{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1580/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1580","id":"gutenberg_1580","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1580","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Classical literature","Ethics -- Early works to 1800","Knowledge, Theory of -- Early works to 1800","Socrates, 470 BC-399 BC","Temperance -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Produced by Sue Asscher\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DIALOGUES OF PLATO\n\nCHARMIDES\n\nBy Plato\n\nTranslated into English with Analyses and Introductions By B. Jowett,\nM.A.\n\n     Master of Balliol College\n     Regius Professor of Greek in the University of Oxford\n     Doctor in Theology of the University of Leyden\n\n\nTO MY FORMER PUPILS\n\nin Balliol College and in the University of Oxford who during fifty\nyears have been the best of friends to me these volumes are inscribed in\ngrateful recognition of their never failing attachment.\n\n\nThe additions and alterations which have been made, both in the\nIntroductions and in the Text of this Edition, affect at least a third\nof the work.\n\nHaving regard to the extent of these alterations, and to the annoyance\nwhich is naturally felt by the owner of a book at the possession of it\nin an inferior form, and still more keenly by the writer himself, who\nmust always desire to be read as he is at his best, I have thought that\nthe possessor of either of the former Editions (1870 and 1876) might\nwish to exchange it for the present one. I have therefore arranged that\nthose who would like to make this exchange, on depositing a perfect\nand undamaged copy of the first or second Edition with any agent of the\nClarendon Press, shall be entitled to receive a copy of a new Edition at\nhalf-price.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.\n\nThe Text which has been mostly followed in this Translation of Plato is\nthe latest 8vo. edition of Stallbaum; the principal deviations are noted\nat the bottom of the page.\n\nI have to acknowledge many obligations to old friends and pupils. These\nare:--Mr. John Purves, Fellow of Balliol College, with whom I have\nrevised about half of the entire Translation; the Rev. Professor\nCampbell, of St. Andrews, who has helped me in the revision of several\nparts of the work, especially of the Theaetetus, Sophist, and Politicus;\nMr. Robinson Ellis, Fellow of Trinity College, and Mr. Alfred Robinson,\nFellow of New College, who read with me the Cratylus and the Gorgias;\nMr. Paravicini, Student of Christ Church, who assisted me in the\nSymposium; Mr. Raper, Fellow of Queen's College, Mr. Monro, Fellow of\nOriel College, and Mr. Shadwell, Student of Christ Church, who gave me\nsimilar assistance in the Laws. Dr. Greenhill, of Hastings, has also\nkindly sent me remarks on the physiological part of the Timaeus, which I\nhave inserted as corrections under the head of errata at the end of the\nIntroduction. The degree of accuracy which I have been enabled to attain\nis in great measure due to these gentlemen, and I heartily thank them\nfor the pains and time which they have bestowed on my work.\n\nI have further to explain how far I have received help from other\nlabourers in the same field. The books which I have found of most\nuse are Steinhart and Muller's German Translation of Plato with\nIntroductions; Zeller's 'Philosophie der Griechen,' and 'Platonische\nStudien;' Susemihl's 'Genetische Entwickelung der Paltonischen\nPhilosophie;' Hermann's 'Geschichte der Platonischen Philosophie;'\nBonitz, 'Platonische Studien;' Stallbaum's Notes and Introductions;\nProfessor Campbell's editions of the 'Theaetetus,' the 'Sophist,' and\nthe 'Politicus;' Professor Thompson's 'Phaedrus;' Th. Martin's 'Etudes\nsur le Timee;' Mr. Poste's edition and translation of the 'Philebus;'\nthe Translation of the 'Republic,' by Messrs. Davies and Vaughan, and\nthe Translation of the 'Gorgias,' by Mr. Cope.\n\nI have also derived much assistance from the great work of Mr. Grote,\nwhich contains excellent analyses of the Dialogues, and is rich in\noriginal thoughts and observations. I agree with him in rejecting as\nfutile the attempt of Schleiermacher and others to arrange the Dialogues\nof Plato into a harmonious whole. Any such arrangement appears to me not\nonly to be unsupported by evidence, but to involve an anachronism in\nthe history of philosophy. There is a common spirit in the writings of\nPlato, but not a unity of design in the whole, nor perhaps a perfect\nunity in any single Dialogue. The hypothesis of a general plan which\nis worked out in the successive Dialogues is an after-thought of the\ncritics who have attributed a system to writings belonging to an age\nwhen system had not as yet taken possession of philosophy.\n\nIf Mr. Grote should do me the honour to read any portion of this work\nhe will probably remark that I have endeavoured to approach Plato from a\npoint of view which is opposed to his own. The aim of the Introductions\nin these volumes has been to represent Plato as the father of Idealism,\nwho is not to be measured by the standard of utilitarianism or any\nother modern philosophical system. He is the poet or maker of ideas,\nsatisfying the wants of his own age, providing the instruments\nof thought for future generations. He is no dreamer, but a great\nphilosophical genius struggling with the unequal conditions of light\nand knowledge under which he is living. He may be illustrated by the\nwritings of moderns, but he must be interpreted by his own, and by his\nplace in the history of philosophy. We are not concerned to determine\nwhat is the residuum of truth which remains for ourselves. His truth may\nnot be our truth, and nevertheless may have an extraordinary value and\ninterest for us.\n\nI cannot agree with Mr. Grote in admitting as genuine all the\nwritings commonly attributed to Plato in antiquity, any more than with\nSchaarschmidt and some other German critics who reject nearly half of\nthem. The German critics, to whom I refer, proceed chiefly on grounds\nof internal evidence; they appear to me to lay too much stress on the\nvariety of doctrine and style, which must be equally acknowledged as a\nfact, even in the Dialogues regarded by Schaarschmidt as genuine, e.g.\nin the Phaedrus, or Symposium, when compared with the Laws. He\nwho admits works so different in style and matter to have been the\ncomposition of the same author, need have no difficulty in admitting\nthe Sophist or the Politicus. (The negative argument adduced by the same\nschool of critics, which is based on the silence of Aristotle, is not\nworthy of much consideration. For why should Aristotle, because he has\nquoted several Dialogues of Plato, have quoted them all? Something must\nbe allowed to chance, and to the nature of the subjects treated of in\nthem.) On the other hand, Mr. Grote trusts mainly to the Alexandrian\nCanon. But I hardly think that we are justified in attributing much\nweight to the authority of the Alexandrian librarians in an age when\nthere was no regular publication of books, and every temptation to forge\nthem; and in which the writings of a school were naturally attributed to\nthe founder of the school. And even without intentional fraud, there was\nan inclination to believe rather than to enquire. Would Mr. Grote accept\nas genuine all the writings which he finds in the lists of learned\nancients attributed to Hippocrates, to Xenophon, to Aristotle? The\nAlexandrian Canon of the Platonic writings is deprived of credit by the\nadmission of the Epistles, which are not only unworthy of Plato, and in\nseveral passages plagiarized from him, but flagrantly at variance with\nhistorical fact. It will be seen also that I do not agree with Mr.\nGrote's views about the Sophists; nor with the low estimate which he has\nformed of Plato's Laws; nor with his opinion respecting Plato's doctrine\nof the rotation of the earth. But I 'am not going to lay hands on my\nfather Parmenides' (Soph.), who will, I hope, forgive me for differing\nfrom him on these points. I cannot close this Preface without expressing\nmy deep respect for his noble and gentle character, and the great\nservices which he has rendered to Greek Literature.\n\nBalliol College, January, 1871.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE SECOND AND THIRD EDITIONS.\n\nIn publishing a Second Edition (1875) of the Dialogues of Plato in\nEnglish, I had to acknowledge the assistance of several friends: of\nthe Rev. G.G. Bradley, Master of University College, now Dean of\nWestminster, who sent me some valuable remarks on the Phaedo; of Dr.\nGreenhill, who had again revised a portion of the Timaeus; of Mr. R.L.\nNettleship, Fellow and Tutor of Balliol College, to whom I was indebted\nfor an excellent criticism of the Parmenides; and, above all, of the\nRev. Professor Campbell of St. Andrews, and Mr. Paravicini, late Student\nof Christ Church and Tutor of Balliol College, with whom I had read over\nthe greater part of the translation. I was also indebted to Mr. Evelyn\nAbbott, Fellow and Tutor of Balliol College, for a complete and accurate\nindex.\n\nIn this, the Third Edition, I am under very great obligations to Mr.\nMatthew Knight, who has not only favoured me with valuable suggestions\nthroughout the work, but has largely extended the Index (from 61 to 175\npages) and translated the Eryxias and Second Alcibiades; and to Mr\nFrank Fletcher, of Balliol College, my Secretary. I am also considerably\nindebted to Mr. J.W. Mackail, late Fellow of Balliol College, who read\nover the Republic in the Second Edition and noted several inaccuracies.\n\nIn both editions the Introductions to the Dialogues have been enlarged,\nand essays on subjects having an affinity to the Platonic Dialogues have\nbeen introduced into several of them. The analyses have been corrected,\nand innumerable alterations have been made in the Text. There have been\nadded also, in the Third Edition, headings to the pages and a marginal\nanalysis to the text of each dialogue.\n\nAt the end of a long task, the translator may without impropriety point\nout the difficulties which he has had to encounter. These have been far\ngreater than he would have anticipated; nor is he at all sanguine that\nhe has succeeded in overcoming them. Experience has made him feel that a\ntranslation, like a picture, is dependent for its effect on very minute\ntouches; and that it is a work of infinite pains, to be returned to in\nmany moods and viewed in different lights.\n\nI. An English translation ought to be idiomatic and interesting, not\nonly to the scholar, but to the unlearned reader. Its object should not\nsimply be to render the words of one language into the words of another\nor to preserve the construction and order of the original;--this is the\nambition of a schoolboy, who wishes to show that he has made a good use\nof his Dictionary and Grammar; but is quite unworthy of the translator,\nwho seeks to produce on his reader an impression similar or nearly\nsimilar to that produced by the original. To him the feeling should be\nmore important than the exact word. He should remember Dryden's quaint\nadmonition not to 'lacquey by the side of his author, but to mount up\nbehind him.' (Dedication to the Aeneis.) He must carry in his mind a\ncomprehensive view of the whole work, of what has preceded and of what\nis to follow,--as well as of the meaning of particular passages. His\nversion should be based, in the first instance, on an intimate knowledge\nof the text; but the precise order and arrangement of the words may be\nleft to fade out of sight, when the translation begins to take shape. He\nmust form a general idea of the two languages, and reduce the one to the\nterms of the other. His work should be rhythmical and varied, the\nright admixture of words and syllables, and even of letters, should be\ncarefully attended to; above all, it should be equable in style. There\nmust also be quantity, which is necessary in prose as well as in verse:\nclauses, sentences, paragraphs, must be in due proportion. Metre and\neven rhyme may be rarely admitted; though neither is a legitimate\nelement of prose writing, they may help to lighten a cumbrous\nexpression (Symp.). The translation should retain as far as possible\nthe characteristic qualities of the ancient writer--his freedom, grace,\nsimplicity, stateliness, weight, precision; or the best part of him will\nbe lost to the English reader. It should read as an original work, and\nshould also be the most faithful transcript which can be made of the\nlanguage from which the translation is taken, consistently with the\nfirst requirement of all, that it be English. Further, the translation\nbeing English, it should also be perfectly intelligible in itself\nwithout reference to the Greek, the English being really the more lucid\nand exact of the two languages. In some respects it may be maintained\nthat ordinary English writing, such as the newspaper article, is\nsuperior to Plato: at any rate it is couched in language which is very\nrarely obscure. On the other hand, the greatest writers of Greece,\nThucydides, Plato, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Pindar, Demosthenes, are\ngenerally those which are found to be most difficult and to diverge most\nwidely from the English idiom. The translator will often have to convert\nthe more abstract Greek into the more concrete English, or vice versa,\nand he ought not to force upon one language the character of another.\nIn some cases, where the order is confused, the expression feeble, the\nemphasis misplaced, or the sense somewhat faulty, he will not strive in\nhis rendering to reproduce these characteristics, but will re-write the\npassage as his author would have written it at first, had he not been\n'nodding'; and he will not hesitate to supply anything which, owing to\nthe genius of the language or some accident of composition, is\nomitted in the Greek, but is necessary to make the English clear and\nconsecutive.\n\nIt is difficult to harmonize all these conflicting elements. In a\ntranslation of Plato what may be termed the interests of the Greek\nand English are often at war with one another. In framing the English\nsentence we are insensibly diverted from the exact meaning of the Greek;\nwhen we return to the Greek we are apt to cramp and overlay the English.\nWe substitute, we compromise, we give and take, we add a little here\nand leave out a little there. The translator may sometimes be allowed to\nsacrifice minute accuracy for the sake of clearness and sense. But he is\nnot therefore at liberty to omit words and turns of expression which the\nEnglish language is quite capable of supplying. He must be patient and\nself-controlled; he must not be easily run away with. Let him never\nallow the attraction of a favourite expression, or a sonorous cadence,\nto overpower his better judgment, or think much of an ornament which is\nout of keeping with the general character of his work. He must ever be\ncasting his eyes upwards from the copy to the original, and down again\nfrom the original to the copy (Rep.). His calling is not held in much\nhonour by the world of scholars; yet he himself may be excused\nfor thinking it a kind of glory to have lived so many years in the\ncompanionship of one of the greatest of human intelligences, and in\nsome degree, more perhaps than others, to have had the privilege of\nunderstanding him (Sir Joshua Reynolds' Lectures: Disc. xv.).