Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates, 3rd ed. Volume 2

Remarks. Warfare of Sokrates against the false persuasion of knowledge. Brave generals deliver opinions confidently about courage without knowing what it is.

Here ends the dialogue called Lachês, without any positive result. Nothing is proved except the ignorance of two brave and eminent generals respecting the moral attribute known by the name Courage: which nevertheless they are known to possess, and have the full sentiment and persuasion of knowing perfectly; so that they give confident advice as to the means of imparting it. “I am unaccustomed to debates like these” (says Lachês): “but I am piqued and mortified — because I feel that I know well what Courage is, yet somehow or other I cannot state my own thoughts in words.” Here is a description24 of the intellectual deficiency which Sokrates seeks to render conspicuous to the consciousness, instead of suffering it to remain latent and unknown, as it is in the ordinary mind. Here, as elsewhere, he impugns the false persuasion of knowledge, and the unconscious presumption of estimable men in delivering opinions upon ethical and social subjects, which have become familiar and interwoven with deeply rooted associations, but have never been studied under a master, nor carefully analysed and discussed, nor looked at in their full generality. This is a mental defect which he pronounces to be universal: belonging not less to men of action like Nikias and Lachês, than to Sophists and Rhetors like Protagoras and Gorgias.

No solution given by Plato. Apparent tendency of his mind, in looking for a solution. Intelligence — cannot be understood without reference to some object or end.

Here, as elsewhere, Plato (or the Platonic Sokrates) exposes the faulty solutions of others, but proposes no better solution of his own, and even disclaims all ability to do so. We may nevertheless trace, in the refutation which he gives of the two unsatisfactory explanations, hints guiding the mind into that direction in which Plato looks to supply the deficiency. Thus when Lachês, after having given as his first answer (to the question, What is Courage?) a definition not even formally sufficient, is put by Sokrates upon giving his second answer, — That Courage is intelligent endurance: Sokrates asks him25 — “Yes, intelligent: but intelligent to what end? Do you mean, to all things alike, great as well as little?” We are here reminded that intelligence, simply taken, is altogether undefined; that intelligence must relate to something — and when human conduct is in question, must relate to some end; and that the Something, and the End, to which it relates, must be set forth, before the proposition can be clearly understood.

Object — is supplied in the answer of Nikias. Intelligence — of things terrible and not terrible. Such intelligence is not possessed by professional artists.

Postulate of a Science of Ends, or Teleology, dimly indicated by Plato. The Unknown Wise Man — correlates with the undiscovered Science of Ends.

The ulterior, yet not less important, estimate of the comparative worth of different ends, is reserved for that unknown master whom Nikias himself does not farther specify, and whom Lachês sets aside as nowhere to be found, under the peculiar phrase of “some God”. Subjectively considered, this is an appeal to the judgment of that One Wise Man, often alluded to by Plato as an absent Expert who might be called into court — yet never to be found at the exact moment, nor produced in visible presence: Objectively considered, it is a postulate or divination of some yet undiscovered Teleology or Science of Ends: that Science of the Good, which (as we have already noticed in Alkibiadês II.) Plato pronounces to be the crowning and capital science of all — and without which he there declared, that knowledge on all other topics was useless and even worse than useless.26 The One Wise Man — the Science of Good — are the Subject and Object corresponding to each other, and postulated by Plato. None but the One Wise Man can measure things terrible and not terrible: none else can estimate the good or evil, or the comparative value of two alternative evils, in each individual case. The items here directed to be taken into the calculation, correspond with what is laid down by Sokrates in the Protagoras, not with that laid down in the Gorgias: we find here none of that marked antithesis between pleasure and good — between pain and evil — upon which Sokrates expatiates in the Gorgias.

Perfect condition of the intelligence — is the one sufficient condition of virtue.

This is the doctrine to which the conclusion of the Lachês points, though the question debated is confessedly left without solution. It is a doctrine which seems to have been really maintained by the historical Sokrates, and is often implied in the reasonings of the Platonic Sokrates, but not always nor consistently.

Dramatic contrast between Lachês and Sokrates, as cross-examiners.

APPENDIX.

Ast is the only critic who declares the Lachês not to be Plato’s work (Platon’s Leben und Schr. pp. 451-456). He indeed even finds it difficult to imagine how Schleiermacher can accept it as genuine (p. 454). He justifies this opinion by numerous reasons — pointing out what he thinks glaring defects, absurdity, and bad taste, both in the ratiocination and in the dramatic handling, also dicta alleged to be un-Platonic. Compare Schleiermacher’s Einleitung zum Lachês, p. 324 seq.

I do not concur with Ast in the estimation of those passages which serve as premisses to his conclusion. But even if I admitted his premisses, I still should not admit his conclusion. I should conclude that the dialogue was an inferior work of Plato, but I should conclude nothing beyond. Stallbaum (Prolegg. ad Lachet. p. 29-30, 2nd ed.) and Socher discover “adolescentiæ vestigia” in it, which are not apparent to me.

