{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1598/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1598","id":"gutenberg_1598","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1598","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Classical literature","Logic -- Early works to 1800","Philosophy, Ancient","Socrates, 470 BC-399 BC","Sophists (Greek philosophy)"],"text":"Produced by Sue Asscher\n\n\n\n\n\nEUTHYDEMUS\n\nby Plato\n\n\nTranslated by Benjamin Jowett\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nThe Euthydemus, though apt to be regarded by us only as an elaborate\njest, has also a very serious purpose. It may fairly claim to be\nthe oldest treatise on logic; for that science originates in the\nmisunderstandings which necessarily accompany the first efforts of\nspeculation. Several of the fallacies which are satirized in it reappear\nin the Sophistici Elenchi of Aristotle and are retained at the end of\nour manuals of logic. But if the order of history were followed, they\nshould be placed not at the end but at the beginning of them; for they\nbelong to the age in which the human mind was first making the attempt\nto distinguish thought from sense, and to separate the universal from\nthe particular or individual. How to put together words or ideas, how\nto escape ambiguities in the meaning of terms or in the structure of\npropositions, how to resist the fixed impression of an 'eternal being'\nor 'perpetual flux,' how to distinguish between words and things--these\nwere problems not easy of solution in the infancy of philosophy. They\npresented the same kind of difficulty to the half-educated man which\nspelling or arithmetic do to the mind of a child. It was long before\nthe new world of ideas which had been sought after with such passionate\nyearning was set in order and made ready for use. To us the fallacies\nwhich arise in the pre-Socratic philosophy are trivial and obsolete\nbecause we are no longer liable to fall into the errors which are\nexpressed by them. The intellectual world has become better assured to\nus, and we are less likely to be imposed upon by illusions of words.\n\nThe logic of Aristotle is for the most part latent in the dialogues\nof Plato. The nature of definition is explained not by rules but by\nexamples in the Charmides, Lysis, Laches, Protagoras, Meno, Euthyphro,\nTheaetetus, Gorgias, Republic; the nature of division is likewise\nillustrated by examples in the Sophist and Statesman; a scheme of\ncategories is found in the Philebus; the true doctrine of contradiction\nis taught, and the fallacy of arguing in a circle is exposed in the\nRepublic; the nature of synthesis and analysis is graphically described\nin the Phaedrus; the nature of words is analysed in the Cratylus; the\nform of the syllogism is indicated in the genealogical trees of the\nSophist and Statesman; a true doctrine of predication and an analysis of\nthe sentence are given in the Sophist; the different meanings of one\nand being are worked out in the Parmenides. Here we have most of the\nimportant elements of logic, not yet systematized or reduced to an art\nor science, but scattered up and down as they would naturally occur in\nordinary discourse. They are of little or no use or significance to\nus; but because we have grown out of the need of them we should not\ntherefore despise them. They are still interesting and instructive for\nthe light which they shed on the history of the human mind.\n\nThere are indeed many old fallacies which linger among us, and new\nones are constantly springing up. But they are not of the kind to which\nancient logic can be usefully applied. The weapons of common sense, not\nthe analytics of Aristotle, are needed for their overthrow. Nor is the\nuse of the Aristotelian logic any longer natural to us. We no longer put\narguments into the form of syllogisms like the schoolmen; the simple use\nof language has been, happily, restored to us. Neither do we discuss the\nnature of the proposition, nor extract hidden truths from the copula,\nnor dispute any longer about nominalism and realism. We do not confuse\nthe form with the matter of knowledge, or invent laws of thought, or\nimagine that any single science furnishes a principle of reasoning to\nall the rest. Neither do we require categories or heads of argument to\nbe invented for our use. Those who have no knowledge of logic, like some\nof our great physical philosophers, seem to be quite as good reasoners\nas those who have. Most of the ancient puzzles have been settled on the\nbasis of usage and common sense; there is no need to reopen them. No\nscience should raise problems or invent forms of thought which add\nnothing to knowledge and are of no use in assisting the acquisition of\nit. This seems to be the natural limit of logic and metaphysics; if they\ngive us a more comprehensive or a more definite view of the different\nspheres of knowledge they are to be studied; if not, not. The better\npart of ancient logic appears hardly in our own day to have a separate\nexistence; it is absorbed in two other sciences: (1) rhetoric, if indeed\nthis ancient art be not also fading away into literary criticism; (2)\nthe science of language, under which all questions relating to words and\npropositions and the combinations of them may properly be included.\n\nTo continue dead or imaginary sciences, which make no signs of progress\nand have no definite sphere, tends to interfere with the prosecution\nof living ones. The study of them is apt to blind the judgment and\nto render men incapable of seeing the value of evidence, and even of\nappreciating the nature of truth. Nor should we allow the living science\nto become confused with the dead by an ambiguity of language. The term\nlogic has two different meanings, an ancient and a modern one, and\nwe vainly try to bridge the gulf between them. Many perplexities are\navoided by keeping them apart. There might certainly be a new science of\nlogic; it would not however be built up out of the fragments of the\nold, but would be distinct from them--relative to the state of knowledge\nwhich exists at the present time, and based chiefly on the methods of\nModern Inductive philosophy. Such a science might have two legitimate\nfields: first, the refutation and explanation of false philosophies\nstill hovering in the air as they appear from the point of view of later\nexperience or are comprehended in the history of the human mind, as in\na larger horizon: secondly, it might furnish new forms of thought more\nadequate to the expression of all the diversities and oppositions\nof knowledge which have grown up in these latter days; it might also\nsuggest new methods of enquiry derived from the comparison of the\nsciences. Few will deny that the introduction of the words 'subject' and\n'object' and the Hegelian reconciliation of opposites have been 'most\ngracious aids' to psychology, or that the methods of Bacon and Mill have\nshed a light far and wide on the realms of knowledge. These two\ngreat studies, the one destructive and corrective of error, the other\nconservative and constructive of truth, might be a first and second part\nof logic. Ancient logic would be the propaedeutic or gate of approach to\nlogical science,--nothing more. But to pursue such speculations further,\nthough not irrelevant, might lead us too far away from the argument of\nthe dialogue.\n\nThe Euthydemus is, of all the Dialogues of Plato, that in which he\napproaches most nearly to the comic poet. The mirth is broader,\nthe irony more sustained, the contrast between Socrates and the two\nSophists, although veiled, penetrates deeper than in any other of his\nwritings. Even Thrasymachus, in the Republic, is at last pacified, and\nbecomes a friendly and interested auditor of the great discourse. But\nin the Euthydemus the mask is never dropped; the accustomed irony of\nSocrates continues to the end...\n\nSocrates narrates to Crito a remarkable scene in which he has himself\ntaken part, and in which the two brothers, Dionysodorus and Euthydemus,\nare the chief performers. They are natives of Chios, who had settled at\nThurii, but were driven out, and in former days had been known at Athens\nas professors of rhetoric and of the art of fighting in armour. To\nthis they have now added a new accomplishment--the art of Eristic, or\nfighting with words, which they are likewise willing to teach 'for a\nconsideration.' But they can also teach virtue in a very short time and\nin the very best manner. Socrates, who is always on the look-out for\nteachers of virtue, is interested in the youth Cleinias, the grandson of\nthe great Alcibiades, and is desirous that he should have the benefit of\ntheir instructions. He is ready to fall down and worship them; although\nthe greatness of their professions does arouse in his mind a temporary\nincredulity.\n\nA circle gathers round them, in the midst of which are Socrates, the two\nbrothers, the youth Cleinias, who is watched by the eager eyes of\nhis lover Ctesippus, and others. The performance begins; and such a\nperformance as might well seem to require an invocation of Memory and\nthe Muses. It is agreed that the brothers shall question Cleinias.\n'Cleinias,' says Euthydemus, 'who learn, the wise or the unwise?' 'The\nwise,' is the reply; given with blushing and hesitation. 'And yet when\nyou learned you did not know and were not wise.' Then Dionysodorus takes\nup the ball: 'Who are they who learn dictation of the grammar-master;\nthe wise or the foolish boys?' 'The wise.' 'Then, after all, the wise\nlearn.' 'And do they learn,' said Euthydemus, 'what they know or what\nthey do not know?' 'The latter.' 'And dictation is a dictation of\nletters?' 'Yes.' 'And you know letters?' 'Yes.' 'Then you learn what\nyou know.' 'But,' retorts Dionysodorus, 'is not learning acquiring\nknowledge?' 'Yes.' 'And you acquire that which you have not got\nalready?' 'Yes.' 'Then you learn that which you do not know.'\n\nSocrates is afraid that the youth Cleinias may be discouraged at these\nrepeated overthrows. He therefore explains to him the nature of the\nprocess to which he is being subjected. The two strangers are\nnot serious; there are jests at the mysteries which precede the\nenthronement, and he is being initiated into the mysteries of the\nsophistical ritual. This is all a sort of horse-play, which is now\nended. The exhortation to virtue will follow, and Socrates himself (if\nthe wise men will not laugh at him) is desirous of showing the way in\nwhich such an exhortation should be carried on, according to his\nown poor notion. He proceeds to question Cleinias. The result of the\ninvestigation may be summed up as follows:--\n\nAll men desire good; and good means the possession of goods, such as\nwealth, health, beauty, birth, power, honour; not forgetting the virtues\nand wisdom. And yet in this enumeration the greatest good of all is\nomitted. What is that? Good fortune. But what need is there of good\nfortune when we have wisdom already:--in every art and business are not\nthe wise also the fortunate? This is admitted. And again, the possession\nof goods is not enough; there must also be a right use of them which\ncan only be given by knowledge: in themselves they are neither good nor\nevil--knowledge and wisdom are the only good, and ignorance and folly\nthe only evil. The conclusion is that we must get 'wisdom.' But can\nwisdom be taught? 'Yes,' says Cleinias. The ingenuousness of the\nyouth delights Socrates, who is at once relieved from the necessity of\ndiscussing one of his great puzzles. 'Since wisdom is the only good,\nhe must become a philosopher, or lover of wisdom.' 'That I will,' says\nCleinias.\n\nAfter Socrates has given this specimen of his own mode of instruction,\nthe two brothers recommence their exhortation to virtue, which is of\nquite another sort.\n\n'You want Cleinias to be wise?' 'Yes.' 'And he is not wise yet?' 'No.'\n'Then you want him to be what he is not, and not to be what he is?--not\nto be--that is, to perish. Pretty lovers and friends you must all be!'\n\nHere Ctesippus, the lover of Cleinias, interposes in great excitement,\nthinking that he will teach the two Sophists a lesson of good manners.\nBut he is quickly entangled in the meshes of their sophistry; and as\na storm seems to be gathering Socrates pacifies him with a joke, and\nCtesippus then says that he is not reviling the two Sophists, he is only\ncontradicting them. 'But,' says Dionysodorus, 'there is no such thing as\ncontradiction. When you and I describe the same thing, or you describe\none thing and I describe another, how can there be a contradiction?'\nCtesippus is unable to reply.\n\nSocrates has already heard of the denial of contradiction, and would\nlike to be informed by the great master of the art, 'What is the meaning\nof this paradox? Is there no such thing as error, ignorance, falsehood?\nThen what are they professing to teach?' The two Sophists complain\nthat Socrates is ready to answer what they said a year ago, but\nis 'non-plussed' at what they are saying now. 'What does the word\n\"non-plussed\" mean?' Socrates is informed, in reply, that words are\nlifeless things, and lifeless things have no sense or meaning. Ctesippus\nagain breaks out, and again has to be pacified by Socrates, who renews\nthe conversation with Cleinias. The two Sophists are like Proteus in the\nvariety of their transformations, and he, like Menelaus in the Odyssey,\nhopes to restore them to their natural form.\n\nHe had arrived at the conclusion that Cleinias must become a\nphilosopher. And philosophy is the possession of knowledge; and\nknowledge must be of a kind which is profitable and may be used. What\nknowledge is there which has such a nature? Not the knowledge which is\nrequired in any particular art; nor again the art of the composer of\nspeeches, who knows how to write them, but cannot speak them, although\nhe too must be admitted to be a kind of enchanter of wild animals.\nNeither is the knowledge which we are seeking the knowledge of the\ngeneral. For the general makes over his prey to the statesman, as the\nhuntsman does to the cook, or the taker of quails to the keeper of\nquails; he has not the use of that which he acquires. The two enquirers,\nCleinias and Socrates, are described as wandering about in a wilderness,\nvainly searching after the art of life and happiness. At last they fix\nupon the kingly art, as having the desired sort of knowledge. But the\nkingly art only gives men those goods which are neither good nor evil:\nand if we say further that it makes us wise, in what does it make us\nwise? Not in special arts, such as cobbling or carpentering, but only\nin itself: or say again that it makes us good, there is no answer to\nthe question, 'good in what?' At length in despair Cleinias and Socrates\nturn to the 'Dioscuri' and request their aid.