Plato · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
DEMODOCUS: Socrates, I wanted to have a word with you privately, if you have the time. And even if you're rather busy, do make time for me anyway. SOCRATES: As it happens I'm free anyway, and especially for you. If there's something you want to say, go ahead. DEMODOCUS: Would you like us to step out of the way, over there into the Portico of Zeus the Liberator? SOCRATES: Whatever you think best. DEMODOCUS: Let's go, then. Socrates, I think all growing things are alike in this respect, both the plants that spring from the earth and living creatures in general, including man. With plants, at least, those of us who work the land find it easy enough to do everything that comes before planting, and the planting itself. But once the thing planted is alive, after that the care of what has grown becomes a long, hard, and troublesome business. It seems to me the same holds for human beings, and I judge the rest of the world by my own affairs. This son of mine here — whether we should call it planting or begetting — was the easiest thing in the world for me, but raising him has been difficult, and I'm constantly afraid for him. There would be a great deal to say about it, but what frightens me most right now is his present desire — it isn't an ignoble one, but it's dangerous. He has set his heart, Socrates, so he tells me, on becoming wise. I suspect some of his age-mates and fellow demesmen who go down into the city have been repeating certain talk that unsettles him, talk he has come to admire, and for some time now he has been pestering me, insisting that I look after him and pay money to some sophist who will make him wise. It isn't the money I mind so much — it's that I think he's rushing toward no small danger.
DEMODOCUS: Up to now I've held him back by talking him out of it. But since I can no longer manage that, I think the best course is to give in to him, so that he doesn't go off keeping company with someone without my knowledge and get corrupted. So I've come here for exactly this reason, to find one of these men who have a reputation as sophists and put him in his company. And you've turned up just at the right moment — you're the very person I most wanted to consult before doing anything about this. So if you have any advice to give, based on what you've heard from me, you may give it, and indeed you should. SOCRATES: Well, Demodocus, they do say that advice is a sacred thing. And if any advice is sacred, this kind you're now asking for would be — for there's nothing about which a person could deliberate more godlike than about the upbringing of himself and of those who belong to him. So first let's agree, you and I, on just what we take this thing to be that we're deliberating about, so that it doesn't happen that I understand one thing by it and you another, and then somewhere along in our conversation we notice we've been ridiculous — I giving advice and you receiving it — each of us assuming something different. DEMODOCUS: I think you're right, Socrates, and that's how we should proceed. SOCRATES: And I am right — though not entirely; I want to shift the ground a little. It occurs to me that this young man here may not desire the very thing we assume he desires, but something else, in which case we would be even more absurd, deliberating about some other matter altogether. So it seems to me most correct to begin from this very point, asking him thoroughly just what it is he desires. DEMODOCUS: That does seem the best way, as you say. SOCRATES: Tell me then, what is the young man's good name? What should we call him? DEMODOCUS: His name is Theages, Socrates. SOCRATES: A fine name you've given your son, Demodocus, and a fitting one. Now tell us, Theages — you say you desire to become wise, and you're asking your father here to find you the company of some man who will make you wise? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And by wise, do you mean those who have knowledge — knowledge of whatever it is they're knowledgeable about — or those who don't? THEAGES: Those who have knowledge, I mean. SOCRATES: Well then — didn't your father teach you and have you educated in everything the other sons of fine, upstanding fathers here are educated in — letters, and the lyre, and wrestling, and the rest of athletic training? THEAGES: He did.