\n\nThere are fundamental differences in Greek and English, of which some\nmay be managed while others remain intractable. (1). The structure of\nthe Greek language is partly adversative and alternative, and partly\ninferential; that is to say, the members of a sentence are either\nopposed to one another, or one of them expresses the cause or effect\nor condition or reason of another. The two tendencies may be called the\nhorizontal and perpendicular lines of the language; and the opposition\nor inference is often much more one of words than of ideas. But modern\nlanguages have rubbed off this adversative and inferential form: they\nhave fewer links of connection, there is less mortar in the interstices,\nand they are content to place sentences side by side, leaving their\nrelation to one another to be gathered from their position or from\nthe context. The difficulty of preserving the effect of the Greek\nis increased by the want of adversative and inferential particles in\nEnglish, and by the nice sense of tautology which characterizes all\nmodern languages. We cannot have two 'buts' or two 'fors' in the same\nsentence where the Greek repeats (Greek). There is a similar want of\nparticles expressing the various gradations of objective and subjective\nthought--(Greek) and the like, which are so thickly scattered over the\nGreek page. Further, we can only realize to a very imperfect degree\nthe common distinction between (Greek), and the combination of the\ntwo suggests a subtle shade of negation which cannot be expressed\nin English. And while English is more dependent than Greek upon the\napposition of clauses and sentences, yet there is a difficulty in using\nthis form of construction owing to the want of case endings. For the\nsame reason there cannot be an equal variety in the order of words or an\nequal nicety of emphasis in English as in Greek.\n\n(2) The formation of the sentence and of the paragraph greatly differs\nin Greek and English. The lines by which they are divided are generally\nmuch more marked in modern languages than in ancient. Both sentences\nand paragraphs are more precise and definite--they do not run into\none another. They are also more regularly developed from within.\nThe sentence marks another step in an argument or a narrative or a\nstatement; in reading a paragraph we silently turn over the page and\narrive at some new view or aspect of the subject. Whereas in Plato we\nare not always certain where a sentence begins and ends; and paragraphs\nare few and far between. The language is distributed in a different way,\nand less articulated than in English. For it was long before the true\nuse of the period was attained by the classical writers both in poetry\nor prose; it was (Greek). The balance of sentences and the introduction\nof paragraphs at suitable intervals must not be neglected if the harmony\nof the English language is to be preserved. And still a caution has to\nbe added on the other side, that we must avoid giving it a numerical or\nmechanical character.\n\n(3) This, however, is not one of the greatest difficulties of the\ntranslator; much greater is that which arises from the restriction\nof the use of the genders. Men and women in English are masculine\nand feminine, and there is a similar distinction of sex in the words\ndenoting animals; but all things else, whether outward objects or\nabstract ideas, are relegated to the class of neuters. Hardly in some\nflight of poetry do we ever endue any of them with the characteristics\nof a sentient being, and then only by speaking of them in the feminine\ngender. The virtues may be pictured in female forms, but they are not so\ndescribed in language; a ship is humorously supposed to be the sailor's\nbride; more doubtful are the personifications of church and country as\nfemales. Now the genius of the Greek language is the opposite of\nthis. The same tendency to personification which is seen in the Greek\nmythology is common also in the language; and genders are attributed to\nthings as well as persons according to their various degrees of strength\nand weakness; or from fanciful resemblances to the male or female form,\nor some analogy too subtle to be discovered. When the gender of any\nobject was once fixed, a similar gender was naturally assigned to\nsimilar objects, or to words of similar formation. This use of genders\nin the denotation of objects or ideas not only affects the words\nto which genders are attributed, but the words with which they are\nconstrued or connected, and passes into the general character of the\nstyle. Hence arises a difficulty in translating Greek into English\nwhich cannot altogether be overcome. Shall we speak of the soul and\nits qualities, of virtue, power, wisdom, and the like, as feminine or\nneuter? The usage of the English language does not admit of the former,\nand yet the life and beauty of the style are impaired by the latter.\nOften the translator will have recourse to the repetition of the word,\nor to the ambiguous 'they,' 'their,' etc.; for fear of spoiling the\neffect of the sentence by introducing 'it.' Collective nouns in Greek\nand English create a similar but lesser awkwardness.\n\n(4) To use of relation is far more extended in Greek than in English.\nPartly the greater variety of genders and cases makes the connexion of\nrelative and antecedent less ambiguous: partly also the greater number\nof demonstrative and relative pronouns, and the use of the article, make\nthe correlation of ideas simpler and more natural. The Greek appears\nto have had an ear or intelligence for a long and complicated sentence\nwhich is rarely to be found in modern nations; and in order to bring\nthe Greek down to the level of the modern, we must break up the long\nsentence into two or more short ones. Neither is the same precision\nrequired in Greek as in Latin or English, nor in earlier Greek as in\nlater; there was nothing shocking to the contemporary of Thucydides and\nPlato in anacolutha and repetitions. In such cases the genius of\nthe English language requires that the translation should be more\nintelligible than the Greek. The want of more distinctions between the\ndemonstrative pronouns is also greatly felt. Two genitives dependent\non one another, unless familiarised by idiom, have an awkward effect\nin English. Frequently the noun has to take the place of the pronoun.\n'This' and 'that' are found repeating themselves to weariness in the\nrough draft of a translation. As in the previous case, while the feeling\nof the modern language is more opposed to tautology, there is also a\ngreater difficulty in avoiding it.\n\n(5) Though no precise rule can be laid down about the repetition of\nwords, there seems to be a kind of impertinence in presenting to the\nreader the same thought in the same words, repeated twice over in the\nsame passage without any new aspect or modification of it. And the\nevasion of tautology--that is, the substitution of one word of precisely\nthe same meaning for another--is resented by us equally with the\nrepetition of words. Yet on the other hand the least difference of\nmeaning or the least change of form from a substantive to an adjective,\nor from a participle to a verb, will often remedy the unpleasant effect.\nRarely and only for the sake of emphasis or clearness can we allow an\nimportant word to be used twice over in two successive sentences or even\nin the same paragraph. The particles and pronouns, as they are of most\nfrequent occurrence, are also the most troublesome. Strictly speaking,\nexcept a few of the commonest of them, 'and,' 'the,' etc., they ought\nnot to occur twice in the same sentence. But the Greek has no such\nprecise rules; and hence any literal translation of a Greek author is\nfull of tautology. The tendency of modern languages is to become more\ncorrect as well as more perspicuous than ancient. And, therefore, while\nthe English translator is limited in the power of expressing relation or\nconnexion, by the law of his own language increased precision and also\nincreased clearness are required of him. The familiar use of logic, and\nthe progress of science, have in these two respects raised the standard.\nBut modern languages, while they have become more exacting in their\ndemands, are in many ways not so well furnished with powers of\nexpression as the ancient classical ones.\n\nSuch are a few of the difficulties which have to be overcome in the work\nof translation; and we are far from having exhausted the list. (6) The\nexcellence of a translation will consist, not merely in the faithful\nrendering of words, or in the composition of a sentence only, or yet\nof a single paragraph, but in the colour and style of the whole work.\nEquability of tone is best attained by the exclusive use of familiar and\nidiomatic words. But great care must be taken; for an idiomatic phrase,\nif an exception to the general style, is of itself a disturbing element.\nNo word, however expressive and exact, should be employed, which makes\nthe reader stop to think, or unduly attracts attention by difficulty\nand peculiarity, or disturbs the effect of the surrounding language.\nIn general the style of one author is not appropriate to another; as in\nsociety, so in letters, we expect every man to have 'a good coat of his\nown,' and not to dress himself out in the rags of another. (a) Archaic\nexpressions are therefore to be avoided. Equivalents may be occasionally\ndrawn from Shakspere, who is the common property of us all; but they\nmust be used sparingly. For, like some other men of genius of the\nElizabethan and Jacobean age, he outdid the capabilities of the\nlanguage, and many of the expressions which he introduced have been laid\naside and have dropped out of use. (b) A similar principle should be\nobserved in the employment of Scripture. Having a greater force and\nbeauty than other language, and a religious association, it disturbs the\neven flow of the style. It may be used to reproduce in the translation\nthe quaint effect of some antique phrase in the original, but rarely;\nand when adopted, it should have a certain freshness and a suitable\n'entourage.' It is strange to observe that the most effective use of\nScripture phraseology arises out of the application of it in a sense\nnot intended by the author. (c) Another caution: metaphors differ in\ndifferent languages, and the translator will often be compelled to\nsubstitute one for another, or to paraphrase them, not giving word for\nword, but diffusing over several words the more concentrated thought of\nthe original. The Greek of Plato often goes beyond the English in its\nimagery: compare Laws, (Greek); Rep.; etc. Or again the modern word,\nwhich in substance is the nearest equivalent to the Greek, may be found\nto include associations alien to Greek life: e.g. (Greek), 'jurymen,'\n(Greek), 'the bourgeoisie.' (d) The translator has also to provide\nexpressions for philosophical terms of very indefinite meaning in the\nmore definite language of modern philosophy. And he must not allow\ndiscordant elements to enter into the work. For example, in translating\nPlato, it would equally be an anachronism to intrude on him the feeling\nand spirit of the Jewish or Christian Scriptures or the technical terms\nof the Hegelian or Darwinian philosophy.\n\n(7) As no two words are precise equivalents (just as no two leaves of\nthe forest are exactly similar), it is a mistaken attempt at precision\nalways to translate the same Greek word by the same English word. There\nis no reason why in the New Testament (Greek) should always be rendered\n'righteousness,' or (Greek) 'covenant.' In such cases the translator may\nbe allowed to employ two words--sometimes when the two meanings occur\nin the same passage, varying them by an 'or'--e.g. (Greek), 'science'\nor 'knowledge,' (Greek), 'idea' or 'class,' (Greek), 'temperance'\nor 'prudence,'--at the point where the change of meaning occurs. If\ntranslations are intended not for the Greek scholar but for the general\nreader, their worst fault will be that they sacrifice the general effect\nand meaning to the over-precise rendering of words and forms of speech.\n\n(8) There is no kind of literature in English which corresponds to the\nGreek Dialogue; nor is the English language easily adapted to it. The\nrapidity and abruptness of question and answer, the constant repetition\nof (Greek), etc., which Cicero avoided in Latin (de Amicit),\nthe frequent occurrence of expletives, would, if reproduced in a\ntranslation, give offence to the reader. Greek has a freer and more\nfrequent use of the Interrogative, and is of a more passionate and\nemotional character, and therefore lends itself with greater readiness\nto the dialogue form. Most of the so-called English Dialogues are but\npoor imitations of Plato, which fall very far short of the original. The\nbreath of conversation, the subtle adjustment of question and answer,\nthe lively play of fancy, the power of drawing characters, are wanting\nin them. But the Platonic dialogue is a drama as well as a dialogue, of\nwhich Socrates is the central figure, and there are lesser performers as\nwell:--the insolence of Thrasymachus, the anger of Callicles and Anytus,\nthe patronizing style of Protagoras, the self-consciousness of Prodicus\nand Hippias, are all part of the entertainment. To reproduce this living\nimage the same sort of effort is required as in translating poetry. The\nlanguage, too, is of a finer quality; the mere prose English is slow in\nlending itself to the form of question and answer, and so the ease of\nconversation is lost, and at the same time the dialectical precision\nwith which the steps of the argument are drawn out is apt to be\nimpaired.\n\nII. In the Introductions to the Dialogues there have been added some\nessays on modern philosophy, and on political and social life. The chief\nsubjects discussed in these are Utility, Communism, the Kantian and\nHegelian philosophies, Psychology, and the Origin of Language. (There\nhave been added also in the Third Edition remarks on other subjects.\nA list of the most important of these additions is given at the end of\nthis Preface.)\n\nAncient and modern philosophy throw a light upon one another: but they\nshould be compared, not confounded. Although the connexion between\nthem is sometimes accidental, it is often real. The same questions\nare discussed by them under different conditions of language and\ncivilization; but in some cases a mere word has survived, while nothing\nor hardly anything of the pre-Socratic, Platonic, or Aristotelian\nmeaning is retained. There are other questions familiar to the moderns,\nwhich have no place in ancient philosophy. The world has grown older in\ntwo thousand years, and has enlarged its stock of ideas and methods of\nreasoning. Yet the germ of modern thought is found in ancient, and we\nmay claim to have inherited, notwithstanding many accidents of time and\nplace, the spirit of Greek philosophy. There is, however, no continuous\ngrowth of the one into the other, but a new beginning, partly\nartificial, partly arising out of the questionings of the mind itself,\nand also receiving a stimulus from the study of ancient writings.\n\nConsidering the great and fundamental differences which exist in ancient\nand modern philosophy, it seems best that we should at first study them\nseparately, and seek for the interpretation of either, especially of the\nancient, from itself only, comparing the same author with himself and\nwith his contemporaries, and with the general state of thought and\nfeeling prevalent in his age. Afterwards comes the remoter light which\nthey cast on one another. We begin to feel that the ancients had the\nsame thoughts as ourselves, the same difficulties which characterize all\nperiods of transition, almost the same opposition between science and\nreligion. Although we cannot maintain that ancient and modern philosophy\nare one and continuous (as has been affirmed with more truth respecting\nancient and modern history), for they are separated by an interval of\na thousand years, yet they seem to recur in a sort of cycle, and we are\nsurprised to find that the new is ever old, and that the teaching of the\npast has still a meaning for us.