\n\nEuthydemus argues that Socrates knows something; and as he cannot\nknow and not know, he cannot know some things and not know others, and\ntherefore he knows all things: he and Dionysodorus and all other men\nknow all things. 'Do they know shoemaking, etc?' 'Yes.' The sceptical\nCtesippus would like to have some evidence of this extraordinary\nstatement: he will believe if Euthydemus will tell him how many teeth\nDionysodorus has, and if Dionysodorus will give him a like piece of\ninformation about Euthydemus. Even Socrates is incredulous, and indulges\nin a little raillery at the expense of the brothers. But he restrains\nhimself, remembering that if the men who are to be his teachers think\nhim stupid they will take no pains with him. Another fallacy is\nproduced which turns on the absoluteness of the verb 'to know.' And here\nDionysodorus is caught 'napping,' and is induced by Socrates to confess\nthat 'he does not know the good to be unjust.' Socrates appeals to his\nbrother Euthydemus; at the same time he acknowledges that he cannot,\nlike Heracles, fight against a Hydra, and even Heracles, on the approach\nof a second monster, called upon his nephew Iolaus to help. Dionysodorus\nrejoins that Iolaus was no more the nephew of Heracles than of Socrates.\nFor a nephew is a nephew, and a brother is a brother, and a father is\na father, not of one man only, but of all; nor of men only, but of dogs\nand sea-monsters. Ctesippus makes merry with the consequences which\nfollow: 'Much good has your father got out of the wisdom of his\npuppies.'\n\n'But,' says Euthydemus, unabashed, 'nobody wants much good.' Medicine is\na good, arms are a good, money is a good, and yet there may be too much\nof them in wrong places. 'No,' says Ctesippus, 'there cannot be too much\ngold.' And would you be happy if you had three talents of gold in your\nbelly, a talent in your pate, and a stater in either eye?' Ctesippus,\nimitating the new wisdom, replies, 'And do not the Scythians reckon\nthose to be the happiest of men who have their skulls gilded and see the\ninside of them?' 'Do you see,' retorts Euthydemus, 'what has the quality\nof vision or what has not the quality of vision?' 'What has the quality\nof vision.' 'And you see our garments?' 'Yes.' 'Then our garments\nhave the quality of vision.' A similar play of words follows, which is\nsuccessfully retorted by Ctesippus, to the great delight of Cleinias,\nwho is rebuked by Socrates for laughing at such solemn and beautiful\nthings.\n\n'But are there any beautiful things? And if there are such, are they the\nsame or not the same as absolute beauty?' Socrates replies that they are\nnot the same, but each of them has some beauty present with it. 'And\nare you an ox because you have an ox present with you?' After a few more\namphiboliae, in which Socrates, like Ctesippus, in self-defence borrows\nthe weapons of the brothers, they both confess that the two heroes are\ninvincible; and the scene concludes with a grand chorus of shouting and\nlaughing, and a panegyrical oration from Socrates:--\n\nFirst, he praises the indifference of Dionysodorus and Euthydemus\nto public opinion; for most persons would rather be refuted by such\narguments than use them in the refutation of others. Secondly, he\nremarks upon their impartiality; for they stop their own mouths, as\nwell as those of other people. Thirdly, he notes their liberality, which\nmakes them give away their secret to all the world: they should be more\nreserved, and let no one be present at this exhibition who does not pay\nthem a handsome fee; or better still they might practise on one another\nonly. He concludes with a respectful request that they will receive him\nand Cleinias among their disciples.\n\nCrito tells Socrates that he has heard one of the audience criticise\nseverely this wisdom,--not sparing Socrates himself for countenancing\nsuch an exhibition. Socrates asks what manner of man was this censorious\ncritic. 'Not an orator, but a great composer of speeches.' Socrates\nunderstands that he is an amphibious animal, half philosopher, half\npolitician; one of a class who have the highest opinion of themselves\nand a spite against philosophers, whom they imagine to be their rivals.\nThey are a class who are very likely to get mauled by Euthydemus and his\nfriends, and have a great notion of their own wisdom; for they imagine\nthemselves to have all the advantages and none of the drawbacks both\nof politics and of philosophy. They do not understand the principles of\ncombination, and hence are ignorant that the union of two good things\nwhich have different ends produces a compound inferior to either of them\ntaken separately.\n\nCrito is anxious about the education of his children, one of whom is\ngrowing up. The description of Dionysodorus and Euthydemus suggests to\nhim the reflection that the professors of education are strange beings.\nSocrates consoles him with the remark that the good in all professions\nare few, and recommends that 'he and his house' should continue to serve\nphilosophy, and not mind about its professors.\n\n...\n\nThere is a stage in the history of philosophy in which the old is dying\nout, and the new has not yet come into full life. Great philosophies\nlike the Eleatic or Heraclitean, which have enlarged the boundaries of\nthe human mind, begin to pass away in words. They subsist only as forms\nwhich have rooted themselves in language--as troublesome elements\nof thought which cannot be either used or explained away. The same\nabsoluteness which was once attributed to abstractions is now attached\nto the words which are the signs of them. The philosophy which in\nthe first and second generation was a great and inspiring effort of\nreflection, in the third becomes sophistical, verbal, eristic.\n\nIt is this stage of philosophy which Plato satirises in the Euthydemus.\nThe fallacies which are noted by him appear trifling to us now, but they\nwere not trifling in the age before logic, in the decline of the earlier\nGreek philosophies, at a time when language was first beginning to\nperplex human thought. Besides he is caricaturing them; they probably\nreceived more subtle forms at the hands of those who seriously\nmaintained them. They are patent to us in Plato, and we are inclined to\nwonder how any one could ever have been deceived by them; but we must\nremember also that there was a time when the human mind was only with\ngreat difficulty disentangled from such fallacies.\n\nTo appreciate fully the drift of the Euthydemus, we should imagine a\nmental state in which not individuals only, but whole schools during\nmore than one generation, were animated by the desire to exclude the\nconception of rest, and therefore the very word 'this' (Theaet.) from\nlanguage; in which the ideas of space, time, matter, motion, were proved\nto be contradictory and imaginary; in which the nature of qualitative\nchange was a puzzle, and even differences of degree, when applied to\nabstract notions, were not understood; in which there was no analysis of\ngrammar, and mere puns or plays of words received serious attention;\nin which contradiction itself was denied, and, on the one hand, every\npredicate was affirmed to be true of every subject, and on the other,\nit was held that no predicate was true of any subject, and that nothing\nwas, or was known, or could be spoken. Let us imagine disputes carried\non with religious earnestness and more than scholastic subtlety, in\nwhich the catchwords of philosophy are completely detached from their\ncontext. (Compare Theaet.) To such disputes the humour, whether of Plato\nin the ancient, or of Pope and Swift in the modern world, is the natural\nenemy. Nor must we forget that in modern times also there is no fallacy\nso gross, no trick of language so transparent, no abstraction so barren\nand unmeaning, no form of thought so contradictory to experience, which\nhas not been found to satisfy the minds of philosophical enquirers at a\ncertain stage, or when regarded from a certain point of view only. The\npeculiarity of the fallacies of our own age is that we live within them,\nand are therefore generally unconscious of them.\n\nAristotle has analysed several of the same fallacies in his book 'De\nSophisticis Elenchis,' which Plato, with equal command of their true\nnature, has preferred to bring to the test of ridicule. At first we\nare only struck with the broad humour of this 'reductio ad absurdum:'\ngradually we perceive that some important questions begin to emerge.\nHere, as everywhere else, Plato is making war against the philosophers\nwho put words in the place of things, who tear arguments to tatters, who\ndeny predication, and thus make knowledge impossible, to whom ideas\nand objects of sense have no fixedness, but are in a state of perpetual\noscillation and transition. Two great truths seem to be indirectly\ntaught through these fallacies: (1) The uncertainty of language,\nwhich allows the same words to be used in different meanings, or with\ndifferent degrees of meaning: (2) The necessary limitation or relative\nnature of all phenomena. Plato is aware that his own doctrine of\nideas, as well as the Eleatic Being and Not-being, alike admit of being\nregarded as verbal fallacies. The sophism advanced in the Meno, 'that\nyou cannot enquire either into what you know or do not know,' is\nlightly touched upon at the commencement of the Dialogue; the thesis of\nProtagoras, that everything is true to him to whom it seems to be\ntrue, is satirized. In contrast with these fallacies is maintained the\nSocratic doctrine that happiness is gained by knowledge. The grammatical\npuzzles with which the Dialogue concludes probably contain allusions\nto tricks of language which may have been practised by the disciples\nof Prodicus or Antisthenes. They would have had more point, if we were\nacquainted with the writings against which Plato's humour is directed.\nMost of the jests appear to have a serious meaning; but we have lost the\nclue to some of them, and cannot determine whether, as in the Cratylus,\nPlato has or has not mixed up purely unmeaning fun with his satire.\n\nThe two discourses of Socrates may be contrasted in several respects\nwith the exhibition of the Sophists: (1) In their perfect relevancy to\nthe subject of discussion, whereas the Sophistical discourses are wholly\nirrelevant: (2) In their enquiring sympathetic tone, which encourages\nthe youth, instead of 'knocking him down,' after the manner of the\ntwo Sophists: (3) In the absence of any definite conclusion--for while\nSocrates and the youth are agreed that philosophy is to be studied, they\nare not able to arrive at any certain result about the art which is to\nteach it. This is a question which will hereafter be answered in the\nRepublic; as the conception of the kingly art is more fully developed in\nthe Politicus, and the caricature of rhetoric in the Gorgias.\n\nThe characters of the Dialogue are easily intelligible. There is\nSocrates once more in the character of an old man; and his equal in\nyears, Crito, the father of Critobulus, like Lysimachus in the Laches,\nhis fellow demesman (Apol.), to whom the scene is narrated, and who once\nor twice interrupts with a remark after the manner of the interlocutor\nin the Phaedo, and adds his commentary at the end; Socrates makes\na playful allusion to his money-getting habits. There is the youth\nCleinias, the grandson of Alcibiades, who may be compared with Lysis,\nCharmides, Menexenus, and other ingenuous youths out of whose mouths\nSocrates draws his own lessons, and to whom he always seems to stand in\na kindly and sympathetic relation. Crito will not believe that Socrates\nhas not improved or perhaps invented the answers of Cleinias (compare\nPhaedrus). The name of the grandson of Alcibiades, who is described as\nlong dead, (Greek), and who died at the age of forty-four, in the year\n404 B.C., suggests not only that the intended scene of the Euthydemus\ncould not have been earlier than 404, but that as a fact this Dialogue\ncould not have been composed before 390 at the soonest. Ctesippus,\nwho is the lover of Cleinias, has been already introduced to us in the\nLysis, and seems there too to deserve the character which is here given\nhim, of a somewhat uproarious young man. But the chief study of all\nis the picture of the two brothers, who are unapproachable in their\neffrontery, equally careless of what they say to others and of what is\nsaid to them, and never at a loss. They are 'Arcades ambo et cantare\npares et respondere parati.' Some superior degree of wit or subtlety is\nattributed to Euthydemus, who sees the trap in which Socrates catches\nDionysodorus.\n\nThe epilogue or conclusion of the Dialogue has been criticised as\ninconsistent with the general scheme. Such a criticism is like similar\ncriticisms on Shakespeare, and proceeds upon a narrow notion of the\nvariety which the Dialogue, like the drama, seems to admit. Plato in the\nabundance of his dramatic power has chosen to write a play upon a play,\njust as he often gives us an argument within an argument. At the same\ntime he takes the opportunity of assailing another class of persons\nwho are as alien from the spirit of philosophy as Euthydemus and\nDionysodorus. The Eclectic, the Syncretist, the Doctrinaire, have been\napt to have a bad name both in ancient and modern times. The persons\nwhom Plato ridicules in the epilogue to the Euthydemus are of this\nclass. They occupy a border-ground between philosophy and politics; they\nkeep out of the dangers of politics, and at the same time use philosophy\nas a means of serving their own interests. Plato quaintly describes them\nas making two good things, philosophy and politics, a little worse by\nperverting the objects of both. Men like Antiphon or Lysias would be\ntypes of the class. Out of a regard to the respectabilities of life,\nthey are disposed to censure the interest which Socrates takes in the\nexhibition of the two brothers. They do not understand, any more than\nCrito, that he is pursuing his vocation of detecting the follies of\nmankind, which he finds 'not unpleasant.' (Compare Apol.)\n\nEducation is the common subject of all Plato's earlier Dialogues. The\nconcluding remark of Crito, that he has a difficulty in educating his\ntwo sons, and the advice of Socrates to him that he should not give\nup philosophy because he has no faith in philosophers, seems to be a\npreparation for the more peremptory declaration of the Meno that 'Virtue\ncannot be taught because there are no teachers.'