SOCRATES: Do you think, then, that some further knowledge is still missing, one your father ought to have taken care of on your behalf? THEAGES: I do. SOCRATES: What is it? Tell us too, so we can help you get it. THEAGES: He knows too, Socrates — I've told him many times — but he says this to you deliberately, as if he didn't know what I desire. He fights me the same way on other things too, and won't put me in anyone's company. SOCRATES: Well, whatever you said to him before was said, so to speak, without witnesses. But now make me a witness, and tell me openly what this wisdom is that you desire. Consider: if you desired the skill by which men pilot ships, and I happened to ask you, 'Theages, what skill are you lacking that makes you blame your father for refusing to put you with people who could make you wise in it?' — what would you have answered me? What would you say it was? Wouldn't it be seamanship? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And if you desired to be wise in the skill by which men drive chariots, and blamed your father for it, and I again asked what this skill was, what would you have said it was? Wouldn't it be charioteering? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And this thing you now happen to desire — does it have no name, or does it have one? THEAGES: I think it has one. SOCRATES: Do you know it without knowing its name, or do you know the name too? THEAGES: I know the name too. SOCRATES: What is it, then? Tell me. THEAGES: What else could anyone call it, Socrates, except wisdom? SOCRATES: But isn't charioteering also a kind of wisdom? Or does it seem like ignorance to you? THEAGES: Not to me. SOCRATES: It's wisdom, then? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And what do we use it for? Isn't it the knowledge by which we know how to control a team of horses? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And isn't seamanship also a wisdom? THEAGES: I think so. SOCRATES: Isn't it the knowledge by which we know how to command ships? THEAGES: That's the one. SOCRATES: And this wisdom you desire — what is it? The knowledge of commanding what? THEAGES: I think — of commanding men. SOCRATES: Sick men, perhaps? THEAGES: No, not that. SOCRATES: That's medicine, isn't it? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: Well, is it the knowledge of commanding singers in choruses? THEAGES: No. SOCRATES: That's music, isn't it? THEAGES: Certainly. SOCRATES: Well, is it the knowledge of commanding those in training? THEAGES: No. SOCRATES: That's gymnastics, isn't it? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: Then commanding people doing what? Try to tell me, the way I've been telling you.
THEAGES: The people in the city, I think. SOCRATES: But aren't the sick also in the city? THEAGES: Yes, but I don't mean only them — I mean the others in the city as well. SOCRATES: Am I catching what skill you mean? You seem to me to be talking not about the knowledge of commanding harvesters, or grape-pickers, or planters, or sowers, or threshers — that's farming, the skill by which we command these people. Right? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: Nor, I take it, the knowledge of commanding all those who saw, drill, plane, and turn wood — you don't mean that either, since that's carpentry. THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: But perhaps you mean the knowledge of commanding all of these — the farmers and carpenters and all craftsmen alike, and private citizens, and women and men together. Is this the wisdom you mean? THEAGES: That's what I've been trying to say all along, Socrates. SOCRATES: Can you tell me, then — did Aegisthus, who killed Agamemnon in Argos, rule over these people you're talking about — craftsmen and private citizens and men and women all together — or over some others? THEAGES: No, over these. SOCRATES: Well then — didn't Peleus son of Aeacus rule over these very same people in Phthia? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And have you heard that Periander son of Cypselus became ruler in Corinth? THEAGES: I have. SOCRATES: Wasn't he ruler over these same people in his own city? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And Archelaus son of Perdiccas, who recently became ruler in Macedonia — don't you think he rules over these same people? THEAGES: I do. SOCRATES: And Hippias son of Peisistratus, who ruled in this city of ours — whom do you think he ruled? Not these same people? THEAGES: Of course he did. SOCRATES: Can you tell me, then, what title Bacis has, and the Sibyl, and our own local prophet Amphilytus? THEAGES: What else could it be, Socrates, but oracle-singers? SOCRATES: Quite right. Now try to answer me in the same way about these others — what title do Hippias and Periander hold, on account of this same kind of rule? THEAGES: I think — tyrants. What else could it be? SOCRATES: So whoever desires to rule over all the people in a city together desires this same rule — the tyrant's rule — and desires to be a tyrant? THEAGES: So it appears. SOCRATES: And isn't this what you say you desire? THEAGES: It seems so, from what I've said.
