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As Socrates, who was ever watchful for the interests of his country, and consulted the good of every one with whom he conversed, took care, on the one hand, to dissuade persons who had no capacity for it, however bent they were upon the thing, from entering upon any offices of trust, so he was ever mindful, on the other, to persuade those that were bashful and diffident to take upon themselves the government of the Republic, provided he knew they had proper talents and abilities for it. In confirmation whereof we shall here relate a conversation of his with Charmidas, the son of Glaucon. Socrates, who knew him to be a man of sense and merit, and more capable to govern the Republic than any that were then in that post, but withal a person very diffident of himself—one that dreaded the people, and was mightily averse from engaging himself in public business—addressed himself to him in this manner:—
“Tell me, Charmidas, if you knew any man who could gain the prizes in the public games, and by that means render himself illustrious, and acquire glory to his country, what would you say of him if he refused p. 122to offer himself to the combat?” “I would say,” answered Charmidas, “that he was a mean-spirited, effeminate fellow.” “And if a man were capable of governing a Republic, of increasing its power by his advices, and of raising himself by this means to a high degree of honour, would you not brand him likewise with meanness of soul if he would not present himself to be employed?” “Perhaps I might,” said Charmidas; “but why do you ask me this question?” “Because you are capable,” replied Socrates, “of managing the affairs of the Republic, and yet you avoid doing so, though in the quality of a citizen you are obliged to take care of the commonwealth.” “And wherein have you observed this capacity in me?” “When I have seen you in conversation with the Ministers of State,” answered Socrates; “for if they impart any affairs to you, I see you give them good advice, and when they commit any errors you make them judicious remonstrances.” “But there is a very great difference, my dear Socrates,” replied Charmidas, “between discoursing in private and contending in a public manner before the people.” “And yet,” replied Socrates, “a skilful arithmetician can calculate as well in presence of several persons as when alone; and they who can play well upon the lute in their closets play likewise well in company.” “But you know,” said Charmidas, “that fear and shame, which are so natural to man, affect us more in public assemblies than in private companies.” “Is it possible,” said Socrates, “that you can converse so unconcernedly with men of parts and authority, and that you should not have assurance enough to speak to fools? Are you afraid to present yourself before dyers, shoemakers, masons, smiths, labourers, and brokers? for of such are composed p. 123the popular assemblies. This is the same thing as to be the most expert in a fencing-school, and to fear the thrust of an unskilful person who never handled a foil. Thus you, though you speak boldly in the presence of the chief men of the Republic, among whom there might perhaps be found some who would despise you, dare not, nevertheless, speak in the presence of an illiterate multitude, who know nothing of the affairs of state, and who are not capable of despising you, and you fear to be laughed at by them.” “Do they not usually,” said Charmidas, “laugh at those who speak best?” “So likewise,” said Socrates, “do the men of quality with whom you converse every day; and I am surprised that you have eloquence and persuasive sense sufficient to bring these to reason, and that you think not yourself capable even to approach the others. Learn to know yourself better, Charmidas, and take care not to fall into a fault that is almost general; for all men inquire curiously enough into the affairs of others, but they never enter into their own bosoms to examine themselves as they ought.
“Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter, consider yourself with more attention, and let not slip the occasions of serving the Republic, and of rendering it, if possible, more flourishing than it is. This will be a blessing, whose influence will descend not only on the other citizens, but on your best friends and yourself.”
One day Aristippus proposed a captious question to Socrates, meaning to surprise him; and this by way of revenge, for his having before put him to a stand: but Socrates answered him warily, and as a person who has no other design in his conversations than the improvement of his hearers.
The question which Aristippus asked him was whether he knew in the world any good thing, and if Socrates had answered him that meat, or drink, or riches, or health, or strength, or courage are good things, he would forthwith have shown him that it may happen that they are very bad. He therefore gave him such an answer as he ought; and because he knew very well that when we feel any indisposition we earnestly desire to find a remedy for it, he said to him: “Do you ask me, for example, whether I know anything that is good for a fever?” “No,” said Aristippus. “Or for sore eyes?” said Socrates. “Neither.” “Do you mean anything that is good against hunger?” “Not in the least,” answered Aristippus. “I promise you,” said Socrates, “that if you ask me for a good thing that is good for nothing, I know no such thing, nor have anything to do with it.”
Aristippus pressed him yet further, and asked him whether he knew any beautiful thing. “I know a great many,” said Socrates. “Are they all like one another?” continued Aristippus. “Not in the least,” answered Socrates, “for they are very different from one another.” “And how is it possible that two p. 125beautiful things should be contrary one to the other?” “This,” said Socrates, “is seen every day in men: a beautiful make and disposition of body for running is very different from a beautiful make and disposition for wrestling: the excellence and beauty of a buckler is to cover well him that wears it. On the contrary, the excellence and beauty of a dart is to be light and piercing.” “You answer me,” said Aristippus, “as you answered me before, when I asked you whether you knew any good thing.” “And do you think,” replied Socrates, “that the good and the beautiful are different? Know you not that the things that are beautiful are good likewise in the same sense? It would be false to say of virtue that in certain occasions it is beautiful, and in others good. When we speak of men of honour we join the two qualities, and call them excellent and good. In our bodies beauty and goodness relate always to the same end. In a word, all things that are of any use in the world are esteemed beautiful and good, with regard to the subject for which they are proper.” “At this rate you might find beauty in a basket to carry dung,” said Aristippus. “Yes, if it be well made for that use,” answered Socrates; “and, on the contrary, I would say that a buckler of gold was ugly if it was ill-made.” “Would you say,” pursued Aristippus, “that the same thing may be beautiful and ugly at once?” “I would say that it might be good and bad. Often what is good for hunger is bad for a fever; and what is good for a fever is very bad for hunger; often what is beautiful to be done in running is ugly to be done in wrestling; and what is beautiful to do in wrestling is ugly in running. For all things are reputed beautiful and good when they are compared with those which they p. 126suit or become, as they are esteemed ugly and bad when compared with those they do not become.”
