Plato · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
LYSIMACHUS: You've now watched the man fight in armor, Nicias and Laches. Melesias here and I didn't tell you at the time why we asked you to watch with us, but we'll tell you now — since we think we ought to speak plainly with you. There are people who laugh at this sort of thing, and if you ask their advice they won't tell you what they actually think, but instead try to guess what you want to hear and say something other than their real opinion. But we took you two along to advise us on this matter precisely because we judged you capable of forming a judgment, and, having formed it, of simply saying what you think.
LYSIMACHUS: So here is the matter I've been making such a long preamble about. We have these two sons here — this one belongs to Melesias, and carries his grandfather's name, Thucydides; and this other one is mine, and he too carries his grandfather's name, my father's — we call him Aristides. Now we've decided we must look after them as carefully as we possibly can, and not do what most people do — once their boys become young men, let them do whatever they like — but instead start right now taking real care of them, as far as we're able. And knowing that you too have sons, we assumed that you, if anyone, would have given thought to how they might be raised to turn out as well as possible. But in case you haven't often turned your mind to this, we want to remind you that it shouldn't be neglected, and to urge you to join us in taking some care for our sons together. You should hear, Nicias and Laches, how we came to this decision, even if it takes a bit longer to tell. Melesias here and I eat our meals together, and our boys join us at table. Now, as I said at the start, we'll speak frankly with you: each of us has many fine deeds of our own father's to tell these young men — all they accomplished in war and in peace, both in managing the affairs of the allies and of this city. But neither of us has any deed of his own to tell. We feel rather ashamed in front of these boys because of this, and we blame our fathers for letting us live soft while we were young men, while they were busy with other people's business. And we point this very thing out to these young men, telling them that if they neglect themselves and don't listen to us, they'll grow up without any name for themselves, but if they take care, they may yet come to deserve the names they carry. They, for their part, say they'll obey. So now we're considering what they should learn or practice to turn out as well as possible. Someone suggested to us this very subject — that it would be a fine thing for a young man to learn to fight in armor. And he praised the man you just watched give his demonstration, and urged us to come see him. So we decided we ought to go watch the man ourselves, and bring you along too, both as fellow spectators and, if you're willing, as advisers and partners in the care of our sons.
LYSIMACHUS: That's what we wanted to share with you. Now it's your turn to advise us — both about this subject, whether you think it should be learned or not, and about anything else, if you have some other course of study or practice to recommend for a young man, and also to say what part you'll take in this partnership. NICIAS: For my part, Lysimachus and Melesias, I approve of your intention and I'm ready to take part — and I think Laches here is too. LACHES: You're right to think so, Nicias. What Lysimachus just said about his own father and Melesias's father seems to me very well put — about them, about us, and indeed about everyone who manages the city's affairs: that this is pretty much what happens to them, just as he says, both concerning their children and everything else — their private affairs get neglected and carelessly handled. That much you put well, Lysimachus. But I'm surprised that you call on us to advise you about the young men's education, and don't call on Socrates here — first because he's a fellow demesman of yours, and second because he's always spending his time wherever there's something of the kind you're looking for, some fine subject of study or practice for the young. LYSIMACHUS: What do you mean, Laches? Has Socrates here taken up some such concern? LACHES: He certainly has, Lysimachus. NICIAS: I could tell you that as well as Laches can — in fact he recently recommended a music teacher for my son, a pupil of Agathocles named Damon, a man of the finest quality — not only in music, but well worth spending time with in every other way, for young men of that age. LYSIMACHUS: Well, Socrates, Nicias, and Laches — people my age don't really know the younger generation anymore, since old age keeps us at home most of the time. But if you, son of Sophroniscus, have any good advice to give your fellow demesman here, you ought to give it. And it's only right that you should — you happen to be a friend of our family from your father's time. Your father and I were always close companions and friends, and he died before we ever had a falling out.
LYSIMACHUS: And just now, hearing these two speak, a memory comes back to me. These young men here, talking with each other at home, often mention Socrates and praise him highly — though I've never asked them whether they meant the son of Sophroniscus. But tell me, boys, is this the Socrates you keep mentioning? BOY: Yes indeed, father, this is him. LYSIMACHUS: Good, by Hera, Socrates — good that you do credit to your father, who was the best of men, especially since from now on what's ours will be at your disposal, and what's yours at ours. LACHES: And what's more, Lysimachus, don't let go of the man. I've seen him elsewhere too, doing credit not only to his father but to his country. He retreated alongside me from Delium, and I tell you, if the others had been willing to be like him, our city would have stood tall and would never have suffered such a fall. LYSIMACHUS: Well, Socrates, that's fine praise indeed — praise you're now receiving from men worth trusting, and on just the matters they're praising you for. So you should know that it makes me glad to hear this, that you have a good reputation, and you should consider me among your warmest well-wishers. You really ought to have come around to see us before now, and thought of us as family, as is only right. But from this day on, now that we've come to know one another, don't do otherwise — associate with us, get to know both us and these younger ones, so that you too may help keep our friendship alive. Well, you'll do that, and we'll remind you of it again ourselves. But about what we started with — what do you say? What's your judgment? Is this subject suitable for the young men to learn, or not — learning to fight in armor? SOCRATES: Well, on that question too, Lysimachus, I'll try to give whatever advice I can, and also to do everything you're asking. But it seems to me only fair that I, being younger than these two and less experienced in the matter, should first hear what they have to say and learn from them — and only if I have something to add beyond what they've said, should I then try to teach and persuade both you and them. Come, Nicias, why doesn't one of you speak? NICIAS: Nothing's stopping me, Socrates. I do think this subject is useful for young men to know, in many ways.
