Charmides ............................................................................................................................................................1

Plato.........................................................................................................................................................1

TO MY FORMER PUPILS .....................................................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................................................1

CHARMIDES, OR TEMPERANCE .......................................................................................................4

in Balliol College and in the University of Oxford who during fifty years have been the best of friends to me

these volumes are inscribed in grateful recognition of their never failing attachment.

The additions and alterations which have been made, both in the Introductions and in the Text of this Edition,

Having regard to the extent of these alterations, and to the annoyance which is naturally felt by the owner of a

book at the possession of it in an inferior form, and still more keenly by the writer himself, who must always

desire to be read as he is at his best, I have thought that the possessor of either of the former Editions (1870

and 1876) might wish to exchange it for the present one. I have therefore arranged that those who would like

to make this exchange, on depositing a perfect and undamaged copy of the first or second Edition with any

agent of the Clarendon Press, shall be entitled to receive a copy of a new Edition at halfprice.

The subject of the Charmides is Temperance or (Greek), a peculiarly Greek notion, which may also be

rendered Moderation (Compare Cic. Tusc. '(Greek), quam soleo equidem tum temperantiam, tum

moderationem appellare, nonnunquam etiam modestiam.'), Modesty, Discretion, Wisdom, without

completely exhausting by all these terms the various associations of the word. It may be described as 'mens

sana in corpore sano,' the harmony or due proportion of the higher and lower elements of human nature

which 'makes a man his own master,' according to the definition of the Republic. In the accompanying

translation the word has been rendered in different places either Temperance or Wisdom, as the connection

seemed to require: for in the philosophy of Plato (Greek) still retains an intellectual element (as Socrates is

also said to have identified (Greek) with (Greek): Xen. Mem.) and is not yet relegated to the sphere of moral

The beautiful youth, Charmides, who is also the most temperate of human beings, is asked by Socrates, 'What

is Temperance?' He answers characteristically, (1) 'Quietness.' 'But Temperance is a fine and noble thing; and

quietness in many or most cases is not so fine a thing as quickness.' He tries again and says (2) that

temperance is modesty. But this again is set aside by a sophistical application of Homer: for temperance is

good as well as noble, and Homer has declared that 'modesty is not good for a needy man.' (3) Once more

Charmides makes the attempt. This time he gives a definition which he has heard, and of which Socrates

conjectures that Critias must be the author: 'Temperance is doing one's own business.' But the artisan who

makes another man's shoes may be temperate, and yet he is not doing his own business; and temperance

defined thus would be opposed to the division of labour which exists in every temperate or wellordered

Critias, who takes the place of Charmides, distinguishes in his answer between 'making' and 'doing,' and with

the help of a misapplied quotation from Hesiod assigns to the words 'doing' and 'work' an exclusively good

Still an element of knowledge is wanting which Critias is readily induced to admit at the suggestion of

Socrates; and, in the spirit of Socrates and of Greek life generally, proposes as a fifth definition, (5)

Temperance is selfknowledge. But all sciences have a subject: number is the subject of arithmetic, health of

medicinewhat is the subject of temperance or wisdom? The answer is that (6) Temperance is the

knowledge of what a man knows and of what he does not know. But this is contrary to analogy; there is no

vision of vision, but only of visible things; no love of loves, but only of beautiful things; how then can there

be a knowledge of knowledge? That which is older, heavier, lighter, is older, heavier, and lighter than

something else, not than itself, and this seems to be true of all relative notionsthe object of relation is

outside of them; at any rate they can only have relation to themselves in the form of that object. Whether

there are any such cases of reflex relation or not, and whether that sort of knowledge which we term

Temperance is of this reflex nature, has yet to be determined by the great metaphysician. But even if

knowledge can know itself, how does the knowledge of what we know imply the knowledge of what we do

not know? Besides, knowledge is an abstraction only, and will not inform us of any particular subject, such as

medicine, building, and the like. It may tell us that we or other men know something, but can never tell us

Admitting that there is a knowledge of what we know and of what we do not know, which would supply a

rule and measure of all things, still there would be no good in this; and the knowledge which temperance

gives must be of a kind which will do us good; for temperance is a good. But this universal knowledge does

not tend to our happiness and good: the only kind of knowledge which brings happiness is the knowledge of

good and evil. To this Critias replies that the science or knowledge of good and evil, and all the other

sciences, are regulated by the higher science or knowledge of knowledge. Socrates replies by again dividing

the abstract from the concrete, and asks how this knowledge conduces to happiness in the same definite way

And now, after making all these concessions, which are really inadmissible, we are still as far as ever from

ascertaining the nature of temperance, which Charmides has already discovered, and had therefore better rest

in the knowledge that the more temperate he is the happier he will be, and not trouble himself with the

In this Dialogue may be noted (1) The Greek ideal of beauty and goodness, the vision of the fair soul in the

fair body, realised in the beautiful Charmides; (2) The true conception of medicine as a science of the whole

as well as the parts, and of the mind as well as the body, which is playfully intimated in the story of the

Thracian; (3) The tendency of the age to verbal distinctions, which here, as in the Protagoras and Cratylus,

are ascribed to the ingenuity of Prodicus; and to interpretations or rather parodies of Homer or Hesiod, which

are eminently characteristic of Plato and his contemporaries; (4) The germ of an ethical principle contained in

the notion that temperance is 'doing one's own business,' which in the Republic (such is the shifting character

of the Platonic philosophy) is given as the definition, not of temperance, but of justice; (5) The impatience

which is exhibited by Socrates of any definition of temperance in which an element of science or knowledge

is not included; (6) The beginning of metaphysics and logic implied in the two questions: whether there can

be a science of science, and whether the knowledge of what you know is the same as the knowledge of what

you do not know; and also in the distinction between 'what you know' and 'that you know,' (Greek;) here too

is the first conception of an absolute selfdetermined science (the claims of which, however, are disputed by

