Plato - Charmides, or Temperance.pdf - Plato - most of his works (this time with full content) - the.prodigy.society

380 BC

CHARMIDES, OR TEMPERANCE

by Plato

translated by Benjamin Jowett

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PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: SOCRATES, who is the narrator; CHARMIDES;

CHAEREPHON; CRITIAS. Scene: The Palaestra of Taureas, which is near

the Porch of the King Archon.

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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 not long before we came away, of which the

news had only just reached Athens.)

You see, I replied, that here I am.

There was a report, he said, that the engagement was very severe,

and that many of our acquaintance had fallen.

That, I replied, was not far from the truth.

I suppose, he said, that you were present.

I was.

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 enquiries.

Then, when there had been enough of this, I, in my turn, began to

make enquiries about matters at home-about 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.

Who is he, I said; and who is his father?

Charmides, he replied, is his name; he is my cousin, and the son

of my uncle Glaucon: I rather think that you know him too, although he

was not grown up at the time of your departure.

Certainly, I know him, I said, for he was remarkable even then

when he was still a child, and I should imagine that by this time he

must be almost a young man.

You will see, he said, in a moment what progress he has made and

what he is like. He had scarcely said the word, when Charmides

entered.

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 grown-up 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 child, turned and looked at him, as if he

had been a statue.

Chaerephon called me and said: What do you think of him, Socrates?

Has he not a beautiful face?

Most beautiful, I said.

But you would think nothing of his face, he replied, if you could

see his naked form: he is absolutely perfect.

And to this they all agreed.

By Heracles, I said, there never was such a paragon, if he has

only one other slight addition.

What is that? said Critias.

If he has a noble soul; and being of your house, Critias, he may

be expected to have this.

He is as fair and good within, as he is without, replied Critias.

Then, before we see his body, should we not ask him to show us his

soul, naked and undisguised? he is just of an age at which he will

like to talk.

That he will, said Critias, and I can tell you that he is a

philosopher already, and also a considerable poet, not in his own

opinion only, but in that of others.

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?

Why not, I said; but will he come?

He will be sure to come, he replied.

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 my friend, was beginning to feel awkward;

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 wild-beast appetite. But I

controlled myself, and when he asked me if I knew the cure of the

headache, I answered, but with an effort, that I did know.

And what is it? he said.

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 the leaf would be of no avail.

Then I will write out the charm from your dictation, he said.

With my consent? I said, or without my consent?

With your consent, Socrates, he said, laughing.

Very good, I said; and are you quite sure that you know my name?

I ought to know you, he replied, for there is a great deal said

about you among my companions; and I remember when I was a child

seeing you in company with my cousin Critias.

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?

Yes, he said.

And they are right, and you would agree with them?

Yes, he said, certainly I should.

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 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 dear Charmides.

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 pre-eminent in beauty among his equals, but also

in that quality which is given by the charm; and this, as you say,

is temperance?

Yes, I said.

Then let me tell you that he is the most temperate of human

beings, and for his age inferior to none in any quality.

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 know how to answer you.

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 with you,

but I will not press you if you would rather not.

There is nothing which I should like better, he said; and as far

as I am concerned you may proceed in the way which you think best.

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 to form a notion of her. Is not that true?

Yes, he said, that I think is true.

You know your native language, I said, and therefore you must be

able to tell what you feel about this.

Certainly, he said.

In order, then, that I may form a conjecture whether you have

temperance abiding in you or not, tell me, I said, what, in your

opinion, is Temperance?

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 be of the class of the noble and good?

Yes.

But which is best when you are at the writing-master's, to write the

same letters quickly or quietly?

Quickly.

And to read quickly or slowly?

Quickly again.

And in playing the lyre, or wrestling, quickness or sharpness are

far better than quietness and slowness?

Yes.

Plato - Charmides, or Temperance.pdf

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