Appendix
II
The two dialogues which are translated in the second appendix are not mentioned by Aristotle, or by any early authority, and have no claim to be ascribed to Plato. They are examples of Platonic dialogues to be assigned probably to the second or third generation after Plato, when his writings were well known at Athens and Alexandria. They exhibit considerable originality, and are remarkable for containing several thoughts of the sort which we suppose to be modern rather than ancient, and which therefore have a peculiar interest for us. The “Second Alcibiades” shows that the difficulties about prayer which have perplexed Christian theologians were not unknown among the followers of Plato. The “Eryxias” was doubted by the ancients themselves: yet it may claim the distinction of being, among all Greek or Roman writings, the one which anticipates in the most striking manner the modern science of political economy and gives an abstract form to some of its principal doctrines.
For the translation of these two dialogues I am indebted to my friend and secretary, Mr. Knight.
That the Dialogue which goes by the name of the “Second Alcibiades” is a genuine writing of Plato will not be maintained by any modern critic, and was hardly believed by the ancients themselves. The dialectic is poor and weak. There is no power over language, or beauty of style; and there is a certain abruptness and ἀγροικία in the conversation, which is very un-Platonic. The best passage is probably that about the poets, 147:—the remark that the poet, who is of a reserved disposition, is uncommonly difficult to understand, and the ridiculous interpretation of Homer, are entirely in the spirit of Plato (compare “Protagoras” 339 following; “Ion” 534; “Apology” 22 D). The characters are ill-drawn. Socrates assumes the “superior person” and preaches too much, while Alcibiades is stupid and heavy-in-hand. There are traces of Stoic influence in the general tone and phraseology of the Dialogue (compare 138 B, ὅπως μὴ λήσει τις … κακά: 139 C, ὅτι πᾶς ἄφρων μαίνεται): and the writer seems to have been acquainted with the Laws of Plato (compare Laws 3, 687, 688; 7, 801; 11, 931 B). An incident from the “Symposium” (213 E) is rather clumsily introduced (151 A), and two somewhat hackneyed quotations (“Symposium” 174 D, “Gorgias” 484 E) recur at 140 A and 146 A. The reference to the death of Archelaus as having occurred “quite lately” (141 D) is only a fiction, probably suggested by the “Gorgias,” 470 D, where the story of Archelaus is told, and a similar phrase occurs;—τὰ γὰρ ἐχθὲς καὶ πρώην γεγονότα ταῦτα, κ.τ.λ. There are several passages which are either corrupt or extremely ill-expressed (see 144, 145, 146, 147, 150). But there is a modern interest in the subject of the dialogue; and it is a good example of a short spurious work, which may be attributed to the second or third century before Christ.
Second Alcibiades
Persons of the dialogue:
Socrates
Alcibiades
Socrates
Are you going, Alcibiades, to offer prayer to Zeus?
Alcibiades
Yes, Socrates, I am.
Socrates
you seem to be troubled and to cast your eyes on the ground, as though you were thinking about something.
Alcibiades
Of what do you suppose that I am thinking?
Socrates
Of the greatest of all things, as I believe. Tell me, do you not suppose that the Gods sometimes partly grant and partly reject the requests which we make in public and private, and favour some persons and not others?
Alcibiades
Certainly.
Socrates
Do you not imagine, then, that a man ought to be very careful, lest perchance without knowing it he implore great evils for himself, deeming that he is asking for good, especially if the Gods are in the mood to grant whatever he may request? There is the story of Oedipus, for instance, who prayed that his children might divide their inheritance between them by the sword: he did not, as he might have done, beg that his present evils might be averted, but called down new ones. And was not his prayer accomplished, and did not many and terrible evils thence arise, upon which I need not dilate?
Alcibiades
Yes, Socrates, but you are speaking of a madman: surely you do not think that anyone in his senses would venture to make such a prayer?
Socrates
Madness, then, you consider to be the opposite of discretion?
Alcibiades
Of course.
Socrates
And some men seem to you to be discreet, and others the contrary?
Alcibiades
They do.
Socrates
Well, then, let us discuss who these are. We acknowledge that some are discreet, some foolish, and that some are mad?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And again, there are some who are in health?
Alcibiades
There are.
Socrates
While others are ailing?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And they are not the same?
Alcibiades
Certainly not.
Socrates
Nor are there any who are in neither state?
Alcibiades
No.
Socrates
A man must either be sick or be well?
Alcibiades
That is my opinion.
Socrates
Very good: and do you think the same about discretion and want of discretion?
Alcibiades
How do you mean?
Socrates
Do you believe that a man must be either in or out of his senses; or is there some third or intermediate condition, in which he is neither one nor the other?
Alcibiades
Decidedly not.
Socrates
He must be either sane or insane?
Alcibiades
So I suppose.
Socrates
Did you not acknowledge that madness was the opposite of discretion?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And that there is no third or middle term between discretion and indiscretion?
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
And there cannot be two opposites to one thing?
Alcibiades
There cannot.
Socrates
Then madness and want of sense are the same?
Alcibiades
That appears to be the case.
Socrates
We shall be in the right, therefore, Alcibiades, if we say that all who are senseless are mad. For example, if among persons of your own age or older than yourself there are some who are senseless—as there certainly are—they are mad. For tell me, by heaven, do you not think that in the city the wise are few, while the foolish, whom you call mad, are many?