Socrates, who asks cui bono?) as well as the first suggestion of the difficulty of the abstract and concrete, and

one of the earliest anticipations of the relation of subject and object, and of the subjective element in

knowledgea 'rich banquet' of metaphysical questions in which we 'taste of many things.' (7) And still the

mind of Plato, having snatched for a moment at these shadows of the future, quickly rejects them: thus early

has he reached the conclusion that there can be no science which is a 'science of nothing' (Parmen.). (8) The

conception of a science of good and evil also first occurs here, an anticipation of the Philebus and Republic as

The dramatic interest of the Dialogue chiefly centres in the youth Charmides, with whom Socrates talks in the

kindly spirit of an elder. His childlike simplicity and ingenuousness are contrasted with the dialectical and

rhetorical arts of Critias, who is the grownup man of the world, having a tincture of philosophy. No hint is

given, either here or in the Timaeus, of the infamy which attaches to the name of the latter in Athenian

history. He is simply a cultivated person who, like his kinsman Plato, is ennobled by the connection of his

family with Solon (Tim.), and had been the follower, if not the disciple, both of Socrates and of the Sophists.

In the argument he is not unfair, if allowance is made for a slight rhetorical tendency, and for a natural desire

to save his reputation with the company; he is sometimes nearer the truth than Socrates. Nothing in his

language or behaviour is unbecoming the guardian of the beautiful Charmides. His love of reputation is

characteristically Greek, and contrasts with the humility of Socrates. Nor in Charmides himself do we find

any resemblance to the Charmides of history, except, perhaps, the modest and retiring nature which,

according to Xenophon, at one time of his life prevented him from speaking in the Assembly (Mem.); and we

are surprised to hear that, like Critias, he afterwards became one of the thirty tyrants. In the Dialogue he is a

pattern of virtue, and is therefore in no need of the charm which Socrates is unable to apply. With youthful

naivete, keeping his secret and entering into the spirit of Socrates, he enjoys the detection of his elder and

guardian Critias, who is easily seen to be the author of the definition which he has so great an interest in

maintaining. The preceding definition, 'Temperance is doing one's own business,' is assumed to have been

borrowed by Charmides from another; and when the enquiry becomes more abstract he is superseded by

Critias (Theaet.; Euthyd.). Socrates preserves his accustomed irony to the end; he is in the neighbourhood of

several great truths, which he views in various lights, but always either by bringing them to the test of

common sense, or by demanding too great exactness in the use of words, turns aside from them and comes at

The definitions of temperance proceed in regular order from the popular to the philosophical. The first two

are simple enough and partially true, like the first thoughts of an intelligent youth; the third, which is a real

contribution to ethical philosophy, is perverted by the ingenuity of Socrates, and hardly rescued by an equal

perversion on the part of Critias. The remaining definitions have a higher aim, which is to introduce the

element of knowledge, and at last to unite good and truth in a single science. But the time has not yet arrived

for the realization of this vision of metaphysical philosophy; and such a science when brought nearer to us in

the Philebus and the Republic will not be called by the name of (Greek). Hence we see with surprise that

Plato, who in his other writings identifies good and knowledge, here opposes them, and asks, almost in the

spirit of Aristotle, how can there be a knowledge of knowledge, and even if attainable, how can such a

The difficulty of the Charmides arises chiefly from the two senses of the word (Greek), or temperance. From

the ethical notion of temperance, which is variously defined to be quietness, modesty, doing our own

business, the doing of good actions, the dialogue passes onto the intellectual conception of (Greek), which is

declared also to be the science of selfknowledge, or of the knowledge of what we know and do not know, or

of the knowledge of good and evil. The dialogue represents a stage in the history of philosophy in which

knowledge and action were not yet distinguished. Hence the confusion between them, and the easy transition

from one to the other. The definitions which are offered are all rejected, but it is to be observed that they all

tend to throw a light on the nature of temperance, and that, unlike the distinction of Critias between (Greek),

none of them are merely verbal quibbles, it is implied that this question, although it has not yet received a

solution in theory, has been already answered by Charmides himself, who has learned to practise the virtue of

selfknowledge which philosophers are vainly trying to define in words. In a similar spirit we might say to a

young man who is disturbed by theological difficulties, 'Do not trouble yourself about such matters, but only

lead a good life;' and yet in either case it is not to be denied that right ideas of truth may contribute greatly to

The reasons why the Charmides, Lysis, Laches have been placed together and first in the series of Platonic

dialogues, are: (i) Their shortness and simplicity. The Charmides and the Lysis, if not the Laches, are of the

same 'quality' as the Phaedrus and Symposium: and it is probable, though far from certain, that the slighter

effort preceded the greater one. (ii) Their eristic, or rather Socratic character; they belong to the class called

dialogues of search (Greek), which have no conclusion. (iii) The absence in them of certain favourite notions

of Plato, such as the doctrine of recollection and of the Platonic ideas; the questions, whether virtue can be

taught; whether the virtues are one or many. (iv) They have a want of depth, when compared with the

dialogues of the middle and later period; and a youthful beauty and grace which is wanting in the later ones.

(v) Their resemblance to one another; in all the three boyhood has a great part. These reasons have various

degrees of weight in determining their place in the catalogue of the Platonic writings, though they are not

conclusive. No arrangement of the Platonic dialogues can be strictly chronological. The order which has been

adopted is intended mainly for the convenience of the reader; at the same time, indications of the date

supplied either by Plato himself or allusions found in the dialogues have not been lost sight of. Much may be

said about this subject, but the results can only be probable; there are no materials which would enable us to

The relations of knowledge and virtue are again brought forward in the companion dialogues of the Lysis and

Laches; and also in the Protagoras and Euthydemus. The opposition of abstract and particular knowledge in

this dialogue may be compared with a similar opposition of ideas and phenomena which occurs in the

Prologues to the Parmenides, but seems rather to belong to a later stage of the philosophy of Plato.

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, who is the narrator, Charmides, Chaerephon, Critias.