NICIAS: For one thing, it's good that they not spend their free time elsewhere, in the pursuits young men love to fill their leisure with, but in this — which also has the effect of necessarily improving the body, since it's no lesser or easier exercise than any other form of training. And besides, this exercise, like horsemanship, suits a free man especially well; for only those who train with the instruments of war are athletes in the contest we're engaged in and for which we're preparing. Then too, this subject will be of some use in battle itself, when one must fight in formation alongside many others; but its greatest benefit comes when the ranks break up and one must fight alone against one — either attacking someone on the defensive as he pursues, or defending oneself when someone attacks during a retreat. A man who knows this skill couldn't be harmed by a single opponent, and perhaps not even by several, but would have the advantage everywhere in such a case. Moreover, a subject like this stirs a desire for another fine subject as well: anyone who has learned to fight in armor would want to go on and learn about troop formations, and having grasped that and set his ambition on it, he'd press on toward everything concerning generalship. And it's already clear that everything connected with these subjects — all the studies and practices that follow — are fine and well worth a man's learning and practicing, and this subject would lead the way to them. We should add no small addition to this: that this knowledge would make any man considerably bolder and more courageous in war than he would otherwise be on his own. And let's not disdain to mention, even if to some it seems a smaller point, that it also makes a man more graceful just where he most needs to appear graceful — and where, through this very grace, he'll also appear more formidable to his enemies. So, Lysimachus, as I say, it's my view that the young men should be taught this, and I've told you my reasons. But if Laches has something to say against this, I'd be glad to hear it myself. LACHES: Well, Nicias, it's hard to say of any subject of learning that it shouldn't be learned — since knowing everything seems to be a good thing. And so, if this fighting-in-armor is indeed a genuine subject of learning, as its teachers claim and as Nicias describes it, then it should be learned. But if it isn't really a subject of learning at all, and those who promise to teach it are just deceiving people — or if it is a subject of learning, but not a very serious one — then what need would there be to learn it?
LACHES: I say this about it with the following consideration in mind: I think that if there were anything to it, it could not have escaped the notice of the Spartans, who care about nothing else in life except seeking out and practicing whatever will give them an advantage over others in war. And even if it had escaped them, it certainly hasn't escaped the notice of this skill's own teachers — namely, that the Spartans, more than any other Greeks, are devoted to such things, and that anyone honored among them for this would make the most money from everyone else too, just as a tragic poet honored among us would. And that's exactly why anyone who thinks he writes tragedy well doesn't go touring around the outlying towns of Attica putting on shows, but comes straight here and performs for our people — quite reasonably. But as for these men who fight in armor, I notice they treat Sparta as sacred ground they may not so much as set a toe on, and instead go touring all around it, putting on their demonstrations for everyone else instead — especially for people who would themselves admit that many of their own countrymen surpass them in matters of war. Furthermore, Lysimachus, I myself have been present at quite a few of these men's actual performances in real combat, and I've seen what they're like. In fact we can examine this right from the evidence at hand: as if by design, not one man who has made a special study of fighting in armor has ever become distinguished in war. And yet in every other pursuit, the men who become famous come precisely from those who have specially practiced each skill; these men, it seems, have had strikingly bad luck in this one respect compared to everyone else. Take this very Stesilaus, whom you and I watched giving his demonstration before that huge crowd, saying all those grand things about himself — I once saw him elsewhere putting on a demonstration that was genuine, without meaning to be. His ship rammed a merchant vessel he was serving on as a marine, and he fought with a spear fitted with a sickle blade — quite a distinctive weapon, to match how distinctive he was among men. Well, the rest about the man isn't worth telling, but here's how his clever sickle-spear turned out. While he was fighting, it got caught somehow in the ship's rigging and stuck there. Stesilaus pulled and pulled, trying to free it, and couldn't — and meanwhile the ship was sailing right past the other.
LACHES: Well, for a while he ran along the ship's side clinging to the spear. But when the two ships drew apart and the pull of it dragged him along still holding on, he let the spear slide through his hand until he caught hold of the very end of the butt-spike. There was laughter and applause from the crew of the merchant vessel at the figure he cut, and when someone threw a stone that landed at his feet on the deck and he let go of the spear altogether, then even the men on the trireme could no longer contain their laughter, seeing that reaping-hook of a spear dangling from the merchant ship. Now perhaps there's something in it, as Nicias says. But whatever I've come across of it has been of this sort. So, as I said from the start, whether it's a discipline that offers such small benefits, or whether it isn't a discipline at all and people merely claim and pretend that it is, it isn't worth the trouble of learning it. And here's what strikes me: if a coward believed he knew it, he'd only become bolder, and his true nature would show all the more plainly for it; while if a brave man knew it, people would watch him so closely that the smallest slip would bring him great blame — because the pretension to that kind of knowledge invites envy, so that unless a man's excellence is astonishingly far beyond everyone else's, there's no way he could avoid becoming a laughingstock by claiming to have this skill. That, Lysimachus, is the sort of regard I think this discipline deserves. But you should do as I said from the start — don't let Socrates here off the hook, but ask him to tell you what he thinks about the matter before us. LYSIMACHUS: Well, I certainly do ask it of you, Socrates. In fact it seems to me we need someone to settle the matter between these two, so to speak. If the two of them agreed, there'd be less need of that. But as it is, since Laches has taken the opposite side from Nicias, as you see, it would be good to hear from you too which of the two men you side with. SOCRATES: Well now, Lysimachus — whichever opinion the majority of us favor, is that the one you mean to follow? LYSIMACHUS: What else could one do, Socrates? SOCRATES: And would you do the same, Melesias? If you were deliberating about what training your son should undertake for some athletic contest, would you be persuaded by the majority of us, or by whichever one of us happened to have been trained and practiced under a good athletic trainer? MELESIAS: By that one, naturally, Socrates. SOCRATES: So you'd be persuaded by him alone rather than by the four of us together? MELESIAS: Perhaps so. SOCRATES: Because, I take it, what is going to be judged well must be judged by knowledge, not by numbers. MELESIAS: Of course.