Alcibiades
I do.
Socrates
But how could we live in safety with so many crazy people? Should we not long since have paid the penalty at their hands, and have been struck and beaten and endured every other form of ill-usage which madmen are wont to inflict? Consider, my dear friend: may it not be quite otherwise?
Alcibiades
Why, Socrates, how is that possible? I must have been mistaken.
Socrates
So it seems to me. But perhaps we may consider the matter thus:—
Alcibiades
How?
Socrates
I will tell you. We think that some are sick; do we not?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And must every sick person either have the gout, or be in a fever, or suffer from ophthalmia? Or do you believe that a man may labour under some other disease, even although he has none of these complaints? Surely, they are not the only maladies which exist?
Alcibiades
Certainly not.
Socrates
And is every kind of ophthalmia a disease?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And every disease ophthalmia?
Alcibiades
Surely not. But I scarcely understand what I mean myself.
Socrates
Perhaps, if you give me your best attention, “two of us” looking together, we may find what we seek.
Alcibiades
I am attending, Socrates, to the best of my power.
Socrates
We are agreed, then, that every form of ophthalmia is a disease, but not every disease ophthalmia?
Alcibiades
We are.
Socrates
And so far we seem to be right. For everyone who suffers from a fever is sick; but the sick, I conceive, do not all have fever or gout or ophthalmia, although each of these is a disease, which, according to those whom we call physicians, may require a different treatment. They are not all alike, nor do they produce the same result, but each has its own effect, and yet they are all diseases. May we not take an illustration from the artizans?
Alcibiades
Certainly.
Socrates
There are cobblers and carpenters and sculptors and others of all sorts and kinds, whom we need not stop to enumerate. All have their distinct employments and all are workmen, although they are not all of them cobblers or carpenters or sculptors.
Alcibiades
No, indeed.
Socrates
And in like manner men differ in regard to want of sense. Those who are most out of their wits we call “madmen,” while we term those who are less far gone “stupid” or “idiotic,” or, if we prefer gentler language, describe them as “romantic” or “simple-minded,” or, again, as “innocent” or “inexperienced” or “foolish.” You may even find other names, if you seek for them; but by all of them lack of sense is intended. They only differ as one art appeared to us to differ from another or one disease from another. Or what is your opinion?
Alcibiades
I agree with you.
Socrates
Then let us return to the point at which we digressed. We said at first that we should have to consider who were the wise and who the foolish. For we acknowledged that there are these two classes? Did we not?
Alcibiades
To be sure.
Socrates
And you regard those as sensible who know what ought to be done or said?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
The senseless are those who do not know this?
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
The latter will say or do what they ought not without their own knowledge?
Alcibiades
Exactly.
Socrates
Oedipus, as I was saying, Alcibiades, was a person of this sort. And even nowadays you will find many who (have offered inauspicious prayers), although, unlike him, they were not in anger nor thought that they were asking evil. He neither sought, nor supposed that he sought for good, but others have had quite the contrary notion. I believe that if the God whom you are about to consult should appear to you, and, in anticipation of your request, enquired whether you would be contented to become tyrant of Athens, and if this seemed in your eyes a small and mean thing, should add to it the dominion of all Hellas; and seeing that even then you would not be satisfied unless you were ruler of the whole of Europe, should promise, not only that, but, if you so desired, should proclaim to all mankind in one and the same day that Alcibiades, son of Cleinias, was tyrant:—in such a case, I imagine, you would depart full of joy, as one who had obtained the greatest of goods.
Alcibiades
And not only I, Socrates, but anyone else who should meet with such luck.
Socrates
Yet you would not accept the dominion and lordship of all the Hellenes and all the barbarians in exchange for your life?
Alcibiades
Certainly not: for then what use could I make of them?
Socrates
And would you accept them if you were likely to use them to a bad and mischievous end?
Alcibiades
I would not.
Socrates
You see that it is not safe for a man either rashly to accept whatever is offered him, or himself to request a thing, if he is likely to suffer thereby or immediately to lose his life. And yet we could tell of many who, having long desired and diligently laboured to obtain a tyranny, thinking that thus they would procure an advantage, have nevertheless fallen victims to designing enemies. You must have heard of what happened only the other day, how Archelaus of Macedonia was slain by his beloved, whose love for the tyranny was not less than that of Archelaus for him. The tyrannicide expected by his crime to become tyrant and afterwards to have a happy life; but when he had held the tyranny three or four days, he was in his turn conspired against and slain. Or look at certain of our own citizens—and of their actions we have been not hearers, but eyewitnesses—who have desired to obtain military command: of those who have gained their object, some are even to this day exiles from the city, while others have lost their lives. And even they who seem to have fared best, have not only gone through many perils and terrors during their office, but after their return home they have been beset by informers worse than they once were by their foes, insomuch that several of them have wished that they had remained in a private station rather than have had the glories of command. If, indeed, such perils and terrors were of profit to the commonwealth, there would be reason in undergoing them; but the very contrary is the case. Again, you will find persons who have prayed for offspring, and when their prayers were heard, have fallen into the greatest pains and sufferings. For some have begotten children who were utterly bad, and have therefore passed all their days in misery, while the parents of good children have undergone the misfortune of losing them, and have been so little happier than the others that they would have preferred never to have had children rather than to have had them and lost them. And yet, although these and the like examples are manifest and known of all, it is rare to find anyone who has refused what has been offered him, or, if he were likely to gain aught by prayer, has refrained from making his petition. The mass of mankind would not decline to accept a tyranny, or the command of an army, or any of the numerous things which cause more harm than good: but rather, if they had them not, would have prayed to obtain them. And often in a short space of time they change their tone, and wish their old prayers unsaid. Wherefore also I suspect that men are entirely wrong when they blame the gods as the authors of the ills which befall them: “their own presumption,” or folly (whichever is the right word)—
“Has brought these unmeasured woes upon them.”
