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Laches

12 Temmuz 2007

LACHES

by PLATO

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

INTRODUCTION.

Lysimachus, the son of Aristides the Just, and Melesias, the son of the

elder Thucydides, two aged men who live together, are desirous of educating

their sons in the best manner. Their own education, as often happens with

the sons of great men, has been neglected; and they are resolved that their

children shall have more care taken of them, than they received themselves

at the hands of their fathers.

At their request, Nicias and Laches have accompanied them to see a man

named Stesilaus fighting in heavy armour. The two fathers ask the two

generals what they think of this exhibition, and whether they would advise

that their sons should acquire the accomplishment. Nicias and Laches are

quite willing to give their opinion; but they suggest that Socrates should

be invited to take part in the consultation. He is a stranger to

Lysimachus, but is afterwards recognised as the son of his old friend

Sophroniscus, with whom he never had a difference to the hour of his death.

Socrates is also known to Nicias, to whom he had introduced the excellent

Damon, musician and sophist, as a tutor for his son, and to Laches, who had

witnessed his heroic behaviour at the battle of Delium (compare Symp.).

Socrates, as he is younger than either Nicias or Laches, prefers to wait

until they have delivered their opinions, which they give in a

characteristic manner. Nicias, the tactician, is very much in favour of

the new art, which he describes as the gymnastics of war–useful when the

ranks are formed, and still more useful when they are broken; creating a

general interest in military studies, and greatly adding to the appearance

of the soldier in the field. Laches, the blunt warrior, is of opinion that

such an art is not knowledge, and cannot be of any value, because the

Lacedaemonians, those great masters of arms, neglect it. His own

experience in actual service has taught him that these pretenders are

useless and ridiculous. This man Stesilaus has been seen by him on board

ship making a very sorry exhibition of himself. The possession of the art

will make the coward rash, and subject the courageous, if he chance to make

a slip, to invidious remarks. And now let Socrates be taken into counsel.

As they differ he must decide.

Socrates would rather not decide the question by a plurality of votes: in

such a serious matter as the education of a friend’s children, he would

consult the one skilled person who has had masters, and has works to show

as evidences of his skill. This is not himself; for he has never been able

to pay the sophists for instructing him, and has never had the wit to do or

discover anything. But Nicias and Laches are older and richer than he is:

they have had teachers, and perhaps have made discoveries; and he would

have trusted them entirely, if they had not been diametrically opposed.

Lysimachus here proposes to resign the argument into the hands of the

younger part of the company, as he is old, and has a bad memory. He

earnestly requests Socrates to remain;–in this showing, as Nicias says,

how little he knows the man, who will certainly not go away until he has

cross-examined the company about their past lives. Nicias has often

submitted to this process; and Laches is quite willing to learn from

Socrates, because his actions, in the true Dorian mode, correspond to his

words.

Socrates proceeds: We might ask who are our teachers? But a better and

more thorough way of examining the question will be to ask, ‘What is

Virtue?’–or rather, to restrict the enquiry to that part of virtue which

is concerned with the use of weapons–’What is Courage?’ Laches thinks

that he knows this: (1) ‘He is courageous who remains at his post.’ But

some nations fight flying, after the manner of Aeneas in Homer; or as the

heavy-armed Spartans also did at the battle of Plataea. (2) Socrates wants

a more general definition, not only of military courage, but of courage of

all sorts, tried both amid pleasures and pains. Laches replies that this

universal courage is endurance. But courage is a good thing, and mere

endurance may be hurtful and injurious. Therefore (3) the element of

intelligence must be added. But then again unintelligent endurance may

often be more courageous than the intelligent, the bad than the good. How

is this contradiction to be solved? Socrates and Laches are not set ‘to

the Dorian mode’ of words and actions; for their words are all confusion,

although their actions are courageous. Still they must ‘endure’ in an

argument about endurance. Laches is very willing, and is quite sure that

he knows what courage is, if he could only tell.

Nicias is now appealed to; and in reply he offers a definition which he has

heard from Socrates himself, to the effect that (1) ‘Courage is

intelligence.’ Laches derides this; and Socrates enquires, ‘What sort of

intelligence?’ to which Nicias replies, ‘Intelligence of things terrible.’

‘But every man knows the things to be dreaded in his own art.’ ‘No they do

not. They may predict results, but cannot tell whether they are really

terrible; only the courageous man can tell that.’ Laches draws the

inference that the courageous man is either a soothsayer or a god.

Again, (2) in Nicias’ way of speaking, the term ‘courageous’ must be denied

to animals or children, because they do not know the danger. Against this

inversion of the ordinary use of language Laches reclaims, but is in some

degree mollified by a compliment to his own courage. Still, he does not

like to see an Athenian statesman and general descending to sophistries of

this sort. Socrates resumes the argument. Courage has been defined to be

intelligence or knowledge of the terrible; and courage is not all virtue,

but only one of the virtues. The terrible is in the future, and therefore

the knowledge of the terrible is a knowledge of the future. But there can

be no knowledge of future good or evil separated from a knowledge of the

good and evil of the past or present; that is to say, of all good and evil.

Courage, therefore, is the knowledge of good and evil generally. But he

who has the knowledge of good and evil generally, must not only have

courage, but also temperance, justice, and every other virtue. Thus, a

single virtue would be the same as all virtues (compare Protagoras). And

after all the two generals, and Socrates, the hero of Delium, are still in

ignorance of the nature of courage. They must go to school again, boys,

old men and all.

Some points of resemblance, and some points of difference, appear in the

Laches when compared with the Charmides and Lysis. There is less of

poetical and simple beauty, and more of dramatic interest and power. They

are richer in the externals of the scene; the Laches has more play and

development of character. In the Lysis and Charmides the youths are the

central figures, and frequent allusions are made to the place of meeting,

which is a palaestra. Here the place of meeting, which is also a

palaestra, is quite forgotten, and the boys play a subordinate part. The

seance is of old and elder men, of whom Socrates is the youngest.