\n\nThe reasons for placing the Euthydemus early in the series are: (1)\nthe similarity in plan and style to the Protagoras, Charmides, and\nLysis;--the relation of Socrates to the Sophists is still that of\nhumorous antagonism, not, as in the later Dialogues of Plato, of\nembittered hatred; and the places and persons have a considerable family\nlikeness; (2) the Euthydemus belongs to the Socratic period in which\nSocrates is represented as willing to learn, but unable to teach; and\nin the spirit of Xenophon's Memorabilia, philosophy is defined as 'the\nknowledge which will make us happy;' (3) we seem to have passed the\nstage arrived at in the Protagoras, for Socrates is no longer discussing\nwhether virtue can be taught--from this question he is relieved by the\ningenuous declaration of the youth Cleinias; and (4) not yet to have\nreached the point at which he asserts 'that there are no teachers.' Such\ngrounds are precarious, as arguments from style and plan are apt to\nbe (Greek). But no arguments equally strong can be urged in favour of\nassigning to the Euthydemus any other position in the series.\n\n\n\n\nEUTHYDEMUS\n\n\nPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, who is the narrator of the Dialogue.\nCrito, Cleinias, Euthydemus, Dionysodorus, Ctesippus.\n\nSCENE: The Lyceum.\n\n\nCRITO: Who was the person, Socrates, with whom you were talking\nyesterday at the Lyceum? There was such a crowd around you that I could\nnot get within hearing, but I caught a sight of him over their heads,\nand I made out, as I thought, that he was a stranger with whom you were\ntalking: who was he?\n\nSOCRATES: There were two, Crito; which of them do you mean?\n\nCRITO: The one whom I mean was seated second from you on the right-hand\nside. In the middle was Cleinias the young son of Axiochus, who has\nwonderfully grown; he is only about the age of my own Critobulus, but\nhe is much forwarder and very good-looking: the other is thin and looks\nyounger than he is.\n\nSOCRATES: He whom you mean, Crito, is Euthydemus; and on my left\nhand there was his brother Dionysodorus, who also took part in the\nconversation.\n\nCRITO: Neither of them are known to me, Socrates; they are a new\nimportation of Sophists, as I should imagine. Of what country are they,\nand what is their line of wisdom?\n\nSOCRATES: As to their origin, I believe that they are natives of this\npart of the world, and have migrated from Chios to Thurii; they were\ndriven out of Thurii, and have been living for many years past in\nthese regions. As to their wisdom, about which you ask, Crito, they\nare wonderful--consummate! I never knew what the true pancratiast was\nbefore; they are simply made up of fighting, not like the two Acarnanian\nbrothers who fight with their bodies only, but this pair of heroes,\nbesides being perfect in the use of their bodies, are invincible in\nevery sort of warfare; for they are capital at fighting in armour, and\nwill teach the art to any one who pays them; and also they are most\nskilful in legal warfare; they will plead themselves and teach others to\nspeak and to compose speeches which will have an effect upon the courts.\nAnd this was only the beginning of their wisdom, but they have at last\ncarried out the pancratiastic art to the very end, and have mastered the\nonly mode of fighting which had been hitherto neglected by them; and now\nno one dares even to stand up against them: such is their skill in\nthe war of words, that they can refute any proposition whether true or\nfalse. Now I am thinking, Crito, of placing myself in their hands; for\nthey say that in a short time they can impart their skill to any one.\n\nCRITO: But, Socrates, are you not too old? there may be reason to fear\nthat.\n\nSOCRATES: Certainly not, Crito; as I will prove to you, for I have the\nconsolation of knowing that they began this art of disputation which I\ncovet, quite, as I may say, in old age; last year, or the year before,\nthey had none of their new wisdom. I am only apprehensive that I may\nbring the two strangers into disrepute, as I have done Connus the son of\nMetrobius, the harp-player, who is still my music-master; for when the\nboys who go to him see me going with them, they laugh at me and call him\ngrandpapa's master. Now I should not like the strangers to experience\nsimilar treatment; the fear of ridicule may make them unwilling to\nreceive me; and therefore, Crito, I shall try and persuade some old men\nto accompany me to them, as I persuaded them to go with me to Connus,\nand I hope that you will make one: and perhaps we had better take your\nsons as a bait; they will want to have them as pupils, and for the sake\nof them willing to receive us.\n\nCRITO: I see no objection, Socrates, if you like; but first I wish\nthat you would give me a description of their wisdom, that I may know\nbeforehand what we are going to learn.\n\nSOCRATES: In less than no time you shall hear; for I cannot say that I\ndid not attend--I paid great attention to them, and I remember and will\nendeavour to repeat the whole story. Providentially I was sitting alone\nin the dressing-room of the Lyceum where you saw me, and was about to\ndepart; when I was getting up I recognized the familiar divine sign: so\nI sat down again, and in a little while the two brothers Euthydemus and\nDionysodorus came in, and several others with them, whom I believe to\nbe their disciples, and they walked about in the covered court; they had\nnot taken more than two or three turns when Cleinias entered, who,\nas you truly say, is very much improved: he was followed by a host of\nlovers, one of whom was Ctesippus the Paeanian, a well-bred youth, but\nalso having the wildness of youth. Cleinias saw me from the entrance as\nI was sitting alone, and at once came and sat down on the right hand of\nme, as you describe; and Dionysodorus and Euthydemus, when they saw him,\nat first stopped and talked with one another, now and then glancing at\nus, for I particularly watched them; and then Euthydemus came and\nsat down by the youth, and the other by me on the left hand; the rest\nanywhere. I saluted the brothers, whom I had not seen for a long time;\nand then I said to Cleinias: Here are two wise men, Euthydemus and\nDionysodorus, Cleinias, wise not in a small but in a large way of\nwisdom, for they know all about war,--all that a good general ought\nto know about the array and command of an army, and the whole art of\nfighting in armour: and they know about law too, and can teach a man how\nto use the weapons of the courts when he is injured.\n\nThey heard me say this, but only despised me. I observed that they\nlooked at one another, and both of them laughed; and then Euthydemus\nsaid: Those, Socrates, are matters which we no longer pursue seriously;\nto us they are secondary occupations.\n\nIndeed, I said, if such occupations are regarded by you as secondary,\nwhat must the principal one be; tell me, I beseech you, what that noble\nstudy is?\n\nThe teaching of virtue, Socrates, he replied, is our principal\noccupation; and we believe that we can impart it better and quicker than\nany man.\n\nMy God! I said, and where did you learn that? I always thought, as I was\nsaying just now, that your chief accomplishment was the art of fighting\nin armour; and I used to say as much of you, for I remember that you\nprofessed this when you were here before. But now if you really have the\nother knowledge, O forgive me: I address you as I would superior beings,\nand ask you to pardon the impiety of my former expressions. But are you\nquite sure about this, Dionysodorus and Euthydemus? the promise is so\nvast, that a feeling of incredulity steals over me.\n\nYou may take our word, Socrates, for the fact.\n\nThen I think you happier in having such a treasure than the great king\nis in the possession of his kingdom. And please to tell me whether you\nintend to exhibit your wisdom; or what will you do?\n\nThat is why we have come hither, Socrates; and our purpose is not only\nto exhibit, but also to teach any one who likes to learn.\n\nBut I can promise you, I said, that every unvirtuous person will want\nto learn. I shall be the first; and there is the youth Cleinias, and\nCtesippus: and here are several others, I said, pointing to the lovers\nof Cleinias, who were beginning to gather round us. Now Ctesippus was\nsitting at some distance from Cleinias; and when Euthydemus leaned\nforward in talking with me, he was prevented from seeing Cleinias, who\nwas between us; and so, partly because he wanted to look at his love,\nand also because he was interested, he jumped up and stood opposite to\nus: and all the other admirers of Cleinias, as well as the disciples of\nEuthydemus and Dionysodorus, followed his example. And these were the\npersons whom I showed to Euthydemus, telling him that they were all\neager to learn: to which Ctesippus and all of them with one voice\nvehemently assented, and bid him exhibit the power of his wisdom. Then\nI said: O Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, I earnestly request you to do\nmyself and the company the favour to exhibit. There may be some trouble\nin giving the whole exhibition; but tell me one thing,--can you make a\ngood man of him only who is already convinced that he ought to learn\nof you, or of him also who is not convinced, either because he imagines\nthat virtue is a thing which cannot be taught at all, or that you are\nnot the teachers of it? Has your art power to persuade him, who is of\nthe latter temper of mind, that virtue can be taught; and that you are\nthe men from whom he will best learn it?\n\nCertainly, Socrates, said Dionysodorus; our art will do both.\n\nAnd you and your brother, Dionysodorus, I said, of all men who are now\nliving are the most likely to stimulate him to philosophy and to the\nstudy of virtue?\n\nYes, Socrates, I rather think that we are.\n\nThen I wish that you would be so good as to defer the other part of the\nexhibition, and only try to persuade the youth whom you see here that he\nought to be a philosopher and study virtue. Exhibit that, and you will\nconfer a great favour on me and on every one present; for the fact is\nI and all of us are extremely anxious that he should become truly good.\nHis name is Cleinias, and he is the son of Axiochus, and grandson of the\nold Alcibiades, cousin of the Alcibiades that now is. He is quite young,\nand we are naturally afraid that some one may get the start of us, and\nturn his mind in a wrong direction, and he may be ruined. Your visit,\ntherefore, is most happily timed; and I hope that you will make a trial\nof the young man, and converse with him in our presence, if you have no\nobjection.\n\nThese were pretty nearly the expressions which I used; and Euthydemus,\nin a manly and at the same time encouraging tone, replied: There can\nbe no objection, Socrates, if the young man is only willing to answer\nquestions.\n\nHe is quite accustomed to do so, I replied; for his friends often come\nand ask him questions and argue with him; and therefore he is quite at\nhome in answering.\n\nWhat followed, Crito, how can I rightly narrate? For not slight is the\ntask of rehearsing infinite wisdom, and therefore, like the poets,\nI ought to commence my relation with an invocation to Memory and the\nMuses. Now Euthydemus, if I remember rightly, began nearly as follows: O\nCleinias, are those who learn the wise or the ignorant?\n\nThe youth, overpowered by the question blushed, and in his perplexity\nlooked at me for help; and I, knowing that he was disconcerted, said:\nTake courage, Cleinias, and answer like a man whichever you think;\nfor my belief is that you will derive the greatest benefit from their\nquestions.\n\nWhichever he answers, said Dionysodorus, leaning forward so as to catch\nmy ear, his face beaming with laughter, I prophesy that he will be\nrefuted, Socrates.\n\nWhile he was speaking to me, Cleinias gave his answer: and therefore I\nhad no time to warn him of the predicament in which he was placed, and\nhe answered that those who learned were the wise.\n\nEuthydemus proceeded: There are some whom you would call teachers, are\nthere not?\n\nThe boy assented.\n\nAnd they are the teachers of those who learn--the grammar-master and the\nlyre-master used to teach you and other boys; and you were the learners?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd when you were learners you did not as yet know the things which you\nwere learning?\n\nNo, he said.\n\nAnd were you wise then?\n\nNo, indeed, he said.\n\nBut if you were not wise you were unlearned?\n\nCertainly.\n\nYou then, learning what you did not know, were unlearned when you were\nlearning?\n\nThe youth nodded assent.\n\nThen the unlearned learn, and not the wise, Cleinias, as you imagine.\n\nAt these words the followers of Euthydemus, of whom I spoke, like a\nchorus at the bidding of their director, laughed and cheered. Then,\nbefore the youth had time to recover his breath, Dionysodorus cleverly\ntook him in hand, and said: Yes, Cleinias; and when the grammar-master\ndictated anything to you, were they the wise boys or the unlearned who\nlearned the dictation?\n\nThe wise, replied Cleinias.\n\nThen after all the wise are the learners and not the unlearned; and your\nlast answer to Euthydemus was wrong.\n\nThen once more the admirers of the two heroes, in an ecstasy at their\nwisdom, gave vent to another peal of laughter, while the rest of us were\nsilent and amazed. Euthydemus, observing this, determined to persevere\nwith the youth; and in order to heighten the effect went on asking\nanother similar question, which might be compared to the double turn of\nan expert dancer. Do those, said he, who learn, learn what they know, or\nwhat they do not know?\n\nAgain Dionysodorus whispered to me: That, Socrates, is just another of\nthe same sort.\n\nGood heavens, I said; and your last question was so good!\n\nLike all our other questions, Socrates, he replied--inevitable.\n\nI see the reason, I said, why you are in such reputation among your\ndisciples.\n\nMeanwhile Cleinias had answered Euthydemus that those who learned learn\nwhat they do not know; and he put him through a series of questions the\nsame as before.\n\nDo you not know letters?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAll letters?\n\nYes.\n\nBut when the teacher dictates to you, does he not dictate letters?\n\nTo this also he assented.\n\nThen if you know all letters, he dictates that which you know?\n\nThis again was admitted by him.\n\nThen, said the other, you do not learn that which he dictates; but he\nonly who does not know letters learns?\n\nNay, said Cleinias; but I do learn.\n\nThen, said he, you learn what you know, if you know all the letters?\n\nHe admitted that.\n\nThen, he said, you were wrong in your answer.