\n\nIII. In the preface to the first edition I expressed a strong opinion\nat variance with Mr. Grote's, that the so-called Epistles of Plato were\nspurious. His friend and editor, Professor Bain, thinks that I ought to\ngive the reasons why I differ from so eminent an authority. Reserving\nthe fuller discussion of the question for another place, I will shortly\ndefend my opinion by the following arguments:--\n\n(a) Because almost all epistles purporting to be of the classical age\nof Greek literature are forgeries. (Compare Bentley's Works (Dyce's\nEdition).) Of all documents this class are the least likely to be\npreserved and the most likely to be invented. The ancient world swarmed\nwith them; the great libraries stimulated the demand for them; and at a\ntime when there was no regular publication of books, they easily crept\ninto the world.\n\n(b) When one epistle out of a number is spurious, the remainder of\nthe series cannot be admitted to be genuine, unless there be some\nindependent ground for thinking them so: when all but one are spurious,\noverwhelming evidence is required of the genuineness of the one: when\nthey are all similar in style or motive, like witnesses who agree in the\nsame tale, they stand or fall together. But no one, not even Mr. Grote,\nwould maintain that all the Epistles of Plato are genuine, and very few\ncritics think that more than one of them is so. And they are clearly all\nwritten from the same motive, whether serious or only literary. Nor is\nthere an example in Greek antiquity of a series of Epistles, continuous\nand yet coinciding with a succession of events extending over a great\nnumber of years.\n\nThe external probability therefore against them is enormous, and the\ninternal probability is not less: for they are trivial and unmeaning,\ndevoid of delicacy and subtlety, wanting in a single fine expression.\nAnd even if this be matter of dispute, there can be no dispute that\nthere are found in them many plagiarisms, inappropriately borrowed,\nwhich is a common note of forgery. They imitate Plato, who never\nimitates either himself or any one else; reminiscences of the Republic\nand the Laws are continually recurring in them; they are too like\nhim and also too unlike him, to be genuine (see especially Karsten,\nCommentio Critica de Platonis quae feruntur Epistolis). They are full of\negotism, self-assertion, affectation, faults which of all writers Plato\nwas most careful to avoid, and into which he was least likely to\nfall. They abound in obscurities, irrelevancies, solecisms, pleonasms,\ninconsistencies, awkwardnesses of construction, wrong uses of words.\nThey also contain historical blunders, such as the statement respecting\nHipparinus and Nysaeus, the nephews of Dion, who are said to 'have been\nwell inclined to philosophy, and well able to dispose the mind of their\nbrother Dionysius in the same course,' at a time when they could not\nhave been more than six or seven years of age--also foolish allusions,\nsuch as the comparison of the Athenian empire to the empire of Darius,\nwhich show a spirit very different from that of Plato; and mistakes of\nfact, as e.g. about the Thirty Tyrants, whom the writer of the letters\nseems to have confused with certain inferior magistrates, making them\nin all fifty-one. These palpable errors and absurdities are absolutely\nirreconcilable with their genuineness. And as they appear to have a\ncommon parentage, the more they are studied, the more they will be found\nto furnish evidence against themselves. The Seventh, which is thought to\nbe the most important of these Epistles, has affinities with the Third\nand the Eighth, and is quite as impossible and inconsistent as the rest.\nIt is therefore involved in the same condemnation.--The final conclusion\nis that neither the Seventh nor any other of them, when carefully\nanalyzed, can be imagined to have proceeded from the hand or mind of\nPlato. The other testimonies to the voyages of Plato to Sicily and the\ncourt of Dionysius are all of them later by several centuries than the\nevents to which they refer. No extant writer mentions them older\nthan Cicero and Cornelius Nepos. It does not seem impossible that so\nattractive a theme as the meeting of a philosopher and a tyrant, once\nimagined by the genius of a Sophist, may have passed into a romance\nwhich became famous in Hellas and the world. It may have created one of\nthe mists of history, like the Trojan war or the legend of Arthur, which\nwe are unable to penetrate. In the age of Cicero, and still more in\nthat of Diogenes Laertius and Appuleius, many other legends had gathered\naround the personality of Plato,--more voyages, more journeys to visit\ntyrants and Pythagorean philosophers. But if, as we agree with Karsten\nin supposing, they are the forgery of some rhetorician or sophist, we\ncannot agree with him in also supposing that they are of any historical\nvalue, the rather as there is no early independent testimony by which\nthey are supported or with which they can be compared.\n\nIV. There is another subject to which I must briefly call attention,\nlest I should seem to have overlooked it. Dr. Henry Jackson, of Trinity\nCollege, Cambridge, in a series of articles which he has contributed to\nthe Journal of Philology, has put forward an entirely new explanation of\nthe Platonic 'Ideas.' He supposes that in the mind of Plato they took,\nat different times in his life, two essentially different forms:--an\nearlier one which is found chiefly in the Republic and the Phaedo, and\na later, which appears in the Theaetetus, Philebus, Sophist, Politicus,\nParmenides, Timaeus. In the first stage of his philosophy Plato\nattributed Ideas to all things, at any rate to all things which\nhave classes or common notions: these he supposed to exist only by\nparticipation in them. In the later Dialogues he no longer included in\nthem manufactured articles and ideas of relation, but restricted them to\n'types of nature,' and having become convinced that the many cannot be\nparts of the one, for the idea of participation in them he substituted\nimitation of them. To quote Dr. Jackson's own expressions,--'whereas\nin the period of the Republic and the Phaedo, it was proposed to pass\nthrough ontology to the sciences, in the period of the Parmenides and\nthe Philebus, it is proposed to pass through the sciences to ontology':\nor, as he repeats in nearly the same words,--'whereas in the Republic\nand in the Phaedo he had dreamt of passing through ontology to the\nsciences, he is now content to pass through the sciences to ontology.'\n\nThis theory is supposed to be based on Aristotle's Metaphysics, a\npassage containing an account of the ideas, which hitherto scholars have\nfound impossible to reconcile with the statements of Plato himself. The\npreparations for the new departure are discovered in the Parmenides and\nin the Theaetetus; and it is said to be expressed under a different\nform by the (Greek) and the (Greek) of the Philebus. The (Greek) of the\nPhilebus is the principle which gives form and measure to the (Greek);\nand in the 'Later Theory' is held to be the (Greek) or (Greek) which\nconverts the Infinite or Indefinite into ideas. They are neither (Greek)\nnor (Greek), but belong to the (Greek) which partakes of both.\n\nWith great respect for the learning and ability of Dr. Jackson, I find\nmyself unable to agree in this newly fashioned doctrine of the Ideas,\nwhich he ascribes to Plato. I have not the space to go into the question\nfully; but I will briefly state some objections which are, I think,\nfatal to it.\n\n(1) First, the foundation of his argument is laid in the Metaphysics of\nAristotle. But we cannot argue, either from the Metaphysics, or from any\nother of the philosophical treatises of Aristotle, to the dialogues\nof Plato until we have ascertained the relation in which his so-called\nworks stand to the philosopher himself. There is of course no doubt\nof the great influence exercised upon Greece and upon the world by\nAristotle and his philosophy. But on the other hand almost every one who\nis capable of understanding the subject acknowledges that his writings\nhave not come down to us in an authentic form like most of the dialogues\nof Plato. How much of them is to be ascribed to Aristotle's own hand,\nhow much is due to his successors in the Peripatetic School, is a\nquestion which has never been determined, and probably never can be,\nbecause the solution of it depends upon internal evidence only. To\n'the height of this great argument' I do not propose to ascend. But one\nlittle fact, not irrelevant to the present discussion, will show\nhow hopeless is the attempt to explain Plato out of the writings of\nAristotle. In the chapter of the Metaphysics quoted by Dr. Jackson,\nabout two octavo pages in length, there occur no less than seven or\neight references to Plato, although nothing really corresponding to them\ncan be found in his extant writings:--a small matter truly; but what a\nlight does it throw on the character of the entire book in which they\noccur! We can hardly escape from the conclusion that they are not\nstatements of Aristotle respecting Plato, but of a later generation of\nAristotelians respecting a later generation of Platonists. (Compare\nthe striking remark of the great Scaliger respecting the Magna\nMoralia:--Haec non sunt Aristotelis, tamen utitur auctor Aristotelis\nnomine tanquam suo.)\n\n(2) There is no hint in Plato's own writings that he was conscious of\nhaving made any change in the Doctrine of Ideas such as Dr. Jackson\nattributes to him, although in the Republic the platonic Socrates speaks\nof 'a longer and a shorter way', and of a way in which his disciple\nGlaucon 'will be unable to follow him'; also of a way of Ideas, to\nwhich he still holds fast, although it has often deserted him (Philebus,\nPhaedo), and although in the later dialogues and in the Laws the\nreference to Ideas disappears, and Mind claims her own (Phil.; Laws).\nNo hint is given of what Plato meant by the 'longer way' (Rep.), or 'the\nway in which Glaucon was unable to follow'; or of the relation of Mind\nto the Ideas. It might be said with truth that the conception of the\nIdea predominates in the first half of the Dialogues, which, according\nto the order adopted in this work, ends with the Republic, the\n'conception of Mind' and a way of speaking more in agreement with modern\nterminology, in the latter half. But there is no reason to suppose that\nPlato's theory, or, rather, his various theories, of the Ideas\nunderwent any definite change during his period of authorship. They are\nsubstantially the same in the twelfth Book of the Laws as in the Meno\nand Phaedo; and since the Laws were written in the last decade of his\nlife, there is no time to which this change of opinions can be ascribed.\nIt is true that the theory of Ideas takes several different forms, not\nmerely an earlier and a later one, in the various Dialogues. They are\npersonal and impersonal, ideals and ideas, existing by participation or\nby imitation, one and many, in different parts of his writings or even\nin the same passage. They are the universal definitions of Socrates, and\nat the same time 'of more than mortal knowledge' (Rep.). But they\nare always the negations of sense, of matter, of generation, of the\nparticular: they are always the subjects of knowledge and not of\nopinion; and they tend, not to diversity, but to unity. Other entities\nor intelligences are akin to them, but not the same with them, such as\nmind, measure, limit, eternity, essence (Philebus; Timaeus): these and\nsimilar terms appear to express the same truths from a different point\nof view, and to belong to the same sphere with them. But we are not\njustified, therefore, in attempting to identify them, any more than\nin wholly opposing them. The great oppositions of the sensible and\nintellectual, the unchangeable and the transient, in whatever form of\nwords expressed, are always maintained in Plato. But the lesser\nlogical distinctions, as we should call them, whether of ontology or\npredication, which troubled the pre-Socratic philosophy and came to the\nfront in Aristotle, are variously discussed and explained. Thus far we\nadmit inconsistency in Plato, but no further. He lived in an age before\nlogic and system had wholly permeated language, and therefore we must\nnot always expect to find in him systematic arrangement or logical\nprecision:--'poema magis putandum.' But he is always true to his own\ncontext, the careful study of which is of more value to the interpreter\nthan all the commentators and scholiasts put together.\n\n(3) The conclusions at which Dr. Jackson has arrived are such as might\nbe expected to follow from his method of procedure. For he takes words\nwithout regard to their connection, and pieces together different\nparts of dialogues in a purely arbitrary manner, although there is no\nindication that the author intended the two passages to be so combined,\nor that when he appears to be experimenting on the different points of\nview from which a subject of philosophy may be regarded, he is secretly\nelaborating a system. By such a use of language any premises may be made\nto lead to any conclusion. I am not one of those who believe Plato to\nhave been a mystic or to have had hidden meanings; nor do I agree\nwith Dr. Jackson in thinking that 'when he is precise and dogmatic,\nhe generally contrives to introduce an element of obscurity into the\nexpostion' (J. of Philol.). The great master of language wrote as\nclearly as he could in an age when the minds of men were clouded by\ncontroversy, and philosophical terms had not yet acquired a fixed\nmeaning. I have just said that Plato is to be interpreted by his\ncontext; and I do not deny that in some passages, especially in the\nRepublic and Laws, the context is at a greater distance than would be\nallowable in a modern writer. But we are not therefore justified in\nconnecting passages from different parts of his writings, or even from\nthe same work, which he has not himself joined. We cannot argue from\nthe Parmenides to the Philebus, or from either to the Sophist, or\nassume that the Parmenides, the Philebus, and the Timaeus were 'written\nsimultaneously,' or 'were intended to be studied in the order in\nwhich they are here named (J. of Philol.) We have no right to connect\nstatements which are only accidentally similar. Nor is it safe for the\nauthor of a theory about ancient philosophy to argue from what will\nhappen if his statements are rejected. For those consequences may never\nhave entered into the mind of the ancient writer himself; and they\nare very likely to be modern consequences which would not have been\nunderstood by him. 