First is the aged Lysimachus, who may be compared with Cephalus in the

Republic, and, like him, withdraws from the argument. Melesias, who is

only his shadow, also subsides into silence. Both of them, by their own

confession, have been ill-educated, as is further shown by the circumstance

that Lysimachus, the friend of Sophroniscus, has never heard of the fame of

Socrates, his son; they belong to different circles. In the Meno their

want of education in all but the arts of riding and wrestling is adduced as

a proof that virtue cannot be taught. The recognition of Socrates by

Lysimachus is extremely graceful; and his military exploits naturally

connect him with the two generals, of whom one has witnessed them. The

characters of Nicias and Laches are indicated by their opinions on the

exhibition of the man fighting in heavy armour. The more enlightened

Nicias is quite ready to accept the new art, which Laches treats with

ridicule, seeming to think that this, or any other military question, may

be settled by asking, ‘What do the Lacedaemonians say?’ The one is the

thoughtful general, willing to avail himself of any discovery in the art of

war (Aristoph. Aves); the other is the practical man, who relies on his own

experience, and is the enemy of innovation; he can act but cannot speak,

and is apt to lose his temper. It is to be noted that one of them is

supposed to be a hearer of Socrates; the other is only acquainted with his

actions. Laches is the admirer of the Dorian mode; and into his mouth the

remark is put that there are some persons who, having never been taught,

are better than those who have. Like a novice in the art of disputation,

he is delighted with the hits of Socrates; and is disposed to be angry with

the refinements of Nicias.

In the discussion of the main thesis of the Dialogue–’What is Courage?’

the antagonism of the two characters is still more clearly brought out; and

in this, as in the preliminary question, the truth is parted between them.

Gradually, and not without difficulty, Laches is made to pass on from the

more popular to the more philosophical; it has never occurred to him that

there was any other courage than that of the soldier; and only by an effort

of the mind can he frame a general notion at all. No sooner has this

general notion been formed than it evanesces before the dialectic of

Socrates; and Nicias appears from the other side with the Socratic

doctrine, that courage is knowledge. This is explained to mean knowledge

of things terrible in the future. But Socrates denies that the knowledge

of the future is separable from that of the past and present; in other

words, true knowledge is not that of the soothsayer but of the philosopher.

And all knowledge will thus be equivalent to all virtue–a position which

elsewhere Socrates is not unwilling to admit, but which will not assist us

in distinguishing the nature of courage. In this part of the Dialogue the

contrast between the mode of cross-examination which is practised by Laches

and by Socrates, and also the manner in which the definition of Laches is

made to approximate to that of Nicias, are worthy of attention.

Thus, with some intimation of the connexion and unity of virtue and

knowledge, we arrive at no distinct result. The two aspects of courage are

never harmonized. The knowledge which in the Protagoras is explained as

the faculty of estimating pleasures and pains is here lost in an unmeaning

and transcendental conception. Yet several true intimations of the nature

of courage are allowed to appear: (1) That courage is moral as well as

physical: (2) That true courage is inseparable from knowledge, and yet (3)

is based on a natural instinct. Laches exhibits one aspect of courage;

Nicias the other. The perfect image and harmony of both is only realized

in Socrates himself.

The Dialogue offers one among many examples of the freedom with which Plato

treats facts. For the scene must be supposed to have occurred between B.C.

424, the year of the battle of Delium, and B.C. 418, the year of the battle

of Mantinea, at which Laches fell. But if Socrates was more than seventy

years of age at his trial in 399 (see Apology), he could not have been a

young man at any time after the battle of Delium.

LACHES, OR COURAGE.

by

Plato

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE:

Lysimachus, son of Aristides.

Melesias, son of Thucydides.

Their sons.

Nicias, Laches, Socrates.

LYSIMACHUS: You have seen the exhibition of the man fighting in armour,

Nicias and Laches, but we did not tell you at the time the reason why my

friend Melesias and I asked you to go with us and see him. I think that we

may as well confess what this was, for we certainly ought not to have any

reserve with you. The reason was, that we were intending to ask your

advice. Some laugh at the very notion of advising others, and when they

are asked will not say what they think. They guess at the wishes of the

person who asks them, and answer according to his, and not according to

their own, opinion. But as we know that you are good judges, and will say

exactly what you think, we have taken you into our counsels. The matter

about which I am making all this preface is as follows: Melesias and I

have two sons; that is his son, and he is named Thucydides, after his

grandfather; and this is mine, who is also called after his grandfather,

Aristides. Now, we are resolved to take the greatest care of the youths,

and not to let them run about as they like, which is too often the way with

the young, when they are no longer children, but to begin at once and do

the utmost that we can for them. And knowing you to have sons of your own,

we thought that you were most likely to have attended to their training and

improvement, and, if perchance you have not attended to them, we may remind

you that you ought to have done so, and would invite you to assist us in

the fulfilment of a common duty. I will tell you, Nicias and Laches, even

at the risk of being tedious, how we came to think of this. Melesias and I

live together, and our sons live with us; and now, as I was saying at

first, we are going to confess to you. Both of us often talk to the lads

about the many noble deeds which our own fathers did in war and peace–in

the management of the allies, and in the administration of the city; but

neither of us has any deeds of his own which he can show. The truth is

that we are ashamed of this contrast being seen by them, and we blame our

fathers for letting us be spoiled in the days of our youth, while they were

occupied with the concerns of others; and we urge all this upon the lads,

pointing out to them that they will not grow up to honour if they are

rebellious and take no pains about themselves; but that if they take pains

they may, perhaps, become worthy of the names which they bear. They, on

their part, promise to comply with our wishes; and our care is to discover

what studies or pursuits are likely to be most improving to them. Some one

commended to us the art of fighting in armour, which he thought an

excellent accomplishment for a young man to learn; and he praised the man

whose exhibition you have seen, and told us to go and see him. And we

determined that we would go, and get you to accompany us; and we were

intending at the same time, if you did not object, to take counsel with you

about the education of our sons. That is the matter which we wanted to

talk over with you; and we hope that you will give us your opinion about

this art of fighting in armour, and about any other studies or pursuits

which may or may not be desirable for a young man to learn. Please to say

whether you agree to our proposal.