\n\nThe word was hardly out of his mouth when Dionysodorus took up the\nargument, like a ball which he caught, and had another throw at the\nyouth. Cleinias, he said, Euthydemus is deceiving you. For tell me now,\nis not learning acquiring knowledge of that which one learns?\n\nCleinias assented.\n\nAnd knowing is having knowledge at the time?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd not knowing is not having knowledge at the time?\n\nHe admitted that.\n\nAnd are those who acquire those who have or have not a thing?\n\nThose who have not.\n\nAnd have you not admitted that those who do not know are of the number\nof those who have not?\n\nHe nodded assent.\n\nThen those who learn are of the class of those who acquire, and not of\nthose who have?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nThen, Cleinias, he said, those who do not know learn, and not those who\nknow.\n\nEuthydemus was proceeding to give the youth a third fall; but I knew\nthat he was in deep water, and therefore, as I wanted to give him a\nrespite lest he should be disheartened, I said to him consolingly: You\nmust not be surprised, Cleinias, at the singularity of their mode of\nspeech: this I say because you may not understand what the two strangers\nare doing with you; they are only initiating you after the manner of\nthe Corybantes in the mysteries; and this answers to the enthronement,\nwhich, if you have ever been initiated, is, as you will know,\naccompanied by dancing and sport; and now they are just prancing and\ndancing about you, and will next proceed to initiate you; imagine then\nthat you have gone through the first part of the sophistical ritual,\nwhich, as Prodicus says, begins with initiation into the correct use\nof terms. The two foreign gentlemen, perceiving that you did not know,\nwanted to explain to you that the word 'to learn' has two meanings, and\nis used, first, in the sense of acquiring knowledge of some matter of\nwhich you previously have no knowledge, and also, when you have the\nknowledge, in the sense of reviewing this matter, whether something done\nor spoken by the light of this newly-acquired knowledge; the latter\nis generally called 'knowing' rather than 'learning,' but the word\n'learning' is also used; and you did not see, as they explained to you,\nthat the term is employed of two opposite sorts of men, of those who\nknow, and of those who do not know. There was a similar trick in the\nsecond question, when they asked you whether men learn what they know\nor what they do not know. These parts of learning are not serious, and\ntherefore I say that the gentlemen are not serious, but are only playing\nwith you. For if a man had all that sort of knowledge that ever was, he\nwould not be at all the wiser; he would only be able to play with men,\ntripping them up and oversetting them with distinctions of words. He\nwould be like a person who pulls away a stool from some one when he is\nabout to sit down, and then laughs and makes merry at the sight of his\nfriend overturned and laid on his back. And you must regard all that has\nhitherto passed between you and them as merely play. But in what is to\nfollow I am certain that they will exhibit to you their serious purpose,\nand keep their promise (I will show them how); for they promised to give\nme a sample of the hortatory philosophy, but I suppose that they wanted\nto have a game with you first. And now, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus,\nI think that we have had enough of this. Will you let me see you\nexplaining to the young man how he is to apply himself to the study of\nvirtue and wisdom? And I will first show you what I conceive to be the\nnature of the task, and what sort of a discourse I desire to hear; and\nif I do this in a very inartistic and ridiculous manner, do not laugh\nat me, for I only venture to improvise before you because I am eager\nto hear your wisdom: and I must therefore ask you and your disciples to\nrefrain from laughing. And now, O son of Axiochus, let me put a question\nto you: Do not all men desire happiness? And yet, perhaps, this is one\nof those ridiculous questions which I am afraid to ask, and which ought\nnot to be asked by a sensible man: for what human being is there who\ndoes not desire happiness?\n\nThere is no one, said Cleinias, who does not.\n\nWell, then, I said, since we all of us desire happiness, how can we be\nhappy?--that is the next question. Shall we not be happy if we have many\ngood things? And this, perhaps, is even a more simple question than the\nfirst, for there can be no doubt of the answer.\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd what things do we esteem good? No solemn sage is required to tell us\nthis, which may be easily answered; for every one will say that wealth\nis a good.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd are not health and beauty goods, and other personal gifts?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nCan there be any doubt that good birth, and power, and honours in one's\nown land, are goods?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd what other goods are there? I said. What do you say of temperance,\njustice, courage: do you not verily and indeed think, Cleinias, that we\nshall be more right in ranking them as goods than in not ranking them as\ngoods? For a dispute might possibly arise about this. What then do you\nsay?\n\nThey are goods, said Cleinias.\n\nVery well, I said; and where in the company shall we find a place for\nwisdom--among the goods or not?\n\nAmong the goods.\n\nAnd now, I said, think whether we have left out any considerable goods.\n\nI do not think that we have, said Cleinias.\n\nUpon recollection, I said, indeed I am afraid that we have left out the\ngreatest of them all.\n\nWhat is that? he asked.\n\nFortune, Cleinias, I replied; which all, even the most foolish, admit to\nbe the greatest of goods.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nOn second thoughts, I added, how narrowly, O son of Axiochus, have you\nand I escaped making a laughing-stock of ourselves to the strangers.\n\nWhy do you say so?\n\nWhy, because we have already spoken of good-fortune, and are but\nrepeating ourselves.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean that there is something ridiculous in again putting forward\ngood-fortune, which has a place in the list already, and saying the same\nthing twice over.\n\nHe asked what was the meaning of this, and I replied: Surely wisdom is\ngood-fortune; even a child may know that.\n\nThe simple-minded youth was amazed; and, observing his surprise, I said\nto him: Do you not know, Cleinias, that flute-players are most fortunate\nand successful in performing on the flute?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd are not the scribes most fortunate in writing and reading letters?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAmid the dangers of the sea, again, are any more fortunate on the whole\nthan wise pilots?\n\nNone, certainly.\n\nAnd if you were engaged in war, in whose company would you rather take\nthe risk--in company with a wise general, or with a foolish one?\n\nWith a wise one.\n\nAnd if you were ill, whom would you rather have as a companion in a\ndangerous illness--a wise physician, or an ignorant one?\n\nA wise one.\n\nYou think, I said, that to act with a wise man is more fortunate than to\nact with an ignorant one?\n\nHe assented.\n\nThen wisdom always makes men fortunate: for by wisdom no man would ever\nerr, and therefore he must act rightly and succeed, or his wisdom would\nbe wisdom no longer.\n\nWe contrived at last, somehow or other, to agree in a general\nconclusion, that he who had wisdom had no need of fortune. I then\nrecalled to his mind the previous state of the question. You remember, I\nsaid, our making the admission that we should be happy and fortunate if\nmany good things were present with us?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd should we be happy by reason of the presence of good things, if they\nprofited us not, or if they profited us?\n\nIf they profited us, he said.\n\nAnd would they profit us, if we only had them and did not use them? For\nexample, if we had a great deal of food and did not eat, or a great deal\nof drink and did not drink, should we be profited?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nOr would an artisan, who had all the implements necessary for his work,\nand did not use them, be any the better for the possession of them? For\nexample, would a carpenter be any the better for having all his tools\nand plenty of wood, if he never worked?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nAnd if a person had wealth and all the goods of which we were just now\nspeaking, and did not use them, would he be happy because he possessed\nthem?\n\nNo indeed, Socrates.\n\nThen, I said, a man who would be happy must not only have the good\nthings, but he must also use them; there is no advantage in merely\nhaving them?\n\nTrue.\n\nWell, Cleinias, but if you have the use as well as the possession of\ngood things, is that sufficient to confer happiness?\n\nYes, in my opinion.\n\nAnd may a person use them either rightly or wrongly?\n\nHe must use them rightly.\n\nThat is quite true, I said. And the wrong use of a thing is far worse\nthan the non-use; for the one is an evil, and the other is neither a\ngood nor an evil. You admit that?\n\nHe assented.\n\nNow in the working and use of wood, is not that which gives the right\nuse simply the knowledge of the carpenter?\n\nNothing else, he said.\n\nAnd surely, in the manufacture of vessels, knowledge is that which gives\nthe right way of making them?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd in the use of the goods of which we spoke at first--wealth and\nhealth and beauty, is not knowledge that which directs us to the right\nuse of them, and regulates our practice about them?\n\nHe assented.\n\nThen in every possession and every use of a thing, knowledge is that\nwhich gives a man not only good-fortune but success?\n\nHe again assented.\n\nAnd tell me, I said, O tell me, what do possessions profit a man, if he\nhave neither good sense nor wisdom? Would a man be better off, having\nand doing many things without wisdom, or a few things with wisdom?\nLook at the matter thus: If he did fewer things would he not make fewer\nmistakes? if he made fewer mistakes would he not have fewer misfortunes?\nand if he had fewer misfortunes would he not be less miserable?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd who would do least--a poor man or a rich man?\n\nA poor man.\n\nA weak man or a strong man?\n\nA weak man.\n\nA noble man or a mean man?\n\nA mean man.\n\nAnd a coward would do less than a courageous and temperate man?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd an indolent man less than an active man?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd a slow man less than a quick; and one who had dull perceptions of\nseeing and hearing less than one who had keen ones?\n\nAll this was mutually allowed by us.\n\nThen, I said, Cleinias, the sum of the matter appears to be that the\ngoods of which we spoke before are not to be regarded as goods in\nthemselves, but the degree of good and evil in them depends on whether\nthey are or are not under the guidance of knowledge: under the guidance\nof ignorance, they are greater evils than their opposites, inasmuch as\nthey are more able to minister to the evil principle which rules them;\nand when under the guidance of wisdom and prudence, they are greater\ngoods: but in themselves they are nothing?\n\nThat, he replied, is obvious.\n\nWhat then is the result of what has been said? Is not this the\nresult--that other things are indifferent, and that wisdom is the only\ngood, and ignorance the only evil?\n\nHe assented.\n\nLet us consider a further point, I said: Seeing that all men desire\nhappiness, and happiness, as has been shown, is gained by a use, and\na right use, of the things of life, and the right use of them, and\ngood-fortune in the use of them, is given by knowledge,--the inference\nis that everybody ought by all means to try and make himself as wise as\nhe can?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd when a man thinks that he ought to obtain this treasure, far more\nthan money, from a father or a guardian or a friend or a suitor, whether\ncitizen or stranger--the eager desire and prayer to them that they would\nimpart wisdom to you, is not at all dishonourable, Cleinias; nor is any\none to be blamed for doing any honourable service or ministration to any\nman, whether a lover or not, if his aim is to get wisdom. Do you agree?\nI said.\n\nYes, he said, I quite agree, and think that you are right.\n\nYes, I said, Cleinias, if only wisdom can be taught, and does not\ncome to man spontaneously; for this is a point which has still to be\nconsidered, and is not yet agreed upon by you and me--\n\nBut I think, Socrates, that wisdom can be taught, he said.\n\nBest of men, I said, I am delighted to hear you say so; and I am\nalso grateful to you for having saved me from a long and tiresome\ninvestigation as to whether wisdom can be taught or not. But now, as\nyou think that wisdom can be taught, and that wisdom only can make a man\nhappy and fortunate, will you not acknowledge that all of us ought to\nlove wisdom, and you individually will try to love her?\n\nCertainly, Socrates, he said; I will do my best.\n\nI was pleased at hearing this; and I turned to Dionysodorus and\nEuthydemus and said: That is an example, clumsy and tedious I admit, of\nthe sort of exhortations which I would have you give; and I hope that\none of you will set forth what I have been saying in a more artistic\nstyle: or at least take up the enquiry where I left off, and proceed to\nshow the youth whether he should have all knowledge; or whether there is\none sort of knowledge only which will make him good and happy, and what\nthat is. For, as I was saying at first, the improvement of this young\nman in virtue and wisdom is a matter which we have very much at heart.\n\nThus I spoke, Crito, and was all attention to what was coming. I wanted\nto see how they would approach the question, and where they would start\nin their exhortation to the young man that he should practise wisdom and\nvirtue. Dionysodorus, who was the elder, spoke first. Everybody's eyes\nwere directed towards him, perceiving that something wonderful might\nshortly be expected. And certainly they were not far wrong; for the man,\nCrito, began a remarkable discourse well worth hearing, and wonderfully\npersuasive regarded as an exhortation to virtue.\n\nTell me, he said, Socrates and the rest of you who say that you want\nthis young man to become wise, are you in jest or in real earnest?