No More Learning

ther I must grant him Quarter for what he ad vanced at first, for he said that of the five Parts of Virtue there is not one that resembles another, and that they had each of them their own Qualities and a differentCharacter. Iwillnotinsistupon that, but let him prove what he said afterwards, that of those five Parts there were four which had some resemblance to each other, and one which was altogether different from the other four, that is to fay valour.
He added, that I should know thisTruth by this evident Mark, that is, said he, Socrates, that you shall see Men who are very Imperious, unjust, De-
bauch'd and Ignorant, and yet have a heroick Va lour5 and you will understand by that, that Valour is extreamly different from the other parts of Vir tue.
IconfessthatatfirstIwasverymuch supriz'dat this Answer, and my Surprize hath been greater sinceIexamin'dtheThingwithyou. Iask'dhim if he did not call bold and resolute Men, Valiant ? HetoldmethathegavethatNametothosebold Spirits who run headlong into danger j for you re memberitverywell, Protagoras,thatwastheAn swer you made me.
I do remember it, said he.
Tell us then wherein are the Valiant bold, is it in Things that the Timorous undertake ?
No, withoutdoubt.
Isitinothers? InthosethattheBraveunder take?
Assuredly.
Don't Cowards run on upon those Things that seem to be safe, and the Valiant upon those that seem to be terrible?
So People say, Socrates, answered Protagoras. You saytrue,Protagoras? ,butthat'snotwhatI
askyou,IwouldknowyourSentiment. Wherein do you fay are the Valiant bold ? Is it in Things that are terrible, and that they themselves find so ?
? Don't
? ? Protagoras: Or, The Sophists: jip
Don't you remember, Socrates, that you haveFor*>>k* p l a i n l y m a d e it a p p e a r a l r e a d y t h a t t h a t w a s i m p o f m f e * " ^
sible- rZort You are in the right, Protagoras, I had forgot it. theexpetta-
Then it isa Thing demonstrated, that no Body runs"'<>'*>>/'<>>* upon Things that he finds to be terrible, because itE? j> ani
is most certainly an Ignorance to suffer one's self to *? ? "ZmS be overcome by Passions. voluntarily 'Tisagreed to. *<<&*&
But on the other fide, both the one and the other, * the Brave and the Coward run upon Things that seem to be safe and without danger, and by that means the Cowards undertake the fame Things as
the Brave.
There is a great Difference, Socrates h the C o w
ards do the quite contrary to what the Brave do 5 without going further, the one seeks War and the other flies from it- *,
ButdotheyfindittobeafinethingtogotoWar ? Yes, certainly, most fine.
If it be fine it is also good, for w e have agreed
that all Actions that are fine are good.
That is most true, said he to me, and I have al
ways been of that Sentiment.
Iam very glad of it. But who are those then
who will not go to the War which they find to be so fine and so good ?
They areCowards, saidhe.
*'TisaneceflaryConsequenceofwhat Tntagoras justnow consess'd. That the Brave don't run upon terrible Things be cause it is an Evil. Then they run upoa Things that are safe,andthatappeartobewithoutdanger. ;andbyconse quence they do the same thing as the Cowards, and they tend to the fame Mark : That is certain; but here's the difference between the Cowards and the brave Men, that the brave MenactingalwaysbyKnowledge,areneverdeceiv'dinthe- Side they chuse ; for they certainly know what is terrible andwhatisnot. WhereastheCowardsactingbyIgnorance, and fixing safety where danger' is, and danger where safety is,arealwaysdeceiv'd. How manygreatTruthsareclear edby thisPrinciple!
. ? In
? ? 3io Protagoras: Or, The Sophists.
Inthemeantime,saidI,togotoWarisafine and a good thing : Is it not also agreeable ?
It is a sequel of the Principles which we have agreed to?
fheydon't Do theCowardsrefusetogotothatwhichis know it, fjnerj better and more agreeable although they
tTinZ kn0Wkt0feWhatkiS?
stance?
But Socrates, if we should confess that, then we overthrow all our first Principles.
How, fayI,doesnotthebraverunuponallthat he thinks to be the finest, the best, and the most agreeable ?