'I cannot think,' says Dr. Jackson, 'that Plato would\nhave changed his opinions, but have nowhere explained the nature of the\nchange.' But is it not much more improbable that he should have changed\nhis opinions, and not stated in an unmistakable manner that the most\nessential principle of his philosophy had been reversed? It is true that\na few of the dialogues, such as the Republic and the Timaeus, or\nthe Theaetetus and the Sophist, or the Meno and the Apology, contain\nallusions to one another. But these allusions are superficial and,\nexcept in the case of the Republic and the Laws, have no philosophical\nimportance. They do not affect the substance of the work. It may be\nremarked further that several of the dialogues, such as the Phaedrus,\nthe Sophist, and the Parmenides, have more than one subject. But it\ndoes not therefore follow that Plato intended one dialogue to succeed\nanother, or that he begins anew in one dialogue a subject which he has\nleft unfinished in another, or that even in the same dialogue he always\nintended the two parts to be connected with each other. We cannot argue\nfrom a casual statement found in the Parmenides to other statements\nwhich occur in the Philebus. Much more truly is his own manner described\nby himself when he says that 'words are more plastic than wax' (Rep.),\nand 'whither the wind blows, the argument follows'. The dialogues of\nPlato are like poems, isolated and separate works, except where they are\nindicated by the author himself to have an intentional sequence.\n\nIt is this method of taking passages out of their context and placing\nthem in a new connexion when they seem to confirm a preconceived theory,\nwhich is the defect of Dr. Jackson's procedure. It may be compared,\nthough not wholly the same with it, to that method which the Fathers\npractised, sometimes called 'the mystical interpretation of Scripture,'\nin which isolated words are separated from their context, and receive\nany sense which the fancy of the interpreter may suggest. It is akin\nto the method employed by Schleiermacher of arranging the dialogues\nof Plato in chronological order according to what he deems the true\narrangement of the ideas contained in them. (Dr. Jackson is also\ninclined, having constructed a theory, to make the chronology of Plato's\nwritings dependent upon it (See J. of Philol. and elsewhere.) It may\nlikewise be illustrated by the ingenuity of those who employ symbols to\nfind in Shakespeare a hidden meaning. In the three cases the error is\nnearly the same:--words are taken out of their natural context, and thus\nbecome destitute of any real meaning.\n\n(4) According to Dr. Jackson's 'Later Theory,' Plato's Ideas, which were\nonce regarded as the summa genera of all things, are now to be explained\nas Forms or Types of some things only,--that is to say, of natural\nobjects: these we conceive imperfectly, but are always seeking in vain\nto have a more perfect notion of them. He says (J. of Philol.) that\n'Plato hoped by the study of a series of hypothetical or provisional\nclassifications to arrive at one in which nature's distribution of kinds\nis approximately represented, and so to attain approximately to the\nknowledge of the ideas. But whereas in the Republic, and even in the\nPhaedo, though less hopefully, he had sought to convert his provisional\ndefinitions into final ones by tracing their connexion with the\nsummum genus, the (Greek), in the Parmenides his aspirations are less\nambitious,' and so on. But where does Dr. Jackson find any such notion\nas this in Plato or anywhere in ancient philosophy? Is it not an\nanachronism, gracious to the modern physical philosopher, and the more\nacceptable because it seems to form a link between ancient and modern\nphilosophy, and between physical and metaphysical science; but really\nunmeaning?\n\n(5) To this 'Later Theory' of Plato's Ideas I oppose the authority of\nProfessor Zeller, who affirms that none of the passages to which Dr.\nJackson appeals (Theaet.; Phil.; Tim.; Parm.) 'in the smallest degree\nprove his point'; and that in the second class of dialogues, in which\nthe 'Later Theory of Ideas' is supposed to be found, quite as clearly\nas in the first, are admitted Ideas, not only of natural objects, but of\nproperties, relations, works of art, negative notions (Theaet.; Parm.;\nSoph.); and that what Dr. Jackson distinguishes as the first class of\ndialogues from the second equally assert or imply that the relation\nof things to the Ideas, is one of participation in them as well as\nof imitation of them (Prof. Zeller's summary of his own review of Dr.\nJackson, Archiv fur Geschichte der Philosophie.)\n\nIn conclusion I may remark that in Plato's writings there is both unity,\nand also growth and development; but that we must not intrude upon him\neither a system or a technical language.\n\nBalliol College, October, 1891.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\nThe chief additions to the Introductions in the Third Edition consist of\nEssays on the following subjects:--\n\n1. Language.\n\n2. The decline of Greek Literature.\n\n3. The 'Ideas' of Plato and Modern Philosophy.\n\n4. The myths of Plato.\n\n5. The relation of the Republic, Statesman and Laws.\n\n6. The legend of Atlantis.\n\n7. Psychology.\n\n8. Comparison of the Laws of Plato with Spartan and Athenian Laws and\nInstitutions.\n\n\nCHARMIDES.\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nThe subject of the Charmides is Temperance or (Greek), a peculiarly\nGreek notion, which may also be rendered Moderation (Compare Cic.\nTusc. '(Greek), quam soleo equidem tum temperantiam, tum moderationem\nappellare, nonnunquam etiam modestiam.'), Modesty, Discretion,\nWisdom, without completely exhausting by all these terms the various\nassociations of the word. It may be described as 'mens sana in corpore\nsano,' the harmony or due proportion of the higher and lower elements\nof human nature which 'makes a man his own master,' according to the\ndefinition of the Republic. In the accompanying translation the word has\nbeen rendered in different places either Temperance or Wisdom, as the\nconnection seemed to require: for in the philosophy of Plato (Greek)\nstill retains an intellectual element (as Socrates is also said to have\nidentified (Greek) with (Greek): Xen. Mem.) and is not yet relegated to\nthe sphere of moral virtue, as in the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle.\n\nThe beautiful youth, Charmides, who is also the most temperate of\nhuman beings, is asked by Socrates, 'What is Temperance?' He answers\ncharacteristically, (1) 'Quietness.' 'But Temperance is a fine and noble\nthing; and quietness in many or most cases is not so fine a thing as\nquickness.' He tries again and says (2) that temperance is modesty.\nBut this again is set aside by a sophistical application of Homer:\nfor temperance is good as well as noble, and Homer has declared that\n'modesty is not good for a needy man.' (3) Once more Charmides makes\nthe attempt. This time he gives a definition which he has heard, and of\nwhich Socrates conjectures that Critias must be the author: 'Temperance\nis doing one's own business.' But the artisan who makes another man's\nshoes may be temperate, and yet he is not doing his own business; and\ntemperance defined thus would be opposed to the division of labour which\nexists in every temperate or well-ordered state. How is this riddle to\nbe explained?\n\nCritias, who takes the place of Charmides, distinguishes in his\nanswer between 'making' and 'doing,' and with the help of a misapplied\nquotation from Hesiod assigns to the words 'doing' and 'work' an\nexclusively good sense: Temperance is doing one's own business;--(4) is\ndoing good.\n\nStill an element of knowledge is wanting which Critias is readily\ninduced to admit at the suggestion of Socrates; and, in the spirit of\nSocrates and of Greek life generally, proposes as a fifth definition,\n(5) Temperance is self-knowledge. But all sciences have a subject:\nnumber is the subject of arithmetic, health of medicine--what is the\nsubject of temperance or wisdom? The answer is that (6) Temperance is\nthe knowledge of what a man knows and of what he does not know. But\nthis is contrary to analogy; there is no vision of vision, but only of\nvisible things; no love of loves, but only of beautiful things; how then\ncan there be a knowledge of knowledge? That which is older, heavier,\nlighter, is older, heavier, and lighter than something else, not than\nitself, and this seems to be true of all relative notions--the object of\nrelation is outside of them; at any rate they can only have relation to\nthemselves in the form of that object. Whether there are any such cases\nof reflex relation or not, and whether that sort of knowledge which we\nterm Temperance is of this reflex nature, has yet to be determined by\nthe great metaphysician. But even if knowledge can know itself, how\ndoes the knowledge of what we know imply the knowledge of what we do not\nknow? Besides, knowledge is an abstraction only, and will not inform us\nof any particular subject, such as medicine, building, and the like. It\nmay tell us that we or other men know something, but can never tell us\nwhat we know.\n\nAdmitting that there is a knowledge of what we know and of what we do\nnot know, which would supply a rule and measure of all things, still\nthere would be no good in this; and the knowledge which temperance gives\nmust be of a kind which will do us good; for temperance is a good. But\nthis universal knowledge does not tend to our happiness and good: the\nonly kind of knowledge which brings happiness is the knowledge of good\nand evil. To this Critias replies that the science or knowledge of\ngood and evil, and all the other sciences, are regulated by the higher\nscience or knowledge of knowledge. Socrates replies by again dividing\nthe abstract from the concrete, and asks how this knowledge conduces to\nhappiness in the same definite way in which medicine conduces to health.\n\nAnd now, after making all these concessions, which are really\ninadmissible, we are still as far as ever from ascertaining the nature\nof temperance, which Charmides has already discovered, and had therefore\nbetter rest in the knowledge that the more temperate he is the happier\nhe will be, and not trouble himself with the speculations of Socrates.\n\nIn this Dialogue may be noted (1) The Greek ideal of beauty and\ngoodness, the vision of the fair soul in the fair body, realised in the\nbeautiful Charmides; (2) The true conception of medicine as a science\nof the whole as well as the parts, and of the mind as well as the body,\nwhich is playfully intimated in the story of the Thracian; (3) The\ntendency of the age to verbal distinctions, which here, as in the\nProtagoras and Cratylus, are ascribed to the ingenuity of Prodicus;\nand to interpretations or rather parodies of Homer or Hesiod, which are\neminently characteristic of Plato and his contemporaries; (4) The germ\nof an ethical principle contained in the notion that temperance is\n'doing one's own business,' which in the Republic (such is the shifting\ncharacter of the Platonic philosophy) is given as the definition, not\nof temperance, but of justice; (5) The impatience which is exhibited by\nSocrates of any definition of temperance in which an element of science\nor knowledge is not included; (6) The beginning of metaphysics and logic\nimplied in the two questions: whether there can be a science of science,\nand whether the knowledge of what you know is the same as the knowledge\nof what you do not know; and also in the distinction between 'what you\nknow' and 'that you know,' (Greek;) here too is the first conception of\nan absolute self-determined science (the claims of which, however,\nare disputed by Socrates, who asks cui bono?) as well as the first\nsuggestion of the difficulty of the abstract and concrete, and one of\nthe earliest anticipations of the relation of subject and object, and\nof the subjective element in knowledge--a 'rich banquet' of metaphysical\nquestions in which we 'taste of many things.' (7) And still the mind\nof Plato, having snatched for a moment at these shadows of the future,\nquickly rejects them: thus early has he reached the conclusion that\nthere can be no science which is a 'science of nothing' (Parmen.). (8)\nThe conception of a science of good and evil also first occurs here, an\nanticipation of the Philebus and Republic as well as of moral philosophy\nin later ages.\n\nThe dramatic interest of the Dialogue chiefly centres in the youth\nCharmides, with whom Socrates talks in the kindly spirit of an elder.\nHis childlike simplicity and ingenuousness are contrasted with the\ndialectical and rhetorical arts of Critias, who is the grown-up man of\nthe world, having a tincture of philosophy. No hint is given, either\nhere or in the Timaeus, of the infamy which attaches to the name of the\nlatter in Athenian history. He is simply a cultivated person who, like\nhis kinsman Plato, is ennobled by the connection of his family with\nSolon (Tim.), and had been the follower, if not the disciple, both\nof Socrates and of the Sophists. In the argument he is not unfair, if\nallowance is made for a slight rhetorical tendency, and for a natural\ndesire to save his reputation with the company; he is sometimes nearer\nthe truth than Socrates. Nothing in his language or behaviour is\nunbecoming the guardian of the beautiful Charmides. His love of\nreputation is characteristically Greek, and contrasts with the humility\nof Socrates. Nor in Charmides himself do we find any resemblance to the\nCharmides of history, except, perhaps, the modest and retiring nature\nwhich, according to Xenophon, at one time of his life prevented him from\nspeaking in the Assembly (Mem.); and we are surprised to hear that, like\nCritias, he afterwards became one of the thirty tyrants. In the Dialogue\nhe is a pattern of virtue, and is therefore in no need of the charm\nwhich Socrates is unable to apply. With youthful naivete, keeping his\nsecret and entering into the spirit of Socrates, he enjoys the detection\nof his elder and guardian Critias, who is easily seen to be the author\nof the definition which he has so great an interest in maintaining.\nThe preceding definition, 'Temperance is doing one's own business,' is\nassumed to have been borrowed by Charmides from another; and when the\nenquiry becomes more abstract he is superseded by Critias (Theaet.;\nEuthyd.). Socrates preserves his accustomed irony to the end; he is in\nthe neighbourhood of several great truths, which he views in various\nlights, but always either by bringing them to the test of common sense,\nor by demanding too great exactness in the use of words, turns aside\nfrom them and comes at last to no conclusion.\n\nThe definitions of temperance proceed in regular order from the popular\nto the philosophical. The first two are simple enough and partially\ntrue, like the first thoughts of an intelligent youth; the third,\nwhich is a real contribution to ethical philosophy, is perverted by the\ningenuity of Socrates, and hardly rescued by an equal perversion on the\npart of Critias. The remaining definitions have a higher aim, which is\nto introduce the element of knowledge, and at last to unite good and\ntruth in a single science. But the time has not yet arrived for the\nrealization of this vision of metaphysical philosophy; and such a\nscience when brought nearer to us in the Philebus and the Republic will\nnot be called by the name of (Greek). Hence we see with surprise that\nPlato, who in his other writings identifies good and knowledge, here\nopposes them, and asks, almost in the spirit of Aristotle, how can there\nbe a knowledge of knowledge, and even if attainable, how can such a\nknowledge be of any use?