He must have been a wise poet, Alcibiades, who, seeing as I believe, his friends foolishly praying for and doing things which would not really profit them, offered up a common prayer in behalf of them all:—
“King Zeus, grant us good whether prayed for or unsought by us;
But that which we ask amiss, do thou avert.”
In my opinion, I say, the poet spoke both well and prudently; but if you have anything to say in answer to him, speak out.
Alcibiades
It is difficult, Socrates, to oppose what has been well said. And I perceive how many are the ills of which ignorance is the cause, since, as would appear, through ignorance we not only do, but what is worse, pray for the greatest evils. No man would imagine that he would do so; he would rather suppose that he was quite capable of praying for what was best: to call down evils seems more like a curse than a prayer.
Socrates
But perhaps, my good friend, someone who is wiser than either you or I will say that we have no right to blame ignorance thus rashly, unless we can add what ignorance we mean and of what, and also to whom and how it is respectively a good or an evil?
Alcibiades
How do you mean? Can ignorance possibly be better than knowledge for any person in any conceivable case?
Socrates
So I believe:—you do not think so?
Alcibiades
Certainly not.
Socrates
And yet surely I may not suppose that you would ever wish to act towards your mother as they say that Orestes and Alcmeon and others have done towards their parent.
Alcibiades
Good words, Socrates, prithee.
Socrates
You ought not to bid him use auspicious words, who says that you would not be willing to commit so horrible a deed, but rather him who affirms the contrary, if the act appear to you unfit even to be mentioned. Or do you think that Orestes, had he been in his senses and knew what was best for him to do, would ever have dared to venture on such a crime?
Alcibiades
Certainly not.
Socrates
Nor would anyone else, I fancy?
Alcibiades
No.
Socrates
That ignorance is bad then, it would appear, which is of the best and does not know what is best?
Alcibiades
So I think, at least.
Socrates
And both to the person who is ignorant and everybody else?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
Let us take another case. Suppose that you were suddenly to get into your head that it would be a good thing to kill Pericles, your kinsman and guardian, and were to seize a sword and, going to the doors of his house, were to enquire if he were at home, meaning to slay only him and no one else:—the servants reply, “Yes”: (Mind, I do not mean that you would really do such a thing; but there is nothing, you think, to prevent a man who is ignorant of the best, having occasionally the whim that what is worst is best?
Alcibiades
No.)
Socrates
—If, then, you went indoors, and seeing him, did not know him, but thought that he was someone else, would you venture to slay him?
Alcibiades
Most decidedly not (it seems to me).
Socrates
For you designed to kill, not the first who offered, but Pericles himself?
Alcibiades
Certainly.
Socrates
And if you made many attempts, and each time failed to recognize Pericles, you would never attack him?
Alcibiades
Never.
Socrates
Well, but if Orestes in like manner had not known his mother, do you think that he would ever have laid hands upon her?
Alcibiades
No.
Socrates
He did not intend to slay the first woman he came across, nor anyone else’s mother, but only his own?
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
Ignorance, then, is better for those who are in such a frame of mind, and have such ideas?
Alcibiades
Obviously.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
I do.
Socrates
And there is still another case which will also perhaps appear strange to you, if you will consider it?
Alcibiades
What is that, Socrates?
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
Yes, in my opinion.
Socrates
We may take the orators for an example, who from time to time advise us about war and peace, or the building 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.
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
But now see what follows, if I can (make it clear to you). You would distinguish the wise from the foolish?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
The many are foolish, the few wise?
Alcibiades
Certainly.
Socrates
And you use both the terms, “wise” and “foolish,” in reference to something?
Alcibiades
I do.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
Decidedly not.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
No.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
Certainly not.
Socrates
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?—
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
—Such an one, I say, we should call wise and a useful adviser both of himself and of the city. What do you think?
Alcibiades
I agree.
Socrates
And if anyone 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?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
And in a similar way you speak of a good boxer or a good flute-player or a good performer in any other art?
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
All the difference in the world.
Socrates
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 whom?
Alcibiades
I should call such a state bad, Socrates.
Socrates
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.”
—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?
Alcibiades
Decidedly.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
True.
Socrates
And if he do the contrary, both he and the state will suffer?
Alcibiades
Yes.
Socrates
Well, and are you of the same mind, as before?
Alcibiades
I am.
Socrates
But were you not saying that you would call the many unwise and the few wise?
Alcibiades
I was.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
That is the case.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
What you say is very true.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
I do now, if I did not before, Socrates.
Socrates
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 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, 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.”
Alcibiades
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.
Socrates
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.
Alcibiades
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.
Socrates
And you are right in thinking so.
Alcibiades
Well, that is my opinion.
Socrates
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 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?
Alcibiades
Indeed, Socrates, I could not answer you without consideration. It seems to me to be a wild thing 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.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
I believe that you are right.
Socrates
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.
