Pseudoplatonica: Amatores

Summa huius dialogi est, quid sit et quale officium philosophi, definire. Est autem philosophi officium, divina nosse, gubernare humana: in illo contemplativa philosophia, in hoc activa compraehenditur. Philosophus itaque primo divinam, id est, absolutam ipsius boni naturam per sapientiam contemplatur.

The sum of this dialogue is to define what the office of the philosopher is and of what sort it is. Now the philosopher’s office is to know divine things, to govern human things: in the former the contemplative philosophy, in the latter the active, is comprehended. Therefore the philosopher first contemplates the divine, that is, the absolute nature of the Good itself, through wisdom.

Deinde ad id bonum velut ad finem humanas operationes dirigens humana gubernat. Haec autem gubernatio duo requirit. Primum, ut quid humana natura sit, et quo pacto ducatur ad bonum, a malo removeatur, cognoscat: quod quidem per prudentiam philosophus agit.

Then, by directing human operations to that good as to an end, he governs human affairs. But this governance requires two things. First, that he recognize what human nature is, and by what method it may be led to the good and removed from evil: which indeed the philosopher accomplishes through prudence.

Alterum, ut sic instituat hominum et affectus et actus, sic temperet atque cohibeat, ut ad bonum quod sapientia ipsa invenerat, et ad quod prudentia deinde direxerat, facile tendant. Id vero per morales virtutes efficitur, quas omnes uno iustitiae nomine Plato complectitur. Atque ex iis duobus humanorum gubernatio constat.

The second, that he should thus institute both the affections and the acts of men, thus temper and restrain them, so that they may easily tend toward the good which wisdom itself had discovered, and to which prudence thereafter had directed. This indeed is effected through the moral virtues, which Plato comprehends all under the single name of justice. And from these two the governance of human things consists.

Eiusdem autem est scire recte hominem unum, familiam ac rempublicam gubernare. Quamobrem qui moralis est, idem dominus, civilis, rex ideoneus esset. Ex quibus concluditur in ipso philosophantis officio haec omnia contineri, sapientiam, prudentiam, iustitiam, moralem, domesticam, civilem, ac regiam disciplinam.

Moreover, it belongs to the same one to know how to govern rightly a single human, the family, and the republic. Wherefore he who is moral would likewise be a master, a civil man, and a suitable king. From which it is concluded that in the very office of the philosophizing person all these things are contained: wisdom, prudence, justice, moral, domestic, civil, and royal discipline.

Per sapientiam divina cognoscit, per prudentiam iustitiamque humana gubernat, dum rem suam, rem familiarem, rempublicam administrat. Eiusmodi est philosophi ipsius officium, quod Plato in libris de Republica latius explicat, in hoc significat brevius. Ac primo duas aliorum opiniones circa philosophi officium confutat.

Through wisdom he comes to know the divine things; through prudence and justice he governs human things, while he administers his own concern, the household concern, and the commonwealth. Such is the office of the philosopher himself, which Plato explains more broadly in the books On the Republic, while here he signifies it more briefly. And first he refutes two opinions of others concerning the philosopher’s office.

Prima videtur vel Solonus fuisse vel similis alicuius, dicentis id esse quamplurima disceret: secunda Hippiae sophistae volentis philosophiam artium omnium peritiam esse. His denique confutatis, sententiam quam praediximus, breviter innuit. Socrates ergo fingitur haec in scholis Dionysij, qui grammaticae elementa Platoni tradidit, adversus discipulos duos Dionysij disputasse: deinde quae in scholis tractaverat, in corona familiarium suorum a principio recensere.

The first seems to have been either Solon or someone similar, saying that it is to learn as many things as possible; the second, that of Hippias the sophist, wanting philosophy to be the expertise of all arts. These, finally, having been confuted, he briefly intimates the opinion which we have pre-said. Socrates, therefore, is imagined to have disputed these things in the schools of Dionysius—who handed down the elements of grammar to Plato—against two disciples of Dionysius; then to recount from the beginning, in a circle of his familiars, the things which he had handled in the schools.

Dionysii Grammatici ludum ingressus, iuvenes quosdam conspexi, qui videbantur honesta indole, claris ortos parentibus, cumque iis una eorum etiam familiares. Aderant autem duo quidam adolescenti invicem contendentes, quae vero esset contentio, haud satis adverteram. Veruntamen de Anaxagora vel Oenopide disceptare videbantur, circulos describentes, et quasdam spherae inclinationes depingentes cubito innixi, et intenti admodum.