NICIAS: As far as I am concerned, Lysimachus and Melesias, I applaud your

purpose, and will gladly assist you; and I believe that you, Laches, will

be equally glad.

LACHES: Certainly, Nicias; and I quite approve of the remark which

Lysimachus made about his own father and the father of Melesias, and which

is applicable, not only to them, but to us, and to every one who is

occupied with public affairs. As he says, such persons are too apt to be

negligent and careless of their own children and their private concerns.

There is much truth in that remark of yours, Lysimachus. But why, instead

of consulting us, do you not consult our friend Socrates about the

education of the youths? He is of the same deme with you, and is always

passing his time in places where the youth have any noble study or pursuit,

such as you are enquiring after.

LYSIMACHUS: Why, Laches, has Socrates ever attended to matters of this

sort?

LACHES: Certainly, Lysimachus.

NICIAS: That I have the means of knowing as well as Laches; for quite

lately he supplied me with a teacher of music for my sons,–Damon, the

disciple of Agathocles, who is a most accomplished man in every way, as

well as a musician, and a companion of inestimable value for young men at

their age.

LYSIMACHUS: Those who have reached my time of life, Socrates and Nicias

and Laches, fall out of acquaintance with the young, because they are

generally detained at home by old age; but you, O son of Sophroniscus,

should let your fellow demesman have the benefit of any advice which you

are able to give. Moreover I have a claim upon you as an old friend of

your father; for I and he were always companions and friends, and to the

hour of his death there never was a difference between us; and now it comes

back to me, at the mention of your name, that I have heard these lads

talking to one another at home, and often speaking of Socrates in terms of

the highest praise; but I have never thought to ask them whether the son of

Sophroniscus was the person whom they meant. Tell me, my boys, whether

this is the Socrates of whom you have often spoken?

SON: Certainly, father, this is he.

LYSIMACHUS: I am delighted to hear, Socrates, that you maintain the name

of your father, who was a most excellent man; and I further rejoice at the

prospect of our family ties being renewed.

LACHES: Indeed, Lysimachus, you ought not to give him up; for I can assure

you that I have seen him maintaining, not only his father’s, but also his

country’s name. He was my companion in the retreat from Delium, and I can

tell you that if others had only been like him, the honour of our country

would have been upheld, and the great defeat would never have occurred.

LYSIMACHUS: That is very high praise which is accorded to you, Socrates,

by faithful witnesses and for actions like those which they praise. Let me

tell you the pleasure which I feel in hearing of your fame; and I hope that

you will regard me as one of your warmest friends. You ought to have

visited us long ago, and made yourself at home with us; but now, from this

day forward, as we have at last found one another out, do as I say–come

and make acquaintance with me, and with these young men, that I may

continue your friend, as I was your father’s. I shall expect you to do so,

and shall venture at some future time to remind you of your duty. But what

say you of the matter of which we were beginning to speak–the art of

fighting in armour? Is that a practice in which the lads may be

advantageously instructed?

SOCRATES: I will endeavour to advise you, Lysimachus, as far as I can in

this matter, and also in every way will comply with your wishes; but as I

am younger and not so experienced, I think that I ought certainly to hear

first what my elders have to say, and to learn of them, and if I have

anything to add, then I may venture to give my opinion to them as well as

to you. Suppose, Nicias, that one or other of you begin.

NICIAS: I have no objection, Socrates; and my opinion is that the

acquirement of this art is in many ways useful to young men. It is an

advantage to them that among the favourite amusements of their leisure

hours they should have one which tends to improve and not to injure their

bodily health. No gymnastics could be better or harder exercise; and this,

and the art of riding, are of all arts most befitting to a freeman; for

they only who are thus trained in the use of arms are the athletes of our

military profession, trained in that on which the conflict turns. Moreover

in actual battle, when you have to fight in a line with a number of others,

such an acquirement will be of some use, and will be of the greatest

whenever the ranks are broken and you have to fight singly, either in

pursuit, when you are attacking some one who is defending himself, or in

flight, when you have to defend yourself against an assailant. Certainly

he who possessed the art could not meet with any harm at the hands of a

single person, or perhaps of several; and in any case he would have a great

advantage. Further, this sort of skill inclines a man to the love of other

noble lessons; for every man who has learned how to fight in armour will

desire to learn the proper arrangement of an army, which is the sequel of

the lesson: and when he has learned this, and his ambition is once fired,

he will go on to learn the complete art of the general. There is no

difficulty in seeing that the knowledge and practice of other military arts

will be honourable and valuable to a man; and this lesson may be the

beginning of them. Let me add a further advantage, which is by no means a

slight one,–that this science will make any man a great deal more valiant

and self-possessed in the field. And I will not disdain to mention, what

by some may be thought to be a small matter;–he will make a better

appearance at the right time; that is to say, at the time when his

appearance will strike terror into his enemies. My opinion then,

Lysimachus, is, as I say, that the youths should be instructed in this art,

and for the reasons which I have given. But Laches may take a different

view; and I shall be very glad to hear what he has to say.

LACHES: I should not like to maintain, Nicias, that any kind of knowledge

is not to be learned; for all knowledge appears to be a good: and if, as

Nicias and as the teachers of the art affirm, this use of arms is really a

species of knowledge, then it ought to be learned; but if not, and if those

who profess to teach it are deceivers only; or if it be knowledge, but not

of a valuable sort, then what is the use of learning it? I say this,

because I think that if it had been really valuable, the Lacedaemonians,

whose whole life is passed in finding out and practising the arts which

give them an advantage over other nations in war, would have discovered

this one. And even if they had not, still these professors of the art

would certainly not have failed to discover that of all the Hellenes the

Lacedaemonians have the greatest interest in such matters, and that a

master of the art who was honoured among them would be sure to make his

fortune among other nations, just as a tragic poet would who is honoured

among ourselves; which is the reason why he who fancies that he can write a

tragedy does not go about itinerating in the neighbouring states, but

rushes hither straight, and exhibits at Athens; and this is natural.