\n\nI was led by this to imagine that they fancied us to have been jesting\nwhen we asked them to converse with the youth, and that this made them\njest and play, and being under this impression, I was the more decided\nin saying that we were in profound earnest. Dionysodorus said:\n\nReflect, Socrates; you may have to deny your words.\n\nI have reflected, I said; and I shall never deny my words.\n\nWell, said he, and so you say that you wish Cleinias to become wise?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAnd he is not wise as yet?\n\nAt least his modesty will not allow him to say that he is.\n\nYou wish him, he said, to become wise and not, to be ignorant?\n\nThat we do.\n\nYou wish him to be what he is not, and no longer to be what he is?\n\nI was thrown into consternation at this.\n\nTaking advantage of my consternation he added: You wish him no longer to\nbe what he is, which can only mean that you wish him to perish. Pretty\nlovers and friends they must be who want their favourite not to be, or\nto perish!\n\nWhen Ctesippus heard this he got very angry (as a lover well might) and\nsaid: Stranger of Thurii--if politeness would allow me I should say,\nA plague upon you! What can make you tell such a lie about me and\nthe others, which I hardly like to repeat, as that I wish Cleinias to\nperish?\n\nEuthydemus replied: And do you think, Ctesippus, that it is possible to\ntell a lie?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus; I should be mad to say anything else.\n\nAnd in telling a lie, do you tell the thing of which you speak or not?\n\nYou tell the thing of which you speak.\n\nAnd he who tells, tells that thing which he tells, and no other?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd that is a distinct thing apart from other things?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd he who says that thing says that which is?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd he who says that which is, says the truth. And therefore\nDionysodorus, if he says that which is, says the truth of you and no\nlie.\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; but in saying this, he says what is\nnot.\n\nEuthydemus answered: And that which is not is not?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd that which is not is nowhere?\n\nNowhere.\n\nAnd can any one do anything about that which has no existence, or do to\nCleinias that which is not and is nowhere?\n\nI think not, said Ctesippus.\n\nWell, but do rhetoricians, when they speak in the assembly, do nothing?\n\nNay, he said, they do something.\n\nAnd doing is making?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd speaking is doing and making?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nThen no one says that which is not, for in saying what is not he would\nbe doing something; and you have already acknowledged that no one can do\nwhat is not. And therefore, upon your own showing, no one says what is\nfalse; but if Dionysodorus says anything, he says what is true and what\nis.\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; but he speaks of things in a certain\nway and manner, and not as they really are.\n\nWhy, Ctesippus, said Dionysodorus, do you mean to say that any one\nspeaks of things as they are?\n\nYes, he said--all gentlemen and truth-speaking persons.\n\nAnd are not good things good, and evil things evil?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd you say that gentlemen speak of things as they are?\n\nYes.\n\nThen the good speak evil of evil things, if they speak of them as they\nare?\n\nYes, indeed, he said; and they speak evil of evil men. And if I may give\nyou a piece of advice, you had better take care that they do not speak\nevil of you, since I can tell you that the good speak evil of the evil.\n\nAnd do they speak great things of the great, rejoined Euthydemus, and\nwarm things of the warm?\n\nTo be sure they do, said Ctesippus; and they speak coldly of the insipid\nand cold dialectician.\n\nYou are abusive, Ctesippus, said Dionysodorus, you are abusive!\n\nIndeed, I am not, Dionysodorus, he replied; for I love you and am giving\nyou friendly advice, and, if I could, would persuade you not like a boor\nto say in my presence that I desire my beloved, whom I value above all\nmen, to perish.\n\nI saw that they were getting exasperated with one another, so I made\na joke with him and said: O Ctesippus, I think that we must allow the\nstrangers to use language in their own way, and not quarrel with them\nabout words, but be thankful for what they give us. If they know how to\ndestroy men in such a way as to make good and sensible men out of bad\nand foolish ones--whether this is a discovery of their own, or whether\nthey have learned from some one else this new sort of death and\ndestruction which enables them to get rid of a bad man and turn him into\na good one--if they know this (and they do know this--at any rate\nthey said just now that this was the secret of their newly-discovered\nart)--let them, in their phraseology, destroy the youth and make him\nwise, and all of us with him. But if you young men do not like to trust\nyourselves with them, then fiat experimentum in corpore senis; I will be\nthe Carian on whom they shall operate. And here I offer my old person to\nDionysodorus; he may put me into the pot, like Medea the Colchian, kill\nme, boil me, if he will only make me good.\n\nCtesippus said: And I, Socrates, am ready to commit myself to the\nstrangers; they may skin me alive, if they please (and I am pretty well\nskinned by them already), if only my skin is made at last, not like that\nof Marsyas, into a leathern bottle, but into a piece of virtue. And here\nis Dionysodorus fancying that I am angry with him, when really I am not\nangry at all; I do but contradict him when I think that he is speaking\nimproperly to me: and you must not confound abuse and contradiction, O\nillustrious Dionysodorus; for they are quite different things.\n\nContradiction! said Dionysodorus; why, there never was such a thing.\n\nCertainly there is, he replied; there can be no question of that. Do\nyou, Dionysodorus, maintain that there is not?\n\nYou will never prove to me, he said, that you have heard any one\ncontradicting any one else.\n\nIndeed, said Ctesippus; then now you may hear me contradicting\nDionysodorus.\n\nAre you prepared to make that good?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nWell, have not all things words expressive of them?\n\nYes.\n\nOf their existence or of their non-existence?\n\nOf their existence.\n\nYes, Ctesippus, and we just now proved, as you may remember, that no man\ncould affirm a negative; for no one could affirm that which is not.\n\nAnd what does that signify? said Ctesippus; you and I may contradict all\nthe same for that.\n\nBut can we contradict one another, said Dionysodorus, when both of us\nare describing the same thing? Then we must surely be speaking the same\nthing?\n\nHe assented.\n\nOr when neither of us is speaking of the same thing? For then neither of\nus says a word about the thing at all?\n\nHe granted that proposition also.\n\nBut when I describe something and you describe another thing, or I say\nsomething and you say nothing--is there any contradiction? How can he\nwho speaks contradict him who speaks not?\n\nHere Ctesippus was silent; and I in my astonishment said: What do you\nmean, Dionysodorus? I have often heard, and have been amazed to hear,\nthis thesis of yours, which is maintained and employed by the disciples\nof Protagoras, and others before them, and which to me appears to be\nquite wonderful, and suicidal as well as destructive, and I think that\nI am most likely to hear the truth about it from you. The dictum is that\nthere is no such thing as falsehood; a man must either say what is true\nor say nothing. Is not that your position?\n\nHe assented.\n\nBut if he cannot speak falsely, may he not think falsely?\n\nNo, he cannot, he said.\n\nThen there is no such thing as false opinion?\n\nNo, he said.\n\nThen there is no such thing as ignorance, or men who are ignorant; for\nis not ignorance, if there be such a thing, a mistake of fact?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd that is impossible?\n\nImpossible, he replied.\n\nAre you saying this as a paradox, Dionysodorus; or do you seriously\nmaintain no man to be ignorant?\n\nRefute me, he said.\n\nBut how can I refute you, if, as you say, to tell a falsehood is\nimpossible?\n\nVery true, said Euthydemus.\n\nNeither did I tell you just now to refute me, said Dionysodorus; for how\ncan I tell you to do that which is not?\n\nO Euthydemus, I said, I have but a dull conception of these subtleties\nand excellent devices of wisdom; I am afraid that I hardly understand\nthem, and you must forgive me therefore if I ask a very stupid question:\nif there be no falsehood or false opinion or ignorance, there can be no\nsuch thing as erroneous action, for a man cannot fail of acting as he is\nacting--that is what you mean?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nAnd now, I said, I will ask my stupid question: If there is no such\nthing as error in deed, word, or thought, then what, in the name of\ngoodness, do you come hither to teach? And were you not just now saying\nthat you could teach virtue best of all men, to any one who was willing\nto learn?\n\nAnd are you such an old fool, Socrates, rejoined Dionysodorus, that you\nbring up now what I said at first--and if I had said anything last year,\nI suppose that you would bring that up too--but are non-plussed at the\nwords which I have just uttered?\n\nWhy, I said, they are not easy to answer; for they are the words of wise\nmen: and indeed I know not what to make of this word 'nonplussed,' which\nyou used last: what do you mean by it, Dionysodorus? You must mean\nthat I cannot refute your argument. Tell me if the words have any other\nsense.\n\nNo, he replied, they mean what you say. And now answer.\n\nWhat, before you, Dionysodorus? I said.\n\nAnswer, said he.\n\nAnd is that fair?\n\nYes, quite fair, he said.\n\nUpon what principle? I said. I can only suppose that you are a very wise\nman who comes to us in the character of a great logician, and who knows\nwhen to answer and when not to answer--and now you will not open your\nmouth at all, because you know that you ought not.\n\nYou prate, he said, instead of answering. But if, my good sir, you admit\nthat I am wise, answer as I tell you.\n\nI suppose that I must obey, for you are master. Put the question.\n\nAre the things which have sense alive or lifeless?\n\nThey are alive.\n\nAnd do you know of any word which is alive?\n\nI cannot say that I do.\n\nThen why did you ask me what sense my words had?\n\nWhy, because I was stupid and made a mistake. And yet, perhaps, I was\nright after all in saying that words have a sense;--what do you say,\nwise man? If I was not in error, even you will not refute me, and all\nyour wisdom will be non-plussed; but if I did fall into error, then\nagain you are wrong in saying that there is no error,--and this remark\nwas made by you not quite a year ago. I am inclined to think, however,\nDionysodorus and Euthydemus, that this argument lies where it was and is\nnot very likely to advance: even your skill in the subtleties of logic,\nwhich is really amazing, has not found out the way of throwing another\nand not falling yourself, now any more than of old.\n\nCtesippus said: Men of Chios, Thurii, or however and whatever you\ncall yourselves, I wonder at you, for you seem to have no objection to\ntalking nonsense.\n\nFearing that there would be high words, I again endeavoured to soothe\nCtesippus, and said to him: To you, Ctesippus, I must repeat what I\nsaid before to Cleinias--that you do not understand the ways of these\nphilosophers from abroad. They are not serious, but, like the Egyptian\nwizard, Proteus, they take different forms and deceive us by their\nenchantments: and let us, like Menelaus, refuse to let them go until\nthey show themselves to us in earnest. When they begin to be in earnest\ntheir full beauty will appear: let us then beg and entreat and beseech\nthem to shine forth. And I think that I had better once more exhibit the\nform in which I pray to behold them; it might be a guide to them. I will\ngo on therefore where I left off, as well as I can, in the hope that I\nmay touch their hearts and move them to pity, and that when they see me\ndeeply serious and interested, they also may be serious. You, Cleinias,\nI said, shall remind me at what point we left off. Did we not agree that\nphilosophy should be studied? and was not that our conclusion?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nAnd philosophy is the acquisition of knowledge?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd what knowledge ought we to acquire? May we not answer with absolute\ntruth--A knowledge which will do us good?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd should we be any the better if we went about having a knowledge of\nthe places where most gold was hidden in the earth?\n\nPerhaps we should, he said.\n\nBut have we not already proved, I said, that we should be none the\nbetter off, even if without trouble and digging all the gold which there\nis in the earth were ours? And if we knew how to convert stones into\ngold, the knowledge would be of no value to us, unless we also knew how\nto use the gold? Do you not remember? I said.\n\nI quite remember, he said.\n\nNor would any other knowledge, whether of money-making, or of medicine,\nor of any other art which knows only how to make a thing, and not to use\nit when made, be of any good to us. Am I not right?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd if there were a knowledge which was able to make men immortal,\nwithout giving them the knowledge of the way to use the immortality,\nneither would there be any use in that, if we may argue from the analogy\nof the previous instances?\n\nTo all this he agreed.\n\nThen, my dear boy, I said, the knowledge which we want is one that uses\nas well as makes?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd our desire is not to be skilful lyre-makers, or artists of that\nsort--far otherwise; for with them the art which makes is one, and the\nart which uses is another. Although they have to do with the same, they\nare divided: for the art which makes and the art which plays on the lyre\ndiffer widely from one another. Am I not right?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd clearly we do not want the art of the flute-maker; this is only\nanother of the same sort?\n\nHe assented.\n\nBut suppose, I said, that we were to learn the art of making\nspeeches--would that be the art which would make us happy?\n\nI should say, no, rejoined Cleinias.\n\nAnd why should you say so? I asked.