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. 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 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 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.
Alcibiades
I agree, Socrates, with you and with the God, whom, indeed, it would be unbecoming for me to oppose.
Socrates
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?
Alcibiades
I do.
Socrates
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.
Alcibiades
And how long must I wait, Socrates, and who will be my teacher? I should be very glad to see the man.
Socrates
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.
Alcibiades
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.
Socrates
And surely he has a wondrous care for you.
Alcibiades
It seems to be altogether advisable to put off the sacrifice until he is found.
Socrates
You are right: that will be safer than running such a tremendous risk.
Alcibiades
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.
Socrates
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 Teiresias with his crown and hears that he has gained it by his skill as the firstfruits of the spoil:—
“An auspicious omen I deem thy victor’s wreath:
For well thou knowest that wave and storm oppress us.”
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.
Eryxias
Introduction
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 (compare Socrates in the “Charmides” from the army at Potidaea), the figure of the game at draughts, 395 B, borrowed from the Republic, 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.
It happened by chance that Eryxias the Steirian was walking with me in the Portico of Zeus the Deliverer, when there 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!
Socrates: The same to you, I said; have you any good news from Sicily to tell us?
Erasistratus: Most excellent. But, if you please, let us first sit down; for I am tired with my yesterday’s journey from Megara.
Socrates: Gladly, if that is your desire.
Erasistratus: 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?
Erasistratus: He is esteemed to be, and really is, the wickedest of 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 anyone else named.
I reflected that we were speaking, not of trivial matters, but about wealth and virtue, which are deemed to be of the greatest moment, and I asked Erasistratus whom he considered the wealthier—he who was the possessor of a talent of silver or he who had a field worth two talents?
Erasistratus: The owner of the field.
Socrates: And on the same principle he who had robes and bedding and such things which are of greater value to him than to a stranger would be richer than the stranger?
Erasistratus: True.
Socrates: And if anyone gave you a choice, which of these would you prefer?
Erasistratus: That which was most valuable.
Socrates: In which way do you think you would be the richer?
Erasistratus: By choosing as I said.
Socrates: And he appears to you to be the richest who has goods of the greatest value?
Erasistratus: He does.
Socrates: And are not the healthy richer than the sick, since health is a possession more valuable than riches to the sick? Surely there is no one who would not prefer to be poor and well, rather than to have all the King of Persia’s wealth and to be ill. And this proves that men set health above wealth, else they would never choose the one in preference to the other.
Erasistratus: True.
Socrates: And if anything appeared to be more valuable than health, he would be the richest who possessed it?
Erasistratus: He would.
Socrates: Suppose that someone came to us at this moment and were to ask, Well, Socrates and Eryxias and Erasistratus, can you tell me what is of the greatest value to men? Is it not that of which the possession will best enable a man to advise how his own and his friend’s affairs should be administered?—What will be our reply?
Erasistratus: I should say, Socrates, that happiness was the most precious of human possessions.
Socrates: Not a bad answer. But do we not deem those men who are most prosperous to be the happiest?
Erasistratus: That is my opinion.
Socrates: And are they not most prosperous who commit the fewest errors in respect either of themselves or of other men?
Erasistratus: Certainly.
Socrates: And they who know what is evil and what is good; what should be done and what should be left undone;—these behave the most wisely and make the fewest mistakes?
Erasistratus agreed to this.
Socrates: Then the wisest and those who do best and the most fortunate and the richest would appear to be all one and the same, if wisdom is really the most valuable of our possessions?
Yes, said Eryxias, interposing, but what use would it be if a man had the wisdom of Nestor and wanted the necessaries of life, food and drink and clothes and the like? Where would be the advantage of wisdom then? Or how could he be the richest of men who might even have to go begging, because he had not wherewithal to live?
I thought that what Eryxias was saying had some weight, and I replied, Would the wise man really suffer in this way, if he were so ill-provided; whereas if he had the house of Polytion, and the house were full of gold and silver, he would lack nothing?
Eryxias: Yes; for then he might dispose of his property and obtain in exchange what he needed, or he might sell it for money with which he could supply his wants and in a moment procure abundance of everything.
Socrates: True, if he could find someone who preferred such a house to the wisdom of Nestor. But if there are persons who set great store by wisdom like Nestor’s and the advantages accruing from it, to sell these, if he were so disposed, would be easier still. Or is a house a most useful and necessary possession, and does it make a great difference in the comfort of life to have a mansion like Polytion’s instead of living in a shabby little cottage, whereas wisdom is of small use and it is of no importance whether a man is wise or ignorant about the highest matters? Or is wisdom despised of men and can find no buyers, although cypress wood and marble of Pentelicus are eagerly bought by numerous purchasers? Surely the prudent pilot or the skilful physician, or the artist of any kind who is proficient in his art, is more worth than the things which are especially reckoned among riches; and he who can advise well and prudently for himself and others is able also to sell the product of his art, if he so desire.
Eryxias looked askance, as if he had received some unfair treatment, and said, I believe, Socrates, that if you were forced to speak the truth, you would declare that you were richer than Callias the son of Hipponicus. And yet, although you claimed to be wiser about things of real importance, you would not any the more be richer than he.
