The Charmides: Plato’s idea of aristocracy

Born in 434 B.C., Plato was about 30, or almost 30, in 404 B.C., when the democracy was overthrown by the aristocrats.

Plato tells us in his Seventh Letter that the aristocrats at once (euthus) asked him to join them: ‘I thought (ȏiȇthȇn) that they would (gar autous) manage the State so as to bring men out of a bad way of life into a good one (ek tinos adikou biou epi dikaion tropon agontas dioikȇsein tȇn polin).’  In the Charmides he focussed attention on sȏphrosunȇ, the moral and political virtue with which, on the basis of which, this ideal – bringing men out of a bad way of life into a good one – could be achieved.

The Charmides was written in the time of the most severe political upheaval in the history of Athens: Athenian democracy was abolished; ‘thirty rulers with full powers over public affairs as a whole were appointed’ (triakonta de pantȏn archontes katestȇsan autokratores, Pl. SL.324c6-d1). There was only a narrow window of time within which Plato could write the Charmides: it began with Critias’ (Socrates’ main interlocutor in the dialogue) appointment as one of the Thirty, it ended when Critias became their leader; under his leadership they became the Thirty Tyrants.

In the Charmides there appears to be no obvious apprehension of the impending disaster; and yet, Plato appears to have been well aware that he must present the Thirty, and the administrators around them, with the notion of the ideal state as promptly as possible. In his view, such task could be attempted only if Socrates became positively involved in it. He solved the problem, in the dialogue, by outlining the ideal state within the framework of a discussion between Critias and Socrates, dramatically projecting it into the days in which Critias emulated Socrates.

Xenophon in his Memorabilia testifies to it that the time of Critias’ emulation of Socrates was not Plato’s wishful invention. His testimony begins at Memorabilia I. ii. 12 with the accusation that ‘Among the associates of Socrates were Critias and Alcibiades (Sȏkratei homilȇta genomenȏ Kritias te kai Alkibiadȇs); and none wrought so many evils to the state (pleista kaka tȇn polin epoiȇsatȇn)’. It ends with ‘Socrates finding that Critias loved Euthydemus and wanted to lead him astray; he tried to restrain him by saying that it was mean and unbecoming in a gentleman to sue like a beggar to the object of his affection, whose good opinion he coveted, stooping to ask a favour that it was wrong to grant.’ (E.C. Marchant’s translation)

Marchant’s ‘translation’ of Xenophon’s ‘finding that Critias loved Euthydemus and wanted to lead him astray’ is a very timid rendering of the Greek: Kritian men toinun aisthanomenos erȏnta Euthudȇmou (‘when he found that Kritias, loving Euthydemus,’) peirȏnta chrȇsthai kathaper hoi pros t’aphrodisia tȏn sȏmatȏn apolauontes (‘wanted to use him as those who enjoy bodies [of boys] in aphrodisia’).

As Critias paid no heed to Socrates’ attempts to restrain him (tou de Kritiou tois toioutois ouch hupakouontos oude apotrepomenou), ‘it is said that Socrates (legetai ton Sȏkratȇn) in the presence of many others (allȏn te pollȏn parontȏn), and of Euthydemus (kai tou Euthudȇmou), said (eipein) that Critias seems to him to have the feelings of a pig (hoti huikon autȏi dokoiȇ paschein ho Kritias), desiring to rub himself against Euthydemus (epithumȏn Euthudȇmȏi prosknȇsthai) as pigs (hȏsper ta hudia) against stones (tois lithois). Because of which (ex hȏn dȇ) Critias hated Socrates (kai emisei ton Sȏkratȇn ho Kritias).’ (Xen. Mem. I. ii. 29-31)

In view of Xenophon’s testimonies, we cannot but admire Plato’s self-confidence, daring and skill, with which he proposed the principles of aristocracy in Socrates’ discussion with Critias on the virtue of sȏphrosunȇ.

Critias’ first definition of sȏphrosunȇ is ‘doing one’s own things’ (to ta heautou prattein); had the Thirty enforced this principle, and they had power to do so, they would have had in their hands a functioning state; their reign would not have become the short-lived rule of the Thirty Tyrants. Curiously, Critias’ attempt to defend his definition of sȏphrosunȇ as ‘doing one’s own things’ became short-lived under the impact of Socrates' objections, as will be seen.