Socher, Stallbaum, and K. F. Hermann pass lightly over the objections of Ast; and Steinhart (Einleit. p. 355) declares them to be unworthy of a serious answer. For my part, I draw from these dissensions among the Platonic critics a conviction of the uncertain evidence upon which all of them proceed. Each has his own belief as to what Plato must say, ought to say, and could not have said; and each adjudicates thereupon with a degree of confidence which surprises me. The grounds upon which Ast rejects Lachês, Charmidês, and Lysis, though inconclusive, appear to me not more inconclusive than those on which he and other critics reject the Erastæ, Theagês. Hippias Major, Alkibiadês II., &c.

The dates which Stallbaum, Schleiermacher, Socher, and Steinhart assign to the Lachês (about 406-404 B.C.) are in my judgment erroneous. I have already shown my reasons for believing that not one of the Platonic dialogues was composed until after the death of Sokrates. The hypotheses also of Steinhart (p. 357) as to the special purposes of Plato in composing the dialogue are unsupported by any evidence; and are all imagined so as to fit his supposition as to the date. So also Schleiermacher tells us that a portion of the Lachês is intended by Plato as a defence of himself against accusations which had been brought against him, a young man, for impertinence in having attacked Lysias in the Phædrus, and Protagoras in the Protagoras, both of them much older than Plato. But Steinhart justly remarks that this explanation can only be valid if we admit Schleiermacher’s theory that the Phædrus and the Protagoras are earlier compositions than the Lachês, which theory Steinhart and most of the others deny. Steinhart himself adapts his hypotheses to his own idea of the date of the Lachês: and he is open to the same remark as he himself makes upon Schleiermacher.

CHAPTER XIX.

As in Lachês, we have pursued an enquiry into the nature of Courage — so in Charmidês, we find an examination of Temperance, Sobriety, Moderation.1 Both dialogues conclude without providing any tenable explanation. In both there is an abundant introduction — in Charmidês, there is even the bustle of a crowded palæstra, with much dramatic incident — preluding to the substantive discussion. I omit the notice of this dramatic incident, though it is highly interesting to read.

Scene and personages of the dialogue. Crowded palæstra. Emotions of Sokrates.

The two persons with whom Sokrates here carries on the discussion, are Charmides and Kritias; both of whom, as historical persons, were active movers in the oligarchical government of the Thirty, with its numerous enormities. In this dialogue, Charmides appears as a youth just rising into manhood, strikingly beautiful both in face and stature: Kritias his cousin is an accomplished literary man of mature age. The powerful emotion which Sokrates describes himself as experiencing,2 from the sight and close neighbourhood of the beautiful Charmides, is remarkable, as a manifestation of Hellenic sentiment. The same exaltation of the feelings and imagination, which is now produced only by beautiful women, was then excited chiefly by fine youths. Charmides is described by Kritias as exhibiting dispositions at once philosophical and poetical:3 illustrating the affinity of these two intellectual veins, as Plato conceived them. He is also described as eminently temperate and modest:4 from whence the questions of Sokrates take their departure.

Question, What is Temperance? addressed by Sokrates to the temperate Charmides. Answer, It is a kind of sedateness or slowness.

You are said to be temperate, Charmides (says Sokrates). If so, your temperance will surely manifest itself within you in some way, so as to enable you to form and deliver an opinion, What Temperance is. Tell us in plain language what you conceive it to be. Temperance, replies Charmides (after some hesitation),5 consists in doing every thing in an orderly and sedate manner, when we walk in the highway, or talk, or perform other matters in the presence of others. It is, in short, a kind of sedateness or slowness.

But Temperance is a fine or honourable thing, and slowness is, in many or most cases, not fine or honourable, but the contrary. Temperance cannot be slowness.

Sokrates begins his cross-examination upon this answer, in the same manner as he had begun it with Laches in respect to courage. Sokr. — Is not temperance a fine and honourable thing? Does it not partake of the essence and come under the definition, of what is fine or and honourable?6 Char. — Undoubtedly it does. Sokr. — But if we specify in detail our various operations, either of body or mind — such as writing, reading, playing on the harp, boxing, running, jumping, learning, teaching, recollecting, comprehending, deliberating, determining, &c. — we shall find that to do them quickly is more fine and honourable than to do them slowly. Slowness does not, except by accident, belong to the fine and honourable: therefore temperance, which does so belong to it, cannot be a kind of slowness.7

Second answer. Temperance is a variety of the feeling of shame. Refuted by Sokrates.