It can't be denied.
TheSraye - Then it is evident that the Brave have not a star when shameful Fear when they fear, nor a shameful As-
cmflmU surancewhentheyarefirrnanaassure(i> fearbut ,_. '
not other- wist.
MdFoois
fearunfia-Quitecontrary? HavetheynotunworthyFearsand fondly, shamefulAssurances?
^ *r>>st I confess it.
fameman- ^nc*^xomwnencecomethoseunworthyFearsand ? fr. aa~shamefulAssurances? IsitnotfromIgnorance1?
That isqertain.
But, what do you call that which makes Cow ards,Cowards? Do youcallitValourorCowardise?
IcallitCowardise, withoutdoubt.
Then the Cowards appear to you to be so,- be cause of their Ignorance of sensible Things ?
Most assuredly.
Then 'tisthatIgnorancewhich makes them Cow ards?
I agree to it.
You have agreed that 'tisCowardise that makes Cowards.
TlS ttUe.
If they are not shameful, then they are fine and
honest ; Is it not so ? A n d if they be honest, they aregood?
Yes.
^n(* are not l^e Cowards, tho' rash and furious,
Assuredly.
According
? ? Protagoras: Or, The Sophists.
52 ?
. According to you, ;Cowardise is the Ignorance of Thingsthatareterrible, andof thosethatarenot? He made a Signal that he agreed to: it. At the fame timeValourisopposittoCowardise? He made the fame Sign of Approbation.
And consequently the Knowledge of Things that are terrible,and of those that are not in opposition to the Ignorance of the same Things ? He gave ano ther sign of his Consent.
Is Ignorance Cowardise >
He pass'dthisoverwith some Difficulty.
; And is not the Knowledge of Things that are terrible,andofthosethatarenot,Valour, seeing
it is contrary to the Ignorance of the fame Things ?
Oh,upon that nere another sign,and not one Word.
How, said I, Protagoras, will you neither grant me what Idemand, nor. deny itme? . , . '
. Cometoanendonly? saidhe. ". n. "! ThenIaskyouonlyonesmallQuestionmore, luehasteade
ask you if you still think as you did lately, that<> appear there areMen who arevery Ignorant, and yet verythat'}*'*
Brave >
Seeing you are so pressing, said he to me, and that you will oblige me to answer you still, I will doyouthatPleasure. Itellyou\htx\J$ocrates,that- that which you ask me, seems impossible according to the Principles that we have established.
im^'hh'
1 assure you, Protagoras, said I to him, that I; ? '-'
propose all those Questions to you with no other Design,than to examine narrowly into all the parts
of Virtue, and to know well what Virtue itselfis: For 1 am . persuaded that that being well known,
we should certainly find what we seek for, and what wehavediscoursedsomuchupon, Iinsayingthat Virtue can't be taught, 'and,you in maintainingthat itcan. Aridatthis'cloteof ourDispute, ifIdurst. ,t presume ro personate Virtue, I should . fay that it mightily upbraids its-and laughs at us, in faying to
Us, you 'are" pleasant Disputants, Socrates and Prota- Xx gbrasI
? ? 322
Protagoras: Or, the Sophists.
goras! You, Socrates, after havingmentained that Virtue can't be taught you are now running to con tradict your self, by indeavouring to m a k e it appear thatallisScience, towit,Justice, Temperance, Va lour, &c. which isjust going to draw a Conclusion, jhat Virtue can be taught : For if Knowledge be different from Virtue, as Protagoras endeavours to prove it is evident that Virtue cannot be taught whereas if it passes for a Science as you would have itbe acknowledged, * Men will neverapprehend thatitcan'tbetaught. AndProtagorasonthe other hand, after having mentained that it can be
taught, contradictshimselfalsobyindeavouringto persuadeusthatitissome otherthingthan Know ledge.