\n\nThe difficulty of the Charmides arises chiefly from the two senses of\nthe word (Greek), or temperance. From the ethical notion of temperance,\nwhich is variously defined to be quietness, modesty, doing our own\nbusiness, the doing of good actions, the dialogue passes onto the\nintellectual conception of (Greek), which is declared also to be the\nscience of self-knowledge, or of the knowledge of what we know and do\nnot know, or of the knowledge of good and evil. The dialogue represents\na stage in the history of philosophy in which knowledge and action were\nnot yet distinguished. Hence the confusion between them, and the easy\ntransition from one to the other. The definitions which are offered are\nall rejected, but it is to be observed that they all tend to throw a\nlight on the nature of temperance, and that, unlike the distinction of\nCritias between (Greek), none of them are merely verbal quibbles, it is\nimplied that this question, although it has not yet received a solution\nin theory, has been already answered by Charmides himself, who has\nlearned to practise the virtue of self-knowledge which philosophers are\nvainly trying to define in words. In a similar spirit we might say to a\nyoung man who is disturbed by theological difficulties, 'Do not trouble\nyourself about such matters, but only lead a good life;' and yet\nin either case it is not to be denied that right ideas of truth may\ncontribute greatly to the improvement of character.\n\nThe reasons why the Charmides, Lysis, Laches have been placed together\nand first in the series of Platonic dialogues, are: (i) Their shortness\nand simplicity. The Charmides and the Lysis, if not the Laches, are of\nthe same 'quality' as the Phaedrus and Symposium: and it is probable,\nthough far from certain, that the slighter effort preceded the greater\none. (ii) Their eristic, or rather Socratic character; they belong to\nthe class called dialogues of search (Greek), which have no conclusion.\n(iii) The absence in them of certain favourite notions of Plato, such as\nthe doctrine of recollection and of the Platonic ideas; the questions,\nwhether virtue can be taught; whether the virtues are one or many.\n(iv) They have a want of depth, when compared with the dialogues of\nthe middle and later period; and a youthful beauty and grace which is\nwanting in the later ones. (v) Their resemblance to one another; in all\nthe three boyhood has a great part. These reasons have various degrees\nof weight in determining their place in the catalogue of the Platonic\nwritings, though they are not conclusive. No arrangement of the Platonic\ndialogues can be strictly chronological. The order which has been\nadopted is intended mainly for the convenience of the reader; at the\nsame time, indications of the date supplied either by Plato himself or\nallusions found in the dialogues have not been lost sight of. Much may\nbe said about this subject, but the results can only be probable;\nthere are no materials which would enable us to attain to anything like\ncertainty.\n\nThe relations of knowledge and virtue are again brought forward in the\ncompanion dialogues of the Lysis and Laches; and also in the Protagoras\nand Euthydemus. The opposition of abstract and particular knowledge in\nthis dialogue may be compared with a similar opposition of ideas and\nphenomena which occurs in the Prologues to the Parmenides, but seems\nrather to belong to a later stage of the philosophy of Plato.\n\n\n\n\nCHARMIDES, OR TEMPERANCE\n\n\nPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, who is the narrator, Charmides,\nChaerephon, Critias.\n\nSCENE: The Palaestra of Taureas, which is near the Porch of the King\nArchon.\n\n\nYesterday evening I returned from the army at Potidaea, and having been\na good while away, I thought that I should like to go and look at my old\nhaunts. So I went into the palaestra of Taureas, which is over against\nthe temple adjoining the porch of the King Archon, and there I found\na number of persons, most of whom I knew, but not all. My visit was\nunexpected, and no sooner did they see me entering than they saluted me\nfrom afar on all sides; and Chaerephon, who is a kind of madman, started\nup and ran to me, seizing my hand, and saying, How did you escape,\nSocrates?--(I should explain that an engagement had taken place at\nPotidaea not long before we came away, of which the news had only just\nreached Athens.)\n\nYou see, I replied, that here I am.\n\nThere was a report, he said, that the engagement was very severe, and\nthat many of our acquaintance had fallen.\n\nThat, I replied, was not far from the truth.\n\nI suppose, he said, that you were present.\n\nI was.\n\nThen sit down, and tell us the whole story, which as yet we have only\nheard imperfectly.\n\nI took the place which he assigned to me, by the side of Critias the son\nof Callaeschrus, and when I had saluted him and the rest of the\ncompany, I told them the news from the army, and answered their several\nenquiries.\n\nThen, when there had been enough of this, I, in my turn, began to make\nenquiries about matters at home--about the present state of philosophy,\nand about the youth. I asked whether any of them were remarkable for\nwisdom or beauty, or both. Critias, glancing at the door, invited my\nattention to some youths who were coming in, and talking noisily to\none another, followed by a crowd. Of the beauties, Socrates, he said, I\nfancy that you will soon be able to form a judgment. For those who\nare just entering are the advanced guard of the great beauty, as he is\nthought to be, of the day, and he is likely to be not far off himself.\n\nWho is he, I said; and who is his father?\n\nCharmides, he replied, is his name; he is my cousin, and the son of my\nuncle Glaucon: I rather think that you know him too, although he was not\ngrown up at the time of your departure.\n\nCertainly, I know him, I said, for he was remarkable even then when he\nwas still a child, and I should imagine that by this time he must be\nalmost a young man.\n\nYou will see, he said, in a moment what progress he has made and what he\nis like. He had scarcely said the word, when Charmides entered.\n\nNow you know, my friend, that I cannot measure anything, and of the\nbeautiful, I am simply such a measure as a white line is of chalk; for\nalmost all young persons appear to be beautiful in my eyes. But at that\nmoment, when I saw him coming in, I confess that I was quite astonished\nat his beauty and stature; all the world seemed to be enamoured of him;\namazement and confusion reigned when he entered; and a troop of lovers\nfollowed him. That grown-up men like ourselves should have been affected\nin this way was not surprising, but I observed that there was the same\nfeeling among the boys; all of them, down to the very least child,\nturned and looked at him, as if he had been a statue.\n\nChaerephon called me and said: What do you think of him, Socrates? Has\nhe not a beautiful face?\n\nMost beautiful, I said.\n\nBut you would think nothing of his face, he replied, if you could see\nhis naked form: he is absolutely perfect.\n\nAnd to this they all agreed.\n\nBy Heracles, I said, there never was such a paragon, if he has only one\nother slight addition.\n\nWhat is that? said Critias.\n\nIf he has a noble soul; and being of your house, Critias, he may be\nexpected to have this.\n\nHe is as fair and good within, as he is without, replied Critias.\n\nThen, before we see his body, should we not ask him to show us his soul,\nnaked and undisguised? he is just of an age at which he will like to\ntalk.\n\nThat he will, said Critias, and I can tell you that he is a philosopher\nalready, and also a considerable poet, not in his own opinion only, but\nin that of others.\n\nThat, my dear Critias, I replied, is a distinction which has long been\nin your family, and is inherited by you from Solon. But why do you not\ncall him, and show him to us? for even if he were younger than he is,\nthere could be no impropriety in his talking to us in the presence of\nyou, who are his guardian and cousin.\n\nVery well, he said; then I will call him; and turning to the attendant,\nhe said, Call Charmides, and tell him that I want him to come and see\na physician about the illness of which he spoke to me the day before\nyesterday. Then again addressing me, he added: He has been complaining\nlately of having a headache when he rises in the morning: now why should\nyou not make him believe that you know a cure for the headache?\n\nWhy not, I said; but will he come?\n\nHe will be sure to come, he replied.\n\nHe came as he was bidden, and sat down between Critias and me. Great\namusement was occasioned by every one pushing with might and main at his\nneighbour in order to make a place for him next to themselves, until at\nthe two ends of the row one had to get up and the other was rolled over\nsideways. Now I, my friend, was beginning to feel awkward; my former\nbold belief in my powers of conversing with him had vanished. And when\nCritias told him that I was the person who had the cure, he looked at me\nin such an indescribable manner, and was just going to ask a question.\nAnd at that moment all the people in the palaestra crowded about us,\nand, O rare! I caught a sight of the inwards of his garment, and took\nthe flame. Then I could no longer contain myself. I thought how well\nCydias understood the nature of love, when, in speaking of a fair youth,\nhe warns some one 'not to bring the fawn in the sight of the lion to\nbe devoured by him,' for I felt that I had been overcome by a sort of\nwild-beast appetite. But I controlled myself, and when he asked me if\nI knew the cure of the headache, I answered, but with an effort, that I\ndid know.\n\nAnd what is it? he said.\n\nI replied that it was a kind of leaf, which required to be accompanied\nby a charm, and if a person would repeat the charm at the same time that\nhe used the cure, he would be made whole; but that without the charm the\nleaf would be of no avail.\n\nThen I will write out the charm from your dictation, he said.\n\nWith my consent? I said, or without my consent?\n\nWith your consent, Socrates, he said, laughing.\n\nVery good, I said; and are you quite sure that you know my name?\n\nI ought to know you, he replied, for there is a great deal said about\nyou among my companions; and I remember when I was a child seeing you in\ncompany with my cousin Critias.\n\nI am glad to find that you remember me, I said; for I shall now be more\nat home with you and shall be better able to explain the nature of the\ncharm, about which I felt a difficulty before. For the charm will do\nmore, Charmides, than only cure the headache. I dare say that you have\nheard eminent physicians say to a patient who comes to them with bad\neyes, that they cannot cure his eyes by themselves, but that if his eyes\nare to be cured, his head must be treated; and then again they say that\nto think of curing the head alone, and not the rest of the body also, is\nthe height of folly. And arguing in this way they apply their methods\nto the whole body, and try to treat and heal the whole and the part\ntogether. Did you ever observe that this is what they say?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd they are right, and you would agree with them?\n\nYes, he said, certainly I should.\n\nHis approving answers reassured me, and I began by degrees to regain\nconfidence, and the vital heat returned. Such, Charmides, I said, is the\nnature of the charm, which I learned when serving with the army from one\nof the physicians of the Thracian king Zamolxis, who are said to be so\nskilful that they can even give immortality. This Thracian told me that\nin these notions of theirs, which I was just now mentioning, the Greek\nphysicians are quite right as far as they go; but Zamolxis, he added,\nour king, who is also a god, says further, 'that as you ought not to\nattempt to cure the eyes without the head, or the head without the body,\nso neither ought you to attempt to cure the body without the soul; and\nthis,' he said, 'is the reason why the cure of many diseases is unknown\nto the physicians of Hellas, because they are ignorant of the whole,\nwhich ought to be studied also; for the part can never be well unless\nthe whole is well.' For all good and evil, whether in the body or in\nhuman nature, originates, as he declared, in the soul, and overflows\nfrom thence, as if from the head into the eyes. And therefore if the\nhead and body are to be well, you must begin by curing the soul; that is\nthe first thing. And the cure, my dear youth, has to be effected by\nthe use of certain charms, and these charms are fair words; and by them\ntemperance is implanted in the soul, and where temperance is, there\nhealth is speedily imparted, not only to the head, but to the whole\nbody. And he who taught me the cure and the charm at the same time added\na special direction: 'Let no one,' he said, 'persuade you to cure the\nhead, until he has first given you his soul to be cured by the charm.\nFor this,' he said, 'is the great error of our day in the treatment of\nthe human body, that physicians separate the soul from the body.' And he\nadded with emphasis, at the same time making me swear to his words, 'Let\nno one, however rich, or noble, or fair, persuade you to give him the\ncure, without the charm.' Now I have sworn, and I must keep my oath, and\ntherefore if you will allow me to apply the Thracian charm first to your\nsoul, as the stranger directed, I will afterwards proceed to apply the\ncure to your head. But if not, I do not know what I am to do with you,\nmy dear Charmides.\n\nCritias, when he heard this, said: The headache will be an unexpected\ngain to my young relation, if the pain in his head compels him to\nimprove his mind: and I can tell you, Socrates, that Charmides is not\nonly pre-eminent in beauty among his equals, but also in that quality\nwhich is given by the charm; and this, as you say, is temperance?\n\nYes, I said.\n\nThen let me tell you that he is the most temperate of human beings, and\nfor his age inferior to none in any quality.\n\nYes, I said, Charmides; and indeed I think that you ought to excel\nothers in all good qualities; for if I am not mistaken there is no one\npresent who could easily point out two Athenian houses, whose union\nwould be likely to produce a better or nobler scion than the two from\nwhich you are sprung. There is your father's house, which is descended\nfrom Critias the son of Dropidas, whose family has been commemorated\nin the panegyrical verses of Anacreon, Solon, and many other poets,\nas famous for beauty and virtue and all other high fortune: and your\nmother's house is equally distinguished; for your maternal uncle,\nPyrilampes, is reputed never to have found his equal, in Persia at the\ncourt of the great king, or on the continent of Asia, in all the places\nto which he went as ambassador, for stature and beauty; that whole\nfamily is not a whit inferior to the other. Having such ancestors you\nought to be first in all things, and, sweet son of Glaucon, your outward\nform is no dishonour to any of them. If to beauty you add temperance,\nand if in other respects you are what Critias declares you to be, then,\ndear Charmides, blessed art thou, in being the son of thy mother. And\nhere lies the point; for if, as he declares, you have this gift of\ntemperance already, and are temperate enough, in that case you have no\nneed of any charms, whether of Zamolxis or of Abaris the Hyperborean,\nand I may as well let you have the cure of the head at once; but if you\nhave not yet acquired this quality, I must use the charm before I give\nyou the medicine. Please, therefore, to inform me whether you admit the\ntruth of what Critias has been saying;--have you or have you not this\nquality of temperance?