Yesterday evening I returned from the army at Potidaea, and having been a good while away, I thought that I

should like to go and look at my old haunts. So I went into the palaestra of Taureas, which is over against the

temple adjoining the porch of the King Archon, and there I found a number of persons, most of whom I

knew, but not all. My visit was unexpected, and no sooner did they see me entering than they saluted me from

afar on all sides; and Chaerephon, who is a kind of madman, started up and ran to me, seizing my hand, and

saying, How did you escape, Socrates?(I should explain that an engagement had taken place at Potidaea

There was a report, he said, that the engagement was very severe, and that many of our acquaintance had

Then sit down, and tell us the whole story, which as yet we have only heard imperfectly.

I took the place which he assigned to me, by the side of Critias the son of Callaeschrus, and when I had

saluted him and the rest of the company, I told them the news from the army, and answered their several

Then, when there had been enough of this, I, in my turn, began to make enquiries about matters at

homeabout the present state of philosophy, and about the youth. I asked whether any of them were

remarkable for wisdom or beauty, or both. Critias, glancing at the door, invited my attention to some youths

who were coming in, and talking noisily to one another, followed by a crowd. Of the beauties, Socrates, he

said, I fancy that you will soon be able to form a judgment. For those who are just entering are the advanced

guard of the great beauty, as he is thought to be, of the day, and he is likely to be not far off himself.

Charmides, he replied, is his name; he is my cousin, and the son of my uncle Glaucon: I rather think that you

Certainly, I know him, I said, for he was remarkable even then when he was still a child, and I should

You will see, he said, in a moment what progress he has made and what he is like. He had scarcely said the

Now you know, my friend, that I cannot measure anything, and of the beautiful, I am simply such a measure

as a white line is of chalk; for almost all young persons appear to be beautiful in my eyes. But at that

moment, when I saw him coming in, I confess that I was quite astonished at his beauty and stature; all the

world seemed to be enamoured of him; amazement and confusion reigned when he entered; and a troop of

lovers followed him. That grownup men like ourselves should have been affected in this way was not

surprising, but I observed that there was the same feeling among the boys; all of them, down to the very least

Chaerephon called me and said: What do you think of him, Socrates? Has he not a beautiful face?

But you would think nothing of his face, he replied, if you could see his naked form: he is absolutely perfect.

By Heracles, I said, there never was such a paragon, if he has only one other slight addition.

If he has a noble soul; and being of your house, Critias, he may be expected to have this.

Then, before we see his body, should we not ask him to show us his soul, naked and undisguised? he is just

That he will, said Critias, and I can tell you that he is a philosopher already, and also a considerable poet, not

That, my dear Critias, I replied, is a distinction which has long been in your family, and is inherited by you

from Solon. But why do you not call him, and show him to us? for even if he were younger than he is, there

could be no impropriety in his talking to us in the presence of you, who are his guardian and cousin.

Very well, he said; then I will call him; and turning to the attendant, he said, Call Charmides, and tell him

that I want him to come and see a physician about the illness of which he spoke to me the day before

yesterday. Then again addressing me, he added: He has been complaining lately of having a headache when

he rises in the morning: now why should you not make him believe that you know a cure for the headache?

He came as he was bidden, and sat down between Critias and me. Great amusement was occasioned by every

one pushing with might and main at his neighbour in order to make a place for him next to themselves, until

at the two ends of the row one had to get up and the other was rolled over sideways. Now I, my friend, was

beginning to feel awkward; my former bold belief in my powers of conversing with him had vanished. And

when Critias told him that I was the person who had the cure, he looked at me in such an indescribable

manner, and was just going to ask a question. And at that moment all the people in the palaestra crowded

about us, and, O rare! I caught a sight of the inwards of his garment, and took the flame. Then I could no

longer contain myself. I thought how well Cydias understood the nature of love, when, in speaking of a fair

youth, he warns some one 'not to bring the fawn in the sight of the lion to be devoured by him,' for I felt that I

had been overcome by a sort of wildbeast appetite. But I controlled myself, and when he asked me if I knew

I replied that it was a kind of leaf, which required to be accompanied by a charm, and if a person would

repeat the charm at the same time that he used the cure, he would be made whole; but that without the charm

I ought to know you, he replied, for there is a great deal said about you among my companions; and I

I am glad to find that you remember me, I said; for I shall now be more at home with you and shall be better

able to explain the nature of the charm, about which I felt a difficulty before. For the charm will do more,

Charmides, than only cure the headache. I dare say that you have heard eminent physicians say to a patient

who comes to them with bad eyes, that they cannot cure his eyes by themselves, but that if his eyes are to be

cured, his head must be treated; and then again they say that to think of curing the head alone, and not the rest

of the body also, is the height of folly. And arguing in this way they apply their methods to the whole body,

and try to treat and heal the whole and the part together. Did you ever observe that this is what they say?

His approving answers reassured me, and I began by degrees to regain confidence, and the vital heat returned.

Such, Charmides, I said, is the nature of the charm, which I learned when serving with the army from one of

the physicians of the Thracian king Zamolxis, who are said to be so skilful that they can even give

immortality. This Thracian told me that in these notions of theirs, which I was just now mentioning, the

Greek physicians are quite right as far as they go; but Zamolxis, he added, our king, who is also a god, says

further, 'that as you ought not to attempt to cure the eyes without the head, or the head without the body, so

neither ought you to attempt to cure the body without the soul; and this,' he said, 'is the reason why the cure

of many diseases is unknown to the physicians of Hellas, because they are ignorant of the whole, which ought

to be studied also; for the part can never be well unless the whole is well.' For all good and evil, whether in

the body or in human nature, originates, as he declared, in the soul, and overflows from thence, as if from the

head into the eyes. And therefore if the head and body are to be well, you must begin by curing the soul; that

is the first thing. And the cure, my dear youth, has to be effected by the use of certain charms, and these

charms are fair words; and by them temperance is implanted in the soul, and where temperance is, there

health is speedily imparted, not only to the head, but to the whole body. And he who taught me the cure and

the charm at the same time added a special direction: 'Let no one,' he said, 'persuade you to cure the head,

until he has first given you his soul to be cured by the charm. For this,' he said, 'is the great error of our day in

the treatment of the human body, that physicians separate the soul from the body.' And he added with

emphasis, at the same time making me swear to his words, 'Let no one, however rich, or noble, or fair,

persuade you to give him the cure, without the charm.' Now I have sworn, and I must keep my oath, and

therefore if you will allow me to apply the Thracian charm first to your soul, as the stranger directed, I will

afterwards proceed to apply the cure to your head. But if not, I do not know what I am to do with you, my

