Part 54
_Al._ Most decidedly not [69][it seems to me][69].
_Soc._ For you designed to kill, not the first who offered, but Pericles himself?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And if you made many attempts, and each time failed to recognize Pericles, you would never attack him?
_Al._ Never.
_Soc._ Well, but if Orestes in like manner had not known his mother, do you think that he would ever have laid hands upon her?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ He did not intend to slay the first woman he came across, nor any one else’s mother, but only his own?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Ignorance, then, is better for those who are in such a frame of mind, and have such ideas?
_Al._ Obviously.
_Soc._ You acknowledge that for some persons in certain cases the ignorance of some things is a good and not an evil, as you formerly supposed?
_Al._ I do.
_Soc._ [70]And there is still another case which will also perhaps appear strange to you, if you will consider it?[70]
_Al._ What is that, Socrates?
[Sidenote: _The knowledge of the best._]
[Sidenote: All knowledge if unaccompanied by a knowledge of the best is hurtful.]
_Soc._ It may be, in short, that the possession of all the sciences, if unaccompanied by the knowledge of the best, will more often than not injure the possessor. Consider the matter thus:—Must we not, when we intend either to do or say anything, suppose that we know or ought to know that which we propose so confidently to do or say?
_Al._ Yes, in my opinion.
_Soc._ We may take the orators for an example, who from time to time advise us about war and peace, or the building 145 of walls and the construction of harbours, whether they understand the business in hand, or only think that they do. Whatever the city, in a word, does to another city, or in the management of her own affairs, all happens by the counsel of the orators.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But now see what follows, if I can [71][make it clear to you][71]. You would distinguish the wise from the foolish?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ The many are foolish, the few wise?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And you use both the terms, ‘wise’ and ‘foolish,’ in reference to something?
_Al._ I do.
[Sidenote: Examples.]
_Soc._ Would you call a person wise who can give advice, but does not know whether or when it is better to carry out the advice?
_Al._ Decidedly not.
_Soc._ Nor again, I suppose, a person who knows the art of war, but does not know whether it is better to go to war or for how long?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Nor, once more, a person who knows how to kill another or to take away his property or to drive him from his native land, but not when it is better to do so or for whom it is better?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ But he who understands anything of the kind and has at the same time the knowledge of the best course of action:—and the best and the useful are surely the same?—
[Sidenote: _Cleverness in the arts not wisdom._]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._—Such an one, I say, we should call wise and a useful adviser both of himself and of the city. What do you think?
_Al._ I agree.
_Soc._ And if any one knows how to ride or to shoot with the bow or to box or to wrestle, or to engage in any other sort of contest or to do anything whatever which is in the nature of an art,—what do you call him who knows what is best according to that art? Do you not speak of one who knows what is best in riding as a good rider?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And in a similar way you speak of a good boxer or a good flute-player or a good performer in any other art?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But is it necessary that the man who is clever in any of these arts should be wise also in general? Or is there a difference between the clever artist and the wise man?
_Al._ All the difference in the world.
[Sidenote: A state would be bad which was composed only of skilful artists and clever politicians, but where no one had the knowledge of the best.]
_Soc._ And what sort of a state do you think that would be which was composed of good archers and flute-players and athletes and masters in other arts, and besides them of those others about whom we spoke, who knew how to go to war and how to kill, as well as of orators puffed up with political pride but in which not one of them all had this knowledge of the best, and there was no one who could tell when it was better to apply any of these arts or in regard to 146 whom?
_Al._ I should call such a state bad, Socrates.
_Soc._ You certainly would when you saw each of them rivalling the other and esteeming that of the greatest importance in the state,
‘Wherein he himself most excelled[72].’
—I mean that which was best in any art, while he was entirely ignorant of what was best for himself and for the state, because, as I think, he trusts to opinion which is devoid of intelligence. In such a case should we not be right if we said that the state would be full of anarchy and lawlessness?
[Sidenote: _True knowledge a knowledge of the best._]
_Al._ Decidedly.
_Soc._ But ought we not then, think you, either to fancy that we know or really to know, what we confidently propose to do or say?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And if a person does that which he knows or supposes that he knows, and the result is beneficial, he will act advantageously both for himself and for the state?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And if he do the contrary, both he and the state will suffer?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Well, and are you of the same mind as before?
_Al._ I am.
_Soc._ But were you not saying that you would call the many unwise and the few wise?
_Al._ I was.
_Soc._ And have we not come back to our old assertion that the many fail to obtain the best because they trust to opinion which is devoid of intelligence?
_Al._ That is the case.