SOCRATES: You scoundrel! So all this time, desiring to be our tyrant, you've been blaming your father because he wouldn't send you off to some teacher of tyrant-craft? And you, Demodocus — aren't you ashamed, knowing all along what he desires, and having somewhere you could have sent him to become skilled in the very wisdom he wants, and yet you begrudge him it and refuse to send him? But now — you see? — since he's confessed it in my presence, let's take counsel together, you and I, as to whom we might send him to, and through whose company he might become a wise tyrant. DEMODOCUS: Yes, by Zeus, Socrates, let's take counsel indeed — it seems to me this calls for no ordinary deliberation. SOCRATES: Hold on, my good man. Let's question him thoroughly first. DEMODOCUS: Go ahead and question him, then. SOCRATES: Well then, Theages, what if we made some use of Euripides? For Euripides says somewhere — 'tyrants grow wise by keeping company with the wise.' Now if someone asked Euripides, 'Euripides, wise in what do you mean that tyrants become wise through this company?' — it would be like if he had said, 'farmers grow wise by keeping company with the wise,' and we asked, 'wise in what?' What would he have answered us? Nothing but farming matters, surely? THEAGES: Yes, that. SOCRATES: And what if he had said, 'cooks grow wise by keeping company with the wise,' and we asked, 'wise in what?' What would he have answered? Wouldn't it be cooking? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: And what if he had said, 'wrestlers grow wise by keeping company with the wise,' and we asked, 'wise in what?' Wouldn't he have said wrestling? THEAGES: Yes. SOCRATES: But since he said, 'tyrants grow wise by keeping company with the wise,' and we ask, 'wise in what do you mean, Euripides?' — what would he say? What sort of thing would this be? THEAGES: By Zeus, I really don't know. SOCRATES: Would you like me to tell you? THEAGES: If you would. SOCRATES: It's the very thing Anacreon said Callicrite understood. Or don't you know the song? THEAGES: I do. SOCRATES: Well then — is it some such company you desire too, with a man skilled in the same craft as Callicrite, daughter of Cyane, and who understands tyrant-craft, just as the poet said she did — so that you too might become a tyrant over us and over the city? THEAGES: For a while now, Socrates, you've been mocking me and playing games. SOCRATES: What do you mean? Don't you say you desire this very wisdom, by which you would rule over all the citizens? And in doing that, wouldn't you be nothing other than a tyrant?
THEAGES: I suppose I'd wish to be a tyrant—over all mankind if possible, or as many as possible if not. And I imagine you and everyone else would wish the same—or better yet, to become a god. But that isn't what I said I wanted. SOCRATES: Then what exactly is it you do want? Don't you say you want to rule the citizens? THEAGES: Not by force, not the way tyrants do, but with their consent—the way the other men of distinction in the city do. SOCRATES: You mean like Themistocles, Pericles, Cimon, and the others who've turned out skilled in politics? THEAGES: Yes, exactly those men. SOCRATES: Well now, suppose you wanted to become skilled at horsemanship. Whom would you go to, expecting to become a fine rider? Some people other than those skilled with horses? THEAGES: No, certainly not. SOCRATES: But rather to the very people who are skilled at it, who own horses and are constantly using them—their own and other people's, many of them. THEAGES: Obviously. SOCRATES: And what if you wanted to become skilled with the javelin? Wouldn't you expect to become skilled by going to the javelin-throwers, who own javelins and are constantly using them, many of them, their own and other people's? THEAGES: I think so. SOCRATES: Tell me, then—since you want to become skilled in politics, do you think you'll become skilled by going to anyone other than these politicians, men who are themselves skilled in politics and constantly engage with their own city and many others, dealing with Greek cities and foreign ones alike? Or do you think you'll learn what they know by associating with someone else, rather than with them? THEAGES: Well, Socrates, I've heard the things people say you argue—that the sons of these political men are no better than the sons of shoemakers. And it seems to me you're speaking the plain truth, as far as I can tell. So I'd be a fool to think any of them would hand his own wisdom over to me while failing to benefit his own son, if he were able to benefit anyone at all in this regard. SOCRATES: Well then, best of men, what would you do with yourself if, once you had a son, he gave you this kind of trouble—if he said he wanted to become a good painter, and blamed you, his father, for refusing to spend money on him for that very purpose, yet disdained the practitioners of painting themselves and refused to learn from them? Or the same with flute-players, if he wanted to become a flute-player, or with lyre-players? Would you know what to do with him, or where else to send him, if he refused to learn from these people? THEAGES: No, by Zeus, I wouldn't.