SOCRATES: So now too we must first examine this very point — whether any of us has expertise in the thing we're deliberating about, or not. And if one of us does, we should be persuaded by him, though he's only one, and let the rest go; but if none of us does, we should look for someone else. Or do you think it's a small matter that you and Lysimachus are now risking, rather than the greatest possession that happens to belong to you both? For surely, depending on whether your sons turn out good or the opposite, the whole household of the father will be run accordingly, however the children turn out. MELESIAS: True. SOCRATES: So the matter demands a great deal of forethought. MELESIAS: It certainly does. SOCRATES: Well then, how would we go about examining — as I was just saying — if we wanted to find out which of us is the most skilled in athletic contests? Wouldn't it be the one who had learned and practiced it, and for whom there had been good teachers of that very thing? MELESIAS: I think so. SOCRATES: And even before that, shouldn't we ask what exactly this thing is for which we're seeking the teachers? MELESIAS: What do you mean? SOCRATES: Perhaps it will be clearer put this way. It doesn't seem to me that we've agreed from the start on what exactly it is that we're deliberating and inquiring about — which of us is skilled in it and has therefore acquired teachers for it, and which of us hasn't. NICIAS: But Socrates, aren't we examining fighting in arms — whether the young men ought to learn it or not? SOCRATES: Quite so, Nicias. But when someone is considering a medicine for the eyes, whether it should be applied or not, do you think the deliberation at that point concerns the medicine, or the eyes? NICIAS: The eyes. SOCRATES: And likewise when someone considers whether a bit should be put on a horse, and when, he's deliberating then about the horse, not about the bit? NICIAS: True. SOCRATES: So in a word, whenever someone considers something for the sake of something else, the deliberation turns out to concern that other thing for whose sake he was considering it, not the thing he was inquiring about for the sake of that other thing. NICIAS: Necessarily. SOCRATES: So the adviser too must consider whether he is skilled in caring for that very thing for whose sake we are conducting our inquiry. NICIAS: Quite so. SOCRATES: And now, don't we say we're inquiring about a course of study for the sake of the young men's souls? NICIAS: Yes. SOCRATES: Then what we must examine is whether any of us is skilled in the care of the soul and capable of caring for it well, and who has had good teachers of it. LACHES: What, Socrates? Haven't you ever seen people become more skilled at some things without teachers than others with teachers? SOCRATES: I have, Laches — people, that is, whom you yourself wouldn't be willing to trust if they claimed to be good craftsmen, unless they could show you some work of their craft well made, and not just one but several.
LACHES: In that you're right. SOCRATES: So we too, Laches and Nicias, must do the same — since Lysimachus and Melesias have called us in for advice about their two sons, wanting their souls to become as excellent as possible — we must, if we claim to have this ability, show them teachers who made us ourselves good men to begin with, having cared for the souls of many young men, and who then are seen to have taught us as well; or if one of us says he has had no teacher for this, then he must at least be able to name and point to some work of his own — which Athenians or foreigners, slave or free, have become acknowledged good men through him. But if none of this applies to us, we should tell them to look for others, and not risk ruining the sons of friends and thereby earning the gravest blame from those closest to us. Now I, Lysimachus and Melesias, will speak first about myself: I have had no teacher in this matter. And yet I have longed for the thing since I was young. But I haven't been able to pay the fees the sophists ask, who are the only ones who professed to be able to make me a fine and good man; and I myself am still, even now, unable to discover the art. But if Nicias or Laches has discovered it or learned it, I wouldn't be surprised — after all, they're wealthier than I am, so they could have learned from others, and they're older too, so they may already have discovered it. They seem to me capable of educating a person; for they'd never have declared themselves so fearlessly about which pursuits are good or bad for a young man, unless they trusted that they knew enough. Now in other respects I trust them; but that the two of them disagree with one another — that surprised me. So this is what I ask of you in return, Lysimachus: just as Laches urged you a moment ago not to let me go but to keep questioning me, so now I urge you not to let go of Laches or Nicias either, but to keep questioning them, saying that Socrates denies having any understanding of the matter and is not capable of judging which of you speaks the truth — for he has been neither a discoverer nor a student of anyone in such things —
SOCRATES: but you, Laches and Nicias, must each tell us who is the most formidable person you have spent time with concerning the upbringing of the young, and whether you know this through having learned it from someone or through having discovered it yourselves; and if you learned it, who was each one's teacher, and who else practices the same craft as they do, so that, if you have no leisure yourselves because of public affairs, we might go to those men and persuade them, with gifts or favors or both, to look after our children and yours, so that they may not disgrace their ancestors by turning out badly. But if you yourselves have been the discoverers of such a thing, give us some example of others you have already looked after and made good men out of poor ones. For if you're only now going to begin educating for the first time, you should consider that you're not risking the experiment on some worthless Carian, but on your own sons and the sons of your friends, and that quite literally, as the proverb says, you'll find yourselves 'learning pottery on a wine-jar.' So tell us which of these things you claim applies and belongs to you, or which does not. Ask them this, Lysimachus, and don't let the men off. LYSIMACHUS: What Socrates says seems well put to me, gentlemen; but whether you're willing to be questioned about such things and to give an account, you yourselves must decide, Nicias and Laches. As for me and Melesias here, it would clearly please us if you were willing to go through in speech everything Socrates asks. Indeed I began by saying from the start that we called you in for advice for this very reason — because we supposed, reasonably enough, that you had given thought to such matters, especially since your sons are nearly the same age as ours and ready to be educated. So if it makes no difference to you, speak up, and consider the matter jointly with Socrates, giving and receiving an account from one another; for he's right about this too, that we're now deliberating about the greatest of our concerns. But see whether you think it right to proceed this way. NICIAS: Lysimachus, it seems to me you truly know Socrates only by his father's name, and haven't been in his company except when he was a boy, if perhaps you happened to be near him among the members of your deme, following his father, at a temple or some other gathering of the deme. But since he's grown older, you clearly haven't yet encountered the man. LYSIMACHUS: What do you mean particularly, Nicias?