Butletasleave. theYift'ion. Formypart,Pro tagoras,Iam heartilysorrytoseeallourPrinciples ib horribly confounded and turn'd topsy turvy ; and
I- could passionately wish that we could disin- . . ' . t a n g l e , a n d e x p l a i n t h e m ? , t h a t a f t e r h a v i n g s e a r c h e d
' '. 'X*-Thst is founded upon this Erroneous Opinion which is 'very common, that every Science can by taught. Socrates sensiblyprovesittobeanError, seeingbementainingthat
"Virtue isa Science, he asserts at the fame time, and proves afteramost:solidmannerthatMen can'tteachit:Anditis riotdifficulttofeewhatheaimsat:He meansthatitcan be-learn'd ot'no body but God ;for he isthe God ofSciences,
: Kings i. t>cas fcientiamm, as he is call'd in the Holy Scripture ; where- Ti' j. 'ii? . sore Dasid fay's to him, Lord teach me Knowledge, and he assur ed, e'thusthat'tishewho teacheth ittoMen, qm docet>homin*m ? sol. ? 4. io. fckntiam. IfthatbetrueofKnowledge,itisalsotrueof
Valour, feeing Socrates hath already proved that Valour and Knowledgearebutthefamething. "Platowasnotthefirst Heathen who had the Idea of those excellentTruths ; above three hundred Years before him Homer had said, when he Brings in Agamemnon speaking to Mhilles, If tho>> beso valiant,
InthefirftfromwhencecomesthyValour? IsitnotCodwhogaveitthee? And lhok ofthis almost 300 Years before Homer, Dayid had laid, 'tis God w/x> II. teachethmyhandstoWar,yttidocetmantismeasadprelium. But Plal. 18. one will fay, why does not Socrates explain his Meaning ? 54. ,n. i 'Tis because a Philosopher ought to fix what Virtue is before 144-i> heexplainsfromwhenceitcomes, andwho aretheMasters
that teach it ; for Virtue being known,it's Anther, is also c o n sequently known, and the Proof ismade.
into
? ? . Protagoras: Or, 7beSophists. 323
into all the parts of Virtue, we might plainly shew We oughtto whatitisinitself, andthatputtingourchief#a"fPr0"
Question at last to a Hearing again, we might TM",TMS
examine if Virtue could be taught or not, to the Epime-
end, we might know what to stand by : For Iam theus,that verymuch afraidthatyourEp'metheushasdeceivedis*'"&}>h
us in our Examination, as you fay he . deceived, and? TMTM/"? e forgotusintheDistributionhemade. Iwillalsospiritof'
tellyou franklythatinyourFable,PrometheushasGod,and pleased me much better than that Lover of Confu- noth thai
lionEfitnetheus;and 'tisby following his Exam-%*rl\ pie that I take all Care and Precaution to frame m y which is
wholeLifewell, imploying my selfsolely in tholeqmttcon- Injuries, and if you would, as I told you just now, tray t0
I would most willingly dive into the bottom of all those Matters with you.
Socrates, saidProtagoras tome, Iextreamlycom mend your good Intentions, and your way of treat inguponSubjects. IcanboastthatIhaveno Vice, but above all,that I a m furthest from that of Envy, noManintheWorldislessinclin'dtoitthanmy self: And as for you I have often said that you are theonlyPersonof allthoseIconversewith, whom I admire the most, and that there is none of all thole of your Age, but who I think are infinitely below you j and I add, that I shall not in the least be surprized that you be seen one day among the Number of those great Persons who have made themselvesfamousbytheirWisdom; Butweshall speak another time of those Matters, and it shall be when you please. At present I am oblig'd to go home about some other Business.
W e must then, Protagoras, said I to him, put off the Dispute 'till another time, seeing you will have it so ; besides, I should have been gone a great while ago, where I am expected-, but I tarry'd to oblige handsome Callias, who deserved it of me* That being saidj every one retired whither his As fairs eall'd him.