Critias, when he heard this, said: The headache will be an unexpected gain to my young relation, if the pain in

his head compels him to improve his mind: and I can tell you, Socrates, that Charmides is not only

preeminent in beauty among his equals, but also in that quality which is given by the charm; and this, as you

Then let me tell you that he is the most temperate of human beings, and for his age inferior to none in any

Yes, I said, Charmides; and indeed I think that you ought to excel others in all good qualities; for if I am not

mistaken there is no one present who could easily point out two Athenian houses, whose union would be

likely to produce a better or nobler scion than the two from which you are sprung. There is your father's

house, which is descended from Critias the son of Dropidas, whose family has been commemorated in the

panegyrical verses of Anacreon, Solon, and many other poets, as famous for beauty and virtue and all other

high fortune: and your mother's house is equally distinguished; for your maternal uncle, Pyrilampes, is

reputed never to have found his equal, in Persia at the court of the great king, or on the continent of Asia, in

all the places to which he went as ambassador, for stature and beauty; that whole family is not a whit inferior

to the other. Having such ancestors you ought to be first in all things, and, sweet son of Glaucon, your

outward form is no dishonour to any of them. If to beauty you add temperance, and if in other respects you

are what Critias declares you to be, then, dear Charmides, blessed art thou, in being the son of thy mother.

And here lies the point; for if, as he declares, you have this gift of temperance already, and are temperate

enough, in that case you have no need of any charms, whether of Zamolxis or of Abaris the Hyperborean, and

I may as well let you have the cure of the head at once; but if you have not yet acquired this quality, I must

use the charm before I give you the medicine. Please, therefore, to inform me whether you admit the truth of

what Critias has been saying;have you or have you not this quality of temperance?

Charmides blushed, and the blush heightened his beauty, for modesty is becoming in youth; he then said very

ingenuously, that he really could not at once answer, either yes, or no, to the question which I had asked: For,

said he, if I affirm that I am not temperate, that would be a strange thing for me to say of myself, and also I

should give the lie to Critias, and many others who think as he tells you, that I am temperate: but, on the other

hand, if I say that I am, I shall have to praise myself, which would be ill manners; and therefore I do not

I said to him: That is a natural reply, Charmides, and I think that you and I ought together to enquire whether

you have this quality about which I am asking or not; and then you will not be compelled to say what you do

not like; neither shall I be a rash practitioner of medicine: therefore, if you please, I will share the enquiry

There is nothing which I should like better, he said; and as far as I am concerned you may proceed in the way

I think, I said, that I had better begin by asking you a question; for if temperance abides in you, you must

have an opinion about her; she must give some intimation of her nature and qualities, which may enable you

You know your native language, I said, and therefore you must be able to tell what you feel about this.

In order, then, that I may form a conjecture whether you have temperance abiding in you or not, tell me, I

At first he hesitated, and was very unwilling to answer: then he said that he thought temperance was doing

things orderly and quietly, such things for example as walking in the streets, and talking, or anything else of

that nature. In a word, he said, I should answer that, in my opinion, temperance is quietness.

Are you right, Charmides? I said. No doubt some would affirm that the quiet are the temperate; but let us see

whether these words have any meaning; and first tell me whether you would not acknowledge temperance to

But which is best when you are at the writingmaster's, to write the same letters quickly or quietly?

And in playing the lyre, or wrestling, quickness or sharpness are far better than quietness and slowness?

And in leaping and running and in bodily exercises generally, quickness and agility are good; slowness, and

Then, I said, in all bodily actions, not quietness, but the greatest agility and quickness, is noblest and best?

Then, in reference to the body, not quietness, but quickness will be the higher degree of temperance, if

Yes, I said; and facility in learning is learning quickly, and difficulty in learning is learning quietly and

And is it not better to teach another quickly and energetically, rather than quietly and slowly?

And which is better, to call to mind, and to remember, quickly and readily, or quietly and slowly?

And is not shrewdness a quickness or cleverness of the soul, and not a quietness?

And is it not best to understand what is said, whether at the writing master's or the musicmaster's, or

And in the searchings or deliberations of the soul, not the quietest, as I imagine, and he who with difficulty

deliberates and discovers, is thought worthy of praise, but he who does so most easily and quickly?

And in all that concerns either body or soul, swiftness and activity are clearly better than slowness and

Then temperance is not quietness, nor is the temperate life quiet, certainly not upon this view; for the life

which is temperate is supposed to be the good. And of two things, one is true,either never, or very seldom,

do the quiet actions in life appear to be better than the quick and energetic ones; or supposing that of the

nobler actions, there are as many quiet, as quick and vehement: still, even if we grant this, temperance will

not be acting quietly any more than acting quickly and energetically, either in walking or talking or in

anything else; nor will the quiet life be more temperate than the unquiet, seeing that temperance is admitted

by us to be a good and noble thing, and the quick have been shown to be as good as the quiet.

Then once more, Charmides, I said, fix your attention, and look within; consider the effect which temperance

has upon yourself, and the nature of that which has the effect. Think over all this, and, like a brave youth, tell

After a moment's pause, in which he made a real manly effort to think, he said: My opinion is, Socrates, that

temperance makes a man ashamed or modest, and that temperance is the same as modesty.

But temperance, whose presence makes men only good, and not bad, is always good?

And the inference is that temperance cannot be modestyif temperance is a good, and if modesty is as much

All that, Socrates, appears to me to be true; but I should like to know what you think about another definition

of temperance, which I just now remember to have heard from some one, who said, 'That temperance is doing

No matter at all, I replied; for the point is not who said the words, but whether they are true or not.