NICIAS: You don't seem to know that whoever comes closest to Socrates in conversation, and draws near him in discussion, is bound — even if he began talking about something quite different at first — to be led around and around by the argument until he finds himself giving an account of himself, of the manner in which he now lives and the way he has lived his past life; and once he has fallen into that, Socrates will not let him go until he has thoroughly and properly tested every bit of it. I myself am used to the man, and I know it's inevitable that one suffers this at his hands, and I know very well too that I myself will suffer it. For I enjoy being near him, Lysimachus, and I think there's nothing bad in being reminded of anything we haven't done or aren't doing well, but that a man who doesn't flee from this, but is willing, in the spirit of Solon, to think it worth learning as long as he lives, and doesn't suppose that old age of itself brings him wisdom, is bound to take more forethought for the rest of his life. So there's nothing unfamiliar or unpleasant to me in being tested by Socrates; indeed I knew pretty much all along that with Socrates present, the discussion wouldn't be about the boys but about ourselves. So, as I say, nothing prevents me, for my part, from spending time with Socrates in whatever way he wishes; but see how Laches here feels about such a thing. LACHES: My feeling about discussions, Nicias, is simple — or if you like, not simple but double; for one might think me both a lover of argument and a hater of argument. Whenever I hear a man discussing virtue, or some kind of wisdom, who is truly a man and worthy of the words he speaks, I take extraordinary pleasure in it, seeing at once how well the speaker and what is spoken suit and harmonize with one another. Such a man seems to me altogether a musician, tuned to the finest harmony — not on a lyre or on instruments of play, but truly attuned in his living, making his own life harmonize with his words in his deeds, in the Dorian mode, as it were, and not the Ionian, nor, I think, the Phrygian or the Lydian either, but that mode which alone is truly Greek. Such a man makes me rejoice when he speaks, and makes anyone think me a lover of argument — so eagerly do I welcome what he says. But the man who does the opposite pains me, and the better he seems to speak, the more it pains me, and in turn it makes me seem a hater of argument.
LACHES: I have no experience of Socrates' words, but earlier, it seems, I had experience of his deeds, and there I found him worthy of fine words and complete frankness. So if this holds true of him as well, I am glad to join with the man, and I would most gladly be examined by someone like that, and I wouldn't mind learning from him—in fact I agree with Solon, adding just one thing: as I grow old I'm willing to be taught many things, but only by good men. Let him grant me this, that the teacher himself be good, so that I don't look like a poor learner, learning unwillingly. But if the teacher happens to be younger, or not yet well known, or has some other such mark against him, none of that troubles me. So to you, Socrates, I offer both to teach and to be examined by you on whatever you like, and to learn in turn whatever I happen to know. That is how I have felt about you ever since that day when you shared danger with me and gave proof of the kind of courage a man ought to give who means to give it honestly. So say whatever you please, and don't let our age hold you back at all. SOCRATES: It seems we won't be able to accuse you two of being unwilling to advise and think this through together. LYSIMACHUS: Well, it is our job now, Socrates—I count you as one of us—so look into it in my place, on behalf of the boys, and find out from these two what we need, and give your advice by talking with them. For my part, because of my age, I already forget most of what I mean to ask, and likewise what I hear; and if other talk comes up in between, I don't remember well at all. So you two speak and go through the matter among yourselves as we proposed; I will listen, and having listened, I'll do together with Melesias here whatever seems best to you as well. SOCRATES: We must obey, Nicias and Laches, Lysimachus and Melesias. Now, as for what we just now set out to examine—who our teachers in this sort of education have been, or whom else we have made better—perhaps it wouldn't be a bad thing to question ourselves about such things too. But I think an inquiry of the following kind comes to the same result, and is perhaps even more fundamental. For if we happen to know about anything at all that its presence in something makes that thing better, and further, if we are able to bring it about that this thing is present in that other thing, then clearly we know the very thing itself about which we would be advisers as to how one might most easily and best acquire it. Perhaps you don't follow what I'm saying; but you'll grasp it more easily this way.