It was in fact the juvenile Charmides who proposed the definition of temperance (sȏphrosunȇ) as ‘doing one’s own things’ (to ta heautou prattein). He proposed it to Socrates for examination, as something he heard someone to say (ho ȇdȇ tou ȇkousa legontos, 161b5). When Socrates surmised that he had heard it from Critias (Kritiou toude akȇkoas auto), Critias denied it: ‘It seems (Eoiken)’, said Critias (ephȇ ho Kritias), ‘from someone else (allou), for not from me (ou gar dȇ emou ge).’ So Charmides asked Socrates: ‘But what matter (Alla ti diapherei), said he (ȇ d’ hos), the Charmides (ho Charmidȇs), from whom (hotou) I heard this (ȇkousa)?’ ‘No matter at all (Ouden),’ I replied (ȇn d’ egȏ), ‘for the point is to investigate not who said the words (pantȏs gar ou touto skepteon, hostis auto eipen), but whether (alla poteron) they are true or not (alȇthes legetai ȇ ou).’

***

Let me remind the reader that the whole dialogue is narrated by Socrates. I try to give some clarity to the translation by distinguishing the interlocutors with the help of quotation marks. The words Socrates says as a narrator are left unmarked. And when I can, I use Jowett’s translation, which is not hampered by the false belief that Plato began to write his dialogues after the death of Socrates.

***

‘There you are in the right (nun orthȏs legeis),’ he [that is Charmides] replied (ȇ d’ hos).

‘To be sure (Nȇ Dia),’ I said (ȇn d’ egȏ); ‘yet if we shall ever be able to discover the truth about it (all’ ei kai heurȇsomen auto hopȇi ge echei), I should be surprised (thaumazoim’ an); for they are a kind of riddle (ainigmati gar tini eoiken),’

‘What makes you think so? (Hoti dȇ ti ge;)’ he said (ephȇ).

‘Because not, (Hoti ou dȇpou)’ I said (ȇn d’ egȏ), ‘in the way he said the words (hȇi ta rȇmata ephthenxato), he meant them, saying that temperance is doing one’s own things (tautȇi kai enoei, legȏn sȏphrosunȇn einai to ta hautou prattein). Or do you think that the scribe is doing nothing when he reads or writes (ȇ su ouden hȇgȇi prattein ton grammatistȇn hotan graphȇi ȇ anagignȏskȇi;)?’

‘I should rather think that he was doing something (Egȏge, hȇgoumai men oun)’ he said (ephȇ).

‘And does the scribe write or read, or teach you boys to write or read, your own names only (Dokei oun soi to hautou onoma monon graphein ho grammatistȇs kai anagignȏskein ȇ  humas tous paidas didaskein), or did you write your enemies names as well as your own and your friends (ȇ  ouden hȇtton ta tȏn echthrȏn egraphete ȇ ta humetera kai ta tȏn philȏn onomata;)’?

‘As much one as the other (Ouden hȇtton).’

‘And was there anything meddling or intemperate in this (Ȇ oun epolupragmoneite kai ouk esȏphroneite touto drȏntes;)?’

‘Certainly not (Oudamȏs).’

‘And yet if reading and writing are the same as doing, you were doing what were not your things (Kai mȇn ou ta humetera ge autȏn eprattete, eiper to graphein prattein ti estin kai to anagignȏskein).’

‘But they are the same as doing (Alla mȇn estin).’

‘And the healing art (Kai mȇn gar to iasthai), my friend (ȏ hetaire), and building (kai to oikodomein), and weaving (kai to huphainein), and doing anything whatever which is done by art (kai to hȇitini oun technȇi hotioun tȏn tȇs technȇs ergȏn apergazesthai), – these all clearly come under the head of doing (prattein dȇpou ti estin).’

‘Certainly (Panu ge).’