I dare say, Eryxias, I said, that you may regard these arguments of ours as a kind of game; you think that they have no relation to facts, but are like the pieces in the game of draughts which the player can move in such a way that his opponents are unable to make any countermove. And perhaps, too, as regards riches you are of opinion that while facts remain the same, there are arguments, no matter whether true or false, which enable the user of them to prove that the wisest and the richest are one and the same, although he is in the wrong and his opponents are in the right. There would be nothing strange in this; it would be as if two persons were to dispute about letters, one declaring that the word Socrates began with an s, the other that it began with an a, and the latter could gain the victory over the former.
Eryxias glanced at the audience, laughing and blushing at once, as if he had had nothing to do with what had just been said, and replied—No, indeed, Socrates, I never supposed that our arguments should be of a kind which would never convince any one of those here present or be of advantage to them. For what man of sense could ever be persuaded that the wisest and the richest are the same? The truth is that we are discussing the subject of riches, and my notion is that we should argue respecting the honest and dishonest means of acquiring them, and, generally, whether they are a good thing or a bad.
Very good, I said, and I am obliged to you for the hint: in future we will be more careful. But why do not you yourself, as you introduced the argument, and do not think that the former discussion touched the point at issue, tell us whether you consider riches to be a good or an evil?
I am of opinion, he said, that they are a good. He was about to add something more, when Critias interrupted him:—Do you really suppose so, Eryxias?
Certainly, replied Eryxias; I should be mad if I did not: and I do not fancy that you would find anyone else of a contrary opinion.
And I, retorted Critias, should say that there is no one whom I could not compel to admit that riches are bad for some men. But surely, if they were a good, they could not appear bad for anyone?
Here I interposed and said to them: If you two were having an argument about equitation and what was the best way of riding, supposing that I knew the art myself, I should try to bring you to an agreement. For I should be ashamed if I were present and did not do what I could to prevent your difference. And I should do the same if you were quarrelling about any other art and were likely, unless you agreed on the point in dispute, to part as enemies instead of as friends. But now, when we are contending about a thing of which the usefulness continues during the whole of life, and it makes an enormous difference whether we are to regard it as beneficial or not—a thing, too, which is esteemed of the highest importance by the Hellenes:—(for parents, as soon as their children are, as they think, come to years of discretion, urge them to consider how wealth may be acquired, since by riches the value of a man is judged):—When, I say, we are thus in earnest, and you, who agree in other respects, fall to disputing about a matter of such moment, that is, about wealth, and not merely whether it is black or white, light or heavy, but whether it is a good or an evil, whereby, although you are now the dearest of friends and kinsmen, the most bitter hatred may arise betwixt you, I must hinder your dissension to the best of my power. If I could, I would tell you the truth, and so put an end to the dispute; but as I cannot do this, and each of you supposes that you can bring the other to an agreement, I am prepared, as far as my capacity admits, to help you in solving the question. Please, therefore, Critias, try to make us accept the doctrines which you yourself entertain.
Critias: I should like to follow up the argument, and will ask Eryxias whether he thinks that there are just and unjust men?
Eryxias: Most decidedly.
Critias: And does injustice seem to you an evil or a good?
Eryxias: An evil.
Critias: Do you consider that he who bribes his neighbour’s wife and commits adultery with her, acts justly or unjustly, and this although both the state and the laws forbid?
Eryxias: Unjustly.
Critias: And if the wicked man has wealth and is willing to spend it, he will carry out his evil purposes? whereas he who is short of means cannot do what he fain would, and therefore does not sin? In such a case, surely, it is better that a person should not be wealthy, if his poverty prevents the accomplishment of his desires, and his desires are evil? Or, again, should you call sickness a good or an evil?
Eryxias: An evil.
Critias: Well, and do you think that some men are intemperate?
Eryxias: Yes.
Critias: Then, if it is better for his health that the intemperate man should refrain from meat and drink and other pleasant things, but he cannot owing to his intemperance, will it not also be better that he should be too poor to gratify his lust rather than that he should have a superabundance of means? For thus he will not be able to sin, although he desire never so much.
Critias appeared to be arguing so admirably that Eryxias, if he had not been ashamed of the bystanders, would probably have got up and struck him. For he thought that he had been robbed of a great possession when it became obvious to him that he had been wrong in his former opinion about wealth. I observed his vexation, and feared that they would proceed to abuse and quarrelling: so I said—I heard that very argument used in the Lyceum yesterday by a wise man, Prodicus of Ceos; but the audience thought that he was talking mere nonsense, and no one could be persuaded that he was speaking the truth. And when at last a certain talkative young gentleman came in, and, taking his seat, began to laugh and jeer at Prodicus, tormenting him and demanding an explanation of his argument, he gained the ear of the audience far more than Prodicus.
Can you repeat the discourse to us? Said Erasistratus.
Socrates: If I can only remember it, I will. The youth began by asking Prodicus, In what way did he think that riches were a good and in what an evil? Prodicus answered, as you did just now, that they were a good to good men and to those who knew in what way they should be employed, while to the bad and the ignorant they were an evil. The same is true, he went on to say, of all other things; men make them to be what they are themselves. The saying of Archilochus is true:—
“Men’s thoughts correspond to the things which they meet with.”
Well, then, replied the youth, if anyone makes me wise in that wisdom whereby good men become wise, he must also make everything else good to me. Not that he concerns himself at all with these other things, but he has converted my ignorance into wisdom. If, for example, a person teach me grammar or music, he will at the same time teach me all that relates to grammar or music, and so when he makes me good, he makes things good to me.