Whereas I perceive that these fighters in armour regard Lacedaemon as a

sacred inviolable territory, which they do not touch with the point of

their foot; but they make a circuit of the neighbouring states, and would

rather exhibit to any others than to the Spartans; and particularly to

those who would themselves acknowledge that they are by no means firstrate

in the arts of war. Further, Lysimachus, I have encountered a good many of

these gentlemen in actual service, and have taken their measure, which I

can give you at once; for none of these masters of fence have ever been

distinguished in war,–there has been a sort of fatality about them; while

in all other arts the men of note have been always those who have practised

the art, they appear to be a most unfortunate exception. For example, this

very Stesilaus, whom you and I have just witnessed exhibiting in all that

crowd and making such great professions of his powers, I have seen at

another time making, in sober truth, an involuntary exhibition of himself,

which was a far better spectacle. He was a marine on board a ship which

struck a transport vessel, and was armed with a weapon, half spear, half

scythe; the singularity of this weapon was worthy of the singularity of the

man. To make a long story short, I will only tell you what happened to

this notable invention of the scythe spear. He was fighting, and the

scythe was caught in the rigging of the other ship, and stuck fast; and he

tugged, but was unable to get his weapon free. The two ships were passing

one another. He first ran along his own ship holding on to the spear; but

as the other ship passed by and drew him after as he was holding on, he let

the spear slip through his hand until he retained only the end of the

handle. The people in the transport clapped their hands, and laughed at

his ridiculous figure; and when some one threw a stone, which fell on the

deck at his feet, and he quitted his hold of the scythe-spear, the crew of

his own trireme also burst out laughing; they could not refrain when they

beheld the weapon waving in the air, suspended from the transport. Now I

do not deny that there may be something in such an art, as Nicias asserts,

but I tell you my experience; and, as I said at first, whether this be an

art of which the advantage is so slight, or not an art at all, but only an

imposition, in either case such an acquirement is not worth having. For my

opinion is, that if the professor of this art be a coward, he will be

likely to become rash, and his character will be only more notorious; or if

he be brave, and fail ever so little, other men will be on the watch, and

he will be greatly traduced; for there is a jealousy of such pretenders;

and unless a man be pre-eminent in valour, he cannot help being ridiculous,

if he says that he has this sort of skill. Such is my judgment,

Lysimachus, of the desirableness of this art; but, as I said at first, ask

Socrates, and do not let him go until he has given you his opinion of the

matter.

LYSIMACHUS: I am going to ask this favour of you, Socrates; as is the more

necessary because the two councillors disagree, and some one is in a manner

still needed who will decide between them. Had they agreed, no arbiter

would have been required. But as Laches has voted one way and Nicias

another, I should like to hear with which of our two friends you agree.

SOCRATES: What, Lysimachus, are you going to accept the opinion of the

majority?

LYSIMACHUS: Why, yes, Socrates; what else am I to do?

SOCRATES: And would you do so too, Melesias? If you were deliberating

about the gymnastic training of your son, would you follow the advice of

the majority of us, or the opinion of the one who had been trained and

exercised under a skilful master?

MELESIAS: The latter, Socrates; as would surely be reasonable.

SOCRATES: His one vote would be worth more than the vote of all us four?

MELESIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And for this reason, as I imagine,–because a good decision is

based on knowledge and not on numbers?

MELESIAS: To be sure.

SOCRATES: Must we not then first of all ask, whether there is any one of

us who has knowledge of that about which we are deliberating? If there is,

let us take his advice, though he be one only, and not mind the rest; if

there is not, let us seek further counsel. Is this a slight matter about

which you and Lysimachus are deliberating? Are you not risking the

greatest of your possessions? For children are your riches; and upon their

turning out well or ill depends the whole order of their father’s house.

MELESIAS: That is true.

SOCRATES: Great care, then, is required in this matter?

MELESIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Suppose, as I was just now saying, that we were considering, or

wanting to consider, who was the best trainer. Should we not select him

who knew and had practised the art, and had the best teachers?

MELESIAS: I think that we should.

SOCRATES: But would there not arise a prior question about the nature of

the art of which we want to find the masters?

MELESIAS: I do not understand.

SOCRATES: Let me try to make my meaning plainer then. I do not think that

we have as yet decided what that is about which we are consulting, when we

ask which of us is or is not skilled in the art, and has or has not had a

teacher of the art.

NICIAS: Why, Socrates, is not the question whether young men ought or

ought not to learn the art of fighting in armour?

SOCRATES: Yes, Nicias; but there is also a prior question, which I may

illustrate in this way: When a person considers about applying a medicine

to the eyes, would you say that he is consulting about the medicine or

about the eyes?

NICIAS: About the eyes.

SOCRATES: And when he considers whether he shall set a bridle on a horse

and at what time, he is thinking of the horse and not of the bridle?

NICIAS: True.

SOCRATES: And in a word, when he considers anything for the sake of

another thing, he thinks of the end and not of the means?

NICIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And when you call in an adviser, you should see whether he too

is skilful in the accomplishment of the end which you have in view?

NICIAS: Most true.

SOCRATES: And at present we have in view some knowledge, of which the end

is the soul of youth?

NICIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And we are enquiring, Which of us is skilful or successful in

the treatment of the soul, and which of us has had good teachers?

LACHES: Well but, Socrates; did you never observe that some persons, who

have had no teachers, are more skilful than those who have, in some things?

SOCRATES: Yes, Laches, I have observed that; but you would not be very

willing to trust them if they only professed to be masters of their art,

unless they could show some proof of their skill or excellence in one or

more works.

LACHES: That is true.

SOCRATES: And therefore, Laches and Nicias, as Lysimachus and Melesias, in

their anxiety to improve the minds of their sons, have asked our advice

about them, we too should tell them who our teachers were, if we say that

we have had any, and prove them to be in the first place men of merit and

experienced trainers of the minds of youth and also to have been really our

teachers. Or if any of us says that he has no teacher, but that he has

works of his own to show; then he should point out to them what Athenians

or strangers, bond or free, he is generally acknowledged to have improved.