Charmides next declares Temperance to be a variety of the feeling of shame or modesty. But this (observes Sokrates) will not hold more than the former explanation: since Homer has pronounced shame not to be good, for certain persons and under certain circumstances.8

Third answer. Temperance consists in doing one’s own business. Defended by Kritias. Sokrates pronounces it a riddle, and refutes it. Distinction between making and doing.

“Temperance consists in doing one’s own business.” Here we have a third explanation, proposed by Charmides and presently espoused by Kritias. Sokrates professes not to understand it, and pronounces it to be like a riddle.9 Every tradesman or artisan does the business of others as well as his own. Are we to say for that reason that he is not temperate? I distinguish (says Kritias) between making and doing: the artisan makes for others, but he does not do for others, and often cannot be said to do at all. To do, implies honourable, profitable, good, occupation: this alone is a man’s own business, and this I call temperance. When a man acts so as to harm himself, he does not do his own business.10 The doing of good things, is temperance.11

Fourth answer, by Kritias. Temperance consists in self-knowledge.

Sokr. — Perhaps it is. But does the well-doer always and certainly know that he is doing well? Does the temperate man know his own temperance? Krit. — He certainly must. Indeed I think that the essence of temperance is, Self-knowledge. Know thyself is the precept of the Delphian God, who means thereby the same as if he had said — Be temperate. I now put aside all that I have said before, and take up this new position, That temperance consists in a man’s knowing himself. If you do not admit it, I challenge your cross-examination.12

Questions of Sokrates thereupon. What good does self-knowledge procure for us? What is the object known, in this case? Answer: There is no object of knowledge, distinct from the knowledge itself.

Sokr. — I cannot tell you whether I admit it or not, until I have investigated. You address me as if I professed to know the subject: but it is because I do not know, that I examine, in conjunction with you, each successive answer.13 If temperance consists in knowing, it must be a knowledge of something. Krit. — It is so: it is knowledge of a man’s self. Sokr. — What good does this knowledge procure for us? as medical knowledge procures for us health — architectural knowledge, buildings, &c.? Krit. — It has no object positive result of analogous character: but neither have arithmetic nor geometry. Sokr. — True, but in arithmetic and geometry, we can at least indicate a something known, distinct from the knowledge. Number and proportion are distinct from arithmetic, the science which takes cognizance of them. Now what is that, of which temperance is the knowledge, — distinct from temperance itself? Krit. — It is on this very point that temperance differs from all the other cognitions. Each of the others is knowledge of something different from itself, but not knowledge of itself: while temperance is knowledge of all the other sciences and of itself also.14 Sokr. — If this be so, it will of course be a knowledge of ignorance, as well as a knowledge of knowledge? Krit. — Certainly.

Sokrates doubts the possibility of any knowledge, without a given cognitum as its object. Analogies to prove that knowledge of knowledge is impossible.

Sokr. — According to your explanation, then, it is only the temperate man who knows himself. He alone is able to examine himself, and thus to find out what he really knows and does not know: he alone is able to examine others, and thus to find out what each man knows, or what each man only believes himself to know without really knowing. Temperance, or self-knowledge, is the knowledge what a man knows, and what he does not know.15 Now two questions arise upon this: First, is it possible for a man to know, that he knows what he does know, and that he does not know what he does not know? Next, granting it to be possible, in what way do we gain by it? The first of these two questions involves much difficulty. How can there be any cognition, which is not cognition of a given cognitum, but cognition merely of other cognitions and non-cognitions? There is no vision except of some colour, no audition except of some sound: there can be no vision of visions, or audition of auditions. So likewise, all desire is desire of some pleasure; there is no desire of desires. All volition is volition of some good; there is no volition of volitions: all love applies to something beautiful — there is no love of other loves. The like is true of fear, opinion, &c. It would be singular therefore, if contrary to all these analogies, there were any cognition not of some cognitum, but of itself and other cognitions.16

All knowledge must be relative to some object.

It is of the essence of cognition to be cognition of something, and to have its characteristic property with reference to some correlate.17 What is greater, has its property of being greater in relation to something else, which is less — not in relation to itself. It cannot be greater than itself, for then it would also be less than itself. It cannot include in itself the characteristic property of the correlatum as well as that of the relatum. So too about what is older, younger, heavier, lighter: there is always a something distinct, to which reference is made. Vision does not include in itself both the property of seeing, and that of being seen: the videns is distinct from the visum. A movement implies something else to be moved: a heater something else to be heated.

All properties are relative — every thing in nature has its characteristic property with reference to something else.

This is an embarrassing question, which I do not feel qualified to decide: neither the general question, whether there be any cases of characteristic properties having no reference to any thing beyond themselves, and therefore not relative, but absolute — nor the particular question, whether cognition be one of those cases, implying no separate cognitum, but being itself both relatum and correlatum — cognition of cognition.18

But even if cognition of cognition be possible, I shall not admit it as an explanation of what temperance is, until I have satisfied myself that it is beneficial. For I have a presentiment that temperance must be something beneficial and good.19

Even if cognition of cognition were possible, cognition of non-cognition would be impossible. A man may know what he knows, but he cannot know what he is ignorant of. He knows the fact that he knows: but he does not know how much he knows, and how much he does not know.