Xx2 THE
? ? 3M
THE
ARGUMENT OF THE
RIVALS
THIS DialogueisonlyaRecitalofaCon ference which Plato feigns that Socrates had withsomeyoungPeopleintheSchoolofa Grammarian ^ or perhaps that Plato has preferv'd
it for us, such as Socrates actually had it, and
such as he related it to his Disciples. It's in-
titled,THE RIVALSjfortheAncientsquote <<xT<<par<<; \tby thisName : ItisMoral, and treatsof Philo-
ana
"reu? * s? Puy<< Socrates disputes here against two Errors
which run in the Heads of the young People of his Time, some misunderstanding a Paslage of Solon, fancied that Philosophy consisted in knowing all the Sciences. Andothersbelievedthattodeservethe Name of Philosopher, it was sufficient to have a
little smack of Sciences and Arts, that they might be able to discourse of them with Masters, and to acquire the Reputation of an universal Man who couldjudgeofeveryThing. Socratesarguesvery solidly against those two Principles. He over throws the last, in making it appear that there is nothing more ridiculous than to fancy the Philoso pher to be a superficial Man, inferior in all to Ma- jters in each Science, and consequently fit for none. And he refutes the first, by insinuating that as too much Food hurts the Body, so too great a heap of Sciences and Knowledge hurts the Soul ; whose Health, like that of the Body, proceeds from a just:
Measure
? ? The Argument of the Rivals. 325
Measure of the Food that is given it. The most
skilful is not always he who knows most, but he
who knows well the Things that are necessary.
Whichputsmeinmind ofafineSayingofoneof
the most learned Men of this Age, and whole
Works are known to every Body, He said, T-batyrl[ ' c~
heshould have been as ignorant as many otherxs, ifhe
had read as much as they.
There are Millions of Things useless to lead us
to true Philosophy, and which instead of advanc
ing us, put us behind. Philosophy is something
greater than Arts, and more admirable than that
which is commonly called the Sciences ; for itis no
thing else but the Knowledge of Things Divine and
Human, which diipoieth us to submit to the first,
and to guide and govern others by the Rules of
Prudence and Justice, insomuch as that we may be
useful to our Neighbours and to our Selves, in op
posing Vice and making Virtue to grow and to
flourish. 'TisbythisthatoneFriendgivesgoodAd v i c e t o a n o t h e r ? , b y t h i s a M a g i s t r a t e d o e s J u s t i c e
well ; by this the Master of a Family governs his House? ,andinaword,bythisaKinggovernshis
People*. These aretheTruthsthat Socratesteaches in this short Conversation which isvery valuable. One would fay, that he is Solomon's Disciple, and thathe had heard what Wisdom spokefrom his Mouth : To me belong Council, Equity, Prudence, and Strength ; 'tis by me that Kings Reign, and that Lawgivers eflablijh Laws-, 'tis by vie that Princes command, and that the Powers of the Earth decree Justice.
Another very important Truth which Socrates also teacheth here, is that the most learned are not always those who are the best disposed to true Wisdom. ThemostIgnorantisfrequentlynearerto it,thanhewhohasgrownoldinBooks,andwho hasseenallandreadall. We haveInstancesofit every day.
Xx 3 THE
? ? 3*6
Socrates
\dways ob- firye)the
corruption
and of the best Families of the City, with their Lovers. I there observed above all, two ofthem
w h o were disputing together, but I could not un- derstandthesubjectoftheirDispute? ,itfeem'dto me t0beuponfomePointsoftheDoctrinofAnaxa-
THE
RIVALS-
SOcrates. Iwentt'otherdayintotheSchool of Denis, who teacheth Learning. I found there some of the handsomest young People,
t^L/xf*"g? ras or Oenopidas, for they were drawing of Cir- thcns. cles,andquitestooping? ,theywereimitatingcer
tain Turnings and Motions of the Heavens with a wonderful Attention. Curious to know what it was,Iaddressedmy selftoayoungManwhosate by me-, and it happen'd that he was the Lover of one of those who were disputing together. l> asked him then, jogging him a little with my El bow, what occasions this great Attention> Isthe subject of the Discourse so great and so fine as to require such a serious Application ?
Good, ansvver'd he, so great and so fine, they are prating of heavenly Things, and they do nothing out speak Folly with all their Philosophy.
Surprized at the answer, how, said I, m y Friend, do you think it is Folly to be a Philosopher ? H o w comes it that you speak so harshly ? Another young Man that was seated by him, who was his Rival, and who had heard my Question, said to me, In truth, Socrates, you will not find your account in' a p p l y i n g y o u r s e l f t o t h a t M a n ? , a n d i n a s k i n g h i m if he believes Philosophy to be Folly, don't you; know that he has spent all his Life in eating,
sleeping,
? ? the Rivals: J17
sleeping, and in bodily Exercises?