Having entered the school of Dionysius the Grammarian, I beheld certain youths, who seemed of honorable disposition, sprung from illustrious parents, and together with them also some of their familiars. Moreover there were present two young men, contending with one another; what indeed the contention was, I had not quite noticed. Nevertheless they seemed to be disputing about Anaxagoras or Oenopides, describing circles and depicting certain inclinations of the sphere, leaning on their elbows, and very intent.

Ego autem alterius illorum amicum, iuxta quem sedebam, cubito tangens, interrogavi quid ita contenderent adolescentes, et num magnum quiddam esset, et pulchrum, in quo tantum studium ponerent. Tum ille, quid inquit magnum, et pulchrum? Nugantur enim de sublimibus quaedam et philosophantes garriunt.

I, however, touching with my elbow the friend of one of those men, beside whom I was sitting, asked why the youths were contending so, and whether it was something great and beautiful, in which they were placing so much zeal. Then he: “What,” says he, “great and beautiful? For they trifle about certain sublime matters and, philosophizing, they prattle.”

Huius ego responsum admiratus, o adolescens inquam, an turpe tibi philosophari videtur? curve tam acerbe respondes? Alter vero, iuxta enim adsidebat aemulus quidam istius, cum et me interrogantem, et respondentem illum audisset, Non expedit tibi Socrates, inquit, interrogare hunc, an turpe existimes esse philosophiam, necne.

Admiring this one’s response, I said, O adolescent, does it seem shameful to you to philosophize? Why do you answer so acerbically? But the other—for a certain rival of his was sitting nearby—when he had heard both me questioning and that one answering, said, It is not expedient for you, Socrates, to ask this man whether you deem philosophy shameful or not.

An non vides ipsum in tumiditate quadam, et saturitate atque somnolentia universam aetatem egisse, ut credas aliud quicquam eum tibi responsurum, quam quod turpe sit philosophia? Erat autem iste ex amatoribus in musica eruditus, alter autem quem carpebat, in gymnastica. Videbaturque mihi oportere eum quem prius interrogaveram, missum facere, quod agendo potius, quam disputando exercitatus haberi velle videretur.

Do you not see that he himself has spent his whole life in a certain tumidity, and satiety and somnolence, so that you would expect him to answer you anything other than that philosophy is disgraceful? Now this man was, as one of the lovers, trained in music, but the other, whom he was carping at, in gymnastics. And it seemed to me that the one whom I had first questioned ought to be let go, because he appeared to wish to be considered trained by doing rather than by disputing.

Interrogandum autem censui illum, qui sapientior videri volebat, ut, si quam possem, utilitatem reportarem. Dixi igitur ad eum, me de re communi quaestionem movisse: quod si putas melius hoc te responsurum, illud idem te nunc interrogo, utrum videatur philosophari pulchrum esse, an secus? Haec fere cum diceremus, audierunt adolescentes, atque missa ea quae inter ipsos erat contentione, ad ea quae disserebamus audienda seipsos silentio parabant.

But I judged that he should be questioned who wished to seem wiser, so that, if I could in any way, I might carry back some utility. I said therefore to him that I had set a question in motion about a common affair: and that if you think you will answer this better, I now ask you that same thing, whether it seems that philosophizing is beautiful (noble), or otherwise? As we were saying these things, the adolescents heard, and, letting go the contention which was between themselves, they were preparing themselves in silence to listen to the things we were discoursing.

At amatoribus quid acciderit, nescio. Ipse certe obstupui. Semper enim nova ac pulchra stupesco.

But what has happened to the lovers, I do not know. I myself certainly was stupefied. For I am always stupefied by things new and beautiful.

Videbatur itaque mihi alter me non minus certare, verum enimvero respondit ille mihi, et valde quidem ambitiose. Si quando, o Socrates, philosophari turpe esse ducerem, neque me hominem putarem, neque quemvis alium sic affectum. Innuens autem in aemulum dicebat haec ea voce, ut amici exaudire possent.