\n\nCharmides blushed, and the blush heightened his beauty, for modesty is\nbecoming in youth; he then said very ingenuously, that he really could\nnot at once answer, either yes, or no, to the question which I had\nasked: For, said he, if I affirm that I am not temperate, that would be\na strange thing for me to say of myself, and also I should give the\nlie to Critias, and many others who think as he tells you, that I am\ntemperate: but, on the other hand, if I say that I am, I shall have to\npraise myself, which would be ill manners; and therefore I do not know\nhow to answer you.\n\nI said to him: That is a natural reply, Charmides, and I think that\nyou and I ought together to enquire whether you have this quality about\nwhich I am asking or not; and then you will not be compelled to say what\nyou do not like; neither shall I be a rash practitioner of medicine:\ntherefore, if you please, I will share the enquiry with you, but I will\nnot press you if you would rather not.\n\nThere is nothing which I should like better, he said; and as far as I am\nconcerned you may proceed in the way which you think best.\n\nI think, I said, that I had better begin by asking you a question; for\nif temperance abides in you, you must have an opinion about her; she\nmust give some intimation of her nature and qualities, which may enable\nyou to form a notion of her. Is not that true?\n\nYes, he said, that I think is true.\n\nYou know your native language, I said, and therefore you must be able to\ntell what you feel about this.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nIn order, then, that I may form a conjecture whether you have temperance\nabiding in you or not, tell me, I said, what, in your opinion, is\nTemperance?\n\nAt first he hesitated, and was very unwilling to answer: then he said\nthat he thought temperance was doing things orderly and quietly, such\nthings for example as walking in the streets, and talking, or anything\nelse of that nature. In a word, he said, I should answer that, in my\nopinion, temperance is quietness.\n\nAre you right, Charmides? I said. No doubt some would affirm that the\nquiet are the temperate; but let us see whether these words have any\nmeaning; and first tell me whether you would not acknowledge temperance\nto be of the class of the noble and good?\n\nYes.\n\nBut which is best when you are at the writing-master's, to write the\nsame letters quickly or quietly?\n\nQuickly.\n\nAnd to read quickly or slowly?\n\nQuickly again.\n\nAnd in playing the lyre, or wrestling, quickness or sharpness are far\nbetter than quietness and slowness?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the same holds in boxing and in the pancratium?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd in leaping and running and in bodily exercises generally, quickness\nand agility are good; slowness, and inactivity, and quietness, are bad?\n\nThat is evident.\n\nThen, I said, in all bodily actions, not quietness, but the greatest\nagility and quickness, is noblest and best?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nAnd is temperance a good?\n\nYes.\n\nThen, in reference to the body, not quietness, but quickness will be the\nhigher degree of temperance, if temperance is a good?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd which, I said, is better--facility in learning, or difficulty in\nlearning?\n\nFacility.\n\nYes, I said; and facility in learning is learning quickly, and\ndifficulty in learning is learning quietly and slowly?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd is it not better to teach another quickly and energetically, rather\nthan quietly and slowly?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd which is better, to call to mind, and to remember, quickly and\nreadily, or quietly and slowly?\n\nThe former.\n\nAnd is not shrewdness a quickness or cleverness of the soul, and not a\nquietness?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd is it not best to understand what is said, whether at the\nwriting-master's or the music-master's, or anywhere else, not as quietly\nas possible, but as quickly as possible?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd in the searchings or deliberations of the soul, not the quietest,\nas I imagine, and he who with difficulty deliberates and discovers, is\nthought worthy of praise, but he who does so most easily and quickly?\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nAnd in all that concerns either body or soul, swiftness and activity are\nclearly better than slowness and quietness?\n\nClearly they are.\n\nThen temperance is not quietness, nor is the temperate life\nquiet,--certainly not upon this view; for the life which is temperate is\nsupposed to be the good. And of two things, one is true,--either never,\nor very seldom, do the quiet actions in life appear to be better than\nthe quick and energetic ones; or supposing that of the nobler actions,\nthere are as many quiet, as quick and vehement: still, even if we grant\nthis, temperance will not be acting quietly any more than acting quickly\nand energetically, either in walking or talking or in anything else;\nnor will the quiet life be more temperate than the unquiet, seeing that\ntemperance is admitted by us to be a good and noble thing, and the quick\nhave been shown to be as good as the quiet.\n\nI think, he said, Socrates, that you are right.\n\nThen once more, Charmides, I said, fix your attention, and look within;\nconsider the effect which temperance has upon yourself, and the nature\nof that which has the effect. Think over all this, and, like a brave\nyouth, tell me--What is temperance?\n\nAfter a moment's pause, in which he made a real manly effort to think,\nhe said: My opinion is, Socrates, that temperance makes a man ashamed or\nmodest, and that temperance is the same as modesty.\n\nVery good, I said; and did you not admit, just now, that temperance is\nnoble?\n\nYes, certainly, he said.\n\nAnd the temperate are also good?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd can that be good which does not make men good?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd you would infer that temperance is not only noble, but also good?\n\nThat is my opinion.\n\nWell, I said; but surely you would agree with Homer when he says,\n\n'Modesty is not good for a needy man'?\n\nYes, he said; I agree.\n\nThen I suppose that modesty is and is not good?\n\nClearly.\n\nBut temperance, whose presence makes men only good, and not bad, is\nalways good?\n\nThat appears to me to be as you say.\n\nAnd the inference is that temperance cannot be modesty--if temperance is\na good, and if modesty is as much an evil as a good?\n\nAll that, Socrates, appears to me to be true; but I should like to know\nwhat you think about another definition of temperance, which I just\nnow remember to have heard from some one, who said, 'That temperance is\ndoing our own business.' Was he right who affirmed that?\n\nYou monster! I said; this is what Critias, or some philosopher has told\nyou.\n\nSome one else, then, said Critias; for certainly I have not.\n\nBut what matter, said Charmides, from whom I heard this?\n\nNo matter at all, I replied; for the point is not who said the words,\nbut whether they are true or not.\n\nThere you are in the right, Socrates, he replied.\n\nTo be sure, I said; yet I doubt whether we shall ever be able to\ndiscover their truth or falsehood; for they are a kind of riddle.\n\nWhat makes you think so? he said.\n\nBecause, I said, he who uttered them seems to me to have meant one\nthing, and said another. Is the scribe, for example, to be regarded as\ndoing nothing when he reads or writes?\n\nI should rather think that he was doing something.\n\nAnd does the scribe write or read, or teach you boys to write or read,\nyour own names only, or did you write your enemies' names as well as\nyour own and your friends'?\n\nAs much one as the other.\n\nAnd was there anything meddling or intemperate in this?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd yet if reading and writing are the same as doing, you were doing\nwhat was not your own business?\n\nBut they are the same as doing.\n\nAnd the healing art, my friend, and building, and weaving, and doing\nanything whatever which is done by art,--these all clearly come under\nthe head of doing?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd do you think that a state would be well ordered by a law which\ncompelled every man to weave and wash his own coat, and make his own\nshoes, and his own flask and strigil, and other implements, on this\nprinciple of every one doing and performing his own, and abstaining from\nwhat is not his own?\n\nI think not, he said.\n\nBut, I said, a temperate state will be a well-ordered state.\n\nOf course, he replied.\n\nThen temperance, I said, will not be doing one's own business; not at\nleast in this way, or doing things of this sort?\n\nClearly not.\n\nThen, as I was just now saying, he who declared that temperance is a man\ndoing his own business had another and a hidden meaning; for I do not\nthink that he could have been such a fool as to mean this. Was he a fool\nwho told you, Charmides?\n\nNay, he replied, I certainly thought him a very wise man.\n\nThen I am quite certain that he put forth his definition as a riddle,\nthinking that no one would know the meaning of the words 'doing his own\nbusiness.'\n\nI dare say, he replied.\n\nAnd what is the meaning of a man doing his own business? Can you tell\nme?\n\nIndeed, I cannot; and I should not wonder if the man himself who used\nthis phrase did not understand what he was saying. Whereupon he laughed\nslyly, and looked at Critias.\n\nCritias had long been showing uneasiness, for he felt that he had a\nreputation to maintain with Charmides and the rest of the company. He\nhad, however, hitherto managed to restrain himself; but now he could no\nlonger forbear, and I am convinced of the truth of the suspicion which\nI entertained at the time, that Charmides had heard this answer about\ntemperance from Critias. And Charmides, who did not want to answer\nhimself, but to make Critias answer, tried to stir him up. He went on\npointing out that he had been refuted, at which Critias grew angry, and\nappeared, as I thought, inclined to quarrel with him; just as a poet\nmight quarrel with an actor who spoiled his poems in repeating them; so\nhe looked hard at him and said--\n\nDo you imagine, Charmides, that the author of this definition of\ntemperance did not understand the meaning of his own words, because you\ndo not understand them?\n\nWhy, at his age, I said, most excellent Critias, he can hardly be\nexpected to understand; but you, who are older, and have studied, may\nwell be assumed to know the meaning of them; and therefore, if you agree\nwith him, and accept his definition of temperance, I would much rather\nargue with you than with him about the truth or falsehood of the\ndefinition.\n\nI entirely agree, said Critias, and accept the definition.\n\nVery good, I said; and now let me repeat my question--Do you admit, as I\nwas just now saying, that all craftsmen make or do something?\n\nI do.\n\nAnd do they make or do their own business only, or that of others also?\n\nThey make or do that of others also.\n\nAnd are they temperate, seeing that they make not for themselves or\ntheir own business only?\n\nWhy not? he said.\n\nNo objection on my part, I said, but there may be a difficulty on his\nwho proposes as a definition of temperance, 'doing one's own business,'\nand then says that there is no reason why those who do the business of\nothers should not be temperate.\n\nNay (The English reader has to observe that the word 'make' (Greek),\nin Greek, has also the sense of 'do' (Greek).), said he; did I ever\nacknowledge that those who do the business of others are temperate? I\nsaid, those who make, not those who do.\n\nWhat! I asked; do you mean to say that doing and making are not the\nsame?\n\nNo more, he replied, than making or working are the same; thus much I\nhave learned from Hesiod, who says that 'work is no disgrace.' Now do\nyou imagine that if he had meant by working and doing such things as\nyou were describing, he would have said that there was no disgrace in\nthem--for example, in the manufacture of shoes, or in selling pickles,\nor sitting for hire in a house of ill-fame? That, Socrates, is not to be\nsupposed: but I conceive him to have distinguished making from doing\nand work; and, while admitting that the making anything might sometimes\nbecome a disgrace, when the employment was not honourable, to have\nthought that work was never any disgrace at all. For things nobly and\nusefully made he called works; and such makings he called workings, and\ndoings; and he must be supposed to have called such things only man's\nproper business, and what is hurtful, not his business: and in that\nsense Hesiod, and any other wise man, may be reasonably supposed to call\nhim wise who does his own work.\n\nO Critias, I said, no sooner had you opened your mouth, than I pretty\nwell knew that you would call that which is proper to a man, and that\nwhich is his own, good; and that the makings (Greek) of the good\nyou would call doings (Greek), for I am no stranger to the endless\ndistinctions which Prodicus draws about names. Now I have no objection\nto your giving names any signification which you please, if you will\nonly tell me what you mean by them. Please then to begin again, and be\na little plainer. Do you mean that this doing or making, or whatever is\nthe word which you would use, of good actions, is temperance?\n\nI do, he said.\n\nThen not he who does evil, but he who does good, is temperate?\n\nYes, he said; and you, friend, would agree.\n\nNo matter whether I should or not; just now, not what I think, but what\nyou are saying, is the point at issue.\n\nWell, he answered; I mean to say, that he who does evil, and not good,\nis not temperate; and that he is temperate who does good, and not evil:\nfor temperance I define in plain words to be the doing of good actions.\n\nAnd you may be very likely right in what you are saying; but I am\ncurious to know whether you imagine that temperate men are ignorant of\ntheir own temperance?\n\nI do not think so, he said.\n\nAnd yet were you not saying, just now, that craftsmen might be temperate\nin doing another's work, as well as in doing their own?\n\nI was, he replied; but what is your drift?\n\nI have no particular drift, but I wish that you would tell me whether a\nphysician who cures a patient may do good to himself and good to another\nalso?\n\nI think that he may.\n\nAnd he who does so does his duty?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd does not he who does his duty act temperately or wisely?\n\nYes, he acts wisely.\n\nBut must the physician necessarily know when his treatment is likely to\nprove beneficial, and when not? or must the craftsman necessarily know\nwhen he is likely to be benefited, and when not to be benefited, by the\nwork which he is doing?\n\nI suppose not.\n\nThen, I said, he may sometimes do good or harm, and not know what he\nis himself doing, and yet, in doing good, as you say, he has done\ntemperately or wisely. Was not that your statement?\n\nYes.\n\nThen, as would seem, in doing good, he may act wisely or temperately,\nand be wise or temperate, but not know his own wisdom or temperance?