\n\nI see, he replied, that there are some composers of speeches who do\nnot know how to use the speeches which they make, just as the makers\nof lyres do not know how to use the lyres; and also some who are of\nthemselves unable to compose speeches, but are able to use the speeches\nwhich the others make for them; and this proves that the art of making\nspeeches is not the same as the art of using them.\n\nYes, I said; and I take your words to be a sufficient proof that the art\nof making speeches is not one which will make a man happy. And yet I\ndid think that the art which we have so long been seeking might be\ndiscovered in that direction; for the composers of speeches, whenever I\nmeet them, always appear to me to be very extraordinary men, Cleinias,\nand their art is lofty and divine, and no wonder. For their art is a\npart of the great art of enchantment, and hardly, if at all, inferior\nto it: and whereas the art of the enchanter is a mode of charming snakes\nand spiders and scorpions, and other monsters and pests, this art of\ntheir's acts upon dicasts and ecclesiasts and bodies of men, for the\ncharming and pacifying of them. Do you agree with me?\n\nYes, he said, I think that you are quite right.\n\nWhither then shall we go, I said, and to what art shall we have\nrecourse?\n\nI do not see my way, he said.\n\nBut I think that I do, I replied.\n\nAnd what is your notion? asked Cleinias.\n\nI think that the art of the general is above all others the one of which\nthe possession is most likely to make a man happy.\n\nI do not think so, he said.\n\nWhy not? I said.\n\nThe art of the general is surely an art of hunting mankind.\n\nWhat of that? I said.\n\nWhy, he said, no art of hunting extends beyond hunting and capturing;\nand when the prey is taken the huntsman or fisherman cannot use it; but\nthey hand it over to the cook, and the geometricians and astronomers and\ncalculators (who all belong to the hunting class, for they do not make\ntheir diagrams, but only find out that which was previously contained in\nthem)--they, I say, not being able to use but only to catch their prey,\nhand over their inventions to the dialectician to be applied by him, if\nthey have any sense in them.\n\nGood, I said, fairest and wisest Cleinias. And is this true?\n\nCertainly, he said; just as a general when he takes a city or a camp\nhands over his new acquisition to the statesman, for he does not know\nhow to use them himself; or as the quail-taker transfers the quails to\nthe keeper of them. If we are looking for the art which is to make us\nblessed, and which is able to use that which it makes or takes, the art\nof the general is not the one, and some other must be found.\n\nCRITO: And do you mean, Socrates, that the youngster said all this?\n\nSOCRATES: Are you incredulous, Crito?\n\nCRITO: Indeed, I am; for if he did say so, then in my opinion he needs\nneither Euthydemus nor any one else to be his instructor.\n\nSOCRATES: Perhaps I may have forgotten, and Ctesippus was the real\nanswerer.\n\nCRITO: Ctesippus! nonsense.\n\nSOCRATES: All I know is that I heard these words, and that they were not\nspoken either by Euthydemus or Dionysodorus. I dare say, my good Crito,\nthat they may have been spoken by some superior person: that I heard\nthem I am certain.\n\nCRITO: Yes, indeed, Socrates, by some one a good deal superior, as I\nshould be disposed to think. But did you carry the search any further,\nand did you find the art which you were seeking?\n\nSOCRATES: Find! my dear sir, no indeed. And we cut a poor figure; we\nwere like children after larks, always on the point of catching the art,\nwhich was always getting away from us. But why should I repeat the whole\nstory? At last we came to the kingly art, and enquired whether that\ngave and caused happiness, and then we got into a labyrinth, and when\nwe thought we were at the end, came out again at the beginning, having\nstill to seek as much as ever.\n\nCRITO: How did that happen, Socrates?\n\nSOCRATES: I will tell you; the kingly art was identified by us with the\npolitical.\n\nCRITO: Well, and what came of that?\n\nSOCRATES: To this royal or political art all the arts, including the art\nof the general, seemed to render up the supremacy, that being the only\none which knew how to use what they produce. Here obviously was the\nvery art which we were seeking--the art which is the source of good\ngovernment, and which may be described, in the language of Aeschylus, as\nalone sitting at the helm of the vessel of state, piloting and governing\nall things, and utilizing them.\n\nCRITO: And were you not right, Socrates?\n\nSOCRATES: You shall judge, Crito, if you are willing to hear what\nfollowed; for we resumed the enquiry, and a question of this sort was\nasked: Does the kingly art, having this supreme authority, do anything\nfor us? To be sure, was the answer. And would not you, Crito, say the\nsame?\n\nCRITO: Yes, I should.\n\nSOCRATES: And what would you say that the kingly art does? If medicine\nwere supposed to have supreme authority over the subordinate arts, and\nI were to ask you a similar question about that, you would say--it\nproduces health?\n\nCRITO: I should.\n\nSOCRATES: And what of your own art of husbandry, supposing that to have\nsupreme authority over the subject arts--what does that do? Does it not\nsupply us with the fruits of the earth?\n\nCRITO: Yes.\n\nSOCRATES: And what does the kingly art do when invested with supreme\npower? Perhaps you may not be ready with an answer?\n\nCRITO: Indeed I am not, Socrates.\n\nSOCRATES: No more were we, Crito. But at any rate you know that if this\nis the art which we were seeking, it ought to be useful.\n\nCRITO: Certainly.\n\nSOCRATES: And surely it ought to do us some good?\n\nCRITO: Certainly, Socrates.\n\nSOCRATES: And Cleinias and I had arrived at the conclusion that\nknowledge of some kind is the only good.\n\nCRITO: Yes, that was what you were saying.\n\nSOCRATES: All the other results of politics, and they are many, as for\nexample, wealth, freedom, tranquillity, were neither good nor evil in\nthemselves; but the political science ought to make us wise, and impart\nknowledge to us, if that is the science which is likely to do us good,\nand make us happy.\n\nCRITO: Yes; that was the conclusion at which you had arrived, according\nto your report of the conversation.\n\nSOCRATES: And does the kingly art make men wise and good?\n\nCRITO: Why not, Socrates?\n\nSOCRATES: What, all men, and in every respect? and teach them all the\narts,--carpentering, and cobbling, and the rest of them?\n\nCRITO: I think not, Socrates.\n\nSOCRATES: But then what is this knowledge, and what are we to do with\nit? For it is not the source of any works which are neither good nor\nevil, and gives no knowledge, but the knowledge of itself; what then can\nit be, and what are we to do with it? Shall we say, Crito, that it is\nthe knowledge by which we are to make other men good?\n\nCRITO: By all means.\n\nSOCRATES: And in what will they be good and useful? Shall we repeat\nthat they will make others good, and that these others will make others\nagain, without ever determining in what they are to be good; for we have\nput aside the results of politics, as they are called. This is the old,\nold song over again; and we are just as far as ever, if not farther,\nfrom the knowledge of the art or science of happiness.\n\nCRITO: Indeed, Socrates, you do appear to have got into a great\nperplexity.\n\nSOCRATES: Thereupon, Crito, seeing that I was on the point of shipwreck,\nI lifted up my voice, and earnestly entreated and called upon the\nstrangers to save me and the youth from the whirlpool of the argument;\nthey were our Castor and Pollux, I said, and they should be serious, and\nshow us in sober earnest what that knowledge was which would enable us\nto pass the rest of our lives in happiness.\n\nCRITO: And did Euthydemus show you this knowledge?\n\nSOCRATES: Yes, indeed; he proceeded in a lofty strain to the following\neffect: Would you rather, Socrates, said he, that I should show you this\nknowledge about which you have been doubting, or shall I prove that you\nalready have it?\n\nWhat, I said, are you blessed with such a power as this?\n\nIndeed I am.\n\nThen I would much rather that you should prove me to have such a\nknowledge; at my time of life that will be more agreeable than having to\nlearn.\n\nThen tell me, he said, do you know anything?\n\nYes, I said, I know many things, but not anything of much importance.\n\nThat will do, he said: And would you admit that anything is what it is,\nand at the same time is not what it is?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd did you not say that you knew something?\n\nI did.\n\nIf you know, you are knowing.\n\nCertainly, of the knowledge which I have.\n\nThat makes no difference;--and must you not, if you are knowing, know\nall things?\n\nCertainly not, I said, for there are many other things which I do not\nknow.\n\nAnd if you do not know, you are not knowing.\n\nYes, friend, of that which I do not know.\n\nStill you are not knowing, and you said just now that you were knowing;\nand therefore you are and are not at the same time, and in reference to\nthe same things.\n\nA pretty clatter, as men say, Euthydemus, this of yours! and will you\nexplain how I possess that knowledge for which we were seeking? Do\nyou mean to say that the same thing cannot be and also not be; and\ntherefore, since I know one thing, that I know all, for I cannot be\nknowing and not knowing at the same time, and if I know all things, then\nI must have the knowledge for which we are seeking--May I assume this to\nbe your ingenious notion?\n\nOut of your own mouth, Socrates, you are convicted, he said.\n\nWell, but, Euthydemus, I said, has that never happened to you? for if I\nam only in the same case with you and our beloved Dionysodorus, I cannot\ncomplain. Tell me, then, you two, do you not know some things, and not\nknow others?\n\nCertainly not, Socrates, said Dionysodorus.\n\nWhat do you mean, I said; do you know nothing?\n\nNay, he replied, we do know something.\n\nThen, I said, you know all things, if you know anything?\n\nYes, all things, he said; and that is as true of you as of us.\n\nO, indeed, I said, what a wonderful thing, and what a great blessing!\nAnd do all other men know all things or nothing?\n\nCertainly, he replied; they cannot know some things, and not know\nothers, and be at the same time knowing and not knowing.\n\nThen what is the inference? I said.\n\nThey all know all things, he replied, if they know one thing.\n\nO heavens, Dionysodorus, I said, I see now that you are in earnest;\nhardly have I got you to that point. And do you really and truly know\nall things, including carpentering and leather-cutting?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd do you know stitching?\n\nYes, by the gods, we do, and cobbling, too.\n\nAnd do you know things such as the numbers of the stars and of the sand?\n\nCertainly; did you think we should say No to that?\n\nBy Zeus, said Ctesippus, interrupting, I only wish that you would give\nme some proof which would enable me to know whether you speak truly.\n\nWhat proof shall I give you? he said.\n\nWill you tell me how many teeth Euthydemus has? and Euthydemus shall\ntell how many teeth you have.\n\nWill you not take our word that we know all things?\n\nCertainly not, said Ctesippus: you must further tell us this one thing,\nand then we shall know that you are speak the truth; if you tell us\nthe number, and we count them, and you are found to be right, we will\nbelieve the rest. They fancied that Ctesippus was making game of them,\nand they refused, and they would only say in answer to each of his\nquestions, that they knew all things. For at last Ctesippus began to\nthrow off all restraint; no question in fact was too bad for him; he\nwould ask them if they knew the foulest things, and they, like wild\nboars, came rushing on his blows, and fearlessly replied that they did.\nAt last, Crito, I too was carried away by my incredulity, and asked\nEuthydemus whether Dionysodorus could dance.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd can he vault among swords, and turn upon a wheel, at his age? has he\ngot to such a height of skill as that?\n\nHe can do anything, he said.\n\nAnd did you always know this?\n\nAlways, he said.\n\nWhen you were children, and at your birth?\n\nThey both said that they did.\n\nThis we could not believe. And Euthydemus said: You are incredulous,\nSocrates.\n\nYes, I said, and I might well be incredulous, if I did not know you to\nbe wise men.\n\nBut if you will answer, he said, I will make you confess to similar\nmarvels.\n\nWell, I said, there is nothing that I should like better than to be\nself-convicted of this, for if I am really a wise man, which I never\nknew before, and you will prove to me that I know and have always known\nall things, nothing in life would be a greater gain to me.\n\nAnswer then, he said.\n\nAsk, I said, and I will answer.\n\nDo you know something, Socrates, or nothing?\n\nSomething, I said.\n\nAnd do you know with what you know, or with something else?\n\nWith what I know; and I suppose that you mean with my soul?\n\nAre you not ashamed, Socrates, of asking a question when you are asked\none?\n\nWell, I said; but then what am I to do? for I will do whatever you\nbid; when I do not know what you are asking, you tell me to answer\nnevertheless, and not to ask again.\n\nWhy, you surely have some notion of my meaning, he said.\n\nYes, I replied.\n\nWell, then, answer according to your notion of my meaning.\n\nYes, I said; but if the question which you ask in one sense is\nunderstood and answered by me in another, will that please you--if I\nanswer what is not to the point?\n\nThat will please me very well; but will not please you equally well, as\nI imagine.\n\nI certainly will not answer unless I understand you, I said.\n\nYou will not answer, he said, according to your view of the meaning,\nbecause you will be prating, and are an ancient.\n\nNow I saw that he was getting angry with me for drawing distinctions,\nwhen he wanted to catch me in his springes of words. And I remembered\nthat Connus was always angry with me when I opposed him, and then\nhe neglected me, because he thought that I was stupid; and as I was\nintending to go to Euthydemus as a pupil, I reflected that I had better\nlet him have his way, as he might think me a blockhead, and refuse\nto take me. So I said: You are a far better dialectician than myself,\nEuthydemus, for I have never made a profession of the art, and therefore\ndo as you say; ask your questions once more, and I will answer.\n\nAnswer then, he said, again, whether you know what you know with\nsomething, or with nothing.\n\nYes, I said; I know with my soul.