To be sure, I said; yet I doubt whether we shall ever be able to discover their truth or falsehood; for they are a

Because, I said, he who uttered them seems to me to have meant one thing, and said another. Is the scribe, for

And does the scribe write or read, or teach you boys to write or read, your own names only, or did you write

And yet if reading and writing are the same as doing, you were doing what was not your own business?

And the healing art, my friend, and building, and weaving, and doing anything whatever which is done by

And do you think that a state would be well ordered by a law which compelled every man to weave and wash

his own coat, and make his own shoes, and his own flask and strigil, and other implements, on this principle

of every one doing and performing his own, and abstaining from what is not his own?

Then temperance, I said, will not be doing one's own business; not at least in this way, or doing things of this

Then, as I was just now saying, he who declared that temperance is a man doing his own business had

another and a hidden meaning; for I do not think that he could have been such a fool as to mean this. Was he

Then I am quite certain that he put forth his definition as a riddle, thinking that no one would know the

Indeed, I cannot; and I should not wonder if the man himself who used this phrase did not understand what he

Critias had long been showing uneasiness, for he felt that he had a reputation to maintain with Charmides and

the rest of the company. He had, however, hitherto managed to restrain himself; but now he could no longer

forbear, and I am convinced of the truth of the suspicion which I entertained at the time, that Charmides had

heard this answer about temperance from Critias. And Charmides, who did not want to answer himself, but to

make Critias answer, tried to stir him up. He went on pointing out that he had been refuted, at which Critias

grew angry, and appeared, as I thought, inclined to quarrel with him; just as a poet might quarrel with an

actor who spoiled his poems in repeating them; so he looked hard at him and said

Do you imagine, Charmides, that the author of this definition of temperance did not understand the meaning

Why, at his age, I said, most excellent Critias, he can hardly be expected to understand; but you, who are

older, and have studied, may well be assumed to know the meaning of them; and therefore, if you agree with

him, and accept his definition of temperance, I would much rather argue with you than with him about the

Very good, I said; and now let me repeat my questionDo you admit, as I was just now saying, that all

And are they temperate, seeing that they make not for themselves or their own business only?

No objection on my part, I said, but there may be a difficulty on his who proposes as a definition of

temperance, 'doing one's own business,' and then says that there is no reason why those who do the business

Nay (The English reader has to observe that the word 'make' (Greek), in Greek, has also the sense of 'do'

(Greek).), said he; did I ever acknowledge that those who do the business of others are temperate? I said,

No more, he replied, than making or working are the same; thus much I have learned from Hesiod, who says

that 'work is no disgrace.' Now do you imagine that if he had meant by working and doing such things as you

were describing, he would have said that there was no disgrace in themfor example, in the manufacture of

shoes, or in selling pickles, or sitting for hire in a house of illfame? That, Socrates, is not to be supposed:

but I conceive him to have distinguished making from doing and work; and, while admitting that the making

anything might sometimes become a disgrace, when the employment was not honourable, to have thought

that work was never any disgrace at all. For things nobly and usefully made he called works; and such

makings he called workings, and doings; and he must be supposed to have called such things only man's

proper business, and what is hurtful, not his business: and in that sense Hesiod, and any other wise man, may

O Critias, I said, no sooner had you opened your mouth, than I pretty well knew that you would call that

which is proper to a man, and that which is his own, good; and that the makings (Greek) of the good you

would call doings (Greek), for I am no stranger to the endless distinctions which Prodicus draws about

names. Now I have no objection to your giving names any signification which you please, if you will only

tell me what you mean by them. Please then to begin again, and be a little plainer. Do you mean that this

doing or making, or whatever is the word which you would use, of good actions, is temperance?

No matter whether I should or not; just now, not what I think, but what you are saying, is the point at issue.

Well, he answered; I mean to say, that he who does evil, and not good, is not temperate; and that he is

temperate who does good, and not evil: for temperance I define in plain words to be the doing of good

And you may be very likely right in what you are saying; but I am curious to know whether you imagine that

And yet were you not saying, just now, that craftsmen might be temperate in doing another's work, as well as

I have no particular drift, but I wish that you would tell me whether a physician who cures a patient may do

But must the physician necessarily know when his treatment is likely to prove beneficial, and when not? or

must the craftsman necessarily know when he is likely to be benefited, and when not to be benefited, by the

Then, I said, he may sometimes do good or harm, and not know what he is himself doing, and yet, in doing

good, as you say, he has done temperately or wisely. Was not that your statement?

Then, as would seem, in doing good, he may act wisely or temperately, and be wise or temperate, but not

But that, Socrates, he said, is impossible; and therefore if this is, as you imply, the necessary consequence of

any of my previous admissions, I will withdraw them, rather than admit that a man can be temperate or wise

who does not know himself; and I am not ashamed to confess that I was in error. For selfknowledge would

certainly be maintained by me to be the very essence of knowledge, and in this I agree with him who

dedicated the inscription, 'Know thyself!' at Delphi. That word, if I am not mistaken, is put there as a sort of

salutation which the god addresses to those who enter the temple; as much as to say that the ordinary

salutation of 'Hail!' is not right, and that the exhortation 'Be temperate!' would be a far better way of saluting

one another. The notion of him who dedicated the inscription was, as I believe, that the god speaks to those

who enter his temple, not as men speak; but, when a worshipper enters, the first word which he hears is 'Be

temperate!' This, however, like a prophet he expresses in a sort of riddle, for 'Know thyself!' and 'Be

temperate!' are the same, as I maintain, and as the letters imply (Greek), and yet they may be easily

misunderstood; and succeeding sages who added 'Never too much,' or, 'Give a pledge, and evil is nigh at

hand,' would appear to have so misunderstood them; for they imagined that 'Know thyself!' was a piece of

advice which the god gave, and not his salutation of the worshippers at their first coming in; and they

dedicated their own inscription under the idea that they too would give equally useful pieces of advice. Shall I

tell you, Socrates, why I say all this? My object is to leave the previous discussion (in which I know not

whether you or I are more right, but, at any rate, no clear result was attained), and to raise a new one in which

Yes, I said, Critias; but you come to me as though I professed to know about the questions which I ask, and

as though I could, if I only would, agree with you. Whereas the fact is that I enquire with you into the truth of

that which is advanced from time to time, just because I do not know; and when I have enquired, I will say

I am reflecting, I replied, and discover that temperance, or wisdom, if implying a knowledge of anything,

And suppose, I said, that I were asked by you what is the use or effect of medicine, which is this science of

health, I should answer that medicine is of very great use in producing health, which, as you will admit, is an

And if you were to ask me, what is the result or effect of architecture, which is the science of building, I

should say houses, and so of other arts, which all have their different results. Now I want you, Critias, to

answer a similar question about temperance, or wisdom, which, according to you, is the science of itself.