SOCRATES: If we happen to know that the presence of sight in eyes makes those eyes better, and further, that we are able to bring it about that sight is present in eyes, then clearly we know what sight itself actually is, and about that we could be advisers as to how one might most easily and best acquire it. For if we didn't even know this much—what sight is, or what hearing is—we would hardly become advisers worth listening to, or doctors either, about eyes or about ears, as to how one might best acquire hearing or sight. LACHES: What you say is true, Socrates. SOCRATES: Well then, Laches, isn't it exactly for this that these two are now calling us in for advice—in what way virtue, coming to be present in their sons' souls, would make them better? LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: Then mustn't we first have this much in hand—knowing what virtue actually is? For if we didn't know at all what virtue happens to be, in what way could we become advisers to anyone about how he might best acquire it? LACHES: In no way, it seems to me, Socrates. SOCRATES: So we say, Laches, that we know what it is. LACHES: We do say that. SOCRATES: Then what we know, surely we could also say what it is. LACHES: Of course. SOCRATES: Well then, my good man, let's not examine virtue as a whole straight off—that's perhaps too big a job—but let's first look at some part of it, to see whether we're adequately equipped to know it; and that way, presumably, our inquiry will be easier. LACHES: Then let's do it that way, Socrates, as you wish. SOCRATES: So which of the parts of virtue should we choose? Isn't it obvious that it should be the one that the training in arms seems to aim at? And that, in most people's view, is courage. Isn't that so? LACHES: Yes, that certainly does seem to be the view. SOCRATES: Then let's first try to say, Laches, what courage actually is; and after that we'll look at how it might come to be present in the young men, so far as it can come to be present through practices and studies. Come, try to say what I mean: what is courage? LACHES: By Zeus, Socrates, that's not hard to say. If a man is willing to stand in the ranks and fight off the enemy without fleeing, you may be sure he is courageous. SOCRATES: Well said, Laches; but perhaps I am to blame, for not asking clearly, so that you answered not what I had in mind when I asked, but something else. LACHES: What do you mean by that, Socrates?
SOCRATES: I'll explain, if I can. The man you're speaking of is courageous, surely—the one who stands in the ranks and fights the enemy. LACHES: I certainly say so. SOCRATES: So do I. But what about this other man, who fights the enemy while fleeing rather than standing his ground? LACHES: Fleeing—how do you mean? SOCRATES: The way the Scythians are said to fight, no less while fleeing than while pursuing; and Homer somewhere, praising the horses of Aeneas, says they knew how to pursue and to flee, this way and that, swift indeed; and he praised Aeneas himself for this very thing, for his knowledge of fear, calling him a 'deviser of fear.' LACHES: And rightly so, Socrates—he was talking about chariots. And what you're describing about the Scythians applies to horsemen: their cavalry fights that way, while the heavy infantry of the Greeks fights as I described. SOCRATES: Except perhaps the Spartans, Laches. They say that at Plataea, when the Spartans came up against the men with the wicker shields, they were unwilling to stand and fight them, but fled; and then, once the Persian ranks broke apart, the Spartans wheeled around and fought like cavalry, and that is how they won the battle there. LACHES: That's true. SOCRATES: So this is what I meant just now when I said I was to blame for your answering badly, because I asked badly. I wanted to learn from you not only about the courageous men in the infantry, but also those in the cavalry and in every form of warfare; and not only those in war, but also those courageous in dangers at sea, and all who are courageous against disease, against poverty, or in political affairs; and further, not only those courageous against pains or fears, but also those skilled at fighting against desires or pleasures, whether by standing firm or by wheeling around—for there are, I think, Laches, people who are courageous in matters of that sort too. LACHES: Very much so, Socrates. SOCRATES: So all these people are courageous, but some possess their courage in pleasures, some in pains, some in desires, some in fears; while others, I suppose, possess cowardice in these same situations. LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: What, then, is each of these two things? That's what I was asking. So try again to say first what courage is, being the same thing in all these cases—or do you still not follow what I mean? LACHES: Not entirely.
SOCRATES: What I mean is this: it's as if I asked what speed is, this thing that happens to be present in running, in playing the lyre, in speaking, in learning, and in many other things, and that we more or less possess wherever it's worth mentioning, whether in the actions of hands, legs, mouth and voice, or of the mind. Isn't that how you'd put it too? LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: Well then, if someone asked me, 'Socrates, what do you mean by this thing you call speed in all these cases?' I would tell him that I call speed the capacity to accomplish much in a short time—in speech, in running, and in everything else. LACHES: You'd be right to say so. SOCRATES: Then you try too, Laches, to say what courage is in this same way—what single capacity it is that is the same in pleasure and in pain and in all the cases we just mentioned it as being present in, and that is then called courage. LACHES: Well, it seems to me to be a kind of endurance of the soul, if indeed I must say what runs through all cases as the nature of courage. SOCRATES: But we must, if we're going to answer the question put to us. Now this is how it appears to me: not every kind of endurance, I think, appears to you as courage. My reason for thinking so is this: I'm fairly sure, Laches, that you count courage among the very finest things. LACHES: You may be sure it's among the finest of all. SOCRATES: Then isn't endurance joined with wisdom fine and good? LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: But what about endurance joined with folly? Isn't that, on the contrary, harmful and mischievous? LACHES: Yes. SOCRATES: Will you then say that something is fine when it's mischievous and harmful? LACHES: That wouldn't be right, Socrates. SOCRATES: So you won't agree that this kind of endurance is courage, since it isn't fine, while courage is something fine. LACHES: True. SOCRATES: So on your account, wise endurance would be courage. LACHES: It seems so. SOCRATES: Let's see, then—wise about what? About everything, great and small alike? For instance, if someone endures spending money wisely, knowing that by spending he'll gain more, would you call him courageous? LACHES: No, by Zeus, not I.