Prodicus did not altogether agree: still he consented to what was said.
And do you think, said the youth, that doing good things is like building a house—the work of human agency; or do things remain what they were at first, good or bad, for all time?
Prodicus began to suspect, I fancy, the direction which the argument was likely to take, and did not wish to be put down by a mere stripling before all those present:—(if they two had been alone, he would not have minded):—so he answered, cleverly enough: I think that doing good things is a work of human agency.
And is virtue in your opinion, Prodicus, innate or acquired by instruction?
The latter, said Prodicus.
Then you would consider him a simpleton who supposed that he could obtain by praying to the Gods the knowledge of grammar or music or any other art, which he must either learn from another or find out for himself?
Prodicus agreed to this also.
And when you pray to the Gods that you may do well and receive good, you mean by your prayer nothing else than that you desire to become good and wise:—if, at least, things are good to the good and wise and evil to the evil. But in that case, if virtue is acquired by instruction, it would appear that you only pray to be taught what you do not know.
Hereupon I said to Prodicus that it was no misfortune to him if he had been proved to be in error in supposing that the Gods immediately granted to us whatever we asked:—if, I added, whenever you go up to the Acropolis you earnestly entreat the Gods to grant you good things, although you know not whether they can yield your request, it is as though you went to the doors of the grammarian and begged him, although you had never made a study of the art, to give you a knowledge of grammar which would enable you forthwith to do the business of a grammarian.
While I was speaking, Prodicus was preparing to retaliate upon his youthful assailant, intending to employ the argument of which you have just made use; for he was annoyed to have it supposed that he offered a vain prayer to the Gods. But the master of the gymnasium came to him and begged him to leave because he was teaching the youths doctrines which were unsuited to them, and therefore bad for them.
I have told you this because I want you to understand how men are circumstanced in regard to philosophy. Had Prodicus been present and said what you have said, the audience would have thought him raving, and he would have been ejected from the gymnasium. But you have argued so excellently well that you have not only persuaded your hearers, but have brought your opponent to an agreement. For just as in the law courts, if two witnesses testify to the same fact, one of whom seems to be an honest fellow and the other a rogue, the testimony of the rogue often has the contrary effect on the judges’ minds to what he intended, while the same evidence if given by the honest man at once strikes them as perfectly true. And probably the audience have something of the same feeling about yourself and Prodicus; they think him a Sophist and a braggart, and regard you as a gentleman of courtesy and worth. For they do not pay attention to the argument so much as to the character of the speaker.
But truly, Socrates, said Erasistratus, though you may be joking, Critias does seem to me to be saying something which is of weight.
Socrates: I am in profound earnest, I assure you. But why, as you have begun your argument so prettily, do you not go on with the rest? There is still something lacking, now you have agreed that (wealth) is a good to some and an evil to others. It remains to enquire what constitutes wealth; for unless you know this, you cannot possibly come to an understanding as to whether it is a good or an evil. I am ready to assist you in the enquiry to the utmost of my power: but first let him who affirms that riches are a good, tell us what, in his opinion, is wealth.
Erasistratus: Indeed, Socrates, I have no notion about wealth beyond that which men commonly have. I suppose that wealth is a quantity of money; and this, I imagine, would also be Critias’ definition.
Socrates: Then now we have to consider, What is money? Or else later on we shall be found to differ about the question. For instance, the Carthaginians use money of this sort. Something which is about the size of a stater is tied up in a small piece of leather: what it is, no one knows but the makers. A seal is next set upon the leather, which then passes into circulation, and he who has the largest number of such pieces is esteemed the richest and best off. And yet if anyone among us had a mass of such coins he would be no wealthier than if he had so many pebbles from the mountain. At Lacedaemon, again, they use iron by weight which has been rendered useless: and he who has the greatest mass of such iron is thought to be the richest, although elsewhere it has no value. In Ethiopia engraved stones are employed, of which a Lacedaemonian could make no use. Once more, among the Nomad Scythians a man who owned the house of Polytion would not be thought richer than one who possessed Mount Lycabettus among ourselves. And clearly those things cannot all be regarded as possessions; for in some cases the possessors would appear none the richer thereby: but, as I was saying, some one of them is thought in one place to be money, and the possessors of it are the wealthy, whereas in some other place it is not money, and the ownership of it does not confer wealth; just as the standard of morals varies, and what is honourable to some men is dishonourable to others. And if we wish to enquire why a house is valuable to us but not to the Scythians, or why the Carthaginians value leather which is worthless to us, or the Lacedaemonians find wealth in iron and we do not, can we not get an answer in some such way as this: Would an Athenian, who had a thousand talents weight of the stones which lie about in the Agora and which we do not employ for any purpose, be thought to be any the richer?
Erasistratus: He certainly would not appear so to me.
Socrates: But if he possessed a thousand talents weight of some precious stone, we should say that he was very rich?
Erasistratus: Of course.
Socrates: The reason is that the one is useless and the other useful?
Erasistratus: Yes.
Socrates: And in the same way among the Scythians a house has no value because they have no use for a house, nor would a Scythian set so much store on the finest house in the world as on a leather coat, because he could use the one and not the other. Or again, the Carthaginian coinage is not wealth in our eyes, for we could not employ it, as we can silver, to procure what we need, and therefore it is of no use to us.
Erasistratus: True.
Socrates: What is useful to us, then, is wealth, and what is useless to us is not wealth?