Can you expect any other answer from him,unless it were, that there is nothing more shameful nor more foolish than Phi losophy? He who spoke to me thus, had always applyed himself to Sciences; whereas the other whom hetreatedsoill,applyedhimselfwhollyto Exercises.
I thought it convenient to let alone that C h a m pion who had neglected the Mind only to exercise the Body, and to keep to his Rival who pretended tobemoreable. AndthatImightthebetterdraw from him what I desired, I said, what I asked at first,Iaskeditofyoubothincommon. Andifyou think you are more able to answer me than he, I apply my selfonly to you. Answer me, do you think that it is a fine thing to be a Philosopher ? Or do you believe the contrary ? The two Disputants, who had heard us, gave over their Dispute, and drawing nearer, they resolved to hear us with a deep silence. I know not what Influence this Ap proachhadonourtwoRivals;formy part,Iwas surprized at it, for it is usual to me, I cannot see handsome young People * without admiring them.
He to whom I spoke did not seem to be less touchedthanmyself;however,hedidnotfailto answer me with some sort of Assurance and Self- love:Formypart,Socrates,ifIthoughtitwasa shametobeaPhilosopher, Ishouldnotbelievemy selftobeaMan:AndwhoeverhasthatThoughtI havealtogetherasbadanOpinionofhim. By thathe hithisRivalhome; thereforeheraisedhisVoice that he might be understood by him whom he lov'd.
Then 'tisa fine thing, answered I, to be a Phi losopher. Yesassuredly,saidhe. But,answeredI, do you think it possible for one to decide whether a
* It was an Admiration that produced in him die desire* of being able to contribute to the making of them as Virtu ousastheywereHandsome. SeewhatMaximxsdeTjrhas saidonthisPassage.
Xx 4. thing
? ? 318 . the Rivals.
thingbefineorugly, unlessheknowsitbefore? Do you know what it is to be a Philosopher? With
out doubt, said he, I know it. Then I ask'd him, w h a t is it ?
'Tis nothing else, answered he, than what Solon said: In making my selfold, I learn an infinity of Things. For me thinks that he who would be a- Philosopher ought to learn something every day of his Life, both in his Youth and in his old Age,
to the end, that he may know all that can be known.
Atfirstmethoughthespokesomething. Butaf ter having paused a little upon it, I asked him if he held that Philosophy was nothing else but a Po- lymathie, that is to fay, a Heap or a confuss'd Mass of all the Sciences ? He told me it was nothing
but that. But, fay I, do you think that Philoso phy is only a fine thing, or do you believe it is also agoodthing. Ibelieveittobeverygood,answer edhe. DoyouthinkthatisparticulartoPhiloso phy, continued I, or do you find the fame thing in other Arts, ? For Example, do you think the love of Exercises is as good, as it is fine, or are you of Opinion that it is neither fine nor good ? In my Opinion, answered he, jesting merrily, for you, that Love isvery fine and very good, but as for him, speaking of his Rival, it is neither t'one nor the t'other. And do you belive, said I, that the Love of Exercises consists in having a mind to do
allExercises? Withoutdoubt, saidhe,astheLove of Wisdom, that is to fay, Philosophy, consists in havingamindtoknowallthings. But,Iaskthim, do you think that those who apply themselves to Exercises have any other aim than that of the Health of their Body ? No, without doubt, said be, they propose to themselves no other end. And consequently, saidI,isitnotthegreatnumberof Exercises that makes People enjoy their Health ?
Would it be possible, answered he, that one could be in good Health by applying himself only to a sew Exercises? Upon
? ? the Rivals.
329
Upon thatIthought-fittostirup my:Champion i little, that he might come to m y Assistance with the Experience he had in Exercises : Then direct ing my Discourse to him, why are you silent,
laid I my Dear,when you hear your Rival speak of yourArt? Do you alsobelieveashe, that"tisthe great number of Exercises that cause Health ? Or on the other hand, do you think that 'tis to use luch of them as you shall think fit, and neither to exercise your self too much nor too little.