But if he can show neither teachers nor works, then he should tell them to

look out for others; and not run the risk of spoiling the children of

friends, and thereby incurring the most formidable accusation which can be

brought against any one by those nearest to him. As for myself, Lysimachus

and Melesias, I am the first to confess that I have never had a teacher of

the art of virtue; although I have always from my earliest youth desired to

have one. But I am too poor to give money to the Sophists, who are the

only professors of moral improvement; and to this day I have never been

able to discover the art myself, though I should not be surprised if Nicias

or Laches may have discovered or learned it; for they are far wealthier

than I am, and may therefore have learnt of others. And they are older

too; so that they have had more time to make the discovery. And I really

believe that they are able to educate a man; for unless they had been

confident in their own knowledge, they would never have spoken thus

decidedly of the pursuits which are advantageous or hurtful to a young man.

I repose confidence in both of them; but I am surprised to find that they

differ from one another. And therefore, Lysimachus, as Laches suggested

that you should detain me, and not let me go until I answered, I in turn

earnestly beseech and advise you to detain Laches and Nicias, and question

them. I would have you say to them: Socrates avers that he has no

knowledge of the matter–he is unable to decide which of you speaks truly;

neither discoverer nor student is he of anything of the kind. But you,

Laches and Nicias, should each of you tell us who is the most skilful

educator whom you have ever known; and whether you invented the art

yourselves, or learned of another; and if you learned, who were your

respective teachers, and who were their brothers in the art; and then, if

you are too much occupied in politics to teach us yourselves, let us go to

them, and present them with gifts, or make interest with them, or both, in

the hope that they may be induced to take charge of our children and of

yours; and then they will not grow up inferior, and disgrace their

ancestors. But if you are yourselves original discoverers in that field,

give us some proof of your skill. Who are they who, having been inferior

persons, have become under your care good and noble? For if this is your

first attempt at education, there is a danger that you may be trying the

experiment, not on the ‘vile corpus’ of a Carian slave, but on your own

sons, or the sons of your friend, and, as the proverb says, ‘break the

large vessel in learning to make pots.’ Tell us then, what qualities you

claim or do not claim. Make them tell you that, Lysimachus, and do not let

them off.

LYSIMACHUS: I very much approve of the words of Socrates, my friends; but

you, Nicias and Laches, must determine whether you will be questioned, and

give an explanation about matters of this sort. Assuredly, I and Melesias

would be greatly pleased to hear you answer the questions which Socrates

asks, if you will: for I began by saying that we took you into our

counsels because we thought that you would have attended to the subject,

especially as you have children who, like our own, are nearly of an age to

be educated. Well, then, if you have no objection, suppose that you take

Socrates into partnership; and do you and he ask and answer one another’s

questions: for, as he has well said, we are deliberating about the most

important of our concerns. I hope that you will see fit to comply with our

request.

NICIAS: I see very clearly, Lysimachus, that you have only known Socrates’

father, and have no acquaintance with Socrates himself: at least, you can

only have known him when he was a child, and may have met him among his

fellow-wardsmen, in company with his father, at a sacrifice, or at some

other gathering. You clearly show that you have never known him since he

arrived at manhood.

LYSIMACHUS: Why do you say that, Nicias?

NICIAS: Because you seem not to be aware that any one who has an

intellectual affinity to Socrates and enters into conversation with him is

liable to be drawn into an argument; and whatever subject he may start, he

will be continually carried round and round by him, until at last he finds

that he has to give an account both of his present and past life; and when

he is once entangled, Socrates will not let him go until he has completely

and thoroughly sifted him. Now I am used to his ways; and I know that he

will certainly do as I say, and also that I myself shall be the sufferer;

for I am fond of his conversation, Lysimachus. And I think that there is

no harm in being reminded of any wrong thing which we are, or have been,

doing: he who does not fly from reproof will be sure to take more heed of

his after-life; as Solon says, he will wish and desire to be learning so

long as he lives, and will not think that old age of itself brings wisdom.

To me, to be cross-examined by Socrates is neither unusual nor unpleasant;

indeed, I knew all along that where Socrates was, the argument would soon

pass from our sons to ourselves; and therefore, I say that for my part, I

am quite willing to discourse with Socrates in his own manner; but you had

better ask our friend Laches what his feeling may be.

LACHES: I have but one feeling, Nicias, or (shall I say?) two feelings,

about discussions. Some would think that I am a lover, and to others I may

seem to be a hater of discourse; for when I hear a man discoursing of

virtue, or of any sort of wisdom, who is a true man and worthy of his

theme, I am delighted beyond measure: and I compare the man and his words,

and note the harmony and correspondence of them. And such an one I deem to

be the true musician, attuned to a fairer harmony than that of the lyre, or

any pleasant instrument of music; for truly he has in his own life a

harmony of words and deeds arranged, not in the Ionian, or in the Phrygian

mode, nor yet in the Lydian, but in the true Hellenic mode, which is the

Dorian, and no other. Such an one makes me merry with the sound of his

voice; and when I hear him I am thought to be a lover of discourse; so

eager am I in drinking in his words. But a man whose actions do not agree

with his words is an annoyance to me; and the better he speaks the more I

hate him, and then I seem to be a hater of discourse. As to Socrates, I

have no knowledge of his words, but of old, as would seem, I have had

experience of his deeds; and his deeds show that free and noble sentiments

are natural to him. And if his words accord, then I am of one mind with

him, and shall be delighted to be interrogated by a man such as he is, and

shall not be annoyed at having to learn of him: for I too agree with

Solon, ‘that I would fain grow old, learning many things.’ But I must be

allowed to add ‘of the good only.’ Socrates must be willing to allow that

he is a good teacher, or I shall be a dull and uncongenial pupil: but that

the teacher is younger, or not as yet in repute–anything of that sort is

of no account with me. And therefore, Socrates, I give you notice that you

may teach and confute me as much as ever you like, and also learn of me

anything which I know. So high is the opinion which I have entertained of

you ever since the day on which you were my companion in danger, and gave a

proof of your valour such as only the man of merit can give. Therefore,

say whatever you like, and do not mind about the difference of our ages.

SOCRATES: I cannot say that either of you show any reluctance to take

counsel and advise with me.