SOCRATES: Well then, are you not now doing this very same thing to your own father, and surprised that he's at a loss what to do with you and where to send you? Since among the fine and good men of Athens, whichever one you like, we can arrange for you to study politics with him—he'll spend time with you for free. And at the same time you won't spend any money, and you'll gain a much better reputation among most people than you would keeping company with anyone else. THEAGES: Well, Socrates, aren't you yourself one of the fine and good men? If you're willing to spend time with me, that's enough—I'm not looking for anyone else. SOCRATES: What are you saying, Theages? DEMODOCUS: Socrates, what he says isn't foolish, and at the same time you'd be doing me a favor. I can't think of any greater stroke of luck than this—that he should be pleased with your company and you willing to spend time with him. I'm honestly embarrassed to say how much I want this. But I ask both of you—you to be willing to spend time with him, and you not to seek out anyone else's company but Socrates'. You would free me from a great many fearful worries. As it is, I'm quite afraid he might run into someone else capable of corrupting him. THEAGES: Don't be afraid on my account any longer, father, if you can persuade him to accept my company. DEMODOCUS: Well said. Socrates, the rest of the conversation is now up to you. I'm ready, to put it briefly, to place myself and everything I have as fully at your disposal as possible, for whatever you might need, if you'll welcome Theages here and do him whatever good you can. SOCRATES: Demodocus, I'm not surprised at your earnestness, if you think he could be helped by me more than by anyone—for I don't know what a sensible person could be more earnest about than his own son's becoming as good as possible. But where you got the idea that I could help your son become a good citizen better than you yourself could, and where he got the idea that I could help him more than you yourself could—that I find quite surprising. You, after all, are older than I am, you've already held many offices in Athens, including the highest ones, and you're honored by the Anagyrasian people, your fellow demesmen, above practically anyone, and by the rest of the city no less. Neither of you sees anything like that in me.
SOCRATES: Furthermore, if Theages here looks down on the company of politicians and seeks instead men who profess to be able to educate young people, there's Prodicus of Ceos, Gorgias of Leontini, Polus of Acragas, and many others—so skilled that they go from city to city and persuade the noblest and wealthiest of the young men—who could spend time for free with any citizen they like—to abandon that company and join theirs instead, paying a great deal of money for the privilege, and being grateful besides. It would make sense for your son, and for you yourself, to choose one of these men. It wouldn't make sense to choose me—I know none of these blessed and admirable subjects, though I wish I did. In fact I always say that I know practically nothing, except for one small subject: matters of love. But in that subject I claim to be skilled beyond anyone, past or present. THEAGES: You see, father? Socrates doesn't seem at all willing to spend time with me—though for my part I'm ready, if he's willing—he's just joking with us. Because I know some of my age-mates, and some a bit older, who were worth nothing before spending time with him, but after keeping his company, in a very short time, appeared better than everyone they'd previously been worse than. SOCRATES: Do you know what that is, son of Demodocus? THEAGES: Yes, by Zeus, I do—that if you're willing, I too will be able to become like those men. SOCRATES: No, my good fellow, you're missing what it really is. Let me tell you. There is something that has accompanied me since childhood, by some divine allotment—a divine sign. It's a voice, and whenever it occurs, it always warns me against whatever I'm about to do—it never urges me forward. And if any of my friends consults me and the voice occurs, it does the same thing—it turns him away and won't let him act. And I can offer you witnesses of this. You know Charmides here, the son of Glaucon, the one who became so handsome—he once happened to be telling me he intended to train for the footrace at Nemea, and just as he began saying he meant to train, the voice occurred. I tried to stop him and said, 'While you were speaking, the divine voice occurred to me—don't train.' 'Perhaps,' he said, 'it's telling you I won't win. But even if I'm not going to win, I'll still benefit from training this whole time.'