SOCRATES: But what if, say, a doctor, with his son suffering from pneumonia or someone else in that condition begging to be given something to drink or eat, doesn't give in but holds firm? LACHES: That's not courage either, not in the least. SOCRATES: But take a man enduring in war and willing to fight, reasoning wisely, knowing that others will come to his aid, that he will be fighting against fewer and weaker men than those he has with him, and moreover that he holds the stronger position—would you say this man, enduring with such wisdom and such preparation, is more courageous than the man in the opposing camp who is willing to stand firm and endure? LACHES: The man in the opposing camp, it seems to me, Socrates. SOCRATES: But surely his endurance is less wise than the other man's. LACHES: True. SOCRATES: So you'll say that the man who endures a cavalry battle with knowledge of horsemanship is less courageous than the one without that knowledge. LACHES: It seems so to me. SOCRATES: And likewise the man who endures with skill at the sling or the bow or some other craft. LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: And those who are willing to climb down into a well and dive and endure at that task without being skilled at it, or at some other such thing—you'll say they are more courageous than those who are skilled at it. LACHES: What else could one say, Socrates? SOCRATES: Nothing, if that's really what one thinks. LACHES: Well, I do think it. SOCRATES: And yet surely, Laches, such men take risks and endure less wisely than those who do the same thing with skill. LACHES: So it appears. SOCRATES: But wasn't reckless daring and endurance shown earlier by us to be shameful, and harmful too? LACHES: Quite so. SOCRATES: While courage was agreed to be something fine. LACHES: Yes, it was agreed. SOCRATES: But now, in turn, we're saying that this shameful thing, unwise endurance, is courage. LACHES: We do seem to be saying that. SOCRATES: Do you think we're speaking well, then? LACHES: No, by Zeus, Socrates, not I. SOCRATES: Then it seems, Laches, that you and I aren't in tune with each other in the Dorian mode, as your own words would have it—our deeds don't harmonize with our arguments. In deed, it seems, someone would say we have a share of courage, but in argument, I think, he would not, if he heard us talking as we are now. LACHES: That's very true. SOCRATES: Well then—does it seem right to you that we should be in this condition? LACHES: Not in the least. SOCRATES: Do you want us, then, to obey what we ourselves have said, at least to this extent? LACHES: To what extent, and obey what exactly?
SOCRATES: The argument tells us to hold our ground. So if you're willing, let's stick with the inquiry and hold firm ourselves, so that courage itself doesn't laugh at us for going after it in a cowardly way — in case, as it happens, sheer endurance turns out to be courage after all. LACHES: I'm ready, Socrates, not to give up early. And yet I'm not used to this kind of discussion. Something like a competitive spirit has taken hold of me over what's been said, and I'm honestly annoyed that I can't put into words what I think I understand. I feel sure I grasp what courage is, but somehow it slipped away from me just now, so that I couldn't pin it down in words and say what it is. SOCRATES: Well, my friend, a good hunter has to keep chasing and not let up. LACHES: Absolutely. SOCRATES: Then would you like us to call in Nicias here to join the hunt, in case he's better equipped than we are? LACHES: I would — why not? SOCRATES: Come then, Nicias, lend a hand to friends caught in a storm of argument and stuck, if you have any power to. You can see how stuck we are. But if you tell us what you take courage to be, you'll free us from our difficulty and also nail down in words what you yourself think. NICIAS: Well, Socrates, it seems to me you two have been defining courage badly for some time now. There's something I've heard you say very well before, and you're not using it. SOCRATES: What's that, Nicias? NICIAS: I've often heard you say that each of us is good at the things we're wise about, and bad at the things we're ignorant of. SOCRATES: That's true, by Zeus, Nicias. NICIAS: Then if the courageous person is good, clearly he's wise. SOCRATES: Did you hear that, Laches? LACHES: I did, and I don't much follow what he means. SOCRATES: But I think I follow — it seems to me the man means courage is a kind of wisdom. LACHES: What kind of wisdom, Socrates? SOCRATES: Isn't that just what you're asking him? LACHES: I am. SOCRATES: Go on then, Nicias, tell him what kind of wisdom courage would be, on your account. It's surely not skill at flute-playing. NICIAS: Not at all. SOCRATES: Nor skill at the lyre, either. NICIAS: Certainly not. SOCRATES: Then what is it, and knowledge of what? LACHES: You're asking him exactly the right question, Socrates — let him say what he claims it is.
NICIAS: This one, Laches — the knowledge of what is to be feared and what is to be dared, in war and in everything else. LACHES: What a strange thing to say, Socrates. SOCRATES: What made you say that, Laches? LACHES: What made me? Wisdom is one thing, surely, and courage another. SOCRATES: Well, Nicias doesn't say so. LACHES: No, he doesn't, by Zeus — and that's exactly why he's talking nonsense. SOCRATES: Then let's teach him instead of abusing him. NICIAS: No — I think Laches wants to make me look like I'm talking nonsense too, since he just looked that way himself. LACHES: Quite right, Nicias, and I'll try to prove it — you are talking nonsense. Take doctors, for instance: don't they know what's dangerous in illness? Or do you think the courageous know that? Or do you call doctors courageous? NICIAS: Not in the least. LACHES: Nor farmers either, I imagine. And yet farmers surely know what's dangerous in farming, and every other craftsman knows what's dangerous and what's safe in his own trade — but that doesn't make them any more courageous. SOCRATES: What do you think Laches means, Nicias? He does seem to be saying something. NICIAS: He is saying something, yes, but it isn't true. SOCRATES: How so? NICIAS: Because he thinks doctors know more about the sick than just how to say what's healthy and what's diseased. But that's all they know. Whether being healthy is actually more to be feared for someone than being sick — do you think doctors know that, Laches? Or don't you think that for many people it's better not to recover from an illness than to recover? Tell me this: do you claim it's better for everyone to live, and not better for many to be dead? LACHES: Yes, I think that's so. NICIAS: Then do you think the same things are to be feared by those for whom death is a gain as by those for whom life is? LACHES: No, I don't. NICIAS: And do you grant it to doctors, then, or to any other craftsman, to know this — except to the one who has knowledge of what is and isn't to be feared, whom I call courageous? SOCRATES: Do you follow what he's saying, Laches? LACHES: I do — he means that the courageous are prophets. Who else would know for whom it's better to live or to die? But you, Nicias — do you admit to being a prophet, or neither a prophet nor courageous? NICIAS: What, do you now think it's the prophet's job to know what's to be feared and what's to be dared?
