Very like Ctesippus!

Well, of this at any rate I am certain, that it was neither Euthydemus nor Dionysodorus who said it. Tell me, mysterious Crito, was it some superior power that was there to speak it? For that speech I heard, I am sure.

Yes, I promise you, Socrates: I fancy it was indeed some superior power—very much so. But after that, did you go on looking for a suitable art? Did you find the one which you had as the object of your search, or not?

Find it, my good fellow! No, we were in a most ridiculous state; like children who run after crested larks, we kept on believing each moment we were just going to catch this or that one of the knowledges, while they as often slipped from our grasp. What need to tell you the story at length? When we reached the kingly art, and were examining it to see if we had here what provides and produces happiness, at this point we were involved in a labyrinth: when we supposed we had arrived at the end, we twisted about again and found ourselves practically at the beginning of our search, and just as sorely in want as when we first started on it.

How did this happen to you, Socrates?

I will tell you. We took the view that the statesman’s and the monarch’s arts were one and the same.

Well, what then?

To this art, we thought, generalship and the other arts handed over the management of the productions of their own trades, as this one alone knew how to use them. So it seemed clear to us that this was the one we were seeking, and was the cause of right conduct in the state, and precisely as Aeschylus’ lineCf. Aesch. Seven 2 Whoso at helm of the state keeps watch upon affairs, guiding the tiller without resting his eyelids in sleep. expresses it, is seated alone at the helm of the city, steering the whole, commanding the whole, and making the whole useful.

And surely your notion was a good one, Socrates?

You shall judge of that, Crito, if you care to hear what befell us thereafter. For later on we reconsidered it somewhat in this manner: Look now, does the monarch’s art, that rules over all, produce any effect or not? Certainly it does, of course, we said to one another. Would you not say so too, Crito?

I would.

Then what would you say is its effect? For instance, if I were to ask you whether medicine, in ruling over all that comes under its rule, has any effect to show; would you not say: Yes, health?

I would.

And what about your art of agriculture? In ruling over all that comes under its rule, what effect does it produce? Would you not say that it supplies us with food from the earth?

I would.

And what of the monarch’s art? In ruling over all that comes under its rule, what does it produce? Perhaps you are not quite ready with the answer.

I am not indeed, Socrates.

Nor were we, Crito; yet so much you know, that if this is really the one we are seeking, it must be beneficial.

Certainly.

Then surely it must purvey something good?

Necessarily, Socrates.

And you know we agreed with each other, Cleinias and I, that nothing can be good but some sort of knowledge.

Yes, so you told me.

And it was found that all effects in general that you may ascribe to statesmanship—and a great many of them there must be, presumably, if the citizens are to be made wealthy and free and immune from faction—all these things were neither bad nor good, while this art must make us wise and impart knowledge, if it really was to be the one which benefited us and made us happy.

True: so at all events you agreed then, by your account of the discussion.

Then do you think that kingship makes men wise and good?

Why not, Socrates?

But does it make all men good, and in all things? And is this the art that confers every sort of knowledge—shoe-making and carpentry and so forth?

No, I think not, Socrates.

Well, what knowledge does it give ? What use can we make of it? It is not to be a producer of any of the effects which are neither bad nor good, while it is to confer no other knowledge but itself. Shall we try and say what it is, and what use we shall make of it? Do you mind if we describe it, Crito, as that whereby we shall make other men good?

I quite agree.

And in what respect are we going to have these men good, and in what useful? Or shall we venture to say they are to make others so, and these again others? In what respect they can possibly be good is nowhere evident to us, since we have discredited all the business commonly called politics, and it is merely a case of the proverbial Corinthus DivineCf. Pind. N. 7. Megara, a colony of Corinth, revolted, and when the Corinthians appealed to the sentiment attaching to Corinthus, the mythical founder of Megara, the Megarians drove them off taunting them with using a vain repetition.; and, as I was saying, we are equally or even worse at fault as to what that knowledge can be which is to make us happy.

Upon my word, Socrates, you got yourselves there, it seems, into a pretty fix.

So then I myself, Crito, finding I had fallen into this perplexity, began to exclaim at the top of my voice, beseeching the two strangers as though I were calling upon the Heavenly Twins to save us, the lad and myself, from the mighty waveLit. the big wave that comes in every three. of the argument, and to give us the best of their efforts, and this done, to make plain to us what that knowledge can be of which we must get hold if we are to spend the remainder of our lives in a proper way

Well, did Euthydemus consent to propound anything for you?