_Soc._ It is good, then, for the many, if they particularly desire to do that which they know or suppose that they know, neither to know nor to suppose that they know, in cases where if they carry out their ideas in action they will be losers rather than gainers?
_Al._ What you say is very true.
_Soc._ Do you not see that I was really speaking the truth when I affirmed that the possession of any other kind of knowledge was more likely to injure than to benefit the possessor, unless he had also the knowledge of the best?
_Al._ I do now, if I did not before, Socrates.
[Sidenote: The soul requires this knowledge of the best before she sets sail on the voyage of life.]
[Sidenote: _The meaning of the poets._]
_Soc._ The state or the soul, therefore, which wishes to have a right existence must hold firmly to this knowledge, just as the sick man clings to the physician, or the passenger depends for safety on the pilot. And if the soul does not set 147 sail until she have obtained this she will be all the safer in the voyage through life. But when she rushes in pursuit of wealth or bodily strength or anything else, not having the knowledge of the best, so much the more is she likely to meet with misfortune. And he who has the love of learning[73], and is skilful in many arts, and does not possess the knowledge of the best, but is under some other guidance, will make, as he deserves, a sorry voyage:—he will, I believe, hurry through the brief space of human life, pilotless in mid-ocean, and the words will apply to him in which the poet blamed his enemy:—
‘... Full many a thing he knew; But knew them all badly[74].’
_Al._ How in the world, Socrates, do the words of the poet apply to him? They seem to me to have no bearing on the point whatever.
[Sidenote: The poets spoke in riddles a hidden truth.]
_Soc._ Quite the contrary, my sweet friend: only the poet is talking in riddles after the fashion of his tribe. For all poetry has by nature an enigmatical character, and it is by no means everybody who can interpret it. And if, moreover, the spirit of poetry happen to seize on a man who is of a begrudging temper and does not care to manifest his wisdom but keeps it to himself as far as he can, it does indeed require an almost superhuman wisdom to discover what the poet would be at. You surely do not suppose that Homer, the wisest and most divine of poets, was unaware of the impossibility of knowing a thing badly: for it was no less a person than he who said of Margites that ‘he knew many things, but knew them all badly.’ The solution of the riddle is this, I imagine:—By ‘badly’ Homer meant ‘bad’ and ‘knew’ stands for ‘to know.’ Put the words together;—the metre will suffer, but the poet’s meaning is clear;—‘Margites knew all these things, but it was bad for him to know them.’ And, obviously, if it was bad for him to know so many things, he must have been a good-for-nothing, unless the argument has played us false.
_Al._ But I do not think that it has, Socrates: at least, if the argument is fallacious, it would be difficult for me to find another which I could trust.
_Soc._ And you are right in thinking so.
_Al._ Well, that is my opinion.
[Sidenote: _The prayer of the Lacedaemonians._]
[Sidenote: Alcibiades is too unstable to be able to trust his own prayers.]
_Soc._ But tell me, by Heaven:—you must see now the nature and greatness of the difficulty in which you, like others, have your part. For you change about in all directions, and never come to rest anywhere: what you once most strongly inclined to suppose, you put aside again and quite alter your mind. If the God to whose shrine you are 148 going should appear at this moment, and ask before you made your prayer, ‘Whether you would desire to have one of the things which we mentioned at first, or whether he should leave you to make your own request:’—what in either case, think you, would be the best way to take advantage of the opportunity?
_Al._ Indeed, Socrates, I could not answer you without consideration. It seems to me to be a wild thing[75] to make such a request; a man must be very careful lest he pray for evil under the idea that he is asking for good, when shortly after he may have to recall his prayer, and, as you were saying, demand the opposite of what he at first requested.
_Soc._ And was not the poet whose words I originally quoted wiser than we are, when he bade us [pray God] to defend us from evil even though we asked for it?
_Al._ I believe that you are right.
_Soc._ The Lacedaemonians, too, whether from admiration of the poet or because they have discovered the idea for themselves, are wont to offer the prayer alike in public and private, that the Gods will give unto them the beautiful as well as the good:—no one is likely to hear them make any further petition. And yet up to the present time they have not been less fortunate than other men; or if they have sometimes met with misfortune, the fault has not been due to their prayer. For surely, as I conceive, the Gods have power either to grant our requests, or to send us the contrary of what we ask.
[Sidenote: The silent prayer of the Lacedaemonians better than all the offerings of the other Hellenes.]
And now I will relate to you a story which I have heard from certain of our elders. It chanced that when the Athenians and Lacedaemonians were at war, our city lost every battle by land and sea and never gained a victory.