Admitting this view, I ask of you, what good work, worthy of the name wise, does temperance or wisdom,

That is not the true way of pursuing the enquiry, Socrates, he said; for wisdom is not like the other sciences,

any more than they are like one another: but you proceed as if they were alike. For tell me, he said, what

result is there of computation or geometry, in the same sense as a house is the result of building, or a garment

of weaving, or any other work of any other art? Can you show me any such result of them? You cannot.

That is true, I said; but still each of these sciences has a subject which is different from the science. I can

show you that the art of computation has to do with odd and even numbers in their numerical relations to

The art of weighing, again, has to do with lighter and heavier; but the art of weighing is one thing, and the

Now, I want to know, what is that which is not wisdom, and of which wisdom is the science?

You are just falling into the old error, Socrates, he said. You come asking in what wisdom or temperance

differs from the other sciences, and then you try to discover some respect in which they are alike; but they are

not, for all the other sciences are of something else, and not of themselves; wisdom alone is a science of other

sciences, and of itself. And of this, as I believe, you are very well aware: and that you are only doing what

you denied that you were doing just now, trying to refute me, instead of pursuing the argument.

And what if I am? How can you think that I have any other motive in refuting you but what I should have in

examining into myself? which motive would be just a fear of my unconsciously fancying that I knew

something of which I was ignorant. And at this moment I pursue the argument chiefly for my own sake, and

perhaps in some degree also for the sake of my other friends. For is not the discovery of things as they truly

Then, I said, be cheerful, sweet sir, and give your opinion in answer to the question which I asked, never

minding whether Critias or Socrates is the person refuted; attend only to the argument, and see what will

I mean to say that wisdom is the only science which is the science of itself as well as of the other sciences.

But the science of science, I said, will also be the science of the absence of science.

Then the wise or temperate man, and he only, will know himself, and be able to examine what he knows or

does not know, and to see what others know and think that they know and do really know; and what they do

not know, and fancy that they know, when they do not. No other person will be able to do this. And this is

wisdom and temperance and selfknowledgefor a man to know what he knows, and what he does not

Now then, I said, making an offering of the third or last argument to Zeus the Saviour, let us begin again, and

ask, in the first place, whether it is or is not possible for a person to know that he knows and does not know

what he knows and does not know; and in the second place, whether, if perfectly possible, such knowledge is

And here, Critias, I said, I hope that you will find a way out of a difficulty into which I have got myself. Shall

Does not what you have been saying, if true, amount to this: that there must be a single science which is

wholly a science of itself and of other sciences, and that the same is also the science of the absence of

But consider how monstrous this proposition is, my friend: in any parallel case, the impossibility will be

In such cases as this: Suppose that there is a kind of vision which is not like ordinary vision, but a vision of

itself and of other sorts of vision, and of the defect of them, which in seeing sees no colour, but only itself and

Or is there a kind of hearing which hears no sound at all, but only itself and other sorts of hearing, or the

Or take all the senses: can you imagine that there is any sense of itself and of other senses, but which is

Could there be any desire which is not the desire of any pleasure, but of itself, and of all other desires?

Or can you imagine a wish which wishes for no good, but only for itself and all other wishes?

Or would you say that there is a love which is not the love of beauty, but of itself and of other loves?

Or did you ever know of a fear which fears itself or other fears, but has no object of fear?

Or of an opinion which is an opinion of itself and of other opinions, and which has no opinion on the subjects

But surely we are assuming a science of this kind, which, having no subjectmatter, is a science of itself and

But how strange is this, if it be indeed true: we must not however as yet absolutely deny the possibility of

Well then, this science of which we are speaking is a science of something, and is of a nature to be a science

Just as that which is greater is of a nature to be greater than something else? (Socrates is intending to show

that science differs from the object of science, as any other relative differs from the object of relation. But

where there is comparisongreater, less, heavier, lighter, and the likea relation to self as well as to other

things involves an absolute contradiction; and in other cases, as in the case of the senses, is hardly

conceivable. The use of the genitive after the comparative in Greek, (Greek), creates an unavoidable

And if we could find something which is at once greater than itself, and greater than other great things, but

not greater than those things in comparison of which the others are greater, then that thing would have the

Or if there be a double which is double of itself and of other doubles, these will be halves; for the double is

And that which is greater than itself will also be less, and that which is heavier will also be lighter, and that

which is older will also be younger: and the same of other things; that which has a nature relative to self will

retain also the nature of its object: I mean to say, for example, that hearing is, as we say, of sound or voice. Is

Then if hearing hears itself, it must hear a voice; for there is no other way of hearing.