\n\nThe man will answer more than the question; for I did not ask you, he\nsaid, with what you know, but whether you know with something.\n\nAgain I replied, Through ignorance I have answered too much, but I hope\nthat you will forgive me. And now I will answer simply that I always\nknow what I know with something.\n\nAnd is that something, he rejoined, always the same, or sometimes one\nthing, and sometimes another thing?\n\nAlways, I replied, when I know, I know with this.\n\nWill you not cease adding to your answers?\n\nMy fear is that this word 'always' may get us into trouble.\n\nYou, perhaps, but certainly not us. And now answer: Do you always know\nwith this?\n\nAlways; since I am required to withdraw the words 'when I know.'\n\nYou always know with this, or, always knowing, do you know some things\nwith this, and some things with something else, or do you know all\nthings with this?\n\nAll that I know, I replied, I know with this.\n\nThere again, Socrates, he said, the addition is superfluous.\n\nWell, then, I said, I will take away the words 'that I know.'\n\nNay, take nothing away; I desire no favours of you; but let me ask:\nWould you be able to know all things, if you did not know all things?\n\nQuite impossible.\n\nAnd now, he said, you may add on whatever you like, for you confess that\nyou know all things.\n\nI suppose that is true, I said, if my qualification implied in the words\n'that I know' is not allowed to stand; and so I do know all things.\n\nAnd have you not admitted that you always know all things with that\nwhich you know, whether you make the addition of 'when you know them'\nor not? for you have acknowledged that you have always and at once known\nall things, that is to say, when you were a child, and at your birth,\nand when you were growing up, and before you were born, and before the\nheaven and earth existed, you knew all things, if you always know them;\nand I swear that you shall always continue to know all things, if I am\nof the mind to make you.\n\nBut I hope that you will be of that mind, reverend Euthydemus, I said,\nif you are really speaking the truth, and yet I a little doubt your\npower to make good your words unless you have the help of your brother\nDionysodorus; then you may do it. Tell me now, both of you, for although\nin the main I cannot doubt that I really do know all things, when I am\ntold so by men of your prodigious wisdom--how can I say that I know such\nthings, Euthydemus, as that the good are unjust; come, do I know that or\nnot?\n\nCertainly, you know that.\n\nWhat do I know?\n\nThat the good are not unjust.\n\nQuite true, I said; and that I have always known; but the question is,\nwhere did I learn that the good are unjust?\n\nNowhere, said Dionysodorus.\n\nThen, I said, I do not know this.\n\nYou are ruining the argument, said Euthydemus to Dionysodorus; he will\nbe proved not to know, and then after all he will be knowing and not\nknowing at the same time.\n\nDionysodorus blushed.\n\nI turned to the other, and said, What do you think, Euthydemus? Does not\nyour omniscient brother appear to you to have made a mistake?\n\nWhat, replied Dionysodorus in a moment; am I the brother of Euthydemus?\n\nThereupon I said, Please not to interrupt, my good friend, or prevent\nEuthydemus from proving to me that I know the good to be unjust; such a\nlesson you might at least allow me to learn.\n\nYou are running away, Socrates, said Dionysodorus, and refusing to\nanswer.\n\nNo wonder, I said, for I am not a match for one of you, and a fortiori\nI must run away from two. I am no Heracles; and even Heracles could not\nfight against the Hydra, who was a she-Sophist, and had the wit to shoot\nup many new heads when one of them was cut off; especially when he saw\na second monster of a sea-crab, who was also a Sophist, and appeared\nto have newly arrived from a sea-voyage, bearing down upon him from\nthe left, opening his mouth and biting. When the monster was growing\ntroublesome he called Iolaus, his nephew, to his help, who ably\nsuccoured him; but if my Iolaus, who is my brother Patrocles (the\nstatuary), were to come, he would only make a bad business worse.\n\nAnd now that you have delivered yourself of this strain, said\nDionysodorus, will you inform me whether Iolaus was the nephew of\nHeracles any more than he is yours?\n\nI suppose that I had best answer you, Dionysodorus, I said, for you\nwill insist on asking--that I pretty well know--out of envy, in order to\nprevent me from learning the wisdom of Euthydemus.\n\nThen answer me, he said.\n\nWell then, I said, I can only reply that Iolaus was not my nephew at\nall, but the nephew of Heracles; and his father was not my brother\nPatrocles, but Iphicles, who has a name rather like his, and was the\nbrother of Heracles.\n\nAnd is Patrocles, he said, your brother?\n\nYes, I said, he is my half-brother, the son of my mother, but not of my\nfather.\n\nThen he is and is not your brother.\n\nNot by the same father, my good man, I said, for Chaeredemus was his\nfather, and mine was Sophroniscus.\n\nAnd was Sophroniscus a father, and Chaeredemus also?\n\nYes, I said; the former was my father, and the latter his.\n\nThen, he said, Chaeredemus is not a father.\n\nHe is not my father, I said.\n\nBut can a father be other than a father? or are you the same as a stone?\n\nI certainly do not think that I am a stone, I said, though I am afraid\nthat you may prove me to be one.\n\nAre you not other than a stone?\n\nI am.\n\nAnd being other than a stone, you are not a stone; and being other than\ngold, you are not gold?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd so Chaeredemus, he said, being other than a father, is not a father?\n\nI suppose that he is not a father, I replied.\n\nFor if, said Euthydemus, taking up the argument, Chaeredemus is a\nfather, then Sophroniscus, being other than a father, is not a father;\nand you, Socrates, are without a father.\n\nCtesippus, here taking up the argument, said: And is not your father in\nthe same case, for he is other than my father?\n\nAssuredly not, said Euthydemus.\n\nThen he is the same?\n\nHe is the same.\n\nI cannot say that I like the connection; but is he only my father,\nEuthydemus, or is he the father of all other men?\n\nOf all other men, he replied. Do you suppose the same person to be a\nfather and not a father?\n\nCertainly, I did so imagine, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd do you suppose that gold is not gold, or that a man is not a man?\n\nThey are not 'in pari materia,' Euthydemus, said Ctesippus, and you had\nbetter take care, for it is monstrous to suppose that your father is the\nfather of all.\n\nBut he is, he replied.\n\nWhat, of men only, said Ctesippus, or of horses and of all other\nanimals?\n\nOf all, he said.\n\nAnd your mother, too, is the mother of all?\n\nYes, our mother too.\n\nYes; and your mother has a progeny of sea-urchins then?\n\nYes; and yours, he said.\n\nAnd gudgeons and puppies and pigs are your brothers?\n\nAnd yours too.\n\nAnd your papa is a dog?\n\nAnd so is yours, he said.\n\nIf you will answer my questions, said Dionysodorus, I will soon extract\nthe same admissions from you, Ctesippus. You say that you have a dog.\n\nYes, a villain of a one, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd he has puppies?\n\nYes, and they are very like himself.\n\nAnd the dog is the father of them?\n\nYes, he said, I certainly saw him and the mother of the puppies come\ntogether.\n\nAnd is he not yours?\n\nTo be sure he is.\n\nThen he is a father, and he is yours; ergo, he is your father, and the\npuppies are your brothers.\n\nLet me ask you one little question more, said Dionysodorus, quickly\ninterposing, in order that Ctesippus might not get in his word: You beat\nthis dog?\n\nCtesippus said, laughing, Indeed I do; and I only wish that I could beat\nyou instead of him.\n\nThen you beat your father, he said.\n\nI should have far more reason to beat yours, said Ctesippus; what could\nhe have been thinking of when he begat such wise sons? much good has\nthis father of you and your brethren the puppies got out of this wisdom\nof yours.\n\nBut neither he nor you, Ctesippus, have any need of much good.\n\nAnd have you no need, Euthydemus? he said.\n\nNeither I nor any other man; for tell me now, Ctesippus, if you think it\ngood or evil for a man who is sick to drink medicine when he wants it;\nor to go to war armed rather than unarmed.\n\nGood, I say. And yet I know that I am going to be caught in one of your\ncharming puzzles.\n\nThat, he replied, you will discover, if you answer; since you admit\nmedicine to be good for a man to drink, when wanted, must it not be\ngood for him to drink as much as possible; when he takes his medicine, a\ncartload of hellebore will not be too much for him?\n\nCtesippus said: Quite so, Euthydemus, that is to say, if he who drinks\nis as big as the statue of Delphi.\n\nAnd seeing that in war to have arms is a good thing, he ought to have as\nmany spears and shields as possible?\n\nVery true, said Ctesippus; and do you think, Euthydemus, that he ought\nto have one shield only, and one spear?\n\nI do.\n\nAnd would you arm Geryon and Briareus in that way? Considering that you\nand your companion fight in armour, I thought that you would have known\nbetter...Here Euthydemus held his peace, but Dionysodorus returned to\nthe previous answer of Ctesippus and said:--\n\nDo you not think that the possession of gold is a good thing?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus, and the more the better.\n\nAnd to have money everywhere and always is a good?\n\nCertainly, a great good, he said.\n\nAnd you admit gold to be a good?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd ought not a man then to have gold everywhere and always, and as much\nas possible in himself, and may he not be deemed the happiest of men who\nhas three talents of gold in his belly, and a talent in his pate, and a\nstater of gold in either eye?\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; and the Scythians reckon those who have\ngold in their own skulls to be the happiest and bravest of men (that\nis only another instance of your manner of speaking about the dog and\nfather), and what is still more extraordinary, they drink out of their\nown skulls gilt, and see the inside of them, and hold their own head in\ntheir hands.\n\nAnd do the Scythians and others see that which has the quality of\nvision, or that which has not? said Euthydemus.\n\nThat which has the quality of vision clearly.\n\nAnd you also see that which has the quality of vision? he said. [Note:\nthe ambiguity of (Greek), 'things visible and able to see,' (Greek),\n'the speaking of the silent,' the silent denoting either the speaker\nor the subject of the speech, cannot be perfectly rendered in English.]\nCompare Aristot. Soph. Elenchi (Poste's translation):--\n\n'Of ambiguous propositions the following are instances:--\n\n'I hope that you the enemy may slay.\n\n'Whom one knows, he knows. Either the person knowing or the person known\nis here affirmed to know.\n\n'What one sees, that one sees: one sees a pillar: ergo, that one pillar\nsees.\n\n'What you ARE holding, that you are: you are holding a stone: ergo, a\nstone you are.\n\n'Is a speaking of the silent possible? \"The silent\" denotes either the\nspeaker are the subject of speech.\n\n'There are three kinds of ambiguity of term or proposition. The first is\nwhen there is an equal linguistic propriety in several interpretations;\nthe second when one is improper but customary; the third when the\nambiguity arises in the combination of elements that are in themselves\nunambiguous, as in \"knowing letters.\" \"Knowing\" and \"letters\" are\nperhaps separately unambiguous, but in combination may imply either that\nthe letters are known, or that they themselves have knowledge. Such are\nthe modes in which propositions and terms may be ambiguous.'\n\nYes, I do.\n\nThen do you see our garments?\n\nYes.\n\nThen our garments have the quality of vision.\n\nThey can see to any extent, said Ctesippus.\n\nWhat can they see?\n\nNothing; but you, my sweet man, may perhaps imagine that they do not\nsee; and certainly, Euthydemus, you do seem to me to have been caught\nnapping when you were not asleep, and that if it be possible to speak\nand say nothing--you are doing so.\n\nAnd may there not be a silence of the speaker? said Dionysodorus.\n\nImpossible, said Ctesippus.\n\nOr a speaking of the silent?\n\nThat is still more impossible, he said.\n\nBut when you speak of stones, wood, iron bars, do you not speak of the\nsilent?\n\nNot when I pass a smithy; for then the iron bars make a tremendous noise\nand outcry if they are touched: so that here your wisdom is strangely\nmistaken; please, however, to tell me how you can be silent when\nspeaking (I thought that Ctesippus was put upon his mettle because\nCleinias was present).\n\nWhen you are silent, said Euthydemus, is there not a silence of all\nthings?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nBut if speaking things are included in all things, then the speaking are\nsilent.\n\nWhat, said Ctesippus; then all things are not silent?\n\nCertainly not, said Euthydemus.\n\nThen, my good friend, do they all speak?\n\nYes; those which speak.\n\nNay, said Ctesippus, but the question which I ask is whether all things\nare silent or speak?\n\nNeither and both, said Dionysodorus, quickly interposing; I am sure that\nyou will be 'non-plussed' at that answer.\n\nHere Ctesippus, as his manner was, burst into a roar of laughter; he\nsaid, That brother of yours, Euthydemus, has got into a dilemma; all is\nover with him. This delighted Cleinias, whose laughter made Ctesippus\nten times as uproarious; but I cannot help thinking that the rogue must\nhave picked up this answer from them; for there has been no wisdom like\ntheirs in our time. Why do you laugh, Cleinias, I said, at such solemn\nand beautiful things?\n\nWhy, Socrates, said Dionysodorus, did you ever see a beautiful thing?\n\nYes, Dionysodorus, I replied, I have seen many.\n\nWere they other than the beautiful, or the same as the beautiful?\n\nNow I was in a great quandary at having to answer this question, and I\nthought that I was rightly served for having opened my mouth at all: I\nsaid however, They are not the same as absolute beauty, but they have\nbeauty present with each of them.\n\nAnd are you an ox because an ox is present with you, or are you\nDionysodorus, because Dionysodorus is present with you?\n\nGod forbid, I replied.\n\nBut how, he said, by reason of one thing being present with another,\nwill one thing be another?\n\nIs that your difficulty? I said. For I was beginning to imitate their\nskill, on which my heart was set.\n\nOf course, he replied, I and all the world are in a difficulty about the\nnon-existent.