And in the use of the goods of which we spoke at first--wealth and health
and beauty, is not knowledge that which directs us to the right use of
them, and regulates our practice about them?
He assented.
Then in every possession and every use of a thing, knowledge is that which
gives a man not only good-fortune but success?
He again assented.
And tell me, I said, O tell me, what do possessions profit a man, if he
have neither good sense nor wisdom? Would a man be better off, having and
doing many things without wisdom, or a few things with wisdom? Look at the
matter thus: If he did fewer things would he not make fewer mistakes? if
he made fewer mistakes would he not have fewer misfortunes? and if he had
fewer misfortunes would he not be less miserable?
Certainly, he said.
And who would do least--a poor man or a rich man?
A poor man.
A weak man or a strong man?
A weak man.
A noble man or a mean man?
A mean man.
And a coward would do less than a courageous and temperate man?
Yes.
And an indolent man less than an active man?
He assented.
And a slow man less than a quick; and one who had dull perceptions of
seeing and hearing less than one who had keen ones?
All this was mutually allowed by us.
Then, I said, Cleinias, the sum of the matter appears to be that the goods
of which we spoke before are not to be regarded as goods in themselves, but
the degree of good and evil in them depends on whether they are or are not
under the guidance of knowledge: under the guidance of ignorance, they are
greater evils than their opposites, inasmuch as they are more able to
minister to the evil principle which rules them; and when under the
guidance of wisdom and prudence, they are greater goods: but in themselves
they are nothing?
That, he replied, is obvious.
What then is the result of what has been said? Is not this the result--
that other things are indifferent, and that wisdom is the only good, and
ignorance the only evil?
He assented.
Let us consider a further point, I said: Seeing that all men desire
happiness, and happiness, as has been shown, is gained by a use, and a
right use, of the things of life, and the right use of them, and good-
fortune in the use of them, is given by knowledge,--the inference is that
everybody ought by all means to try and make himself as wise as he can?
Yes, he said.
And when a man thinks that he ought to obtain this treasure, far more than
money, from a father or a guardian or a friend or a suitor, whether citizen
or stranger--the eager desire and prayer to them that they would impart
wisdom to you, is not at all dishonourable, Cleinias; nor is any one to be
blamed for doing any honourable service or ministration to any man, whether
a lover or not, if his aim is to get wisdom. Do you agree? I said.
Yes, he said, I quite agree, and think that you are right.
Yes, I said, Cleinias, if only wisdom can be taught, and does not come to
man spontaneously; for this is a point which has still to be considered,
and is not yet agreed upon by you and me--
But I think, Socrates, that wisdom can be taught, he said.
Best of men, I said, I am delighted to hear you say so; and I am also
grateful to you for having saved me from a long and tiresome investigation
as to whether wisdom can be taught or not. But now, as you think that
wisdom can be taught, and that wisdom only can make a man happy and
fortunate, will you not acknowledge that all of us ought to love wisdom,
and you individually will try to love her?
Certainly, Socrates, he said; I will do my best.
I was pleased at hearing this; and I turned to Dionysodorus and Euthydemus
and said: That is an example, clumsy and tedious I admit, of the sort of
exhortations which I would have you give; and I hope that one of you will
set forth what I have been saying in a more artistic style: or at least
take up the enquiry where I left off, and proceed to show the youth whether
he should have all knowledge; or whether there is one sort of knowledge
only which will make him good and happy, and what that is. For, as I was
saying at first, the improvement of this young man in virtue and wisdom is
a matter which we have very much at heart.
Thus I spoke, Crito, and was all attention to what was coming. I wanted to
see how they would approach the question, and where they would start in
their exhortation to the young man that he should practise wisdom and
virtue. Dionysodorus, who was the elder, spoke first. Everybody's eyes
were directed towards him, perceiving that something wonderful might
shortly be expected. And certainly they were not far wrong; for the man,
Crito, began a remarkable discourse well worth hearing, and wonderfully
persuasive regarded as an exhortation to virtue.
Tell me, he said, Socrates and the rest of you who say that you want this
young man to become wise, are you in jest or in real earnest?
I was led by this to imagine that they fancied us to have been jesting when
we asked them to converse with the youth, and that this made them jest and
play, and being under this impression, I was the more decided in saying
that we were in profound earnest. Dionysodorus said:
Reflect, Socrates; you may have to deny your words.
I have reflected, I said; and I shall never deny my words.
Well, said he, and so you say that you wish Cleinias to become wise?
Undoubtedly.
And he is not wise as yet?
At least his modesty will not allow him to say that he is.
You wish him, he said, to become wise and not, to be ignorant?
That we do.
You wish him to be what he is not, and no longer to be what he is?
I was thrown into consternation at this.
Taking advantage of my consternation he added: You wish him no longer to
be what he is, which can only mean that you wish him to perish. Pretty
lovers and friends they must be who want their favourite not to be, or to
perish!
When Ctesippus heard this he got very angry (as a lover well might) and
said: Stranger of Thurii--if politeness would allow me I should say, A
plague upon you! What can make you tell such a lie about me and the
others, which I hardly like to repeat, as that I wish Cleinias to perish?
Euthydemus replied: And do you think, Ctesippus, that it is possible to