SOCRATES: Having said this, he trained anyway. It's worth finding out from him what came of that training. And if you like, ask Clitomachus, Timarchus's brother, what Timarchus said to him just as he went off to his death, straight against the divine sign—he and Euathlus the runner, who took Timarchus in when he was fleeing. He'll tell you Timarchus said this to him. THEAGES: What did he say? SOCRATES: 'Clitomachus,' he said, 'I am going now to my death, because I refused to obey Socrates.' Now why did Timarchus say this? I'll explain. When Timarchus and Philemon, son of Philemonides, rose from the drinking party intending to kill Nicias, son of Heroscamander, only the two of them knew of the plot. But as Timarchus rose, he said to me, 'What do you say, Socrates? You all keep drinking—I need to step out for a moment. I'll be back shortly, if things go well.' And the voice occurred to me, and I said to him, 'Don't get up on any account—the usual divine sign has occurred to me.' And he held back. After a while he tried to get up again, and said, 'I'm off now, Socrates.' Again the voice occurred. So again I forced him to hold back. The third time, wanting to slip past me, he got up without saying anything to me, having watched for a moment when my attention was elsewhere—and so he went off, and carried through the act that led to his going to his death. This is why he said to his brother what I've just told you—that he was going to his death because he had disobeyed me. And you'll hear plenty more, about the events in Sicily, of what I used to say about the corruption of the army there. What's past you can hear from those who witnessed it—but you can test the sign right now, to see whether it really means anything. When the fair Sannio was setting out on campaign, the sign occurred to me—and now he's off with Thrasyllus, marching straight for Ephesus and Ionia. So I expect he'll either die, or come close to it, and I'm quite afraid for the rest of the expedition as well. I've told you all this to show that this power of the divine sign extends fully to the interactions of those who spend time with me. For many it opposes outright, and there's no way for them to benefit from being with me—so I simply can't spend time with such people. For many others it doesn't prevent our being together, but they get no benefit from it at all. But those whose company the divine power assists—these are the ones you've noticed; they make progress quickly, right away.
SOCRATES: And of those who do make progress, some retain the benefit firmly and permanently, while many others, for as long as they're with me, make astonishing progress—but as soon as they leave my company, they're no different from anyone else again. This is what once happened to Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, son of the great Aristides. While spending time with me he made enormous progress in a short while. Then he went off on a military campaign and sailed away, and when he came back he found Thucydides, son of Melesias, son of Thucydides, spending time with me. Thucydides had had a rather hostile exchange with me the day before over some argument. So when Aristides saw me, after greeting me and talking of other things, he said, 'Socrates, I hear Thucydides puts on airs with you and gets angry, as if he were somebody.' 'Yes,' I said, 'that's how it is.' 'What, then,' he said, 'doesn't he know what a wretched creature he was before he came to know you?' 'It doesn't seem so, by the gods,' I said. 'But you know,' he said, 'I myself am in a ridiculous state, Socrates.' 'How so?' I said. 'Because,' he said, 'before I sailed away, I was able to converse with anyone at all and hold my own in argument with anybody, so much that I sought out the company of the most refined people—but now it's the opposite: I avoid anyone I notice is well-educated, I'm so ashamed of my own poor state.' 'Did this power desert you suddenly,' I asked, 'or gradually?' 'Gradually,' he said. 'And when it was present in you,' I said, 'did it come to you through learning something from me, or in some other way?' 'I'll tell you, Socrates,' he said, 'something hard to believe, by the gods, but true. I never learned a single thing from you, as you yourself know. But I made progress whenever I was with you, even if I were only in the same house, not the same room—but more so when I was in the same room. And it seemed to me I made far more progress when, being in the same room, I watched you as you spoke, rather than looking elsewhere. And I made the most progress of all, by far, when I sat right beside you, touching you and holding on to you. But now,' he said, 'that whole condition has drained away.' So this, Theages, is the nature of our companionship: if it's pleasing to the god, you'll make great progress, and quickly—if not, you won't. So consider whether it might be safer for you to be educated by one of those men who have the benefit they give to others firmly in their own control, rather than by me, who can only offer whatever happens to come about.
THEAGES: Well, Socrates, here's what I think we should do — let's spend time together and put this divine sign of yours to the test. If it allows it, all the better. But if not, we'll decide on the spot what to do next — whether to keep company with someone else instead, or try to win over the very divine force that comes to you, with prayers and sacrifices and whatever else the seers recommend. DEMODOCUS: Don't argue with the boy about this any further, Socrates — Theages is right. SOCRATES: Well, if you both think this is the way to do it, then let's do it this way.