\n\nBut that, Socrates, he said, is impossible; and therefore if this is, as\nyou imply, the necessary consequence of any of my previous admissions,\nI will withdraw them, rather than admit that a man can be temperate or\nwise who does not know himself; and I am not ashamed to confess that I\nwas in error. For self-knowledge would certainly be maintained by me\nto be the very essence of knowledge, and in this I agree with him who\ndedicated the inscription, 'Know thyself!' at Delphi. That word, if I\nam not mistaken, is put there as a sort of salutation which the god\naddresses to those who enter the temple; as much as to say that the\nordinary salutation of 'Hail!' is not right, and that the exhortation\n'Be temperate!' would be a far better way of saluting one another. The\nnotion of him who dedicated the inscription was, as I believe, that the\ngod speaks to those who enter his temple, not as men speak; but, when\na worshipper enters, the first word which he hears is 'Be temperate!'\nThis, however, like a prophet he expresses in a sort of riddle, for\n'Know thyself!' and 'Be temperate!' are the same, as I maintain, and as\nthe letters imply (Greek), and yet they may be easily misunderstood;\nand succeeding sages who added 'Never too much,' or, 'Give a pledge, and\nevil is nigh at hand,' would appear to have so misunderstood them; for\nthey imagined that 'Know thyself!' was a piece of advice which the god\ngave, and not his salutation of the worshippers at their first coming\nin; and they dedicated their own inscription under the idea that they\ntoo would give equally useful pieces of advice. Shall I tell you,\nSocrates, why I say all this? My object is to leave the previous\ndiscussion (in which I know not whether you or I are more right, but, at\nany rate, no clear result was attained), and to raise a new one in which\nI will attempt to prove, if you deny, that temperance is self-knowledge.\n\nYes, I said, Critias; but you come to me as though I professed to know\nabout the questions which I ask, and as though I could, if I only would,\nagree with you. Whereas the fact is that I enquire with you into the\ntruth of that which is advanced from time to time, just because I do not\nknow; and when I have enquired, I will say whether I agree with you or\nnot. Please then to allow me time to reflect.\n\nReflect, he said.\n\nI am reflecting, I replied, and discover that temperance, or wisdom, if\nimplying a knowledge of anything, must be a science, and a science of\nsomething.\n\nYes, he said; the science of itself.\n\nIs not medicine, I said, the science of health?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd suppose, I said, that I were asked by you what is the use or effect\nof medicine, which is this science of health, I should answer that\nmedicine is of very great use in producing health, which, as you will\nadmit, is an excellent effect.\n\nGranted.\n\nAnd if you were to ask me, what is the result or effect of architecture,\nwhich is the science of building, I should say houses, and so of other\narts, which all have their different results. Now I want you, Critias,\nto answer a similar question about temperance, or wisdom, which,\naccording to you, is the science of itself. Admitting this view, I ask\nof you, what good work, worthy of the name wise, does temperance or\nwisdom, which is the science of itself, effect? Answer me.\n\nThat is not the true way of pursuing the enquiry, Socrates, he said; for\nwisdom is not like the other sciences, any more than they are like one\nanother: but you proceed as if they were alike. For tell me, he said,\nwhat result is there of computation or geometry, in the same sense as a\nhouse is the result of building, or a garment of weaving, or any other\nwork of any other art? Can you show me any such result of them? You\ncannot.\n\nThat is true, I said; but still each of these sciences has a subject\nwhich is different from the science. I can show you that the art of\ncomputation has to do with odd and even numbers in their numerical\nrelations to themselves and to each other. Is not that true?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd the odd and even numbers are not the same with the art of\ncomputation?\n\nThey are not.\n\nThe art of weighing, again, has to do with lighter and heavier; but the\nart of weighing is one thing, and the heavy and the light another. Do\nyou admit that?\n\nYes.\n\nNow, I want to know, what is that which is not wisdom, and of which\nwisdom is the science?\n\nYou are just falling into the old error, Socrates, he said. You come\nasking in what wisdom or temperance differs from the other sciences, and\nthen you try to discover some respect in which they are alike; but they\nare not, for all the other sciences are of something else, and not of\nthemselves; wisdom alone is a science of other sciences, and of itself.\nAnd of this, as I believe, you are very well aware: and that you are\nonly doing what you denied that you were doing just now, trying to\nrefute me, instead of pursuing the argument.\n\nAnd what if I am? How can you think that I have any other motive in\nrefuting you but what I should have in examining into myself? which\nmotive would be just a fear of my unconsciously fancying that I knew\nsomething of which I was ignorant. And at this moment I pursue the\nargument chiefly for my own sake, and perhaps in some degree also for\nthe sake of my other friends. For is not the discovery of things as they\ntruly are, a good common to all mankind?\n\nYes, certainly, Socrates, he said.\n\nThen, I said, be cheerful, sweet sir, and give your opinion in answer to\nthe question which I asked, never minding whether Critias or Socrates is\nthe person refuted; attend only to the argument, and see what will come\nof the refutation.\n\nI think that you are right, he replied; and I will do as you say.\n\nTell me, then, I said, what you mean to affirm about wisdom.\n\nI mean to say that wisdom is the only science which is the science of\nitself as well as of the other sciences.\n\nBut the science of science, I said, will also be the science of the\nabsence of science.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nThen the wise or temperate man, and he only, will know himself, and be\nable to examine what he knows or does not know, and to see what others\nknow and think that they know and do really know; and what they do not\nknow, and fancy that they know, when they do not. No other person\nwill be able to do this. And this is wisdom and temperance and\nself-knowledge--for a man to know what he knows, and what he does not\nknow. That is your meaning?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nNow then, I said, making an offering of the third or last argument\nto Zeus the Saviour, let us begin again, and ask, in the first place,\nwhether it is or is not possible for a person to know that he knows and\ndoes not know what he knows and does not know; and in the second place,\nwhether, if perfectly possible, such knowledge is of any use.\n\nThat is what we have to consider, he said.\n\nAnd here, Critias, I said, I hope that you will find a way out of a\ndifficulty into which I have got myself. Shall I tell you the nature of\nthe difficulty?\n\nBy all means, he replied.\n\nDoes not what you have been saying, if true, amount to this: that there\nmust be a single science which is wholly a science of itself and of\nother sciences, and that the same is also the science of the absence of\nscience?\n\nYes.\n\nBut consider how monstrous this proposition is, my friend: in any\nparallel case, the impossibility will be transparent to you.\n\nHow is that? and in what cases do you mean?\n\nIn such cases as this: Suppose that there is a kind of vision which is\nnot like ordinary vision, but a vision of itself and of other sorts of\nvision, and of the defect of them, which in seeing sees no colour, but\nonly itself and other sorts of vision: Do you think that there is such a\nkind of vision?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr is there a kind of hearing which hears no sound at all, but only\nitself and other sorts of hearing, or the defects of them?\n\nThere is not.\n\nOr take all the senses: can you imagine that there is any sense of\nitself and of other senses, but which is incapable of perceiving the\nobjects of the senses?\n\nI think not.\n\nCould there be any desire which is not the desire of any pleasure, but\nof itself, and of all other desires?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr can you imagine a wish which wishes for no good, but only for itself\nand all other wishes?\n\nI should answer, No.\n\nOr would you say that there is a love which is not the love of beauty,\nbut of itself and of other loves?\n\nI should not.\n\nOr did you ever know of a fear which fears itself or other fears, but\nhas no object of fear?\n\nI never did, he said.\n\nOr of an opinion which is an opinion of itself and of other opinions,\nand which has no opinion on the subjects of opinion in general?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nBut surely we are assuming a science of this kind, which, having no\nsubject-matter, is a science of itself and of the other sciences?\n\nYes, that is what is affirmed.\n\nBut how strange is this, if it be indeed true: we must not however as\nyet absolutely deny the possibility of such a science; let us rather\nconsider the matter.\n\nYou are quite right.\n\nWell then, this science of which we are speaking is a science of\nsomething, and is of a nature to be a science of something?\n\nYes.\n\nJust as that which is greater is of a nature to be greater than\nsomething else? (Socrates is intending to show that science differs from\nthe object of science, as any other relative differs from the object\nof relation. But where there is comparison--greater, less, heavier,\nlighter, and the like--a relation to self as well as to other things\ninvolves an absolute contradiction; and in other cases, as in the case\nof the senses, is hardly conceivable. The use of the genitive after the\ncomparative in Greek, (Greek), creates an unavoidable obscurity in the\ntranslation.)\n\nYes.\n\nWhich is less, if the other is conceived to be greater?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nAnd if we could find something which is at once greater than itself, and\ngreater than other great things, but not greater than those things in\ncomparison of which the others are greater, then that thing would have\nthe property of being greater and also less than itself?\n\nThat, Socrates, he said, is the inevitable inference.\n\nOr if there be a double which is double of itself and of other doubles,\nthese will be halves; for the double is relative to the half?\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd that which is greater than itself will also be less, and that which\nis heavier will also be lighter, and that which is older will also be\nyounger: and the same of other things; that which has a nature relative\nto self will retain also the nature of its object: I mean to say, for\nexample, that hearing is, as we say, of sound or voice. Is that true?\n\nYes.\n\nThen if hearing hears itself, it must hear a voice; for there is no\nother way of hearing.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd sight also, my excellent friend, if it sees itself must see a\ncolour, for sight cannot see that which has no colour.\n\nNo.\n\nDo you remark, Critias, that in several of the examples which have been\nrecited the notion of a relation to self is altogether inadmissible, and\nin other cases hardly credible--inadmissible, for example, in the case\nof magnitudes, numbers, and the like?\n\nVery true.\n\nBut in the case of hearing and sight, or in the power of self-motion,\nand the power of heat to burn, this relation to self will be regarded\nas incredible by some, but perhaps not by others. And some great man,\nmy friend, is wanted, who will satisfactorily determine for us, whether\nthere is nothing which has an inherent property of relation to self,\nor some things only and not others; and whether in this class of\nself-related things, if there be such a class, that science which is\ncalled wisdom or temperance is included. I altogether distrust my own\npower of determining these matters: I am not certain whether there is\nsuch a science of science at all; and even if there be, I should not\nacknowledge this to be wisdom or temperance, until I can also see\nwhether such a science would or would not do us any good; for I have an\nimpression that temperance is a benefit and a good. And therefore, O son\nof Callaeschrus, as you maintain that temperance or wisdom is a science\nof science, and also of the absence of science, I will request you to\nshow in the first place, as I was saying before, the possibility, and in\nthe second place, the advantage, of such a science; and then perhaps you\nmay satisfy me that you are right in your view of temperance.\n\nCritias heard me say this, and saw that I was in a difficulty; and as\none person when another yawns in his presence catches the infection of\nyawning from him, so did he seem to be driven into a difficulty by my\ndifficulty. But as he had a reputation to maintain, he was ashamed\nto admit before the company that he could not answer my challenge or\ndetermine the question at issue; and he made an unintelligible attempt\nto hide his perplexity. In order that the argument might proceed, I said\nto him, Well then Critias, if you like, let us assume that there is\nthis science of science; whether the assumption is right or wrong may\nhereafter be investigated. Admitting the existence of it, will you tell\nme how such a science enables us to distinguish what we know or do not\nknow, which, as we were saying, is self-knowledge or wisdom: so we were\nsaying?\n\nYes, Socrates, he said; and that I think is certainly true: for he who\nhas this science or knowledge which knows itself will become like the\nknowledge which he has, in the same way that he who has swiftness\nwill be swift, and he who has beauty will be beautiful, and he who has\nknowledge will know. In the same way he who has that knowledge which is\nself-knowing, will know himself.\n\nI do not doubt, I said, that a man will know himself, when he possesses\nthat which has self-knowledge: but what necessity is there that, having\nthis, he should know what he knows and what he does not know?\n\nBecause, Socrates, they are the same.\n\nVery likely, I said; but I remain as stupid as ever; for still I fail to\ncomprehend how this knowing what you know and do not know is the same as\nthe knowledge of self.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nThis is what I mean, I replied: I will admit that there is a science of\nscience;--can this do more than determine that of two things one is and\nthe other is not science or knowledge?\n\nNo, just that.\n\nBut is knowledge or want of knowledge of health the same as knowledge or\nwant of knowledge of justice?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThe one is medicine, and the other is politics; whereas that of which we\nare speaking is knowledge pure and simple.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd if a man knows only, and has only knowledge of knowledge, and has no\nfurther knowledge of health and justice, the probability is that he will\nonly know that he knows something, and has a certain knowledge, whether\nconcerning himself or other men.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen how will this knowledge or science teach him to know what he knows?\nSay that he knows health;--not wisdom or temperance, but the art of\nmedicine has taught it to him;--and he has learned harmony from the art\nof music, and building from the art of building,--neither, from wisdom\nor temperance: and the same of other things.\n\nThat is evident.\n\nHow will wisdom, regarded only as a knowledge of knowledge or science of\nscience, ever teach him that he knows health, or that he knows building?\n\nIt is impossible.\n\nThen he who is ignorant of these things will only know that he knows,\nbut not what he knows?