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...should we two be in agreement during this discussion? He replied that he would gladly fight against this man and defend the position I proposed, even if he had a weaker case. "For he is of no worth," he said. "But truly, it is not fitting to contend against common opinion, but rather to admit that it is not many, but rather moderate exercises that provide men with a good physical condition."
"And what about food?" I asked. "Should it be much, or moderate?"
"Food as well," he said.
Furthermore, I compelled him to concede that all other things concerning the body are most beneficial when moderate, but never when they are too few or too many. And he confessed that moderate things are helpful.
"But what about those things which concern the soul? When they are applied moderately, are they beneficial? Or rather when they are immoderate?"
Moderate. Discipline. "Moderate," he said.
"And is not discipline original: disciplina, translating the Greek mathema or learning/study among those things which are applied to and benefit the soul?"
He agreed.
"Therefore, is it the disciplines which are moderate, and not those which are many, that bring utility?"
He conceded this.
"Whom then would it be right to ask what kind of labors and foods are moderate for the body?"
On this point, the three of us agreed: clearly a doctor or a physical trainer original: paedotriva, a teacher of gymnastics should be consulted.
"And whom should we ask about sowing seeds, and how many are moderate?"
We agreed it was the farmer.
"But regarding the sowing and planting of disciplines in the soul: whom should we rightly ask what kind and how many are moderate?"
But then, when we were full of uncertainty, I said jokingly: "Since we are in this doubt, do you want us to ask those youths? Or perhaps we are ashamed, just as Homer depicts the suitors who were unwilling to let anyone else besides themselves string the bow?"
But when I saw that he took my speech heavily, I attempted to investigate by another path, saying: "What sort of things should we guess the philosopher ought to learn, since he should pursue neither all things nor many things?"
Taking up the conversation, the wiser one said: "The most beautiful and most fitting disciplines for the soul are those from which one attains the greatest glory in philosophy. And one will obtain the greatest glory if he appears to be skilled in every single art—if not all of them, then at least most, and especially those which are worthy of esteem—learning those above all others which befit free men, and which are accomplished by the reason of the intellect rather than the service of the hands."
Second definition of philosophy. Then I said: "Do you mean it in this way: just as it happens in construction, where you might buy a common smith as a servant for five or six minas an ancient unit of currency at most, but you could not buy an architect even for ten thousand drachmas? For throughout all of Greece, they are found very rarely."
Explanation of his definition. Architects are very rare. "Is it something like that you mean?"
Hearing me, he confessed that this was exactly what he meant. I then asked him if it were possible to master even two arts in this way, let alone many and great ones.
"Do not think I am saying, Socrates, that the philosopher must pursue every single art to the highest degree like a craftsman; rather, as befits a free and educated man, he should be able to understand what is produced by any craftsman better than all others present. Furthermore, he should contribute his own thoughts so that he always appears the most elegant and wisest of all present in those things which are said and done in every art."
And I—for I was still uncertain where he was heading—said: "Do I understand what kind of man you say the philosopher is? For you seem to me to describe someone like those in a contest who are pentathletes original: pentathli, skilled in five events compared to runners or javelin-throwers original: peltastas, light-shielded soldiers/throwers. For those men are surpassed by the runners or javelin-throwers in their specific contests and take second place, but they are the first and victors among the rest of the athletes. Perhaps you were saying the study of philosophy makes philosophers such that they are surpassed in understanding by those who are supreme in any specific art—and while they hold second place, they precede all others—so that the philosopher exists as a 'second-rank' person in every faculty. You seem to me to be showing the philosopher to be such a man."
"You seem to have understood correctly what was said about the philosopher, Socrates," he said, "when you compared him to a pentathlete. For he is undoubtedly such a man: he does not wish to be a slave to any one business, nor to labor to the highest degree in any one thing, lest because of exact diligence in one, he fail entirely in all other faculties like the craftsmen; instead, he touches upon all things moderately and temperately."
After this response of his, desiring to know more clearly what he was saying, I asked: "Do you think good men are useful or useless?"
"Useful, Socrates," he said.
"And if the good are useful, will the bad not be useless?"
He agreed.
"Now, do you think philosophers are useful or useless men?"
Refutation from reason. To this, he asserted that philosophers are the most useful of all.
"Come then, let us discern, if what you say is true, how these 'second-rank' men are useful to us. For it is manifest that the philosopher is inferior to those who possess a specific art."
He nodded.
"Come then," I said, "if you or one of your dearest friends were falling ill, would you bring in that secondary philosopher to care for your health, or a doctor?"
"Both."
"Do not say 'both' to me. But which one rather?"
"No one would doubt," he said, "that the doctor should be chosen both more and first."
"What about in a ship tossed by waves: would you commit yourself and your belongings to the pilot, or to the philosopher?"
"To the pilot, certainly."
"And in all other matters: as long as a craftsman is present, will the philosopher be useless?"
"It appears so," he said.
"Therefore, the philosopher is now useless to us when craftsmen are present. But we have confessed that good men are useful and bad men are useless."
He was finally forced to confess this.
"What then shall I ask of you after this? Or is it perhaps unkind to inquire further?"
"Whatever you please," he said.
"I ask nothing else except that the things already said be granted again; they stand in this way: We confessed that philosophy is a good thing, and that philosophers exist, and that philosophers themselves are good, and the good are useful, while the bad, on the contrary, are useless. Then..."