It therefore seemed to me that the other was contending with me no less; but indeed he answered me, and very ambitiously at that. If ever, O Socrates, I should deem it shameful to philosophize, I would neither consider myself a human being, nor anyone else thus affected. And indicating toward his rival, he said these things in such a voice that his friends could overhear.

Hic ego, pulchrum igitur tibi philosophari videtur? Et maxime quidem, inquit ille. Quid ergo, inquam, num videtur tibi fieri posse, ut norit quis turpene sit aliquid, an pulchrum, nisi prius quid ipsum sit norit?

Hereupon I: So then, does it seem beautiful to you to philosophize? And most exceedingly, said he. What then, said I, does it seem to you that it could come to pass that anyone should know whether something is base or beautiful, unless first he know what the thing itself is?

Non. Nosti igitur inquam quod est aliquid philosophari? Novi equidem.

No. Do you then know, said I, what it is to philosophize at all? I do indeed.

Quid est? Quid aliud quam iuxta Solonem? Dicebat enim alicubi Solon:

What is it? What else than according to Solon? For Solon said somewhere:

Et mihi quidem videtur semper sic oportere aliquid discere eum hominem, qui philosophus futurus sit, sive iuvenis, sive senex sit, ut in vita quamplurima discat. Atque is primo visus est mihi aliquid dixisse. Deinde mecum reputans, interrogavi, num ei philosophia, idem quod multa discere videretur.

And indeed it seems to me that a man who is going to be a philosopher, whether he be young or old, ought always thus to learn something, so that in life he may learn very many things. And at first he seemed to me to have said something. Then, considering with myself, I asked whether to him philosophy seemed the same thing as to learn many things.

Et ille, omnino inquit. Existimas inquam pulchrum aliquid solum esse philosophiam, vel etiam bonum? Et bonum inquit.

And he said, absolutely. Do you think, said I, that philosophy is something only beautiful, or also good? And good, he said.

Utrum philosophiae id proprium facis, an etiam aliis eodem pacto tribuis: ut verbi gratia, studium gymnasticae, non modo pulchrum esse, sed etiam bonum? Tunc ille ludens duo protulit. Adversus hunc, inquit, dico quod neutrum sit: adversus autem te, o Socrates, et pulchrum et bonum simul esse fateor.

Do you make that proper to philosophy, or do you also assign it in the same manner to others—for example, that the pursuit of gymnastics is not only beautiful but also good? Then he, jesting, brought forward two points. “Against this man,” he says, “I assert that it is neither; but against you, O Socrates, I admit that it is both beautiful and good together.”

Ergo in gymnasiis etiam multum laborem existimas esse gymnasticae studium? Et maxime quidem, inquit ille, quemadmodum in philosophando, multa discere philosophiam puto. Ego vero, credis, inquam, gymnasticae studiosus aliquid aliud appetere, quam ut eorum corpora bene se habeant?

Therefore, in the gymnasia do you think the pursuit of gymnastics also involves much labor? And very much indeed, said he, just as in philosophizing; I think philosophy consists in learning many things. But I—do you suppose, said I, that the devotee of gymnastics seeks anything other than that their bodies be in good condition?

Idipsum inquit. Num multi labores bonam corporis habitudinem efficiunt? Quonam pacto, inquit ille, ex paucis laboribus robustum corpus fieri possit?

The very same, he said. Do many labors bring about a good habitude of the body? In what manner, said he, could a robust body be made from few labors?

Hic mihi visus est gymnasticus ille provocandus esse, qui mihi propter peritiam gymnasticae auxilium ferret. Illum igitur percontatus sum, quid vir optime, isto loquente tu taces? Num et tibi videntur homines e multis potius laboribus, quam temperatis robur acquirere?

Here it seemed to me that that gymnastic man ought to be challenged, who, on account of his expertise in gymnastics, would bring me assistance. Therefore I questioned him: “Well then, best of men, while this one is speaking do you keep silent? Do men seem to you also to acquire robustness from many labors rather than from temperate ones?”

Equidem, o Socrates, ego illud quod dici solet videre videor, nempe ex moderatis corpus bene sese habere. Unde inquam vides? non insomnem potius et nauseabundum virum, cerviceque molli et curis extenuatum reddunt?

Indeed, O Socrates, I seem to see that saying which is commonly said, namely that from moderate exertions the body is in good condition. Whence, I ask, do you see this? Do they not rather render a man sleepless and nauseous, with a soft neck and worn thin by cares?