LYSIMACHUS: But this is our proper business; and yours as well as ours,

for I reckon you as one of us. Please then to take my place, and find out

from Nicias and Laches what we want to know, for the sake of the youths,

and talk and consult with them: for I am old, and my memory is bad; and I

do not remember the questions which I am going to ask, or the answers to

them; and if there is any interruption I am quite lost. I will therefore

beg of you to carry on the proposed discussion by your selves; and I will

listen, and Melesias and I will act upon your conclusions.

SOCRATES: Let us, Nicias and Laches, comply with the request of Lysimachus

and Melesias. There will be no harm in asking ourselves the question which

was first proposed to us: ‘Who have been our own instructors in this sort

of training, and whom have we made better?’ But the other mode of carrying

on the enquiry will bring us equally to the same point, and will be more

like proceeding from first principles. For if we knew that the addition of

something would improve some other thing, and were able to make the

addition, then, clearly, we must know how that about which we are advising

may be best and most easily attained. Perhaps you do not understand what I

mean. Then let me make my meaning plainer in this way. Suppose we knew

that the addition of sight makes better the eyes which possess this gift,

and also were able to impart sight to the eyes, then, clearly, we should

know the nature of sight, and should be able to advise how this gift of

sight may be best and most easily attained; but if we knew neither what

sight is, nor what hearing is, we should not be very good medical advisers

about the eyes or the ears, or about the best mode of giving sight and

hearing to them.

LACHES: That is true, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And are not our two friends, Laches, at this very moment

inviting us to consider in what way the gift of virtue may be imparted to

their sons for the improvement of their minds?

LACHES: Very true.

SOCRATES: Then must we not first know the nature of virtue? For how can

we advise any one about the best mode of attaining something of which we

are wholly ignorant?

LACHES: I do not think that we can, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then, Laches, we may presume that we know the nature of virtue?

LACHES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And that which we know we must surely be able to tell?

LACHES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: I would not have us begin, my friend, with enquiring about the

whole of virtue; for that may be more than we can accomplish; let us first

consider whether we have a sufficient knowledge of a part; the enquiry will

thus probably be made easier to us.

LACHES: Let us do as you say, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then which of the parts of virtue shall we select? Must we not

select that to which the art of fighting in armour is supposed to conduce?

And is not that generally thought to be courage?

LACHES: Yes, certainly.

SOCRATES: Then, Laches, suppose that we first set about determining the

nature of courage, and in the second place proceed to enquire how the young

men may attain this quality by the help of studies and pursuits. Tell me,

if you can, what is courage.

LACHES: Indeed, Socrates, I see no difficulty in answering; he is a man of

courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against

the enemy; there can be no mistake about that.

SOCRATES: Very good, Laches; and yet I fear that I did not express myself

clearly; and therefore you have answered not the question which I intended

to ask, but another.

LACHES: What do you mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I will endeavour to explain; you would call a man courageous who

remains at his post, and fights with the enemy?

LACHES: Certainly I should.

SOCRATES: And so should I; but what would you say of another man, who

fights flying, instead of remaining?

LACHES: How flying?

SOCRATES: Why, as the Scythians are said to fight, flying as well as

pursuing; and as Homer says in praise of the horses of Aeneas, that they

knew ‘how to pursue, and fly quickly hither and thither’; and he passes an

encomium on Aeneas himself, as having a knowledge of fear or flight, and

calls him ‘an author of fear or flight.’

LACHES: Yes, Socrates, and there Homer is right: for he was speaking of

chariots, as you were speaking of the Scythian cavalry, who have that way

of fighting; but the heavy-armed Greek fights, as I say, remaining in his

rank.

SOCRATES: And yet, Laches, you must except the Lacedaemonians at Plataea,

who, when they came upon the light shields of the Persians, are said not to

have been willing to stand and fight, and to have fled; but when the ranks

of the Persians were broken, they turned upon them like cavalry, and won

the battle of Plataea.

LACHES: That is true.

SOCRATES: That was my meaning when I said that I was to blame in having

put my question badly, and that this was the reason of your answering

badly. For I meant to ask you not only about the courage of heavy-armed

soldiers, but about the courage of cavalry and every other style of

soldier; and not only who are courageous in war, but who are courageous in

perils by sea, and who in disease, or in poverty, or again in politics, are

courageous; and not only who are courageous against pain or fear, but

mighty to contend against desires and pleasures, either fixed in their rank

or turning upon their enemy. There is this sort of courage–is there not,

Laches?

LACHES: Certainly, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And all these are courageous, but some have courage in

pleasures, and some in pains: some in desires, and some in fears, and some

are cowards under the same conditions, as I should imagine.

LACHES: Very true.

SOCRATES: Now I was asking about courage and cowardice in general. And I

will begin with courage, and once more ask, What is that common quality,

which is the same in all these cases, and which is called courage? Do you

now understand what I mean?

LACHES: Not over well.

SOCRATES: I mean this: As I might ask what is that quality which is

called quickness, and which is found in running, in playing the lyre, in

speaking, in learning, and in many other similar actions, or rather which

we possess in nearly every action that is worth mentioning of arms, legs,

mouth, voice, mind;–would you not apply the term quickness to all of them?

LACHES: Quite true.

SOCRATES: And suppose I were to be asked by some one: What is that common

quality, Socrates, which, in all these uses of the word, you call

quickness? I should say the quality which accomplishes much in a little

time–whether in running, speaking, or in any other sort of action.

LACHES: You would be quite correct.

SOCRATES: And now, Laches, do you try and tell me in like manner, What is

that common quality which is called courage, and which includes all the

various uses of the term when applied both to pleasure and pain, and in all

the cases to which I was just now referring?

LACHES: I should say that courage is a sort of endurance of the soul, if I

am to speak of the universal nature which pervades them all.

SOCRATES: But that is what we must do if we are to answer the question.

And yet I cannot say that every kind of endurance is, in my opinion, to be

deemed courage. Hear my reason: I am sure, Laches, that you would

consider courage to be a very noble quality.

LACHES: Most noble, certainly.

SOCRATES: And you would say that a wise endurance is also good and noble?