Why, certainly; and he began his discourse, my good friend, in this very lofty-minded fashion: Would you rather, Socrates, that I instructed you as to this knowledge which has baffled you all this while, or propound that you have it? O gifted sir, I exclaimed, and have you the power to do this? Certainly I have, he replied. Then for Heaven’s sake, I cried, propound that I have it! This will be much easier than learning foraman of my age. Come then, answer me this, he said: Do you know anything? Yes, indeed, I replied. and many things, though trifles. That is enough, he said; now do you think it possible that anything that is should not be just that which it actually is? On my soul, not I. Now you, he said, know something? I do. Then you are knowing, if you really know? Certainly, in just that something. That makes no difference; you are not under a necessity of knowing everything, if you are knowing? No, to be sure, I replied; for there are many other things which I do not know. Then if you do not know something, you are not knowing? Not in that thing, my dear sir, I replied. Are you therefore any the less unknowing? Just now you said you were knowing; so here you are, actually the very man that you are, and again, not that man, in regard to the same matter and at the same time! Admitted, Euthydemus, I said: as the saying goes, well said whate’er you say. How therefore do I know that knowledge which we were seeking? Since forsooth it is impossible for the same thing to be so and not be so; by knowing one thing I know all;—for I could not be at once both knowing and unknowing;—and as I know everything I have that knowledge to boot: is that your line of argument? Is this your wisdom? Yes, you see, Socrates, he said, your own words refute you. Well, but, Euthydemus, I continued, are you not in the same plight? I assure you, so long as I had you and this dear fellow Dionysodorus to share my lot, however hard, I should have nothing to complain of. Tell me, you both know some existent things, of course, and others you do not? By no means, Socrates, said Dionysodorus. How do you mean? I asked: do you then not know anything? Oh yes, we do, he said.

So you know everything, I asked, since you know anything? Everything, he replied; yes, and you too, if you know one thing, know all. Good Heavens, I cried, what a wonderful statement! What a great blessing to boast of! And the rest of mankind, do they know everything or nothing? Surely, he said, they cannot know some things and not others, and so be at once knowing and unknowing. But what then? I asked. All men, he replied, know all things, if they know one. In the name of goodness, Dionysodorus, I said—for now I can see both of you are serious; before, I could hardly prevail on you to be so—do you yourselves really know everything? Carpentry, for instance, and shoe-making? Certainly, he said. And you are good hands at leather-stitching? Why yes, in faith, and cobbling, he said. And are you good also at such things as counting the stars, and the sand? Certainly, he said: can you think we would not admit that also? Here Ctesippus broke in: Be so good, Dionysodorus, he said, as to place some such evidence before me as will convince me that what you say is true. What shall I put forward? he asked. Do you know how many teeth Euthydemus has, and does Euthydemus know how many you have? Are you not content, he rejoined, to be told that we know everything? No, do not say that, he replied: only tell us this one thing more, and propound to us that you speak the truth. Then, if you tell us how many teeth each of you has, and you are found by our counting to have known it, we shall believe you thenceforth in everything else likewise. Well, as they supposed we were making fun of them, they would not do it: only they agreed that they knew all subjects, when questioned on them, one after the other, by Ctesippus; who, before he had done with them, asked them if they knew every kind of thing, even the most unseemly, without the least reserve; while they most valiantly encountered his questions, agreeing that they had the knowledge in each case, like boars when driven up to face the spears: so that I for my part, Crito, became quite incredulous,and had to ask in the end if Dionysodorus knew also how to dance. To which he replied: Certainly. I do not suppose, I said, that you have attained such a degree of skill as to do sword-dancing, or be whirled about on a wheel, at your time of life? There is nothing, he said, that I cannot do. Then tell me, I went on, do you know everything at present only, or for ever? For ever too, he said. And when you were children, and were just born, you knew? Everything, they both replied together.

Now, to us the thing seemed incredible: then Euthydemus said: You do not believe it, Socrates? I will only say, I replied, that you must indeed be clever. Why, he said, if you will consent to answer me, I will propound that you too admit these surprising facts. Oh, I am only too glad, I replied, to be refuted in the matter. For if I am not aware of my own cleverness, and you are going to show me that I know everything always, what greater stroke of luck than this could befall me in all my living days? Then answer me, he said. Ask: I am ready to answer. Well then, Socrates, he asked, have you knowledge of something, or not? I have. And tell me, do you know with that whereby you have knowledge, or with something else? With that whereby I have knowledge: I think you mean the soul, or is not that your meaning? Are you not ashamed, Socrates, he said, to ask a question on your side when you are being questioned? Very well, I said: but how am I to proceed? I will do just as you bid me. When I cannot tell what you are asking, is it your order that I answer all the same, without asking a question upon it? Why, he replied, you surely conceive some meaning in what I say? I do, I replied. Answer then to the meaning you conceive to be in my words. Well, I said, if you ask a question with a different meaning in your mind from that which I conceive, and I answer to the latter, are you content I should answer nothing to the point? For my part, he replied, I shall be content: you, however, will not, so far as I can see. Then I declare I shall not answer, I said, before I get it right. You refuse to answer, he said, to the meaning you conceive in each case, because you will go on driveling, you hopeless old dotard! Here I perceived he was annoyed with me for distinguishing between the phrases used, when he wanted to entrap me in his verbal snares. So I remembered Connus, how he too is annoyed with me whenever I do not give in to him, with the result that he now takes less trouble over me as being a stupid person. So being minded to take lessons from this new teacher, I decided that I had better give in, lest he should take me for a blockhead and not admit me to his classes. So I said: Well, if you think fit, Euthydemus, to proceed thus, we must do so; in any case I suppose you understand debating better than I do—you are versed in the method, and I am but a layman. Begin your questions, then, over again. Now, answer me once more, he said: do you know what you know by means of something, or not? I do, I replied; by means of my soul.