\n\nWhat do you mean, Dionysodorus? I said. Is not the honourable honourable\nand the base base?\n\nThat, he said, is as I please.\n\nAnd do you please?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd you will admit that the same is the same, and the other other; for\nsurely the other is not the same; I should imagine that even a child\nwill hardly deny the other to be other. But I think, Dionysodorus, that\nyou must have intentionally missed the last question; for in general you\nand your brother seem to me to be good workmen in your own department,\nand to do the dialectician's business excellently well.\n\nWhat, said he, is the business of a good workman? tell me, in the first\nplace, whose business is hammering?\n\nThe smith's.\n\nAnd whose the making of pots?\n\nThe potter's.\n\nAnd who has to kill and skin and mince and boil and roast?\n\nThe cook, I said.\n\nAnd if a man does his business he does rightly?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the business of the cook is to cut up and skin; you have admitted\nthat?\n\nYes, I have admitted that, but you must not be too hard upon me.\n\nThen if some one were to kill, mince, boil, roast the cook, he would do\nhis business, and if he were to hammer the smith, and make a pot of the\npotter, he would do their business.\n\nPoseidon, I said, this is the crown of wisdom; can I ever hope to have\nsuch wisdom of my own?\n\nAnd would you be able, Socrates, to recognize this wisdom when it has\nbecome your own?\n\nCertainly, I said, if you will allow me.\n\nWhat, he said, do you think that you know what is your own?\n\nYes, I do, subject to your correction; for you are the bottom, and\nEuthydemus is the top, of all my wisdom.\n\nIs not that which you would deem your own, he said, that which you have\nin your own power, and which you are able to use as you would desire,\nfor example, an ox or a sheep--would you not think that which you could\nsell and give and sacrifice to any god whom you pleased, to be your own,\nand that which you could not give or sell or sacrifice you would think\nnot to be in your own power?\n\nYes, I said (for I was certain that something good would come out of the\nquestions, which I was impatient to hear); yes, such things, and such\nthings only are mine.\n\nYes, he said, and you would mean by animals living beings?\n\nYes, I said.\n\nYou agree then, that those animals only are yours with which you have\nthe power to do all these things which I was just naming?\n\nI agree.\n\nThen, after a pause, in which he seemed to be lost in the contemplation\nof something great, he said: Tell me, Socrates, have you an ancestral\nZeus? Here, anticipating the final move, like a person caught in a\nnet, who gives a desperate twist that he may get away, I said: No,\nDionysodorus, I have not.\n\nWhat a miserable man you must be then, he said; you are not an Athenian\nat all if you have no ancestral gods or temples, or any other mark of\ngentility.\n\nNay, Dionysodorus, I said, do not be rough; good words, if you\nplease; in the way of religion I have altars and temples, domestic and\nancestral, and all that other Athenians have.\n\nAnd have not other Athenians, he said, an ancestral Zeus?\n\nThat name, I said, is not to be found among the Ionians, whether\ncolonists or citizens of Athens; an ancestral Apollo there is, who\nis the father of Ion, and a family Zeus, and a Zeus guardian of\nthe phratry, and an Athene guardian of the phratry. But the name of\nancestral Zeus is unknown to us.\n\nNo matter, said Dionysodorus, for you admit that you have Apollo, Zeus,\nand Athene.\n\nCertainly, I said.\n\nAnd they are your gods, he said.\n\nYes, I said, my lords and ancestors.\n\nAt any rate they are yours, he said, did you not admit that?\n\nI did, I said; what is going to happen to me?\n\nAnd are not these gods animals? for you admit that all things which have\nlife are animals; and have not these gods life?\n\nThey have life, I said.\n\nThen are they not animals?\n\nThey are animals, I said.\n\nAnd you admitted that of animals those are yours which you could give\naway or sell or offer in sacrifice, as you pleased?\n\nI did admit that, Euthydemus, and I have no way of escape.\n\nWell then, said he, if you admit that Zeus and the other gods are yours,\ncan you sell them or give them away or do what you will with them, as\nyou would with other animals?\n\nAt this I was quite struck dumb, Crito, and lay prostrate. Ctesippus\ncame to the rescue.\n\nBravo, Heracles, brave words, said he.\n\nBravo Heracles, or is Heracles a Bravo? said Dionysodorus.\n\nPoseidon, said Ctesippus, what awful distinctions. I will have no more\nof them; the pair are invincible.\n\nThen, my dear Crito, there was universal applause of the speakers and\ntheir words, and what with laughing and clapping of hands and rejoicings\nthe two men were quite overpowered; for hitherto their partisans only\nhad cheered at each successive hit, but now the whole company shouted\nwith delight until the columns of the Lyceum returned the sound, seeming\nto sympathize in their joy. To such a pitch was I affected myself, that\nI made a speech, in which I acknowledged that I had never seen the like\nof their wisdom; I was their devoted servant, and fell to praising and\nadmiring of them. What marvellous dexterity of wit, I said, enabled you\nto acquire this great perfection in such a short time? There is much,\nindeed, to admire in your words, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, but there\nis nothing that I admire more than your magnanimous disregard of\nany opinion--whether of the many, or of the grave and reverend\nseigniors--you regard only those who are like yourselves. And I do\nverily believe that there are few who are like you, and who would\napprove of such arguments; the majority of mankind are so ignorant of\ntheir value, that they would be more ashamed of employing them in the\nrefutation of others than of being refuted by them. I must further\nexpress my approval of your kind and public-spirited denial of all\ndifferences, whether of good and evil, white or black, or any other;\nthe result of which is that, as you say, every mouth is sewn up, not\nexcepting your own, which graciously follows the example of others; and\nthus all ground of offence is taken away. But what appears to me to\nbe more than all is, that this art and invention of yours has been so\nadmirably contrived by you, that in a very short time it can be imparted\nto any one. I observed that Ctesippus learned to imitate you in no time.\nNow this quickness of attainment is an excellent thing; but at the same\ntime I would advise you not to have any more public entertainments;\nthere is a danger that men may undervalue an art which they have so easy\nan opportunity of acquiring; the exhibition would be best of all, if\nthe discussion were confined to your two selves; but if there must be\nan audience, let him only be present who is willing to pay a handsome\nfee;--you should be careful of this;--and if you are wise, you will also\nbid your disciples discourse with no man but you and themselves. For\nonly what is rare is valuable; and 'water,' which, as Pindar says, is\nthe 'best of all things,' is also the cheapest. And now I have only to\nrequest that you will receive Cleinias and me among your pupils.\n\nSuch was the discussion, Crito; and after a few more words had passed\nbetween us we went away. I hope that you will come to them with me,\nsince they say that they are able to teach any one who will give them\nmoney; no age or want of capacity is an impediment. And I must repeat\none thing which they said, for your especial benefit,--that the learning\nof their art did not at all interfere with the business of money-making.\n\nCRITO: Truly, Socrates, though I am curious and ready to learn, yet I\nfear that I am not like-minded with Euthydemus, but one of the other\nsort, who, as you were saying, would rather be refuted by such\narguments than use them in refutation of others. And though I may appear\nridiculous in venturing to advise you, I think that you may as well hear\nwhat was said to me by a man of very considerable pretensions--he was a\nprofessor of legal oratory--who came away from you while I was walking\nup and down. 'Crito,' said he to me, 'are you giving no attention to\nthese wise men?' 'No, indeed,' I said to him; 'I could not get within\nhearing of them--there was such a crowd.' 'You would have heard\nsomething worth hearing if you had.' 'What was that?' I said. 'You would\nhave heard the greatest masters of the art of rhetoric discoursing.'\n'And what did you think of them?' I said. 'What did I think of them?' he\nsaid:--'theirs was the sort of discourse which anybody might hear from\nmen who were playing the fool, and making much ado about nothing.' That\nwas the expression which he used. 'Surely,' I said, 'philosophy is a\ncharming thing.' 'Charming!' he said; 'what simplicity! philosophy is\nnought; and I think that if you had been present you would have been\nashamed of your friend--his conduct was so very strange in placing\nhimself at the mercy of men who care not what they say, and fasten upon\nevery word. And these, as I was telling you, are supposed to be the\nmost eminent professors of their time. But the truth is, Crito, that the\nstudy itself and the men themselves are utterly mean and ridiculous.'\nNow censure of the pursuit, Socrates, whether coming from him or from\nothers, appears to me to be undeserved; but as to the impropriety of\nholding a public discussion with such men, there, I confess that, in my\nopinion, he was in the right.\n\nSOCRATES: O Crito, they are marvellous men; but what was I going to say?\nFirst of all let me know;--What manner of man was he who came up to you\nand censured philosophy; was he an orator who himself practises in the\ncourts, or an instructor of orators, who makes the speeches with which\nthey do battle?\n\nCRITO: He was certainly not an orator, and I doubt whether he had ever\nbeen into court; but they say that he knows the business, and is a\nclever man, and composes wonderful speeches.\n\nSOCRATES: Now I understand, Crito; he is one of an amphibious class,\nwhom I was on the point of mentioning--one of those whom Prodicus\ndescribes as on the border-ground between philosophers and\nstatesmen--they think that they are the wisest of all men, and that\nthey are generally esteemed the wisest; nothing but the rivalry of the\nphilosophers stands in their way; and they are of the opinion that if\nthey can prove the philosophers to be good for nothing, no one will\ndispute their title to the palm of wisdom, for that they are themselves\nreally the wisest, although they are apt to be mauled by Euthydemus and\nhis friends, when they get hold of them in conversation. This opinion\nwhich they entertain of their own wisdom is very natural; for they\nhave a certain amount of philosophy, and a certain amount of political\nwisdom; there is reason in what they say, for they argue that they have\njust enough of both, and so they keep out of the way of all risks and\nconflicts and reap the fruits of their wisdom.\n\nCRITO: What do you say of them, Socrates? There is certainly something\nspecious in that notion of theirs.\n\nSOCRATES: Yes, Crito, there is more speciousness than truth; they cannot\nbe made to understand the nature of intermediates. For all persons or\nthings, which are intermediate between two other things, and participate\nin both of them--if one of these two things is good and the other evil,\nare better than the one and worse than the other; but if they are in\na mean between two good things which do not tend to the same end, they\nfall short of either of their component elements in the attainment of\ntheir ends. Only in the case when the two component elements which do\nnot tend to the same end are evil is the participant better than either.\nNow, if philosophy and political action are both good, but tend to\ndifferent ends, and they participate in both, and are in a mean between\nthem, then they are talking nonsense, for they are worse than either;\nor, if the one be good and the other evil, they are better than the one\nand worse than the other; only on the supposition that they are both\nevil could there be any truth in what they say. I do not think that they\nwill admit that their two pursuits are either wholly or partly evil; but\nthe truth is, that these philosopher-politicians who aim at both fall\nshort of both in the attainment of their respective ends, and are\nreally third, although they would like to stand first. There is no need,\nhowever, to be angry at this ambition of theirs--which may be forgiven;\nfor every man ought to be loved who says and manfully pursues and works\nout anything which is at all like wisdom: at the same time we shall do\nwell to see them as they really are.\n\nCRITO: I have often told you, Socrates, that I am in a constant\ndifficulty about my two sons. What am I to do with them? There is\nno hurry about the younger one, who is only a child; but the other,\nCritobulus, is getting on, and needs some one who will improve him.\nI cannot help thinking, when I hear you talk, that there is a sort\nof madness in many of our anxieties about our children:--in the first\nplace, about marrying a wife of good family to be the mother of them,\nand then about heaping up money for them--and yet taking no care about\ntheir education. But then again, when I contemplate any of those who\npretend to educate others, I am amazed. To me, if I am to confess the\ntruth, they all seem to be such outrageous beings: so that I do not know\nhow I can advise the youth to study philosophy.\n\nSOCRATES: Dear Crito, do you not know that in every profession the\ninferior sort are numerous and good for nothing, and the good are few\nand beyond all price: for example, are not gymnastic and rhetoric and\nmoney-making and the art of the general, noble arts?\n\nCRITO: Certainly they are, in my judgment.\n\nSOCRATES: Well, and do you not see that in each of these arts the many\nare ridiculous performers?\n\nCRITO: Yes, indeed, that is very true.\n\nSOCRATES: And will you on this account shun all these pursuits yourself\nand refuse to allow them to your son?\n\nCRITO: That would not be reasonable, Socrates.\n\nSOCRATES: Do you then be reasonable, Crito, and do not mind whether the\nteachers of philosophy are good or bad, but think only of philosophy\nherself. Try and examine her well and truly, and if she be evil seek to\nturn away all men from her, and not your sons only; but if she be what I\nbelieve that she is, then follow her and serve her, you and your house,\nas the saying is, and be of good cheer.","title":"Euthydemus","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":20936}