LACHES: Very noble.

SOCRATES: But what would you say of a foolish endurance? Is not that, on

the other hand, to be regarded as evil and hurtful?

LACHES: True.

SOCRATES: And is anything noble which is evil and hurtful?

LACHES: I ought not to say that, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then you would not admit that sort of endurance to be courage–

for it is not noble, but courage is noble?

LACHES: You are right.

SOCRATES: Then, according to you, only the wise endurance is courage?

LACHES: True.

SOCRATES: But as to the epithet ‘wise,’–wise in what? In all things

small as well as great? For example, if a man shows the quality of

endurance in spending his money wisely, knowing that by spending he will

acquire more in the end, do you call him courageous?

LACHES: Assuredly not.

SOCRATES: Or, for example, if a man is a physician, and his son, or some

patient of his, has inflammation of the lungs, and begs that he may be

allowed to eat or drink something, and the other is firm and refuses; is

that courage?

LACHES: No; that is not courage at all, any more than the last.

SOCRATES: Again, take the case of one who endures in war, and is willing

to fight, and wisely calculates and knows that others will help him, and

that there will be fewer and inferior men against him than there are with

him; and suppose that he has also advantages of position; would you say of

such a one who endures with all this wisdom and preparation, that he, or

some man in the opposing army who is in the opposite circumstances to these

and yet endures and remains at his post, is the braver?

LACHES: I should say that the latter, Socrates, was the braver.

SOCRATES: But, surely, this is a foolish endurance in comparison with the

other?

LACHES: That is true.

SOCRATES: Then you would say that he who in an engagement of cavalry

endures, having the knowledge of horsemanship, is not so courageous as he

who endures, having no such knowledge?

LACHES: So I should say.

SOCRATES: And he who endures, having a knowledge of the use of the sling,

or the bow, or of any other art, is not so courageous as he who endures,

not having such a knowledge?

LACHES: True.

SOCRATES: And he who descends into a well, and dives, and holds out in

this or any similar action, having no knowledge of diving, or the like, is,

as you would say, more courageous than those who have this knowledge?

LACHES: Why, Socrates, what else can a man say?

SOCRATES: Nothing, if that be what he thinks.

LACHES: But that is what I do think.

SOCRATES: And yet men who thus run risks and endure are foolish, Laches,

in comparison of those who do the same things, having the skill to do them.

LACHES: That is true.

SOCRATES: But foolish boldness and endurance appeared before to be base

and hurtful to us.

LACHES: Quite true.

SOCRATES: Whereas courage was acknowledged to be a noble quality.

LACHES: True.

SOCRATES: And now on the contrary we are saying that the foolish

endurance, which was before held in dishonour, is courage.

LACHES: Very true.

SOCRATES: And are we right in saying so?

LACHES: Indeed, Socrates, I am sure that we are not right.

SOCRATES: Then according to your statement, you and I, Laches, are not

attuned to the Dorian mode, which is a harmony of words and deeds; for our

deeds are not in accordance with our words. Any one would say that we had

courage who saw us in action, but not, I imagine, he who heard us talking

about courage just now.

LACHES: That is most true.

SOCRATES: And is this condition of ours satisfactory?

LACHES: Quite the reverse.

SOCRATES: Suppose, however, that we admit the principle of which we are

speaking to a certain extent.

LACHES: To what extent and what principle do you mean?

SOCRATES: The principle of endurance. We too must endure and persevere in

the enquiry, and then courage will not laugh at our faint-heartedness in

searching for courage; which after all may, very likely, be endurance.

LACHES: I am ready to go on, Socrates; and yet I am unused to

investigations of this sort. But the spirit of controversy has been

aroused in me by what has been said; and I am really grieved at being thus

unable to express my meaning. For I fancy that I do know the nature of

courage; but, somehow or other, she has slipped away from me, and I cannot

get hold of her and tell her nature.

SOCRATES: But, my dear friend, should not the good sportsman follow the

track, and not be lazy?

LACHES: Certainly, he should.

SOCRATES: And shall we invite Nicias to join us? he may be better at the

sport than we are. What do you say?

LACHES: I should like that.

SOCRATES: Come then, Nicias, and do what you can to help your friends, who

are tossing on the waves of argument, and at the last gasp: you see our

extremity, and may save us and also settle your own opinion, if you will

tell us what you think about courage.

NICIAS: I have been thinking, Socrates, that you and Laches are not

defining courage in the right way; for you have forgotten an excellent

saying which I have heard from your own lips.

SOCRATES: What is it, Nicias?

NICIAS: I have often heard you say that ‘Every man is good in that in

which he is wise, and bad in that in which he is unwise.’

SOCRATES: That is certainly true, Nicias.

NICIAS: And therefore if the brave man is good, he is also wise.

SOCRATES: Do you hear him, Laches?

LACHES: Yes, I hear him, but I do not very well understand him.

SOCRATES: I think that I understand him; and he appears to me to mean that

courage is a sort of wisdom.

LACHES: What can he possibly mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: That is a question which you must ask of himself.

LACHES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Tell him then, Nicias, what you mean by this wisdom; for you

surely do not mean the wisdom which plays the flute?

NICIAS: Certainly not.

SOCRATES: Nor the wisdom which plays the lyre?

NICIAS: No.

SOCRATES: But what is this knowledge then, and of what?

LACHES: I think that you put the question to him very well, Socrates; and

I would like him to say what is the nature of this knowledge or wisdom.

NICIAS: I mean to say, Laches, that courage is the knowledge of that which

inspires fear or confidence in war, or in anything.

LACHES: How strangely he is talking, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Why do you say so, Laches?

LACHES: Why, surely courage is one thing, and wisdom another.

SOCRATES: That is just what Nicias denies.

LACHES: Yes, that is what he denies; but he is so silly.

SOCRATES: Suppose that we instruct instead of abusing him?

NICIAS: Laches does not want to instruct me, Socrates; but having been

proved to be talking nonsense himself, he wants to prove that I have been

doing the same.

LACHES: Very true, Nicias; and you are talking nonsense, as I shall

endeavour to show. Let me ask you a question: Do not physicians know the

dangers of disease? or do the courageous know them? or are the physicians

the same as the courageous?