But how do you mean, Socrates? said Eryxias, interrupting. Do we not employ in our intercourse with one another speech and violence (?) and various other things? These are useful and yet they are not wealth.
Socrates: Clearly we have not yet answered the question, What is wealth? That wealth must be useful, to be wealth at all—thus much is acknowledged by everyone. But what particular thing is wealth, if not all things? Let us pursue the argument in another way; and then we may perhaps find what we are seeking. What is the use of wealth, and for what purpose has the possession of riches been invented—in the sense, I mean, in which drugs have been discovered for the cure of disease? Perhaps in this way we may throw some light on the question. It appears to be clear that whatever constitutes wealth must be useful, and that wealth is one class of useful things; and now we have to enquire, What is the use of those useful things which constitute wealth? For all things probably may be said to be useful which we use in production, just as all things which have life are animals, but there is a special kind of animal which we call “man.” Now if anyone were to ask us, What is that of which, if we were rid, we should not want medicine and the instruments of medicine, we might reply that this would be the case if disease were absent from our bodies and either never came to them at all or went away again as soon as it appeared; and we may therefore conclude that medicine is the science which is useful for getting rid of disease. But if we are further asked, What is that from which, if we were free, we should have no need of wealth? can we give an answer? If we have none, suppose that we restate the question thus:—If a man could live without food or drink, and yet suffer neither hunger nor thirst, would he want either money or anything else in order to supply his needs?
Eryxias: He would not.
Socrates: And does not this apply in other cases? If we did not want for the service of the body the things of which we now stand in need, and heat and cold and the other bodily sensations were unperceived by us, there would be no use in this so-called wealth, if no one, that is, had any necessity for those things which now make us wish for wealth in order that we may satisfy the desires and needs of the body in respect of our various wants. And therefore if the possession of wealth is useful in ministering to our bodily wants, and bodily wants were unknown to us, we should not need wealth, and possibly there would be no such thing as wealth.
Eryxias: Clearly not.
Socrates: Then our conclusion is, as would appear, that wealth is what is useful to this end?
Eryxias once more gave his assent, but the small argument considerably troubled him.
Socrates: And what is your opinion about another question:—Would you say that the same thing can be at one time useful and at another useless for the production of the same result?
Eryxias: I cannot say more than that if we require the same thing to produce the same result, then it seems to me to be useful; if not, not.
Socrates: Then if without the aid of fire we could make a brazen statue, we should not want fire for that purpose; and if we did not want it, it would be useless to us? And the argument applies equally in other cases.
Eryxias: Clearly.
Socrates: And therefore conditions which are not required for the existence of a thing are not useful for the production of it?
Eryxias: Of course not.
Socrates: And if without gold or silver or anything else which we do not use directly for the body in the way that we do food and drink and bedding and houses—if without these we could satisfy the wants of the body, they would be of no use to us for that purpose?
Eryxias: They would not.
Socrates: They would no longer be regarded as wealth, because they are useless, whereas that would be wealth which enabled us to obtain what was useful to us?
Eryxias: O Socrates, you will never be able to persuade me that gold and silver and similar things are not wealth. But I am very strongly of opinion that things which are useless to us are not wealth, and that the money which is useful for this purpose is of the greatest use; not that these things are not useful towards life, if by them we can procure wealth.
Socrates: And how would you answer another question? There are persons, are there not, who teach music and grammar and other arts for pay, and thus procure those things of which they stand in need?
Eryxias: There are.
Socrates: And these men by the arts which they profess, and in exchange for them, obtain the necessities of life just as we do by means of gold and silver?
Eryxias: True.
Socrates: Then if they procure by this means what they want for the purposes of life, that art will be useful towards life? For do we not say that silver is useful because it enables us to supply our bodily needs?
Eryxias: We do.
Socrates: Then if these arts are reckoned among things useful, the arts are wealth for the same reason as gold and silver are, for, clearly, the possession of them gives wealth. Yet a little while ago we found it difficult to accept the argument which proved that the wisest are the wealthiest. But now there seems no escape from this conclusion. Suppose that we are asked, “Is a horse useful to everybody?” will not our reply be, “No, but only to those who know how to use a horse?”
Eryxias: Certainly.
Socrates: And so, too, physic is not useful to everyone, but only to him who knows how to use it?
Eryxias: True.
Socrates: And the same is the case with everything else?
Eryxias: Yes.
Socrates: Then gold and silver and all the other elements which are supposed to make up wealth are only useful to the person who knows how to use them?
Eryxias: Exactly.
Socrates: And were we not saying before that it was the business of a good man and a gentleman to know where and how anything should be used?
Eryxias: Yes.
Socrates: The good and gentle, therefore will alone have profit from these things, supposing at least that they know how to use them. But if so, to them only will they seem to be wealth. It appears, however, that where a person is ignorant of riding, and has horses which are useless to him, if someone teaches him that art, he makes him also richer, for what was before useless has now become useful to him, and in giving him knowledge he has also conferred riches upon him.
Eryxias: That is the case.
Socrates: Yet I dare be sworn that Critias will not be moved a whit by the argument.
Critias: No, by heaven, I should be a madman if I were. But why do you not finish the argument which proves that gold and silver and other things which seem to be wealth are not real wealth? For I have been exceedingly delighted to hear the discourses which you have just been holding.