NICIAS: The one I mean, my good man, far more than that. A prophet only needs to recognize the signs of what's coming — whether death or disease or loss of property is in store for someone, or victory or defeat in war or some other contest. But whether it's better for a person to suffer these things or not — how is that any more the prophet's business to judge than anyone else's? LACHES: Well, I don't understand what he's trying to say, Socrates. He doesn't make clear whether he means a prophet or a doctor or anyone else at all as the courageous man — unless he means some god. It looks to me like Nicias won't honestly admit he's saying nothing, but keeps twisting this way and that to hide how stuck he is. And yet you and I could have done the same twisting just now, if we'd wanted to avoid looking like we were contradicting ourselves. If we were in a courtroom, there'd be some point to doing that — but here, in a gathering like this, why would anyone dress himself up with empty words for nothing? SOCRATES: I don't think there's any point either, Laches. But let's watch — maybe Nicias thinks he's saying something, and isn't just talking for the sake of talking. Let's find out more clearly from him what he actually means, and if he turns out to be saying something, we'll agree with him; if not, we'll teach him. LACHES: Then you ask him, Socrates, if you want to find out — I think I've heard enough. SOCRATES: Nothing stops me — the questioning will be on behalf of both of us together. LACHES: Very well. SOCRATES: Tell me then, Nicias — or rather tell us both, since Laches and I are sharing this discussion — do you say courage is knowledge of what is to be feared and what is to be dared? NICIAS: I do. SOCRATES: And that this isn't something every man can grasp, since neither a doctor nor a prophet will know it, nor will he be courageous, unless he acquires this very knowledge in addition — isn't that what you were saying? NICIAS: Yes, that's it. SOCRATES: Then, as the proverb says, no pig could really understand this, nor could a pig become courageous. NICIAS: I don't think so. SOCRATES: Clearly then, Nicias, you don't believe even the Crommyonian sow was courageous. And I say this not as a joke, but because I think anyone who says this must refuse to grant courage to any beast — or else concede that some beast is so wise as to know what few human beings know, because it's hard to know, and that a lion or a leopard or some boar could be said to know it. No — whoever sets down courage the way you do must, to be consistent, say that a lion and a deer and a bull and a monkey are all equally suited by nature for courage.
LACHES: By the gods, well said, Socrates! And now answer us truly, Nicias: do you claim these animals — which all of us agree are courageous — are wiser than we are, or are you bold enough to defy everyone and refuse to even call them courageous? NICIAS: No, Laches, I don't call animals courageous, nor anything else that fails to fear what's dangerous out of sheer stupidity — I call that fearless and foolish. Or do you think I call all children courageous too, who fear nothing because they don't know any better? No — I think fearlessness and courage are not the same thing. Very few people, in my view, have a share of courage combined with foresight, while boldness and daring and fearlessness without foresight belong to a great many — men, women, children, and animals alike. So the things you and most people call courageous, I call reckless — courage, to me, is the intelligent kind of thing I'm talking about. LACHES: Look at him, Socrates, dressing himself up so cleverly, as he thinks, with words — while trying to strip the title of courage from those everyone agrees are courageous! NICIAS: Not from you, Laches — don't worry. I say you are wise, and Lamachus too, if the two of you really are courageous, and plenty of other Athenians besides. LACHES: I won't say anything back to that, though I could — I don't want you calling me a true son of Aexone. SOCRATES: No, don't say it, Laches — and I don't think you've even noticed that he picked up this piece of wisdom from our friend Damon, and Damon spends a great deal of time with Prodicus, who's supposed to be the best of the sophists at drawing these fine distinctions between words. LACHES: Yes, Socrates, that sort of hair-splitting suits a sophist better than a man the city thinks fit to lead it. SOCRATES: It's fitting, I suppose, my good man, that whoever presides over the greatest matters should share in the greatest understanding. But I think Nicias deserves a closer look, to see what exactly he has in mind when he applies the name 'courage' this way. LACHES: Then look into it yourself, Socrates. SOCRATES: That's just what I intend to do, my excellent friend — but don't think I'll let you off from sharing in the discussion. Pay attention and think it through with me. LACHES: So be it, if that's how it must be.
SOCRATES: Well, that's how it must be. Now, Nicias, tell us again from the beginning. You know that at the start of our discussion we were examining courage as a part of virtue? NICIAS: Quite so. SOCRATES: And you answered that it was a part, there being other parts as well, which taken all together are called virtue? NICIAS: Of course. SOCRATES: Do you mean the same things I do by that? I count alongside courage things like moderation and justice and various others of that kind. Don't you? NICIAS: I certainly do. SOCRATES: Good, hold onto that — we agree on it. Now let's look at the matter of what's fearful and what's safe, so that you don't have one thing in mind while we have another. I'll tell you what we think, and if you disagree, you can set us straight. We think that fearful things are the ones that cause dread, and safe things are the ones that don't — and dread is caused not by past or present evils, but by evils expected in the future, since dread is the expectation of a coming evil. Isn't that how it seems to you too, Laches? LACHES: Very much so, Socrates. SOCRATES: So there you have our view, Nicias — that fearful things are future evils, and safe things are things not evil, or good, that lie ahead. Do you describe it this way, or some other way? NICIAS: This way. SOCRATES: And you call knowledge of these things courage? NICIAS: Precisely. SOCRATES: Let's examine a third point now, to see whether it agrees with you and with us. NICIAS: What point is that? SOCRATES: I'll tell you. It seems to me and to Laches here that, wherever there is knowledge of something, it isn't one kind of knowledge that tells how something came about in the past, another that tells how it's coming about now, and yet another for how it might best come about and will come about in the future when it hasn't yet happened — rather it's the very same knowledge throughout. Take health, for instance: for all time, it's medicine alone, one single art, that oversees what's happening, what has happened, and what will happen and how. And farming stands the same way regarding what grows from the earth.