‘What then (Ti oun;)?’ said I (ȇn d’ egȏ), ‘Do you think that a state would be well ordered (dokei an soi polis eu oikeisthai) by this law (hupo toutou tou nomou) which compelled (tou keleuontos) every man to weave and wash his own coat (to heautou himation hekaston huphainein kai plunein), and make his own shoes (kai hupodȇmata skutotomein), and his own flask (kai lȇkuthon) and strigil (kai strenggida), and all other implements (kai t’alla panta) on the same principle (kata ton auton logon), abstaining from what is not one’s own (tȏn men allotriȏn mȇ haptesthai), and every one doing and performing his own (ta de heautou hekaston ergazesthai te kai prattein;)?’

‘I think not’ (ouk emoige dokei), said he (ȇ d’ hos).

‘But (Alla mentoi),’ I said (ephȇn egȏ), a temperate state (sȏphronȏs ge oikousa) will be a well-ordered state (eu an oikoito).’

‘Of course (Pȏs d’ ouk),’ he replied (ephȇ).

‘Then temperance, I said, ‘will not be doing one’s own things; not at least in this way, or doing things of this sort (Ouk ara, ȇn d’ egȏ, to ta toiauta te kai houtȏ ta hautou prattein sȏphrosunȇ an eiȇ).’

 

‘Clearly not (Ou phainetai).’

Then, as I was just now saying, he who declared that temperance is a man doing his own things had another and hidden meaning (Ȇinitteto ara, hȏs eoiken, hoper arti egȏ elegon, ho legȏn to ta hautou prattein sȏphrosunȇn einai); for I do not think that he could have been such a fool as to mean this (ou gar de houtȏ ȇn euȇthȇs). Was he a fool who told you (ȇ tinos ȇlithiou ȇkousas touti legontos), Charmides (ȏ Charmidȇ;)?’

‘Nay (Hȇkista ge),’ he replied (ephȇ), I certainly thought him a very wise man (epei toi kai panu edokei sophos einai).’

‘Then I am quite certain (Pantos toinun mallon, hȏs emoi dokei) he put forth his definition as a riddle (ainigma auto proubalen), thinking that no one would know the meaning of the words “doing his own things” (hȏs on chalepon to ta hautou prattein gnȏnai hoti pote estin).’

‘I dare say (Isȏs),’ he replied (ephȇ).

‘And what is the meaning (Ti oun an eiȇ pote) of a man doing his own things (to ta hautou prattein;)? Can you tell me (echeis eipein;)?

‘Indeed, I cannot (Ouk oida ma Dia egȏge)’ said he (ȇ d’ hos); ‘and I should not wonder (all’ isȏs ouden kȏluei) if the man himself who used this phrase did not understand what he was saying (mȇde ton legonta mȇden eidenai hoti enoei).’ Whereupon he laughed slyly (kai hama tauta legȏn hupegela te), and looked at Critias (kai eis ton Kritian apeblepen).

***

We can see here Socrates and Charmides exposing Critias to ridicule. And Critias did not like it, as Socrates shows next.

***

Critias had long been showing uneasiness (Kai ho Kritias dȇlos men ȇn kai palai agȏniȏn), for he felt that he had a reputation to maintain with Charmides and the rest of the company (kai philotimȏs pros te ton Charmidȇn kai pros tous parontas echȏn). He had, however, hitherto managed to restrain himself (mogis d’ heauton en tȏi prosthen katechȏn); but now he could no longer forebear (tote ouch hoios te egeneto), and I am convinced of the truth of the suspicion which I entertained at the time (dokei gar moi pantos mallon alȇthes einai, ho egȏ hupelabon), that Charmides had heard this answer about temperance from Critias (tou Kritiou akȇkoenai ton Charmidȇn tautȇn tȇn apokrisin peri tȇs sȏphrosunȇs). And Charmides (ho men oun Charmidȇs), who did not want to answer himself (boulomenos mȇ autos hupechein logon), but to make Critias answer (all’ ekeinon tȇs apokriseȏs), tried to stir him up (hupekinei auton ekeinon). He went on pointing out (kai enedeiknuto) that he had been refuted (hȏs exelȇlegmenos eiȇ), at which Critias grew angry (ho d’ ouk ȇnescheto), and appeared, as I thought, inclined to quarrel with him (alla edokei moi orgisthȇnai autȏi); just as (hȏsper) a poet (poiȇtȇs) might quarrel with an actor who spoiled his poems in repeating them (hupokritȇi kakȏs diatithenti ta heautou poiȇmata); so looking hard at him (hȏst’ emblepsas autȏi) he said (eipen) –

‘Do you imagine (houtȏs oiei), Charmides (ȏ Charmidȇ), that the author of this definition of temperance did not understand the meaning of his own words, because you do not understand them (ei su mȇ oistha hoti pot’ enoei hos ephȇ sȏphrosunȇn einai to ta heautou prattein, oude dȇ ekeinon eidenai;)?’