Socrates: My argument, Critias (I said), appears to have given you the same kind of pleasure which you might have derived from some rhapsode’s recitation of Homer; for you do not believe a word of what has been said. But come now, give me an answer to this question. Are not certain things useful to the builder when he is building a house?
Critias: They are.
Socrates: And would you say that those things are useful which are employed in house building—stones and bricks and beams and the like, and also the instruments with which the builder built the house, the beams and stones which they provided, and again the instruments by which these were obtained?
Critias: It seems to me that they are all useful for building.
Socrates: And is it not true of every art, that not only the materials but the instruments by which we procure them and without which the work could not go on, are useful for that art?
Critias: Certainly.
Socrates: And further, the instruments by which the instruments are procured, and so on, going back from stage to stage ad infinitum—are not all these, in your opinion, necessary in order to carry out the work?
Critias: We may fairly suppose such to be the case.
Socrates: And if a man has food and drink and clothes and the other things which are useful to the body, would he need gold or silver or any other means by which he could procure that which he now has?
Critias: I do not think so.
Socrates: Then you consider that a man never wants any of these things for the use of the body?
Critias: Certainly not.
Socrates: And if they appear useless to this end, ought they not always to appear useless? For we have already laid down the principle that things cannot be at one time useful and at another time not, in the same process.
Critias: But in that respect your argument and mine are the same. For you maintain if they are useful to a certain end, they can never become useless; whereas I say that in order to accomplish some results bad things are needed, and good for others.
Socrates: But can a bad thing be used to carry out a good purpose?
Critias: I should say not.
Socrates: And we call those actions good which a man does for the sake of virtue?
Critias: Yes.
Socrates: But can a man learn any kind of knowledge which is imparted by word of mouth if he is wholly deprived of the sense of hearing?
Critias: Certainly not, I think.
Socrates: And will not hearing be useful for virtue, if virtue is taught by hearing and we use the sense of hearing in giving instruction?
Critias: Yes.
Socrates: And since medicine frees the sick man from his disease, that art too may sometimes appear useful in the acquisition of virtue, e.g. when hearing is procured by the aid of medicine.
Critias: Very likely.
Socrates: But if, again, we obtain by wealth the aid of medicine, shall we not regard wealth as useful for virtue?
Critias: True.
Socrates: And also the instruments by which wealth is procured?
Critias: Certainly.
Socrates: Then you think that a man may gain wealth by bad and disgraceful means, and, having obtained the aid of medicine which enables him to acquire the power of hearing, may use that very faculty for the acquisition of virtue?
Critias: Yes, I do.
Socrates: But can that which is evil be useful for virtue?
Critias: No.
Socrates: It is not therefore necessary that the means by which we obtain what is useful for a certain object should always be useful for the same object: for it seems that bad actions may sometimes serve good purposes? The matter will be still plainer if we look at it in this way:—If things are useful towards the several ends for which they exist, which ends would not come into existence without them, how would you regard them? Can ignorance, for instance, be useful for knowledge, or disease for health, or vice for virtue?
Critias: Never.
Socrates: And yet we have already agreed—have we not?—that there can be no knowledge where there has not previously been ignorance, nor health where there has not been disease, nor virtue where there has not been vice?
Critias: I think that we have.
Socrates: But then it would seem that the antecedents without which a thing cannot exist are not necessarily useful to it. Otherwise ignorance would appear useful for knowledge, disease for health, and vice for virtue.
Critias still showed great reluctance to accept any argument which went to prove that all these things were useless. I saw that it was as difficult to persuade him as (according to the proverb) it is to boil a stone, so I said: Let us bid “goodbye” to the discussion, since we cannot agree whether these things are useful and a part of wealth or not. But what shall we say to another question: Which is the happier and better man—he who requires the greatest quantity of necessaries for body and diet, or he who requires only the fewest and least? The answer will perhaps become more obvious if we suppose someone, comparing the man himself at different times, to consider whether his condition is better when he is sick or when he is well?
Critias: That is not a question which needs much consideration.
Socrates: Probably, I said, everyone can understand that health is a better condition than disease. But when have we the greatest and the most various needs, when we are sick or when we are well?
Critias: When we are sick.
Socrates: And when we are in the worst state we have the greatest and most especial need and desire of bodily pleasures?
Critias: True.
Socrates: And seeing that a man is best off when he is least in need of such things, does not the same reasoning apply to the case of any two persons, of whom one has many and great wants and desires, and the other few and moderate? For instance, some men are gamblers, some drunkards, and some gluttons: and gambling and the love of drink and greediness are all desires?
Critias: Certainly.
Socrates: But desires are only the lack of something: and those who have the greatest desires are in a worse condition than those who have none or very slight ones?
Critias: Certainly I consider that those who have such wants are bad, and that the greater their wants the worse they are.
Socrates: And do we think it possible that a thing should be useful for a purpose unless we have need of it for that purpose?
Critias: No.
Socrates: Then if these things are useful for supplying the needs of the body, we must want them for that purpose?
Critias: That is my opinion.
Socrates: And he to whom the greatest number of things are useful for his purpose, will also want the greatest number of means of accomplishing it, supposing that we necessarily feel the want of all useful things?
Critias: It seems so.
Socrates: The argument proves then that he who has great riches has likewise need of many things for the supply of the wants of the body; for wealth appears useful towards that end. And the richest must be in the worst condition, since they seem to be most in want of such things.