For my part, Socrates, he answered me, I am still perswaded, as I have always been, that there is nothing more true than what the common Pro verb fays, that moderate Exercises cause a good Health,IsnotthatafineProofofit> Thatpoor Man with his Application to study, and his Desire to know every thing, see how he is: He has lost hisAppetiteanddoesnotsleep: He isasstiffas a Stake and as dry as a Match!
AtthesewordsthetwoyoungMenfellalaugh ing and the Philosopher bluslsd.
Seeing his Confusion I turn'd towards him, what doyoupretendtothen,laidI? Don'tyonconfess n o w that 'tis neither the great nor the small n u m ber of Exercises that cause Health ? But moderate Exercises,andtokeepdirectlyinthemid-way. Will you resist two ?
If I had to do with him only, said he, I would make my part good, and Ifindmy self strongenough toprovetohim whatIhaveadvanced,eventhough itshould be far less probable ; he's so far from beingadangerousEnemy. ButwithyouSocrates^ I will not dispute against my Opinion. I confess then that it is not the great number of Exercises but moderate Exercises that cause Health.
IsitnotthefamewithFood,saidI? Heagreed to it, and I made him confess the fame, as to all pther things that relate to the Body, that it was the just middle that was useful, and in no wise the too much hor ths too little* And as to what re-
; ' lates
? ? 030
The Rivals.
latcstotheSoul, saidIafterwards, isitthequan tity ofYopdi that is given it which is useful or is it only a just Measure ?
Tis the just measure said he to me.
But, continued I, are not Sciences of the number o f t h o s e F o o d s o f t h e S o u l > H e a c k n o w l e d g e d it. AndconsequentlysaidItohim, Itisnotthegreat number *of Sciences that nourish the Soul well, but the just Measure, which is equally distant fromtoomuch andtoolittle? He acquiescedia it.
To whom thenshouldwe reasonablyaddressour selves,continuedI, to knowexactly what isthat just Measure of Food and Exercises that is useful fortheBody? We allthreeagreedthatitmustbe toaPhysicianortoa MasterofExercises. Andas tosowingofSeed,towhomshouldwe applyour
selvestoknowthatjustMeasure? ToaHusband man without doubt. And as to other Sciences, I add-, whom shallwe consulttoknow thejustMedi umthatmustbekeptinsowingorplantingthemin theSoul? Uponthatwefoundourselvesallthree equallyfullofDoubtsandUncertainties. Seeing we can't overcome this Difficulty, I told them smiling, shall we callthose two handsom young Youths to our Assistance, or shall we be asham'd to call them, * as Homer fays of Penelope's Lo vers,whonotbeingabletobendtheBow, would
nothaveitthatanyothercoulddoit>
When Isaw thattheydespairedoffindingwhat we soughtafter,ItookanotherMethod. WhatScien
ces, said I, shall we fix upon that a Philosopher ought to learn ? For we have agreed that he ought nottolearnthemall, noreventhegreatestpart.
' The learned Man, answering, said they ought to be the finest, the most Agreeable, and those that
In the* i Book os the Odyff. v. 18? . the Lovers of "Pe nelope, openly testifie the fear they were in that the Beggar^ who wasnotyetknowntobe"Vtiffes,shouldbendtheBow, whereof JWo/>e was to be the Reward.
could
? ? the Bivtls. 331
could do him the greatest Honour, and that no thing eould do him more Honour than to seem to understand all the Arts, or at Least the most part, and the most considerable, and that thus a Philoso pher ought to learn all the Arts that were worthy of an honest Man's Knowledge as well those that depend upon the Understanding as those that de pend upon Handiwork.