Et quum haec annuisset, delectati adolescentes riserunt. Alter autem ille erubuit. Tunc ego, quid tu igitur?

And when he had assented to these things, the delighted adolescents laughed. But the other, however, blushed. Then I, what about you, then?

concedisne, nec parvos, neque magnos labores habitudinem bonam corporis efficere, sed moderatos? an nobis qui duo in eadem sententia sumus, repugnas? Libenter equidem, inquit, huic repugnarem, atque adversus eum valerem, id quod proposui, defendere, etiam si causam haberem minus validam.

do you concede that neither small nor great labors produce a good condition of the body, but moderate ones? or do you oppose us two, who are of the same opinion? “willingly indeed,” he said, “I would oppose this, and I would prevail against it, to defend that which I have proposed, even if I had a less valid cause.”

Nullius enim pretii est. Verum tecum haud decet insolentius contendere: confiteor igitur, non multas, sed temperatas exercitationes bonum corporis habitum hominibus praestare. Cibi autem inquam multi, an moderati?

For it is of no value. But it is not seemly to contend with you too insolently: I confess therefore that not many, but tempered exercises provide men a good habit of the body. And as for food, I say, much, or moderate?

Et cibi ait. Praeterea compuli eum, ut concederet reliqua omnia quae circa corpus versantur, temperata quidem prodesse quamplurimum, pauca vero vel nimia nihil. Et ille moderata iuvare confessus est.

And “food,” he said. Moreover, I compelled him to concede that all the remaining things which concern the body, if temperate, profit very greatly, but that the scant or the excessive profit nothing. And he confessed that the moderate help.

At quae ad animam spectant, inquam, cum moderata adhibentur, conducuntne magis an immoderata? Moderata. Disciplinae autem nonne ex iis sunt quae animae adhibentur et conferunt?

But the things that pertain to the soul, I say, when moderate ones are applied, do they conduce more, or the immoderate? The moderate. And the disciplines—are they not among those things which are applied to the soul and confer benefit?

Consensit. Ex disciplinis itaque quae temperata sunt, non quae multae, utilitatem afferunt? Concessit.

He agreed. Therefore, do the disciplines which are moderate, not those which are many, bring utility? He conceded.

Quemnam ergo interrogare merito conveniat, quales sint labores atque cibi corporibus accomodi? In hoc tres arbitror convenimus, medicum videlicet, vel paedotriba interrogandum. Quem vero de spargendis seminibus, quantum sit commodum?

Whom, then, is it deservedly fitting to question as to what kinds of labors and foods are accommodated to bodies? In this I think we three are agreed: namely, that a medic, or a paedotribe, is to be consulted. But whom, rather, about the sowing of seeds, as to how much is suitable?

Agricola consentaneum est. At vero de semente et plantatione disciplinarum in anima, quemnam merito percontemur, quales quantaeve sufficiant? Hic cum ambiguitatis pleni essemus, ego iocans inquam, vultisne postquam nos in hoc ambigui sumus, ab iis adolescentibus isthuc quaeramus?

The farmer is fitting. But indeed, about the sowing and planting of disciplines in the soul, whom should we rightly inquire, what kind and how many would suffice? Here, since we were full of doubt, I, joking, said: do you wish, since we are in doubt about this, that we ask that of those adolescents?

An forsitan erubescimus, quemadmodum procus inducit Homerus, quum nollent alium quenquam praeter se arcum intendere? Sed cum graviter ferre viderentur, alia quaedam via investigare agressus, Qualia inquam, esse debere coniiciemus quae oportet philosophum discere, quum neque omnia, neque multa sequi debeat? Respondens autem sapientior ille, pulcherrimas ait, atque maxime congruas animo disciplinas eas esse, ex quibus maximam quis gloriam in philosophia consequatur: maximam vero gloriam adipisci, si omnium artium peritus sit: aut si minus omnium, plurimarum saltem, earumque praesertim quae aestimatione sunt dignae, ea prae caeteris discens.