***

If Plato wrote the Charmides as epitome of aristocracy that the Thirty and their administration should accept as principles they should follow, why did he aggravate Critias in its midst? Xenophon’s Memorabilia with its account of the time during which Critias was one of Socrates’ associates and followers may help us find the answer.

Xenophon writes: ‘Critias and Alcibiades (Kritias kai Alkibiadȇs), so long as they were with Socrates (heȏs men Sȏkratei sunȇstȇn), they found in him an ally who gave them strength to conquer their evil passions (edunasthȇn ekeinȏi chrȏmenȏ summachȏi tȏn mȇ kalȏn epithumiȏn kratein).’ (Xen. Mem. I.ii.24) But with Critias this happy period ended when he got enamoured with Euthydemus. Unable to restrain Critias by appealing to his better feelings, ‘Socrates, it is said, exclaimed in the presence of Euthydemus and many others (legetai ton Sȏkratȇn allȏn te pollȏn parontȏn kai tou Euthudȇmou eipein), “Critias seems to have the feelings of a pig (hoti huikon autȏi dokoiȇ paschein ho Kritias), desiring to rub against Euthydemus (epithumȏn Euthudȇmȏi prosknȇsthai) just as pigs against stone (hȏsper ta huidia tois lithois).” (Xen. Mem. I.ii.30) Xenophon says that because of this Critias began to hate Socrates.

If Plato was to have any hope of having his Charmidian outline of aristocracy accepted by the Thirty, his hopes focussed on cultivating Critias’ magnanimity. He could not refer to Socrates’ comparing Critias to a pig, but he could find a way of aggravating Critias in his discussion with Socrates, and then letting Critias’ magnanimity, and his appreciation of Socrates, shine in the last section of the dialogue.

***

‘Why, at his age,’ I said, ‘most excellent Critias, he can hardly be expected to understand (All’, ȏ beltiste, ephȇn egȏ, Kritia, touton men ouden thaumaston agnoein tȇlikouton onta); but you, who are older, and have studied, may well be assumed to know the meaning of them (su de pou eikos eidenai kai hȇlikias heneka kai epimeleias); and therefore, if you agree with him, and accept his definition of temperance (ei oun sunchȏreis tout’ einai sȏphrosunȇn hoper houtosi legei kai paradechȇi ton logon), I would much rather argue with you than with him about the truth or falsehood of the definition (egȏge polu an hȇdion meta sou skopoimȇn eit’ alȇthes eite mȇ to lechthen).’

‘I entirely agree (Alla panu sunchȏrȏ),’ said Critias (ephȇ), ‘and accept the definition (kai paradechomai).’

***

Socrates calmed the situation by profoundly changing it. From now on, Critias becomes Socrates’ interlocuter, opponent and partner, in discussing sȏphrosunȇ.

***

‘Very good,’ I said (Kalȏs ge su toinun, ȇn d’ egȏ, poiȏn); ‘and now let me repeat my question – do you admit, as I was just now saying (kai moi lege, ȇ kai ha nundȇ ȇrȏtȏn egȏ sunchȏreis), that all craftsmen make or do something (tous dȇmiourgous pantas poiein ti;)?’

‘I do’ (Egȏge).

‘And do they make their own things only, or that of others also? (Ȇ oun dokousi soi ta heautȏn monon poiein ȇ kai ta tȏn allȏn;)’

‘Those of other’s also,’ (Kai ta tȏn allȏn)

‘And are they temperate (Sȏphronousin oun), seeing that they are not making only their own things (ou ta heautȏn monon poiountes;)?’

‘Why not (Ti gar kȏluei;)?’ he said (ephȇ).