Let us concede for the present discussion (continues Sokrates) that cognition of cognition is possible. Still how does this prove that there can be cognition of non-cognition? that a man can know both what he knows and what he does not know? For this is what we declared self-knowledge and temperance to be.20 To have cognition of cognition is one thing: to have cognition of non-cognition is a different thing, not necessarily connected with it. If you have cognition of cognition, you will be enabled to distinguish that which is cognition from that which is not — but no more. Now the knowledge or ignorance of the matter of health is known by medical science: that of justice known by political science. The knowledge of knowledge simply — cognition of cognition — is different from both. The person who possesses this last only, without knowing either medicine or politics, will become aware that he knows something and possesses some sort of knowledge, and will be able to verify so much with regard to others. But what it is that he himself knows, or that others know, he will not thereby be enabled to find out: he will not distinguish whether that which is known belong to physiology or to politics; to do this, special acquirements are needed. You, a temperate man therefore, as such, do not know what you know and what you do not know; you know the bare fact, that you know and that you do not know. You will not be competent to cross-examine any one who professes to know medicine or any other particular subject, so as to ascertain whether the man really possesses what he pretends to possess. There will be no point in common between you and him. You, as a temperate man, possess cognition of cognition, but you do not know any special cognitum: the special man knows his own special cognitum but is a stranger to cognition generally. You cannot question him, nor criticise what he says or performs, in his own specialty — for of that you are ignorant:— no one can do it except some fellow expert. You can ascertain that he possesses some knowledge: but whether he possesses that particular knowledge to which he lays claim, or whether he falsely pretends to it, you cannot ascertain:— since, as a temperate man, you know only cognition and non-cognition generally. To ascertain this point, you must be not only a temperate man, but a man of special cognition besides.21 You can question and test no one, except another temperate man like yourself.

Temperance, therefore, as thus defined, would be of little or no value.

But if this be all that temperance can do, of what use is it to us (continues Sokrates)? It is indeed a great benefit to know how much we know, and how much we do not know: it is also a great benefit to know respecting others, how much they know, and how much they do not know. If thus instructed, we should make fewer mistakes: we should do by ourselves only what we knew how to do, — we should commit to others that which they knew how to do, and which we did not know. But temperance (meaning thereby cognition of cognition and of non-cognition generally) does not confer such instruction, nor have we found any science which does.22 How temperance benefits us, does not yet appear.

But even granting the possibility of that which has just been denied, still Temperance would be of little value. Suppose that all separate work were well performed, by special practitioners, we should not attain our end — Happiness.

But let us even concede — what has been just shown to be impossible — that through temperance we become aware of what we do know and what we do not know. Even upon this hypothesis, it will be of little service to us. We have been too hasty in conceding that it would be a great benefit if each of us did only what he knew, committing to others to do only what they knew. I have an awkward suspicion (continues Sokrates) that after all, this would be no great benefit.23 It is true that upon this hypothesis, all operations in society would be conducted scientifically and skilfully. We should have none but competent pilots, physicians, generals, &c., acting for us, each of them doing the work for which he was fit. The supervision exercised by temperance (in the sense above defined) would guard us against all pretenders. Let us even admit that as to prediction of the future, we should have none but competent and genuine prophets to advise us; charlatans being kept aloof by this same supervision. We should thus have every thing done scientifically and in a workmanlike manner. But should we for that reason do well and be happy? Can that be made out, Kritias?24

Which of the varieties of knowledge contributes most to well-doing or happiness? That by which we know good and evil.

Krit. — You will hardly find the end of well-doing anywhere else, if you deny that it follows on doing scientifically or according to knowledge.25 Sokr. — But according to knowledge, of what? Of leather-cutting, brazen work, wool, wood, &c.? Krit. — No, none of these. Sokr. — Well then, you see, we do not follow out consistently your doctrine — That the happy man is he who lives scientifically, or according to knowledge. For all these men live according to knowledge, and still you do not admit them to be happy. Your definition of happiness applies only to some portion of those who live according to knowledge, but not to all. How are we to distinguish which of them? Suppose a man to know every thing past, present, and future; which among the fractions of such omniscience would contribute most to make him happy? Would they all contribute equally? Krit. — By no means. Sokr. — Which of them then would contribute most? Would it be that by which he knew the art of gaming? Krit. — Certainly not. Sokr. — Or that by which he knew the art of computing? Krit. — No. Sokr. — Or that by which he knew the conditions of health? Krit. — That will suit better. Sokr. — But which of them most of all? Krit. — That by which he knew good and evil.26