Are we perhaps blushing, as Homer brings on the suitors, when they did not wish anyone other than themselves to string the bow? But since they seemed to take it grievously, I, setting out to investigate by some other path, say: What sort, I ask, shall we conjecture those things ought to be which it is fitting for the philosopher to learn, since he ought to pursue neither all things nor many? And the wiser man, replying, says that the most beautiful and the most congruous disciplines for the mind are those from which one attains the greatest glory in philosophy: and that one acquires the greatest glory if he be skilled in all the arts; or if not in all, at least in many, and especially in those which are worthy of estimation, learning these before the others.

quae liberos homines decet, quaeve intelligentiae ratione, non manuum ministerio conficiuntur. Tum ego, sic, inquam, dicis, quemadmodum in opificiis contingit? ubi opificem quidem quinque ad summum, aut sex minis emeres, architectum vero ne drachmarum quidem decem millibus: nam per omnem Graeciam rari admodum reperiuntur: nunquid tale aliquid ais?

which befit free men, and which are accomplished by the reason of intelligence, not by the ministry of the hands. Then I: So, you say, as it happens in the crafts? where you would buy a craftsman (an artificer) for at most five or six minas, but an architect not even for ten thousand drachmas; for throughout all Greece they are found exceedingly rare: do you say something of that sort?

Ille assensus idipsum se dicere confessus est. Eum mox interrogabam, utrum possibile esset, duas eundem duntaxat artes hoc pacto, nedum permultas magnasque, percipere. Et ille, Ne ita me dicere putes, inquit, o Socrates, quasi philosophantem oporteat singulas artes ad summum prosequi, quemadmodum artifices illos: verum ut liberum virum eruditumque decet, ut potis sit percipere quae ab unoquoque artifice proferuntur, atque id prae caeteris qui tum adsunt: praeterea ita mente omnia coniectare, ut semper ipse elegantissimus, ac sapientissimus omnium in unoquoque eorum quod e quocunque adducitur, appareat.

He assented and confessed that he was saying that very thing. I soon asked him whether it were possible that the same man could, in this manner, perceive two arts only, to say nothing of very many and great ones. And he said: “Do not think that I say thus, O Socrates, as if it were necessary for one philosophizing to pursue each single art to the summit, like those artificers; but rather, as befits a free and erudite man, that he be able to perceive what is proffered by each several artificer, and that beyond the rest who are then present; moreover, to conjecture all things with the mind in such a way that he himself always appear the most elegant and the wisest of all, in each of those things which, from whatever quarter, are adduced.”

Atque ego (adhuc enim quorsum tenderet ambigebam) intelligone, inquam, qualem dicis esse virum philosophum? Videris enim mihi talem dicere, quales sunt in certamine pentathli, cursoribus, vel iaculatoribis collati. Etenim illi cursoribus, vel peltastis in eorum certaminibus inferiores sunt, secundumque locum tenent, reliquorum vero athletarum primi atque victores.

And I (for I was still doubting to what goal he was tending), “Do I understand,” I said, “what sort of man you say the philosopher is? For you seem to me to be speaking of the sort that in the contest of the pentathlon, when compared with runners or javelin-throwers, are such as these: for they are inferior to the runners or to the peltasts in their respective contests and hold the second place, but of the remaining athletes they are the first and the victors.”

Tale aliquid forte dicis philosophiae studium conferre philosophis, ut ab iis qui in quavis arte superentur, secundumque locum teneant, reliquos vero antecedant, ut philosophus in singulis facultatibus secundae cuiusdam homo fortis existat. Huiusmodi videris philosophantem virum ostendere. Recte, inquit, o Socrates, accipis de philosopho dicta, qui eum pentathlo comparaveris.

Perhaps you are saying that the study of philosophy confers something of this sort upon philosophers: that they are surpassed by those who excel in any single art, and so hold the second place, yet they outstrip the rest, so that the philosopher in each faculty is a certain second-place sort of able man. You seem to be presenting a philosophizing man of this stamp. Rightly, said he, O Socrates, you take what has been said about the philosopher, since you have compared him to the pentathlete.

Est enim procul dubio talis, ut nulli negotio servire penitus velit, neque in aliqua re, usque ad summum elaborare, ne propter unius exactam diligentiam in aliis omnibus superetur sicuti superantur opifices: sed omnia mediocriter temperateque attingat. Post hanc responsionem cupiens planius nosse quidnam diceret, bonos, inquam, viros, utilesne, an inutiles esse censes? Utiles, inquit, o Socrates.