You mean, continued I, for Example, the Joyn-
ersTrade : One may have a very able Joyner for
fiveorsixMarks. That'saTradethatdependsup-Forifor
onHandiwork. And theArtofArchitecturede-2? Wolf.
pendsontheUnderstanding. Butyoucan'thavean
Architect for ten thousand Drachms ; for there are
yery few among the Greeks. Are not thole theF? ri? ?
fortsof Arts you mean ? When he had answereda S S ^
meyes,Iaskedhimifhedidnotthinkitimpoffi-Mce,>>
ble that a Man could learn two Artsperfectly, and Greece>>>>
much more to learna greatnumber, and thole alsoSocrateS the most difficult ? tme-
Upon that he answered me, don't you understand me, Socrates, 'tisnotmy meaning thata Philoso pher Ihould know those Arts as perfectly as the Masters, who practicethem, itissufficient that he knowsthemlikeaGentleman,soashemayunder stand what those Masters fay better than the Vulgar fortofMen, andalsobeabletogivehisOpini on,tothe end thathe may make itappearthathe
has a very fine and delicatetaste of all that issaid or done in relation to those Arts.
And I,as still doubting what his meaning was,iaid, fee,Iprayyou,ifIapprehendyour Ideaofa Philoso pher h you pretend that a Philosopher Ihould be the lamewiththeTradesmen*asaPentathleorCham pion who doesfivefortsofExercisesintheAcademy.
* This Passage is extraordinary fine, and furnifh'd ? o>>? /- nus with theIdeaof theComparisonhemadeofDemofihenet with Hiferldes, and which I have explained in the Remarks
upon that Rhetorician, cb*p, zB. p. 173. i' . . .
with
? ? 3ji
The Rivals.
with the Runner or the Wrestler; For he isover come by all those Champions in the Exercises that is proper to each, and holds but the second Rank af terthem;whereasheisabovealltheotherCham pions who enter the Lists against him. Perhaps that's the effect which you pretend Philosophy pro duces upon those who follow it; they are truly below Masters in the Knowledge of every Art, but they are also superior to all other M e n w h o pre tendtojudgeofthem. Insomuch,thataccording to you, we must conceive a Philosopher, as a Man
who in every thing is below the Master that pro- feffeth it. That, I believe, is the Idea that you would give ofa Philosopher.
Very well, Socrates, said he to me, you have admirably well comprehended my meaning, and there is nothing more just than your Comparison -, for the Philosopher is truly a Man who does not keep to one thing, only like a Slave, so as to neg lect all others, as the Tradesmen do, in order to carry it to the last Perfection : But he applies him selfindifferently to all.
After this answer, as if I still desired to k n o w his meaning more clearly, I asked him if he believed thatableMen wereusefuloruseless?
I believe them to be very useful, Socrates, an swers he.
If the able are very useful, reply'd I, the unable are very useless>
He agreed to that.
But, said I, are the Philosophers useful or not > They are not only useful, answer'd he, but also
very useful.
tet us see then, reply'd I, ifyou say true, and let
us examine how it can be that those Philosophers, who hold only the second Rank in any thing what soever, should be so useful ; for by what you just now said,itisclearastheday,thatthePhiloso pher is inferior to Tradesmen in all the Arts which they profess.
He
? ? 7be Rivals. 335
He agreestoit.
Oh ! saidI,let'ssee,ifyouoranyofyoutFriends forwhomyouhadagreatloveweresick? ,tellme^
I pray you, would you call a Philosopher, that in feriorMan, orwouldyousendforaPhificiantore coveryourHealth, orthatofyourFriend?
For m y parr, I would lend for both, answered he;1
Ah ! don't tell me that, answer'd I, you must chuse which ofthem you would rathercall?
If you take it that way, said he, I think there is no Body would hesitate, but would much rather call the Phifician.
And if you were in the middle of the Sea, tofs'd withafuriousTempest,towhomwouldyouaban
don the Conduct of your Ship, to the Philosopher or to the Pilot ?
To the Pilot, without doubt, said he.
Thus then,bothinaStormandinSicknels,andinall otherThings,while theArtistor the Master ofevery one of those Things is present, is not the Philosopher veryuseless? WouldhenotbeasitwereadumbPer son ?
So methinks, answer'd he.
And consequently, reply'd I, the Philosopher is a very useless Man : For we have Artists in every Thing, and we have agreed that the able are only useful,andthatothersarenor. Hewasobligedto
agreetoir. ShallIpresumetoaskyousomeother Things, said I to him,and will not you look upon it as clownish and rustick to ask you so many Questions ?
