Upon recollection, I said, indeed I am afraid that we have left out the
greatest of them all.
What is that? he asked.
Fortune, Cleinias, I replied; which all, even the most foolish, admit to
be the greatest of goods.
True, he said.
On second thoughts, I added, how narrowly, O son of Axiochus, have you
and I escaped making a laughing-stock of ourselves to the strangers.
Why do you say so?
Why, because we have already spoken of good-fortune, and are but
repeating ourselves.
What do you mean?
I mean that there is something ridiculous in again putting forward
good-fortune, which has a place in the list already, and saying the same
thing twice over.
He asked what was the meaning of this, and I replied: Surely wisdom is
good-fortune; even a child may know that.
The simple-minded youth was amazed; and, observing his surprise, I said
to him: Do you not know, Cleinias, that flute-players are most fortunate
and successful in performing on the flute?
He assented.
And are not the scribes most fortunate in writing and reading letters?
Certainly.
Amid the dangers of the sea, again, are any more fortunate on the whole
than wise pilots?
None, certainly.
And if you were engaged in war, in whose company would you rather take
the risk--in company with a wise general, or with a foolish one?
With a wise one.
And if you were ill, whom would you rather have as a companion in a
dangerous illness--a wise physician, or an ignorant one?
A wise one.
You think, I said, that to act with a wise man is more fortunate than to
act with an ignorant one?
He assented.
Then wisdom always makes men fortunate: for by wisdom no man would ever
err, and therefore he must act rightly and succeed, or his wisdom would
be wisdom no longer.
We contrived at last, somehow or other, to agree in a general
conclusion, that he who had wisdom had no need of fortune. I then
recalled to his mind the previous state of the question. You remember, I
said, our making the admission that we should be happy and fortunate if
many good things were present with us?
He assented.
And should we be happy by reason of the presence of good things, if they
profited us not, or if they profited us?
If they profited us, he said.
And would they profit us, if we only had them and did not use them? For
example, if we had a great deal of food and did not eat, or a great deal
of drink and did not drink, should we be profited?
Certainly not, he said.
Or would an artisan, who had all the implements necessary for his work,
and did not use them, be any the better for the possession of them? For
example, would a carpenter be any the better for having all his tools
and plenty of wood, if he never worked?
Certainly not, he said.
And if a person had wealth and all the goods of which we were just now
speaking, and did not use them, would he be happy because he possessed
them?
No indeed, Socrates.
Then, I said, a man who would be happy must not only have the good
things, but he must also use them; there is no advantage in merely
having them?
True.
Well, Cleinias, but if you have the use as well as the possession of
good things, is that sufficient to confer happiness?
Yes, in my opinion.
And may a person use them either rightly or wrongly?
He must use them rightly.
That is quite true, I said. And the wrong use of a thing is far worse
than the non-use; for the one is an evil, and the other is neither a
good nor an evil. You admit that?
He assented.
Now in the working and use of wood, is not that which gives the right
use simply the knowledge of the carpenter?
Nothing else, he said.
And surely, in the manufacture of vessels, knowledge is that which gives
the right way of making them?
He agreed.
And in the use of the goods of which we spoke at first--wealth and
health and beauty, is not knowledge that which directs us to the right
use of them, and regulates our practice about them?
He assented.
Then in every possession and every use of a thing, knowledge is that
which gives a man not only good-fortune but success?
He again assented.
And tell me, I said, O tell me, what do possessions profit a man, if he
have neither good sense nor wisdom? Would a man be better off, having
and doing many things without wisdom, or a few things with wisdom?
Look at the matter thus: If he did fewer things would he not make fewer
mistakes? if he made fewer mistakes would he not have fewer misfortunes?
and if he had fewer misfortunes would he not be less miserable?
Certainly, he said.
And who would do least--a poor man or a rich man?
A poor man.
A weak man or a strong man?
A weak man.
A noble man or a mean man?
A mean man.
And a coward would do less than a courageous and temperate man?
Yes.
And an indolent man less than an active man?
He assented.
And a slow man less than a quick; and one who had dull perceptions of
seeing and hearing less than one who had keen ones?
All this was mutually allowed by us.
Then, I said, Cleinias, the sum of the matter appears to be that the
goods of which we spoke before are not to be regarded as goods in
themselves, but the degree of good and evil in them depends on whether
they are or are not under the guidance of knowledge: under the guidance
of ignorance, they are greater evils than their opposites, inasmuch as
they are more able to minister to the evil principle which rules them;
and when under the guidance of wisdom and prudence, they are greater
goods: but in themselves they are nothing?
That, he replied, is obvious.
What then is the result of what has been said? Is not this the
result--that other things are indifferent, and that wisdom is the only
good, and ignorance the only evil?
He assented.
Let us consider a further point, I said: Seeing that all men desire
happiness, and happiness, as has been shown, is gained by a use, and
a right use, of the things of life, and the right use of them, and
good-fortune in the use of them, is given by knowledge,--the inference
is that everybody ought by all means to try and make himself as wise as
he can?
Yes, he said.
And when a man thinks that he ought to obtain this treasure, far more
than money, from a father or a guardian or a friend or a suitor, whether
citizen or stranger--the eager desire and prayer to them that they would
impart wisdom to you, is not at all dishonourable, Cleinias; nor is any
one to be blamed for doing any honourable service or ministration to any
man, whether a lover or not, if his aim is to get wisdom. Do you agree?
I said.
Yes, he said, I quite agree, and think that you are right.
Yes, I said, Cleinias, if only wisdom can be taught, and does not
come to man spontaneously; for this is a point which has still to be
considered, and is not yet agreed upon by you and me--
But I think, Socrates, that wisdom can be taught, he said.
Best of men, I said, I am delighted to hear you say so; and I am
also grateful to you for having saved me from a long and tiresome
investigation as to whether wisdom can be taught or not. But now, as
you think that wisdom can be taught, and that wisdom only can make a man
happy and fortunate, will you not acknowledge that all of us ought to
love wisdom, and you individually will try to love her?
Certainly, Socrates, he said; I will do my best.
I was pleased at hearing this; and I turned to Dionysodorus and
Euthydemus and said: That is an example, clumsy and tedious I admit, of
the sort of exhortations which I would have you give; and I hope that
one of you will set forth what I have been saying in a more artistic
style: or at least take up the enquiry where I left off, and proceed to
show the youth whether he should have all knowledge; or whether there is
one sort of knowledge only which will make him good and happy, and what
that is. For, as I was saying at first, the improvement of this young
man in virtue and wisdom is a matter which we have very much at heart.
Thus I spoke, Crito, and was all attention to what was coming. I wanted
to see how they would approach the question, and where they would start
in their exhortation to the young man that he should practise wisdom and
virtue. Dionysodorus, who was the elder, spoke first. Everybody's eyes
were directed towards him, perceiving that something wonderful might
shortly be expected. And certainly they were not far wrong; for the man,
Crito, began a remarkable discourse well worth hearing, and wonderfully
persuasive regarded as an exhortation to virtue.
Tell me, he said, Socrates and the rest of you who say that you want
this young man to become wise, are you in jest or in real earnest?
I was led by this to imagine that they fancied us to have been jesting
when we asked them to converse with the youth, and that this made them
jest and play, and being under this impression, I was the more decided
in saying that we were in profound earnest. Dionysodorus said:
Reflect, Socrates; you may have to deny your words.