For he is, beyond doubt, such a one that he wills to serve no business at all, nor to labor in any matter up to the utmost, lest, because of exact diligence in one, he be surpassed in all the others, just as craftsmen are surpassed; but he touches everything moderately and temperately. After this response, wishing to know more plainly what he meant, “Good men,” said I, “do you judge them to be useful, or useless?” “Useful,” he said, O Socrates.

Nonne si boni utiles sunt, inquam, mali inutiles erunt? Consensit. Quid autem philosophos viros utiles vel inutiles putas?

Is it not the case that, if the good are useful, I say, the bad will be useless? He consented. But what about philosophers—do you think the men useful or useless?

Ad haec ille maxime omnium utiles esse philosophos asseveravit. Age igitur, dignoscamus si tu quidem vera dicis, quomodo utiles nobis sunt isti secundae sortis homines? Manifestum enim est, quod unoquoque artifice inferior est philosophus.

To this he averred that philosophers are the most useful of all. Come then, let us discern, if indeed you speak the truth, how those second-rate men are useful to us; for it is manifest that the philosopher is inferior to each craftsman.

Annuit. Age, inquam, si vel tu, vel ex amicis aliquis tibi charissimus aegrotaret, utrum ad curam valetudinis philosophum illum secundarium domum induces, an medicum? Utrunque.

He assented. Come, I say, if either you yourself, or someone from among your friends most dear to you, were ill, would you bring into the house for the care of health that secondary philosopher, or a physician? Both.

Ne mihi dicis, utrunque: sed utrum potius? Nemo, inquit, ambigat, medicum et magis et prius. Quid autem in navi fluctibus agitata, utrum te et tua gubernatori, an philosopho commiteres?

Do not say to me, “both”; but which rather? “Let no one,” he says, “be in doubt: the physician, both preferably and first.” But what about in a ship tossed by waves—would you commit/entrust yourself and your belongings to the helmsman, or to the philosopher?

Gubernatori, inquit. Et in reliquis omnibus quantisper artifex adest, philosopho non erit locus? Apparet, inquit.

To the helmsman, he said. And in all other matters, so long as the artificer is present, will there be no place for the philosopher? It is apparent, he said.

Philosophus nunc igitur inutilis est: quum artifices non desint. Confessi vero sumus bonos viros quidem utiles esse, malos inutiles. Coactus est confiteri.

The philosopher, therefore, is now useless: since artificers are not lacking. Indeed we have confessed that good men are useful, bad men useless. He was compelled to confess.

Quid ergo post haec abs te petam? An forsitan incivilis est, ultra perquirere? Quaere quicquid lubet, inquit.

What, then, after these things, shall I ask from you? Or perhaps it is uncivil to inquire further? Ask whatever you please, he said.

Nihil aliud peto, nisi ut iterum concedantur iam dicta, habent autem in se hunc modum. Confessi sumus philosophiam bonam esse, et extare philosophos, atque eos ipsos bonos, bonos autem utiles, malos contra inutiles. Deinde concessimus, dum artifices adsunt, philosophos inutiles esse, et artifices adesse semper.

I ask nothing else, except that what has already been said be conceded again; moreover, they have in themselves this manner. We have confessed that philosophy is good, and that philosophers exist, and that they themselves are good, and that the good are useful, the bad, on the contrary, useless. Then we have conceded that, while artificers are present, philosophers are useless, and that artificers are always present.

Nonne concessa haec sunt? Sunt. Confitemur igitur, ut videtur secundum tuam orationem, siquidem philosophari est esse scientem in artibus eo pacto, quo tu idem dixisti, malos philosophos esse, et inutiles, quandiu inter homines artes sint.

Are not these things conceded? They are. We confess therefore, as it seems according to your oration, since to philosophize is to be a knower in the arts in the manner in which you yourself said the same, that philosophers are bad and useless, so long as the arts are among men.

Verum non ita habet, o amice. Neque philosophari circa artes studiose versari est, nec multis negotiis incumbere, aut multa perdiscere, sed aliud quiddam: siquidem existimo et absurdum hoc esse, et mechanicos rectius appellari, qui artibus incumbunt. Hoc autem modo planius intelligemus, an vera dicam, necne, si hoc respondeas.

