Well, my aim, I said, is merely to recall our agreements upon what has been stated. The matter stands somewhat like this. We agreed that philosophy is an honorable thing, and that philosophers are good; and that good men are useful, and wicked men useless: but then again we agreed that philosophers, so long as we have craftsmen, are useless, and that we always do have craftsmen. Has not all this been agreed?

Yes, to be sure, he replied.

Then we agreed, it seems, by your account—if philosophizing means having knowledge of the arts in the way you describe—that philosophers are wicked and useless so long as there are arts among mankind. But I expect they are not so really, my friend, and that philosophizing is not just having a concernment in the arts or spending one’s life in meddlesome stooping and prying and accumulation of learning, but something else; because I imagined that this life was actually a disgrace, and that people who concerned themselves with the arts were called sordid. βάναυσος expresses the peculiar contempt felt by Greek gentlemen for the work of artisans and even artists. Manual labor was the business of slaves and persons who were unfit for military and political life. But we shall know more definitely whether this statement of mine is true, if you will answer me this: What men know how to punish horses rightly? Is it those who make them into the best horses, or some other men?

Those who make them into the best horses.

Or again, is it not the men who know how to make dogs into the best dogs that know also how to punish them rightly?

Yes.

Then it is the same art that makes them into the best dogs and punishes them rightly?

It appears so to me, he replied.

Again, is the art that makes them into the best ones and punishes them rightly the same as that which knows the good and the bad ones, or is it some other?

The same, he said.

Then in the case of men also will you be prepared to agree that the art which makes them into the best men is that which punishes them rightly and distinguishes the good and the bad ones?

Certainly, he said.

And that which does this to one, does it also to many, and that which does it to many, does it also to one?

Yes.

And so it is also with horses and everything else?

I agree.

Then what is the knowledge which rightly punishes the licentious and law-breaking people in our cities? Is it not judicature?

Yes.

And is it any other art than this that you call justice?

No, only this. And that whereby they punish rightly is that whereby they know the good and bad people?

It is.

And whoever knows one will know many also?

Yes.

And whoever does not know many will not know one?

I agree.

Then if one were a horse, and did not know the good and wicked horses, would one not know which sort one was oneself?

I think not.

And if one were an ox and did not know the wicked and good oxen, would one not know which sort one was oneself?

That is so, he said.

And so it would be, if one were a dog?

He agreed.

Well now, when one is a man, and does not know the good and bad men, one surely cannot know whether one is good or wicked oneself, since one is a man also oneself?

He granted this.

And is not knowing oneself being temperate, Cf. Charmides (Introduction and 164) for the connection in thought and language between temperance and self-knowledge. or not being temperate?

Not being temperate.

So knowing oneself is being temperate?

I agree, he said.

So this is the message, it seems, of the Delphic inscription—that one is to practise temperance and justice.

It seems so.

And it is by this same art that we know also how to punish rightly?

Yes.

Then that whereby we know how to punish rightly is justice, and that whereby we know how to distinguish our own and others’ quality is temperance?

It seems so, he said.

Then justice and temperance are the same thing?

Apparently.

And further, it is thus, you know, that cities are well ordered—when the wrongdoers pay the penalty.

That is true, he said.

Hence this is also statecraft.

He concurred.

Again, when one man governs a city rightly, is he not called a despot and king?

I agree.

And he governs by a kingly and despotic art?

That is so.

And these arts are the same as the former?

Apparently. Again, when a man singly governs a house aright, what is he called? Is he not a house-manager and master?

Yes.

Then would he also govern his house well by justice, or by some other art?

By justice.

Hence they are all the same, it seems,—king, despot, statesman, house-manager, master, and the temperate man and the just man; and it is all one art,—the kingly, the despotic, the statesman’s, the master’s, the house-manager’s, and justice and temperance.

It is so, apparently, he said. Then, if it is disgraceful in the philosopher to be unable, when a doctor speaks about the sick, either to follow his remarks or to contribute anything of his own to what is being said or done, and to be in the same case when any other of the craftsmen speaks, is it not disgraceful that he should be unable, when it is a judge or a king or some other of the persons whom we have just instanced, either to follow their words or contribute anything to their business?

It must indeed be disgraceful, Socrates, to have nothing to contribute to subjects of such great importance! Are we then to say, I asked, that in these matters also he is to be an all-round athlete, a second-rate man, taking the second place in all the subjects of this art—he, the philosopher—and is to be useless so long as there is one of these persons; or that, first of all, he is to entrust his own house to nobody else and is not to take the second place in it, but is himself to judge and punish rightly, if his house is to be well managed?

He granted me that it must be so.

Secondly, I presume, whether his friends entrust him with an arbitration, or the state charges him to determine or judge any matter, it is disgraceful for him, my good friend, in such cases, to be found in the second or third place, and not to lead?

I agree.

Hence we see, my excellent sir, that philosophizing is very far from being much learning and that affair of busying oneself with the arts.

On my saying this the cultivated youth was silent, feeling ashamed for what he had said before, while the unlearned one said it was as I stated; and the rest of the company praised the argument.