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen wisdom or being wise appears to be not the knowledge of the things\nwhich we do or do not know, but only the knowledge that we know or do\nnot know?\n\nThat is the inference.\n\nThen he who has this knowledge will not be able to examine whether a\npretender knows or does not know that which he says that he knows: he\nwill only know that he has a knowledge of some kind; but wisdom will not\nshow him of what the knowledge is?\n\nPlainly not.\n\nNeither will he be able to distinguish the pretender in medicine from\nthe true physician, nor between any other true and false professor of\nknowledge. Let us consider the matter in this way: If the wise man or\nany other man wants to distinguish the true physician from the false,\nhow will he proceed? He will not talk to him about medicine; and that,\nas we were saying, is the only thing which the physician understands.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd, on the other hand, the physician knows nothing of science, for this\nhas been assumed to be the province of wisdom.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd further, since medicine is science, we must infer that he does not\nknow anything of medicine.\n\nExactly.\n\nThen the wise man may indeed know that the physician has some kind of\nscience or knowledge; but when he wants to discover the nature of this\nhe will ask, What is the subject-matter? For the several sciences are\ndistinguished not by the mere fact that they are sciences, but by the\nnature of their subjects. Is not that true?\n\nQuite true.\n\nAnd medicine is distinguished from other sciences as having the\nsubject-matter of health and disease?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd he who would enquire into the nature of medicine must pursue the\nenquiry into health and disease, and not into what is extraneous?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd he who judges rightly will judge of the physician as a physician in\nwhat relates to these?\n\nHe will.\n\nHe will consider whether what he says is true, and whether what he does\nis right, in relation to health and disease?\n\nHe will.\n\nBut can any one attain the knowledge of either unless he have a\nknowledge of medicine?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nNo one at all, it would seem, except the physician can have this\nknowledge; and therefore not the wise man; he would have to be a\nphysician as well as a wise man.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen, assuredly, wisdom or temperance, if only a science of science, and\nof the absence of science or knowledge, will not be able to distinguish\nthe physician who knows from one who does not know but pretends or\nthinks that he knows, or any other professor of anything at all; like\nany other artist, he will only know his fellow in art or wisdom, and no\none else.\n\nThat is evident, he said.\n\nBut then what profit, Critias, I said, is there any longer in wisdom or\ntemperance which yet remains, if this is wisdom? If, indeed, as we were\nsupposing at first, the wise man had been able to distinguish what he\nknew and did not know, and that he knew the one and did not know the\nother, and to recognize a similar faculty of discernment in others,\nthere would certainly have been a great advantage in being wise; for\nthen we should never have made a mistake, but have passed through life\nthe unerring guides of ourselves and of those who are under us; and we\nshould not have attempted to do what we did not know, but we should have\nfound out those who knew, and have handed the business over to them and\ntrusted in them; nor should we have allowed those who were under us to\ndo anything which they were not likely to do well; and they would be\nlikely to do well just that of which they had knowledge; and the house\nor state which was ordered or administered under the guidance of wisdom,\nand everything else of which wisdom was the lord, would have been well\nordered; for truth guiding, and error having been eliminated, in all\ntheir doings, men would have done well, and would have been happy. Was\nnot this, Critias, what we spoke of as the great advantage of wisdom--to\nknow what is known and what is unknown to us?\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd now you perceive, I said, that no such science is to be found\nanywhere.\n\nI perceive, he said.\n\nMay we assume then, I said, that wisdom, viewed in this new light merely\nas a knowledge of knowledge and ignorance, has this advantage:--that he\nwho possesses such knowledge will more easily learn anything which he\nlearns; and that everything will be clearer to him, because, in addition\nto the knowledge of individuals, he sees the science, and this also will\nbetter enable him to test the knowledge which others have of what he\nknows himself; whereas the enquirer who is without this knowledge may be\nsupposed to have a feebler and weaker insight? Are not these, my friend,\nthe real advantages which are to be gained from wisdom? And are not we\nlooking and seeking after something more than is to be found in her?\n\nThat is very likely, he said.\n\nThat is very likely, I said; and very likely, too, we have been\nenquiring to no purpose; as I am led to infer, because I observe that if\nthis is wisdom, some strange consequences would follow. Let us, if you\nplease, assume the possibility of this science of sciences, and further\nadmit and allow, as was originally suggested, that wisdom is the\nknowledge of what we know and do not know. Assuming all this, still,\nupon further consideration, I am doubtful, Critias, whether wisdom,\nsuch as this, would do us much good. For we were wrong, I think, in\nsupposing, as we were saying just now, that such wisdom ordering the\ngovernment of house or state would be a great benefit.\n\nHow so? he said.\n\nWhy, I said, we were far too ready to admit the great benefits which\nmankind would obtain from their severally doing the things which they\nknew, and committing the things of which they are ignorant to those who\nwere better acquainted with them.\n\nWere we not right in making that admission?\n\nI think not.\n\nHow very strange, Socrates!\n\nBy the dog of Egypt, I said, there I agree with you; and I was thinking\nas much just now when I said that strange consequences would follow, and\nthat I was afraid we were on the wrong track; for however ready we may\nbe to admit that this is wisdom, I certainly cannot make out what good\nthis sort of thing does to us.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said; I wish that you could make me understand what\nyou mean.\n\nI dare say that what I am saying is nonsense, I replied; and yet if a\nman has any feeling of what is due to himself, he cannot let the thought\nwhich comes into his mind pass away unheeded and unexamined.\n\nI like that, he said.\n\nHear, then, I said, my own dream; whether coming through the horn or the\nivory gate, I cannot tell. The dream is this: Let us suppose that wisdom\nis such as we are now defining, and that she has absolute sway over us;\nthen each action will be done according to the arts or sciences, and\nno one professing to be a pilot when he is not, or any physician or\ngeneral, or any one else pretending to know matters of which he is\nignorant, will deceive or elude us; our health will be improved; our\nsafety at sea, and also in battle, will be assured; our coats and shoes,\nand all other instruments and implements will be skilfully made, because\nthe workmen will be good and true. Aye, and if you please, you may\nsuppose that prophecy, which is the knowledge of the future, will be\nunder the control of wisdom, and that she will deter deceivers and set\nup the true prophets in their place as the revealers of the future. Now\nI quite agree that mankind, thus provided, would live and act according\nto knowledge, for wisdom would watch and prevent ignorance from\nintruding on us. But whether by acting according to knowledge we shall\nact well and be happy, my dear Critias,--this is a point which we have\nnot yet been able to determine.\n\nYet I think, he replied, that if you discard knowledge, you will hardly\nfind the crown of happiness in anything else.\n\nBut of what is this knowledge? I said. Just answer me that small\nquestion. Do you mean a knowledge of shoemaking?\n\nGod forbid.\n\nOr of working in brass?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr in wool, or wood, or anything of that sort?\n\nNo, I do not.\n\nThen, I said, we are giving up the doctrine that he who lives according\nto knowledge is happy, for these live according to knowledge, and yet\nthey are not allowed by you to be happy; but I think that you mean\nto confine happiness to particular individuals who live according to\nknowledge, such for example as the prophet, who, as I was saying, knows\nthe future. Is it of him you are speaking or of some one else?\n\nYes, I mean him, but there are others as well.\n\nYes, I said, some one who knows the past and present as well as the\nfuture, and is ignorant of nothing. Let us suppose that there is such a\nperson, and if there is, you will allow that he is the most knowing of\nall living men.\n\nCertainly he is.\n\nYet I should like to know one thing more: which of the different kinds\nof knowledge makes him happy? or do all equally make him happy?\n\nNot all equally, he replied.\n\nBut which most tends to make him happy? the knowledge of what past,\npresent, or future thing? May I infer this to be the knowledge of the\ngame of draughts?\n\nNonsense about the game of draughts.\n\nOr of computation?\n\nNo.\n\nOr of health?\n\nThat is nearer the truth, he said.\n\nAnd that knowledge which is nearest of all, I said, is the knowledge of\nwhat?\n\nThe knowledge with which he discerns good and evil.\n\nMonster! I said; you have been carrying me round in a circle, and all\nthis time hiding from me the fact that the life according to knowledge\nis not that which makes men act rightly and be happy, not even if\nknowledge include all the sciences, but one science only, that of good\nand evil. For, let me ask you, Critias, whether, if you take away this,\nmedicine will not equally give health, and shoemaking equally produce\nshoes, and the art of the weaver clothes?--whether the art of the pilot\nwill not equally save our lives at sea, and the art of the general in\nwar?\n\nQuite so.\n\nAnd yet, my dear Critias, none of these things will be well or\nbeneficially done, if the science of the good be wanting.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut that science is not wisdom or temperance, but a science of human\nadvantage; not a science of other sciences, or of ignorance, but of good\nand evil: and if this be of use, then wisdom or temperance will not be\nof use.\n\nAnd why, he replied, will not wisdom be of use? For, however much we\nassume that wisdom is a science of sciences, and has a sway over other\nsciences, surely she will have this particular science of the good under\nher control, and in this way will benefit us.\n\nAnd will wisdom give health? I said; is not this rather the effect of\nmedicine? Or does wisdom do the work of any of the other arts,--do they\nnot each of them do their own work? Have we not long ago asseverated\nthat wisdom is only the knowledge of knowledge and of ignorance, and of\nnothing else?\n\nThat is obvious.\n\nThen wisdom will not be the producer of health.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThe art of health is different.\n\nYes, different.\n\nNor does wisdom give advantage, my good friend; for that again we have\njust now been attributing to another art.\n\nVery true.\n\nHow then can wisdom be advantageous, when giving no advantage?\n\nThat, Socrates, is certainly inconceivable.\n\nYou see then, Critias, that I was not far wrong in fearing that I could\nhave no sound notion about wisdom; I was quite right in depreciating\nmyself; for that which is admitted to be the best of all things would\nnever have seemed to us useless, if I had been good for anything at\nan enquiry. But now I have been utterly defeated, and have failed to\ndiscover what that is to which the imposer of names gave this name of\ntemperance or wisdom. And yet many more admissions were made by us than\ncould be fairly granted; for we admitted that there was a science of\nscience, although the argument said No, and protested against us; and we\nadmitted further, that this science knew the works of the other sciences\n(although this too was denied by the argument), because we wanted to\nshow that the wise man had knowledge of what he knew and did not know;\nalso we nobly disregarded, and never even considered, the impossibility\nof a man knowing in a sort of way that which he does not know at all;\nfor our assumption was, that he knows that which he does not know;\nthan which nothing, as I think, can be more irrational. And yet, after\nfinding us so easy and good-natured, the enquiry is still unable to\ndiscover the truth; but mocks us to a degree, and has gone out of its\nway to prove the inutility of that which we admitted only by a sort\nof supposition and fiction to be the true definition of temperance or\nwisdom: which result, as far as I am concerned, is not so much to be\nlamented, I said. But for your sake, Charmides, I am very sorry--that\nyou, having such beauty and such wisdom and temperance of soul, should\nhave no profit or good in life from your wisdom and temperance. And\nstill more am I grieved about the charm which I learned with so much\npain, and to so little profit, from the Thracian, for the sake of a\nthing which is nothing worth. I think indeed that there is a mistake,\nand that I must be a bad enquirer, for wisdom or temperance I believe to\nbe really a great good; and happy are you, Charmides, if you certainly\npossess it. Wherefore examine yourself, and see whether you have this\ngift and can do without the charm; for if you can, I would rather\nadvise you to regard me simply as a fool who is never able to reason out\nanything; and to rest assured that the more wise and temperate you are,\nthe happier you will be.\n\nCharmides said: I am sure that I do not know, Socrates, whether I have\nor have not this gift of wisdom and temperance; for how can I know\nwhether I have a thing, of which even you and Critias are, as you say,\nunable to discover the nature?--(not that I believe you.) And further,\nI am sure, Socrates, that I do need the charm, and as far as I am\nconcerned, I shall be willing to be charmed by you daily, until you say\nthat I have had enough.\n\nVery good, Charmides, said Critias; if you do this I shall have a proof\nof your temperance, that is, if you allow yourself to be charmed by\nSocrates, and never desert him at all.\n\nYou may depend on my following and not deserting him, said Charmides: if\nyou who are my guardian command me, I should be very wrong not to obey\nyou.\n\nAnd I do command you, he said.\n\nThen I will do as you say, and begin this very day.\n\nYou sirs, I said, what are you conspiring about?\n\nWe are not conspiring, said Charmides, we have conspired already.\n\nAnd are you about to use violence, without even going through the forms\nof justice?\n\nYes, I shall use violence, he replied, since he orders me; and therefore\nyou had better consider well.\n\nBut the time for consideration has passed, I said, when violence is\nemployed; and you, when you are determined on anything, and in the mood\nof violence, are irresistible.\n\nDo not you resist me then, he said.\n\nI will not resist you, I replied.","title":"Charmides","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":21743}