[Sidenote: _The word of the Oracle_]
The Athenians being annoyed and perplexed how to find a remedy for their troubles, decided to send and enquire at the shrine of Ammon. Their envoys were also to ask, ‘Why the Gods always granted the victory to the Lacedaemonians?’ ‘We,’ (they were to say,) ‘offer them more and finer sacrifices than any other Hellenic state, and adorn their temples with gifts, as nobody else does; moreover, we make the most solemn and costly processions to them every year, and spend more money in their service than all the rest of the Hellenes put together. But the Lacedaemonians 149 take no thought of such matters, and pay so little respect to the Gods that they have a habit of sacrificing blemished animals to them, and in various ways are less zealous than we are, although their wealth is quite equal to ours.’ When they had thus spoken, and had made their request to know what remedy they could find against the evils which troubled them, the prophet made no direct answer,—clearly because he was not allowed by the God to do so;—but he summoned them to him and said: ‘Thus saith Ammon to the Athenians: “The silent worship of the Lacedaemonians pleaseth me better than all the offerings of the other Hellenes.”’ Such were the words of the God, and nothing more. He seems to have meant by ‘silent worship’ the prayer of the Lacedaemonians, which is indeed widely different from the usual requests of the Hellenes. For they either bring to the altar bulls with gilded horns or make offerings to the Gods, and beg at random for what they need, good or bad. When, therefore, the Gods hear them using words of ill omen they reject these costly processions and sacrifices of theirs. And we ought, I think, to be very careful and consider well what we should say and what leave unsaid. Homer, too, will furnish us with similar stories. For he tells us how the Trojans in making their encampment,
‘Offered up whole hecatombs to the immortals,’
and how the ‘sweet savour’ was borne ‘to the heavens by the winds;
‘But the blessed Gods were averse and received it not. For exceedingly did they hate the holy Ilium, Both Priam and the people of the spear-skilled king.’
So that it was in vain for them to sacrifice and offer gifts, seeing that they were hateful to the Gods, who are not, like vile usurers, to be gained over by bribes. And it is foolish for us to boast that we are superior to the Lacedaemonians by reason of our much worship. The idea is inconceivable that the Gods have regard, not to the justice and purity of 150 our souls, but to costly processions and sacrifices, which men may celebrate year after year, although they have committed innumerable crimes against the Gods or against their fellow-men or the state. For the Gods, as Ammon and his prophet declare, are no receivers of gifts, and they scorn such unworthy service. Wherefore also it would seem that wisdom and justice are especially honoured both by the Gods and by men of sense; and they are the wisest and most just who know how to speak and act towards Gods and men. But I should like to hear what your opinion is about these matters.
[Sidenote: _about the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians._]
_Al._ I agree, Socrates, with you and with the God, whom, indeed, it would be unbecoming for me to oppose.
_Soc._ Do you not remember saying that you were in great perplexity, lest perchance you should ask for evil, supposing that you were asking for good?
_Al._ I do.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades cannot tell whether he is asking for good or evil. ‘Therefore let his words be few.’]
_Soc._ You see, then, that there is a risk in your approaching the God in prayer, lest haply he should refuse your sacrifice when he hears the blasphemy which you utter, and make you partake of other evils as well. The wisest plan, therefore, seems to me that you should keep silence; for your ‘highmindedness’—to use the mildest term which men apply to folly—will most likely prevent you from using the prayer of the Lacedaemonians. You had better wait until we find out how we should behave towards the Gods and towards men.
_Al._ And how long must I wait, Socrates, and who will be my teacher? I should be very glad to see the man.
_Soc._ It is he who takes an especial interest in you. But first of all, I think, the darkness must be taken away in which your soul is now enveloped, just as Athene in Homer removes the mist from the eyes of Diomede that
‘He may distinguish between God and mortal man.’
Afterwards the means may be given to you whereby you may distinguish between good and evil. At present, I fear, this is beyond your power.
[Sidenote: _Alcibiades and his teacher._]
_Al._ Only let my instructor take away the impediment, whether it pleases him to call it mist or anything else! I care not who he is; but I am resolved to disobey none of his commands, if I am likely to be the better for them.
_Soc._ And surely he has a wondrous care for you. 151
_Al._ It seems to be altogether advisable to put off the sacrifice until he is found.
_Soc._ You are right: that will be safer than running such a tremendous risk.
_Al._ But how shall we manage, Socrates?—At any rate I will set this crown of mine upon your head, as you have given me such excellent advice, and to the Gods we will offer crowns and perform the other customary rites when I see that day approaching: nor will it be long hence, if they so will.
_Soc._ I accept your gift, and shall be ready and willing to receive whatever else you may proffer. Euripides makes Creon say in the play, when he beholds Tiresias with his crown and hears that he has gained it by his skill as the first-fruits of the spoil:—
‘An auspicious omen I deem thy victor’s wreath: For well thou knowest that wave and storm oppress us[76].’