SOCRATES: And surely you'd both testify, from your own experience of war, that generalship is the finest kind of foresight — about the future especially — and that it doesn't think it should serve prophecy but rule it, on the ground that it knows better what's happening and what will happen in war. That's how the law sets it up too: not the prophet ruling the general, but the general ruling the prophet. Shall we say that, Laches? LACHES: We'll say it. SOCRATES: Well then — Nicias, do you agree with us that the same knowledge grasps the same things whether future, present, or past? NICIAS: I do — that's how it seems to me, Socrates. SOCRATES: And courage, my excellent friend, is knowledge of what's fearsome and what's encouraging, as you say — isn't that so? NICIAS: Yes. SOCRATES: And we've agreed that fearsome things are the ones expected to be bad, and encouraging things the ones expected to be good. NICIAS: Certainly. SOCRATES: And the same knowledge covers the same things whether they lie in the future or stand however they stand at any time. NICIAS: That's so. SOCRATES: So courage isn't knowledge only of what's fearsome and encouraging — since it doesn't grasp only future goods and evils, but also present ones, past ones, and things in whatever state they're in, just like the other kinds of knowledge. NICIAS: So it seems. SOCRATES: Then what you've given us, Nicias, is an account of something like a third part of courage — yet we were asking what courage as a whole is. And now, it seems, on your own account, courage turns out to be not just knowledge of the fearsome and the encouraging, but pretty much the knowledge of all goods and evils in every condition — this is what your account now comes to. Is that the shift you're making, or how do you put it, Nicias? NICIAS: That's how it seems to me, Socrates. SOCRATES: Then tell me, my good man — do you think such a person would be missing any part of virtue at all, if he knew all goods, in every way — how they come to be, will come to be, and have come to be — and evils likewise? Do you think this man could be lacking in self-control, or in justice and piety — when it belongs to him alone, among gods and men, to be on guard against what's fearsome and what isn't, and to secure what's good, since he knows how to deal with things rightly? NICIAS: I think you're saying something, Socrates. SOCRATES: Then what you're describing now, Nicias, wouldn't be a part of virtue, but the whole of virtue. NICIAS: So it seems. SOCRATES: And yet we said courage was one part of virtue. NICIAS: We did say that. SOCRATES: But what's being said now doesn't fit that. NICIAS: It doesn't seem to. SOCRATES: So we haven't discovered, Nicias, what courage is. NICIAS: We don't appear to have.
LACHES: And yet, my dear Nicias, I really thought you'd find it — since you looked down on me when I was answering Socrates. I had great hopes you'd track it down with the wisdom you got from Damon. NICIAS: Very good, Laches — you no longer think it matters at all that you yourself just turned out to know nothing about courage, so long as I turn out to be another one just like you. That's all you're looking at, it seems — and it makes no difference to you, apparently, if you and I both know nothing about the very things a man who thinks himself somebody ought to have knowledge of. You really do seem to me to be doing something all too human — not looking at yourself, but at other people. I think what I've said so far about our subject has been said reasonably enough, and if any of it hasn't been said adequately, I'll set it right later, with Damon's help — whom you seem to find so laughable, though you've never even laid eyes on him — and with the help of others too. And once I've established it firmly, I'll teach you as well, without begrudging it — you seem to me to need the lesson quite badly. LACHES: Yes, you're a clever one, Nicias. All the same, I advise our friends Lysimachus and Melesias here to let you and me alone when it comes to the boys' education, and to hold on to Socrates instead, as I said from the start — not to let him go. If my own sons were of age, I'd do the same. NICIAS: On that much I agree too — if Socrates is willing to look after the young men, no one else need be sought. I'd gladly hand Niceratus over to him myself, if he were willing. But whenever I mention it to him, he keeps recommending other people to me and won't take it on himself. See if he'll listen to you any more readily, Lysimachus. LYSIMACHUS: That's only fair, Nicias, since I'd be willing to do a great deal for him that I wouldn't be willing to do for many others. Well, Socrates, what do you say? Will you listen and join us in the effort to make these young men as good as possible? SOCRATES: It would indeed be a strange thing, Lysimachus, to refuse to join anyone in the effort to become as good as possible. Now if in our discussion just now I had turned out to know the answer while these two didn't, it would be fair to call on me especially for this task. But as it is, we all landed in the same perplexity alike — so which of us should any of us prefer?
SOCRATES: For my own part, I don't think any of us should be preferred. But since that's how things stand, consider whether I have any advice worth offering you. I say, gentlemen — and this goes no further — that all of us together ought to seek out the best teacher we can find, first for ourselves, since we need one, and then for the young men too, sparing neither money nor anything else. But I don't advise letting ourselves stay as we are now. And if anyone will laugh at us for thinking it fitting, at our age, to go and sit at a teacher's feet, then I think we should hold up Homer to them, who said that a needy man ought not to let shame stand in his way. So let's not worry about what anyone will say, and instead make it our joint concern to look after ourselves and the young men together. LYSIMACHUS: I like what you say, Socrates. And I'm willing — old as I am, all the more eagerly — to learn along with the young men. But do this for me: come to my house tomorrow morning, and don't do otherwise, so we can deliberate about this very matter. For now, let's break up our gathering. SOCRATES: I'll do that, Lysimachus, and I'll come to you tomorrow, god willing.