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

This is among the dialogues declared by Schleiermacher, Ast, Stallbaum, and various other modern critics, to be spurious and unworthy of Plato: the production of one who was not merely an imitator, but a bad and silly imitator.1 Socher on the other hand defends the dialogue against them, reckoning it as a juvenile production of Plato.2 The arguments which are adduced to prove its spuriousness appear to me altogether insufficient. It has some features of dissimilarity with that which we read in other dialogues — these the above-mentioned critics call un-Platonic: it has other features of similarity — these they call bad imitation by a falsarius: lastly, it is inferior, as a performance, to the best of the Platonic dialogues. But I am prepared to expect (and have even the authority of Schleiermacher for expecting) that some dialogues will be inferior to others. I also reckon with certainty, that between two dialogues, both genuine, there will be points of similarity as well as points of dissimilarity. Lastly, the critics find marks of a bad, recent, un-Platonic style: but Dionysius of Halikarnassus — a judge at least equally competent upon such a matter — found no such marks. He expressly cites the dialogue as the work of Plato,3 and explains the peculiar phraseology assigned to Demodokus by remarking, that the latter is presented as a person of rural habits and occupations.

Demodokus, an elderly man (of rank and landed property), and his youthful son Theagês, have come from their Deme to Athens, and enter into conversation with Sokrates: to whom the father explains, that Theagês has contracted, from the conversation of youthful companions, an extraordinary ardour for the acquisition of wisdom. The son has importuned his father to put him under the tuition of one of the Sophists, who profess to teach wisdom. The father, though not unwilling to comply with the request, is deterred by the difficulty of finding a good teacher and avoiding a bad one. He entreats the advice of Sokrates, who invites the young man to explain what it is that he wants, over and above the usual education of an Athenian youth of good family (letters, the harp, wrestling, &c.), which he has already gone through.4

Sokr. — You desire wisdom: but what kind of wisdom? That by which men manage chariots? or govern horses? or pilot ships? Theag. — No: that by which men are governed. Sokr. — But what men? those in a state of sickness — or those who are singing in a chorus — or those who are under gymnastic training? Each of these classes has its own governor, who bears a special title, and belongs to a special art by itself — the medical, musical, gymnastic, &c. Theag. — No: I mean that wisdom by which we govern, not these classes alone, but all the other residents in the city along with them — professional as well as private — men as well as women.5

Sokrates now proves to Theagês, that this function and power which he is desirous of obtaining, is, the function and power of a despot: and that no one can aid him in so culpable a project. I might yearn (says Theagês) for such despotic power over all: so probably would you and every other man. But it is not that to which I now aspire. I aspire to govern freemen, with their own consent; as was done by Themistokles, Perikles, Kimon, and other illustrious statesmen,6 who have been accomplished in the political art.

Sokr. — Well, if you wished to become accomplished in the art of horsemanship, you would put yourself under able horsemen: if in the art of darting the javelin, under able darters. By parity of reasoning, since you seek to learn the art of statesmanship, you must frequent able statesmen.7

Theag. — No, Sokrates. I have heard of the language which you are in the habit of using to others. You pointed out to them that these eminent statesmen cannot train their own sons to be at all better than curriers: of course therefore they cannot do me any good.8 Sokr. — But what can your father do for you better than this, Theagês? What ground have you for complaining of him? He is prepared to place you under any one of the best and most excellent men of Athens, whichever of them you prefer. Theag. — Why will not you take me yourself, Sokrates? I look upon you as one of these men, and I desire nothing better.9

Demodokus joins his entreaties with those of Theagês to prevail upon Sokrates to undertake this function. But Sokrates in reply says that he is less fit for it than Demodokus himself, who has exercised high political duties, with the esteem of every one; and that if practical statesmen are considered unfit, there are the professional Sophists, Prodikus, Gorgias, Polus, who teach many pupils, and earn not merely good pay, but also the admiration and gratitude of every one — of the pupils as well as their senior relatives.10

Sokr. — I know nothing of the fine things which these Sophists teach: I wish I did know. I declare everywhere, that I know nothing whatever except one small matter — what belongs to love. In that, I surpass every one else, past as well as present.11 Theag. — Sokrates is only mocking us. I know youths (of my own age and somewhat older), who were altogether worthless and inferior to every one, before they went to him; but who, after they had frequented his society, became in a short time superior to all their former rivals. The like will happen with me, if he will only consent to receive me.12

Sokr. — You do not know how this happens; I will explain it to you. From my childhood, I have had a peculiar superhuman something attached to me by divine appointment: a voice, which, whenever it occurs, warns me to abstain from that which I am about to do, but never impels me.13 Moreover, when any one of my friends mentions to me what he is about to do, if the voice shall then occur to me it is a warning for him to abstain. The examples of Charmides and Timarchus (here detailed by Sokrates) prove what I say: and many persons will tell you how truly I forewarned them of the ruin of the Athenian armament at Syracuse.14 My young friend Sannion is now absent, serving on the expedition under Thrasyllus to Ionia: on his departure, the divine sign manifested itself to me, and I am persuaded that some grave calamity will befall him.

The Dæmon is favourable to some persons, adverse to others. Upon this circumstance it depends how far any companion profits by the society of Sokrates. Aristeides has not learnt anything from Sokrates, yet has improved much by being near to him.

These facts I mention to you (Sokrates continues) because it is that same divine power which exercises paramount influence over my intercourse with companions.15 Towards many, it is positively adverse; so that I cannot even enter into companionship with them. Towards others, it does not forbid, yet neither does it co-operate: so that they derive no benefit from me. There are others again in whose case it co-operates; these are the persons to whom you allude, who make rapid progress.16 With some, such improvement is lasting: others, though they improve wonderfully while in my society, yet relapse into commonplace men when they leave me. Aristeides, for example (grandson of Aristeides the Just), was one of those who made rapid progress while he was with me. But he was forced to absent himself on military service; and on returning, he found as my companion Thucydides (son of Melesias), who however had quarrelled with me for some debate of the day before. I understand (said Aristeides to me) that Thucydides has taken offence and gives himself airs; he forgets what a poor creature he was, before he came to you.17 I myself, too, have fallen into a despicable condition. When I left you, I was competent to discuss with any one and make a good figure, so that I courted debate with the most accomplished men. Now, on the contrary, I avoid them altogether — so thoroughly am I ashamed of my own incapacity. Did the capacity (I, Sokrates, asked Aristeides) forsake you all at once, or little by little? Little by little, he replied.

And when you possessed it (I asked), did you get it by learning from me? or in what other way? I will tell you, Sokrates (he answered), what seems incredible, yet is nevertheless true.18 I never learnt from you any thing at all. You yourself well know this. But I always made progress, whenever I was along with you, even if I were only in the same house without being in the same room; but I made greater progress, if I was in the same room — greater still, if I looked in your face, instead of turning my eyes elsewhere — and the greatest of all, by far, if I sat close and touching you. But now (continued Aristeides) all that I then acquired has dribbled out of me.19