Askme whatyoushallthinkfit,answer'dhe.
I want nothing more than that we should agree again on what we have said. Methinks that we have agreed on one side, that Philosophy is a fine Thing j that there are Philosophers ; that Philoso phersareableMen ;thatableMen areuseful;and that unable Men are useless5 and that on the other hand, we have agreed that Philofopers are useless when we have People by that are Masters of every Profession,andtherearealwayssome. Isnotthat w h a t w e h a v e a g r e e d t o . *. ' T i s
? ? 334
the Rivals. sTisso, answer'd he.
And consequently, say I, seeing Philosophy, ac cording to you, is only the Knowledge of all Arts, while Arts (hall flourish among Men, the Philoso phers will not have any Lustre among them-, on the other hand, they will be altogether useless. But believemethePhilosophersarenotwhatwehave fancied to our selves ; and to be a Philosopher is not to meddle with all Arts, and to ipend his Life
in all Shops stooping and working like a Slave. Neitherisittolearnmanythings. Uponmyword itissomethingmoresublimeandmorenoble. For thatApplicationisshameful, and thosewho takeit upon them are only called Mechanicks and mean Tradesmen. The better tosee, if I speak true, answer me furtherIprayyou,whoarethosethatcanbreaka Horsewell? arenottheysuchascanmakehim better?
Yes.
And isit not the fame of Dogs ?
Yes. ThusoneandthefameArtbreaksthemandmakes
them better. Yes.
But that Art which breaks them, and makes them better, is it the fame by which one knows those thatarebad? Orisitanother?
No, saidhe'tisthefame.
WillyoulaythefamethingofMenreplyedI? The Art which makes them better is it the fame with that which reclaims them, and which knows thosewhoaregoodandthosewhoarebad?
'Tisthefame, saidhe.
Does the Art which judges of many judge also of One, and that which judges of one does it also judge of many ?
Yes.
Is it the fame, said I, of Horses, and of all otherAnimals? Heagreestoit. ButfayI,how do you call the Science or Art which Chastiseth and
reclaims the wicked Rake Hells that are in the Cities, and
? ? ? Without doubt.
the Rtvalsi, 3. 3$
andwho violate the Laws? IsitnotJudicature? And isnot this Art or Judicature, that which you call Justice>
Without doubt, answered he. . r.
ThussaidItohim, thatArtwhichservesthe Judges to correct the Wicked, serves also to make themknowwhoarewickedandwhoaregood?
Assuredly.
And the Judge who knows one of them may also know more ;and he who can'tknow many of them can'tknowone? Isit notso?
I confess it, said he.
Is it not aMb true, said I, that a Horse which knows not the other Horses that are good or bad, do'snotknow what he ishimself? Ifay asmuch of allotherAnimals.
He agreedto it.
Whythen,-addedI,aManwhoknowsnotMen if they be good or bad, is he not also ignorant what he is himself, tho' he be a M a n ?
That's most true, said he.
N o t to k n o w ones self, is it to be wise or to be a F o o l ? <<.
TobeaFool.
And consequently, continued I, to know ones selfistobewise. ThusthePreceptthatiswrote upontheGateoftheTemple of Ds/pbos,ExhortsKmv*h
us to apply our selves to Wisdom and Justice. ^* It is the fame Art that teacheth us to chastise and punish the Wicked ^ by the Rules of Wisdom, we know how toknowthem,andtoknow ourselvesalso.
That seems to me to be very truesaid he.
And consequently fay I, Justice and Wisdom are but the seme thing. And that which makes Cities well govern'd, and peopled, is the Punishment of theWicked. IsnotthattheoccasionofgoodGo vernment?
He agrees to it.
When aManfayI,governsa Cityor State well, wha<< nameisgiventothatMan? Ishenotcall'dKing?
Then
? ? jj5 the Rivals,
'<--ThenlieGovernsbfaRoyalArt,bytheArtofKings,an<J
jsnotthatArt,thefamewiththosewejustnow spoke6f?