But it is not so, O friend. Nor is philosophizing to be studiously engaged about the arts, nor to apply oneself to many businesses, or to learn many things thoroughly, but some other thing: since indeed I think both that this is absurd, and that those who apply themselves to the arts are more rightly called mechanics. But in this way we shall understand more plainly whether I speak true things or not, if you answer this.

Quinam equos recte domare norunt? utrum qui illos meliores reddunt, an alii? Qui meliores.

Who know how to tame horses rightly? Is it those who make them better, or others? Those who make them better.

Quid autem canes, num qui eos meliores reddere, iidem et recte coërcere norunt? Omnino. Eadem ergo ars, et meliores reddit, et recte coercet?

But what about dogs—do those who know how to render them better, do the same also know how to coerce them rightly? Entirely. Therefore the same art both renders them better and rightly coerces?

Eadem. Quid autem? Utrum quae et meliores facit, et recte coercet, eadem discernit bonos et malos, an alia?

The same. But what then? Does the very same (art) that both makes them better and rightly restrains also discern the good and the bad, or is it another?

Eadem, inquit. Vis igitur, inquam, idem de hominibus constituamus, quae optimos reddat homines, eadem sit, quae et recte cohibet, et qui boni sint, quive mali, discernat? Prorsus, inquit.

The same, he said. Do you wish then, I said, that we constitute the same about men—that that which renders men best be the same as that which also rightly restrains, and discerns who are good and who are bad? Precisely, he said.

Nonne quaecunque unum, eadem et multos: et quae multos, et unum? Ita. Et in equis praeterea caeterisque omnibus eodem modo?

Do not whatever things concern one, the same also concern many; and the things that concern many, concern one? Yes. And in horses, moreover, and in all other things, in the same way?

Eodem, inquit. Qaenam scientia est, quae intemperantes, et legum transgressores in civitate recte punit? nonne iudiciaria?

The same, he said. What science is it that rightly punishes the intemperate and the transgressors of the laws in the state? Is it not the judicial science?

Prorsus. An vocas iustitiam aliam quandam praeter eam? Nullam, inquit.

Absolutely. Do you call justice some other kind besides that? None, he said.

Nonne qua scientia, recte castigant et puniunt, eadem bonos et malos discernunt? Eadem. Quicunque vero unum norit, plures quoque cognoscet?

Is it not by the same science by which they rightly chastise and punish that they also discern the good and the bad? The same. But whoever knows one, will he also know more?

Cognoscet. At qui multos ignorat, ignorabit et unum. Consensit.

He will know. But he who is ignorant of many will be ignorant of the one as well. He consented.

Si ergo equus existens, bonos ac malos equos ignoret, seipsum ignorabit? Consensit. Et si bos cum sit, haud noverit, qui sint boni aut mali boves, sese etiam qualis ipse sit, ignoret necesse est?

If therefore, being a horse, he should be ignorant of good and bad horses, will he be ignorant of himself? He agreed. And if, being an ox, he by no means should know which are good or bad oxen, is it necessary that he also be ignorant of what sort he himself is?

Ita est, inquit. Eodem quoque modo si canis fuerit? Confessus est.

It is so, he said. In the same way also, if it be a dog? He confessed.

Nunc vero cum homo quispiam existens, ignoret bonos homines et malos, nonne sui ipsius etiam ignarus erit, bonusne sit an malus? Adnuit. Seipsum itaque nosse, sapere est?

Now then, when someone, being a man, is ignorant of good men and bad, will he not also be ignorant of himself, whether he is good or bad? He nodded assent. To know oneself, therefore, is to be wise?

Est, inquit. Hoc igitur, ut videtur, et inscriptio quae in Delphis est, praecipit, Prudentiam scilicet et iustitiam colere. Apparet.

It is, he said. Therefore this, as it seems, the inscription which is at Delphi also prescribes, namely, to cultivate Prudence and Justice. It is apparent.

Hac eadem et recte cohibere scimus. Adnuit. Qua ergo recte cohibere scimus, ea utique iustitia est.

These same things too we know how to restrain rightly. He nodded assent. Therefore that by which we know how to restrain rightly is assuredly justice.

Qua vero et nos ipsos, et alios dignoscere possumus, prudentia. Videtur. Eadem igitur est iustitia atque prudentia.

That by which indeed we can distinguish both ourselves and others, is prudence. It seems. Therefore justice and prudence are the same.