NICIAS: Not at all.

LACHES: No more than the husbandmen who know the dangers of husbandry, or

than other craftsmen, who have a knowledge of that which inspires them with

fear or confidence in their own arts, and yet they are not courageous a

whit the more for that.

SOCRATES: What is Laches saying, Nicias? He appears to be saying

something of importance.

NICIAS: Yes, he is saying something, but it is not true.

SOCRATES: How so?

NICIAS: Why, because he does not see that the physician’s knowledge only

extends to the nature of health and disease: he can tell the sick man no

more than this. Do you imagine, Laches, that the physician knows whether

health or disease is the more terrible to a man? Had not many a man better

never get up from a sick bed? I should like to know whether you think that

life is always better than death. May not death often be the better of the

two?

LACHES: Yes certainly so in my opinion.

NICIAS: And do you think that the same things are terrible to those who

had better die, and to those who had better live?

LACHES: Certainly not.

NICIAS: And do you suppose that the physician or any other artist knows

this, or any one indeed, except he who is skilled in the grounds of fear

and hope? And him I call the courageous.

SOCRATES: Do you understand his meaning, Laches?

LACHES: Yes; I suppose that, in his way of speaking, the soothsayers are

courageous. For who but one of them can know to whom to die or to live is

better? And yet Nicias, would you allow that you are yourself a

soothsayer, or are you neither a soothsayer nor courageous?

NICIAS: What! do you mean to say that the soothsayer ought to know the

grounds of hope or fear?

LACHES: Indeed I do: who but he?

NICIAS: Much rather I should say he of whom I speak; for the soothsayer

ought to know only the signs of things that are about to come to pass,

whether death or disease, or loss of property, or victory, or defeat in

war, or in any sort of contest; but to whom the suffering or not suffering

of these things will be for the best, can no more be decided by the

soothsayer than by one who is no soothsayer.

LACHES: I cannot understand what Nicias would be at, Socrates; for he

represents the courageous man as neither a soothsayer, nor a physician, nor

in any other character, unless he means to say that he is a god. My

opinion is that he does not like honestly to confess that he is talking

nonsense, but that he shuffles up and down in order to conceal the

difficulty into which he has got himself. You and I, Socrates, might have

practised a similar shuffle just now, if we had only wanted to avoid the

appearance of inconsistency. And if we had been arguing in a court of law

there might have been reason in so doing; but why should a man deck himself

out with vain words at a meeting of friends such as this?

SOCRATES: I quite agree with you, Laches, that he should not. But perhaps

Nicias is serious, and not merely talking for the sake of talking. Let us

ask him just to explain what he means, and if he has reason on his side we

will agree with him; if not, we will instruct him.

LACHES: Do you, Socrates, if you like, ask him: I think that I have asked

enough.

SOCRATES: I do not see why I should not; and my question will do for both

of us.

LACHES: Very good.

SOCRATES: Then tell me, Nicias, or rather tell us, for Laches and I are

partners in the argument: Do you mean to affirm that courage is the

knowledge of the grounds of hope and fear?

NICIAS: I do.

SOCRATES: And not every man has this knowledge; the physician and the

soothsayer have it not; and they will not be courageous unless they acquire

it–that is what you were saying?

NICIAS: I was.

SOCRATES: Then this is certainly not a thing which every pig would know,

as the proverb says, and therefore he could not be courageous.

NICIAS: I think not.

SOCRATES: Clearly not, Nicias; not even such a big pig as the Crommyonian

sow would be called by you courageous. And this I say not as a joke, but

because I think that he who assents to your doctrine, that courage is the

knowledge of the grounds of fear and hope, cannot allow that any wild beast

is courageous, unless he admits that a lion, or a leopard, or perhaps a

boar, or any other animal, has such a degree of wisdom that he knows things

which but a few human beings ever know by reason of their difficulty. He

who takes your view of courage must affirm that a lion, and a stag, and a

bull, and a monkey, have equally little pretensions to courage.

LACHES: Capital, Socrates; by the gods, that is truly good. And I hope,

Nicias, that you will tell us whether these animals, which we all admit to

be courageous, are really wiser than mankind; or whether you will have the

boldness, in the face of universal opinion, to deny their courage.

NICIAS: Why, Laches, I do not call animals or any other things which have

no fear of dangers, because they are ignorant of them, courageous, but only

fearless and senseless. Do you imagine that I should call little children

courageous, which fear no dangers because they know none? There is a

difference, to my way of thinking, between fearlessness and courage. I am

of opinion that thoughtful courage is a quality possessed by very few, but

that rashness and boldness, and fearlessness, which has no forethought, are

very common qualities possessed by many men, many women, many children,

many animals. And you, and men in general, call by the term ‘courageous’

actions which I call rash;–my courageous actions are wise actions.

LACHES: Behold, Socrates, how admirably, as he thinks, he dresses himself

out in words, while seeking to deprive of the honour of courage those whom

all the world acknowledges to be courageous.

NICIAS: Not so, Laches, but do not be alarmed; for I am quite willing to

say of you and also of Lamachus, and of many other Athenians, that you are

courageous and therefore wise.

LACHES: I could answer that; but I would not have you cast in my teeth

that I am a haughty Aexonian.

SOCRATES: Do not answer him, Laches; I rather fancy that you are not aware

of the source from which his wisdom is derived. He has got all this from

my friend Damon, and Damon is always with Prodicus, who, of all the

Sophists, is considered to be the best puller to pieces of words of this

sort.

LACHES: Yes, Socrates; and the examination of such niceties is a much more

suitable employment for a Sophist than for a great statesman whom the city

chooses to preside over her.

SOCRATES: Yes, my sweet friend, but a great statesman is likely to have a

great intelligence. And I think that the view which is implied in Nicias’

definition of courage is worthy of examination.

LACHES: Then examine for yourself, Socrates.

SOCRATES: That is what I am going to do, my dear friend. Do not, however,

suppose I shall let you out of the partnership; for I shall expect you to

apply your mind, and join with me in the consideration of

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