And so I count your gift to be a token of good-fortune; for I am in no less stress than Creon, and would fain carry off the victory over your lovers.
FOOTNOTES
[65] Cp. Aristotle, Pol. v. 10, § 17.
[66] Cp. Rep. x. 619 C.
[67] Hom. Odyss. i. 32.
[68] The author of these lines, which are probably of Pythagorean origin, is unknown. They are found also in the Anthology (Anth. Pal. 10. 108).
[69] These words are omitted in several MSS.
[70] The reading is here uncertain.
[71] Some words appear to have dropped out here.
[72] Euripides, Antiope, fr. 20 (Dindorf).
[73] Or, reading πολυμάθειαν, ‘abundant learning.’
[74] A fragment from the pseudo-Homeric poem, ‘Margites.’
[75] The Homeric word μάργος is said to be here employed in allusion to the quotation from the ‘Margites’ which Socrates has just made; but it is not used in the sense which it has in Homer.
[76] Phoeniss. 865, 866.
ERYXIAS.
INTRODUCTION.
[Sidenote: _Eryxias._]
Much cannot be said in praise of the style or conception of the Eryxias. It is frequently obscure; like the exercise of a student, it is full of small imitations of Plato:—Phaeax returning from an expedition to Sicily (cp. Socrates in the Charmides from the army at Potidaea), the figure of the game at draughts, 395 B, borrowed from Rep. vi. 487, etc. It has also in many passages the ring of sophistry. On the other hand, the rather unhandsome treatment which is exhibited towards Prodicus is quite unlike the urbanity of Plato.
Yet there are some points in the argument which are deserving of attention. (1) That wealth depends upon the need of it or demand for it, is the first anticipation in an abstract form of one of the great principles of modern political economy, and the nearest approach to it to be found in an ancient writer. (2) The resolution of wealth into its simplest implements going on to infinity is a subtle and refined thought. (3) That wealth is relative to circumstances is a sound conception. (4) That the arts and sciences which receive payment are likewise to be comprehended under the notion of wealth, also touches a question of modern political economy. (5) The distinction of _post hoc_ and _propter hoc_, often lost sight of in modern as well as in ancient times. These metaphysical conceptions and distinctions show considerable power of thought in the writer, whatever we may think of his merits as an imitator of Plato.
ERYXIAS.
_PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE._
SOCRATES. ERYXIAS. ERASISTRATUS. CRITIAS.
SCENE:—The portico of a temple of Zeus.
[Sidenote: _Eryxias._]
It happened by chance that Eryxias the Steirian was walking with me in the Portico of Zeus the Deliverer, when there =Steph.= 392 came up to us Critias and Erasistratus, the latter the son of Phaeax, who was the nephew of Erasistratus. Now Erasistratus had just arrived from Sicily and that part of the world. As they approached, he said, Hail, Socrates!
_Soc._ The same to you, I said; have you any good news from Sicily to tell us?
_Eras._ Most excellent. But, if you please, let us first sit down; for I am tired with my yesterday’s journey from Megara.
_Soc._ Gladly, if that is your desire.
[Sidenote: _The nature of wealth._]
[Sidenote: The troublesome Sicilians.]
_Eras._ What would you wish to hear first? he said. What the Sicilians are doing, or how they are disposed towards our city? To my mind, they are very like wasps: so long as you only cause them a little annoyance they are quite unmanageable; you must destroy their nests if you wish to get the better of them. And in a similar way, the Syracusans, unless we set to work in earnest, and go against them with a great expedition, will never submit to our rule. The petty injuries which we at present inflict merely irritate them enough to make them utterly intractable. And now they have sent ambassadors to Athens, and intend, I suspect, to play us some trick.—While we were talking, the Syracusan envoys chanced to go by, and Erasistratus, pointing to one of them, said to me, That, Socrates, is the richest man in all Italy and Sicily. For who has larger estates or more land at his disposal to cultivate if he please? And they are of a quality, too, finer than any other land in Hellas. Moreover, he has all the things which go to make up wealth, slaves and horses innumerable, gold and silver without end.
I saw that he was inclined to expatiate on the riches of the man; so I asked him, Well, Erasistratus, and what sort of character does he bear in Sicily?
[Sidenote: The wicked millionaire.]
_Eras._ He is esteemed to be, and really is, the wickedest of 393 all the Sicilians and Italians, and even more wicked than he is rich; indeed, if you were to ask any Sicilian whom he thought to be the worst and the richest of mankind, you would never hear any one else named.