Apparet. Quin etiam civitates tunc optime gubernantur, quum iniusti dant poenas. Vera narras.

It is apparent. Nay even, states are then governed best, when the unjust pay penalties. You tell truths.

Atque haec civilis scientia est. Est, inquit. Quid vero quoties vir unus recte civitatem instituit, quod nomen illi conveniet, nonne tyranni et regis?

And this is civil science. It is, he says. But what then—whenever one man rightly institutes a commonwealth, what name will befit him—is it not that of tyrant and of king?

Adnuit. Nonne tyrannica aut regia arte gubernat? Immo.

He nodded. Does he not govern by tyrannical or regal art? Rather.

Haec itaque facultates eaedem cum superioribus sunt. Videntur. Quid vero quum vir unus domum recte disponit, quod huic nomen maxime congruit?

Therefore these faculties are the same as the preceding. They seem so. But what, when a single man rightly arranges the household, what name most fits him?

nonne oeconomus ac dominus? Convenit. Utrum et iste iustitia bene regit familiam, an alia facultate?

is he not an oeconomus and master? Agreed. Does he also govern the household well by justice, or by another faculty?

Iustitia. Idem est igitur, ut apparet, rex, tyrannus, civilis, oeconomus, dominus, prudens, iustus: atque una quoque ars, regia, tyrannica, civilis, dominica, oeconomica, iustitia atque prudentia est. Videtur.

Justice. Therefore, as it appears, the king, the tyrant, the civic man, the oeconomus, the master, the prudent man, and the just man are the same: and likewise there is one art, royal, tyrannical, civic, dominical, oeconomic; it is justice and prudence. It seems.

Quid itaque philosopho viro, quoties medicus de aegrotantibus quicquam dixerit, turpe est non posse dicta illius assequi, aut huc aliquid afferre, quasi aliorum artificium quisquam: cumque aut iudex, aut alius quispiam eorum, quos paulo ante retulimus, non absurdum in iis, nec assequi dicta, neque quicquam conferre posse? Quidni esset absurdum, o Socrates, in tantis rebus nihil habere quod conferas? Utrum igitur inquam, et circa haec philosophum, ut pentathlum esse oportere dicimus, et secundas tenentem inutilem esse, quandiu aliquis illorum est: vel primum quidem ipsum oportere domum suam nulli administrandam praebere, neque secundas in hoc partes tenere, sed ex seipso omnia castigare, recte iudicantem, si quidem familiam suam recte administrare cupiat?

What then—whenever a physician has said anything about the sick—is it disgraceful for the philosopher not to be able to follow that man’s statements, or to bring something to bear here, as though he were someone of another art; and yet, when either a judge, or someone else of those whom we mentioned a little before, speaks, is it not absurd in these matters neither to be able to follow the statements nor to contribute anything? Why would it not be absurd, O Socrates, in affairs so great to have nothing to contribute? Whether then, I say, also in these matters the philosopher—just as we say he ought to be like a pentathlete—is, when holding the second place, useless so long as one of those specialists is present; or rather, that first of all he ought not to offer his own house to be administered by anyone, nor to hold second parts in this, but to set everything right from himself, judging rightly, if indeed he wishes to administer his household rightly?

Assentiebatur ille mihi. Atque ego addidi, Tum si aut amicus huic aliquis vitae suae rationem, aut civitas quicquam discernendum, aut iudicandum committat, num turpe, o amice, sit secundas eum in his tenere, aut tertias, neque ducem potius existere? Ita mihi videtur, inquit.

He agreed with me. And I added, Then if either some friend should entrust to this man the plan of his life, or the city anything to be discerned or judged, would it not be shameful, O friend, for him to hold second place in these matters, or third, and not rather to be the leader? So it seems to me, he said.

Absit igitur, o vir optime, ut philosophari sit plurima discere, artesque tractare. Cum ista dixisset, sapiens quidem ille ex antedictis rubore affectus tacuit. Indoctus autem affirmavit sic esse, et caeteri omnes dicta collaudarunt.

Far be it then, O most excellent man, that to philosophize should be to learn very many things and to handle the arts. When he had said these things, that wise man, affected with blush from what was said before, fell silent. But the unlearned one affirmed that it was so, and all the rest highly commended the words.