And sight also, my excellent friend, if it sees itself must see a colour, for sight cannot see that which has no

Do you remark, Critias, that in several of the examples which have been recited the notion of a relation to self

is altogether inadmissible, and in other cases hardly credibleinadmissible, for example, in the case of

But in the case of hearing and sight, or in the power of selfmotion, and the power of heat to burn, this

relation to self will be regarded as incredible by some, but perhaps not by others. And some great man, my

friend, is wanted, who will satisfactorily determine for us, whether there is nothing which has an inherent

property of relation to self, or some things only and not others; and whether in this class of selfrelated

things, if there be such a class, that science which is called wisdom or temperance is included. I altogether

distrust my own power of determining these matters: I am not certain whether there is such a science of

science at all; and even if there be, I should not acknowledge this to be wisdom or temperance, until I can

also see whether such a science would or would not do us any good; for I have an impression that temperance

is a benefit and a good. And therefore, O son of Callaeschrus, as you maintain that temperance or wisdom is a

science of science, and also of the absence of science, I will request you to show in the first place, as I was

saying before, the possibility, and in the second place, the advantage, of such a science; and then perhaps you

Critias heard me say this, and saw that I was in a difficulty; and as one person when another yawns in his

presence catches the infection of yawning from him, so did he seem to be driven into a difficulty by my

difficulty. But as he had a reputation to maintain, he was ashamed to admit before the company that he could

not answer my challenge or determine the question at issue; and he made an unintelligible attempt to hide his

perplexity. In order that the argument might proceed, I said to him, Well then Critias, if you like, let us

assume that there is this science of science; whether the assumption is right or wrong may hereafter be

investigated. Admitting the existence of it, will you tell me how such a science enables us to distinguish what

we know or do not know, which, as we were saying, is selfknowledge or wisdom: so we were saying?

Yes, Socrates, he said; and that I think is certainly true: for he who has this science or knowledge which

knows itself will become like the knowledge which he has, in the same way that he who has swiftness will be

swift, and he who has beauty will be beautiful, and he who has knowledge will know. In the same way he

I do not doubt, I said, that a man will know himself, when he possesses that which has selfknowledge: but

what necessity is there that, having this, he should know what he knows and what he does not know?

Very likely, I said; but I remain as stupid as ever; for still I fail to comprehend how this knowing what you

This is what I mean, I replied: I will admit that there is a science of science;can this do more than

But is knowledge or want of knowledge of health the same as knowledge or want of knowledge of justice?

The one is medicine, and the other is politics; whereas that of which we are speaking is knowledge pure and

And if a man knows only, and has only knowledge of knowledge, and has no further knowledge of health and

justice, the probability is that he will only know that he knows something, and has a certain knowledge,

Then how will this knowledge or science teach him to know what he knows? Say that he knows health;not

wisdom or temperance, but the art of medicine has taught it to him;and he has learned harmony from the

art of music, and building from the art of building,neither, from wisdom or temperance: and the same of

How will wisdom, regarded only as a knowledge of knowledge or science of science, ever teach him that he

Then he who is ignorant of these things will only know that he knows, but not what he knows?

Then wisdom or being wise appears to be not the knowledge of the things which we do or do not know, but

Then he who has this knowledge will not be able to examine whether a pretender knows or does not know

that which he says that he knows: he will only know that he has a knowledge of some kind; but wisdom will

Neither will he be able to distinguish the pretender in medicine from the true physician, nor between any

other true and false professor of knowledge. Let us consider the matter in this way: If the wise man or any

other man wants to distinguish the true physician from the false, how will he proceed? He will not talk to him

about medicine; and that, as we were saying, is the only thing which the physician understands.

And, on the other hand, the physician knows nothing of science, for this has been assumed to be the province

And further, since medicine is science, we must infer that he does not know anything of medicine.

Then the wise man may indeed know that the physician has some kind of science or knowledge; but when he

wants to discover the nature of this he will ask, What is the subjectmatter? For the several sciences are

distinguished not by the mere fact that they are sciences, but by the nature of their subjects. Is not that true?

And medicine is distinguished from other sciences as having the subject matter of health and disease?

And he who would enquire into the nature of medicine must pursue the enquiry into health and disease, and

And he who judges rightly will judge of the physician as a physician in what relates to these?

He will consider whether what he says is true, and whether what he does is right, in relation to health and

But can any one attain the knowledge of either unless he have a knowledge of medicine?

No one at all, it would seem, except the physician can have this knowledge; and therefore not the wise man;

Then, assuredly, wisdom or temperance, if only a science of science, and of the absence of science or

knowledge, will not be able to distinguish the physician who knows from one who does not know but

pretends or thinks that he knows, or any other professor of anything at all; like any other artist, he will only

But then what profit, Critias, I said, is there any longer in wisdom or temperance which yet remains, if this is

wisdom? If, indeed, as we were supposing at first, the wise man had been able to distinguish what he knew

and did not know, and that he knew the one and did not know the other, and to recognize a similar faculty of

discernment in others, there would certainly have been a great advantage in being wise; for then we should

never have made a mistake, but have passed through life the unerring guides of ourselves and of those who

are under us; and we should not have attempted to do what we did not know, but we should have found out

those who knew, and have handed the business over to them and trusted in them; nor should we have allowed

those who were under us to do anything which they were not likely to do well; and they would be likely to do

well just that of which they had knowledge; and the house or state which was ordered or administered under

the guidance of wisdom, and everything else of which wisdom was the lord, would have been well ordered;

for truth guiding, and error having been eliminated, in all their doings, men would have done well, and would

have been happy. Was not this, Critias, what we spoke of as the great advantage of wisdomto know what is

May we assume then, I said, that wisdom, viewed in this new light merely as a knowledge of knowledge and

ignorance, has this advantage:that he who possesses such knowledge will more easily learn anything

which he learns; and that everything will be clearer to him, because, in addition to the knowledge of

individuals, he sees the science, and this also will better enable him to test the knowledge which others have

of what he knows himself; whereas the enquirer who is without this knowledge may be supposed to have a

feebler and weaker insight? Are not these, my friend, the real advantages which are to be gained from

wisdom? And are not we looking and seeking after something more than is to be found in her?

That is very likely, I said; and very likely, too, we have been enquiring to no purpose; as I am led to infer,

because I observe that if this is wisdom, some strange consequences would follow. Let us, if you please,

assume the possibility of this science of sciences, and further admit and allow, as was originally suggested,

that wisdom is the knowledge of what we know and do not know. Assuming all this, still, upon further

consideration, I am doubtful, Critias, whether wisdom, such as this, would do us much good. For we were

wrong, I think, in supposing, as we were saying just now, that such wisdom ordering the government of

Why, I said, we were far too ready to admit the great benefits which mankind would obtain from their

severally doing the things which they knew, and committing the things of which they are ignorant to those

By the dog of Egypt, I said, there I agree with you; and I was thinking as much just now when I said that

strange consequences would follow, and that I was afraid we were on the wrong track; for however ready we

may be to admit that this is wisdom, I certainly cannot make out what good this sort of thing does to us.

What do you mean? he said; I wish that you could make me understand what you mean.

I dare say that what I am saying is nonsense, I replied; and yet if a man has any feeling of what is due to

himself, he cannot let the thought which comes into his mind pass away unheeded and unexamined.

Hear, then, I said, my own dream; whether coming through the horn or the ivory gate, I cannot tell. The

dream is this: Let us suppose that wisdom is such as we are now defining, and that she has absolute sway

over us; then each action will be done according to the arts or sciences, and no one professing to be a pilot

when he is not, or any physician or general, or any one else pretending to know matters of which he is

ignorant, will deceive or elude us; our health will be improved; our safety at sea, and also in battle, will be

assured; our coats and shoes, and all other instruments and implements will be skilfully made, because the

workmen will be good and true. Aye, and if you please, you may suppose that prophecy, which is the

knowledge of the future, will be under the control of wisdom, and that she will deter deceivers and set up the

true prophets in their place as the revealers of the future. Now I quite agree that mankind, thus provided,

would live and act according to knowledge, for wisdom would watch and prevent ignorance from intruding

on us. But whether by acting according to knowledge we shall act well and be happy, my dear Critias, this

Yet I think, he replied, that if you discard knowledge, you will hardly find the crown of happiness in anything

But of what is this knowledge? I said. Just answer me that small question. Do you mean a knowledge of

Then, I said, we are giving up the doctrine that he who lives according to knowledge is happy, for these live

according to knowledge, and yet they are not allowed by you to be happy; but I think that you mean to

confine happiness to particular individuals who live according to knowledge, such for example as the

prophet, who, as I was saying, knows the future. Is it of him you are speaking or of some one else?

Yes, I said, some one who knows the past and present as well as the future, and is ignorant of nothing. Let us

suppose that there is such a person, and if there is, you will allow that he is the most knowing of all living

Yet I should like to know one thing more: which of the different kinds of knowledge makes him happy? or do

But which most tends to make him happy? the knowledge of what past, present, or future thing? May I infer

Monster! I said; you have been carrying me round in a circle, and all this time hiding from me the fact that

the life according to knowledge is not that which makes men act rightly and be happy, not even if knowledge

include all the sciences, but one science only, that of good and evil. For, let me ask you, Critias, whether, if

you take away this, medicine will not equally give health, and shoemaking equally produce shoes, and the art

of the weaver clothes?whether the art of the pilot will not equally save our lives at sea, and the art of the

And yet, my dear Critias, none of these things will be well or beneficially done, if the science of the good be

But that science is not wisdom or temperance, but a science of human advantage; not a science of other

sciences, or of ignorance, but of good and evil: and if this be of use, then wisdom or temperance will not be

And why, he replied, will not wisdom be of use? For, however much we assume that wisdom is a science of

sciences, and has a sway over other sciences, surely she will have this particular science of the good under

And will wisdom give health? I said; is not this rather the effect of medicine? Or does wisdom do the work of

any of the other arts,do they not each of them do their own work? Have we not long ago asseverated that

wisdom is only the knowledge of knowledge and of ignorance, and of nothing else?

Nor does wisdom give advantage, my good friend; for that again we have just now been attributing to another

You see then, Critias, that I was not far wrong in fearing that I could have no sound notion about wisdom; I

was quite right in depreciating myself; for that which is admitted to be the best of all things would never have

seemed to us useless, if I had been good for anything at an enquiry. But now I have been utterly defeated, and

have failed to discover what that is to which the imposer of names gave this name of temperance or wisdom.

And yet many more admissions were made by us than could be fairly granted; for we admitted that there was

a science of science, although the argument said No, and protested against us; and we admitted further, that

this science knew the works of the other sciences (although this too was denied by the argument), because we

wanted to show that the wise man had knowledge of what he knew and did not know; also we nobly

disregarded, and never even considered, the impossibility of a man knowing in a sort of way that which he

does not know at all; for our assumption was, that he knows that which he does not know; than which

nothing, as I think, can be more irrational. And yet, after finding us so easy and goodnatured, the enquiry is

still unable to discover the truth; but mocks us to a degree, and has gone out of its way to prove the inutility

of that which we admitted only by a sort of supposition and fiction to be the true definition of temperance or

wisdom: which result, as far as I am concerned, is not so much to be lamented, I said. But for your sake,

Charmides, I am very sorrythat you, having such beauty and such wisdom and temperance of soul, should

have no profit or good in life from your wisdom and temperance. And still more am I grieved about the

charm which I learned with so much pain, and to so little profit, from the Thracian, for the sake of a thing

which is nothing worth. I think indeed that there is a mistake, and that I must be a bad enquirer, for wisdom

or temperance I believe to be really a great good; and happy are you, Charmides, if you certainly possess it.

Wherefore examine yourself, and see whether you have this gift and can do without the charm; for if you can,

I would rather advise you to regard me simply as a fool who is never able to reason out anything; and to rest

Charmides said: I am sure that I do not know, Socrates, whether I have or have not this gift of wisdom and

temperance; for how can I know whether I have a thing, of which even you and Critias are, as you say, unable

to discover the nature?(not that I believe you.) And further, I am sure, Socrates, that I do need the charm,

and as far as I am concerned, I shall be willing to be charmed by you daily, until you say that I have had

Very good, Charmides, said Critias; if you do this I shall have a proof of your temperance, that is, if you

You may depend on my following and not deserting him, said Charmides: if you who are my guardian

And are you about to use violence, without even going through the forms of justice?

Yes, I shall use violence, he replied, since he orders me; and therefore you had better consider well.

But the time for consideration has passed, I said, when violence is employed; and you, when you are