‘No objection on my part (Ouden eme ge),’ I said (ȇn d’ egȏ), ‘but there may be a difficulty on his (all’ hora mȇ ekeinon kȏluei) who proposes as a definition of temperance (hos hupothemenos sȏphrosunȇn einai) “doing one’s own things” (to ta heautou prattein) and then says that there is no reason (epeita ouden phȇsi kȏluein) why those who do the things of others should not be temperate (kai tous ta tȏn allȏn prattontas sȏphronein).’

‘Nay, said he; did I ever acknowledge that those who do the things of others are temperate? I said those who make, not those who do.’ (Egȏ gar pou, ȇ d’ hos, touth’ hȏmologȇka, hȏs hoi ta tȏn allȏn prattontes sȏphronousin, ei tous poiountas hȏmologȇka.)

What! I asked; do you mean to say that doing and making are not the same?’ (Eipe moi, ȇn d’ egȏ, ou t’auton kaleis to poiein kai to prattein;)

`No more, he replied, than making or working are the same (Ou mentoi, ephȇ, oude ge to ergazesthai kai poiein); thus much I have learned from Hesiod (emathon gar par’ Hȇsiodou), who said (hos ephȇ) that “work is no disgrace” (ergon ouden einai oneidos). 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 them  (oiei oun auton, ei ta toiauta erga ekalei kai ergazesthai kai prattein, hoia nundȇ su eleges, oudeni an oneidos phanai einai) – for example in the manufacturing of shoes (skutotomounti), or in selling pickles (ȇ tarichopȏlounti), or sitting for hire in a house of ill fame (ȇ ep’ oikȇmatos kathȇmenȏi;)? That, Socrates, is not to be supposed (Ouk oiesthai ge chrȇ, ȏ Sȏkrates) … For things nobly and usefully made he called works (ta gar kalȏs te kai ȏphelimȏs poioumena erga ekalei); and such makings he called workings and doings (kai ergasias te kai praxeis tas toiautas poiȇseis); and he must be supposed to have called such things only man’s proper things (phanai de ge chrȇ kai oikeia mona ta toiauta hȇgeisthai auton), and what is hurtful (ta de blabera panta), not his things (allotria): and in that sense Hesiod, and any wise man, may be reasonably supposed (hȏste kai Hȇsiodon chrȇ oiesthai kai allon hostis phronimos) to call him wise who does his own things (ton ta hautou prattonta touton sȏphrona kalein).’

‘O Critias (O Kritia),’ I said (ȇn d’ egȏ), ‘no sooner had you opened your mouth (kai euthus archomenou sou), than I pretty well knew that you would call that which is proper to a man, and that which is his own, good (schedon emanthanon ton logon, hoti ta oikeia te kai ta hautou agatha kaloiȇs); and that the markings of the good you would call doings (kai tas tȏn agathȏn poiȇseis praxeis… Now I have no objection to your giving names any signification which you please (all’ egȏ soi tithesthai men tȏn onomatȏn didȏmi hopȇi an boulȇi hekaston), if you will only tell me (dȇlou de monon) what you mean by them (eph’ hoti an pherȇis t’ounoma hoti an legȇis). Please then to begin again (nun oun palin ex archȇs), and be a little plainer (saphesteron horisai). Do you mean that this doing or making, or whatever is the word you would use, of good actions (ara tȇn tȏn agathȏn praxin ȇ poiȇsin ȇ hopȏs su boulei onomazein, tautȇn legeis su), is temperance (sȏphrosunȇn einai)?’

‘I do (Egȏge),’ he said (ephȇ) … for temperance I define in plain words to be the doing of good actions (tȇn gar tȏn agathȏn praxin sȏphrosunȇn einai saphȏs soi diorizomai).

‘And you may be very likely right in what you are saying (Kai ouden ge se isȏs kȏluei alȇthȇ legein); but I am curious to know (tode ge mentoi, ȇn d’ egȏ, thaumazȏ) whether you imagine that temperate men are ignorant of their own temperance (ei sȏphronountas anthrȏpous hȇgȇi su agnoein hoti sȏphronousin;)?’

‘I do not think so (All’ ouch hȇgoumai),’ he said (ephȇ).

‘And yet were you not saying, just now, that craftsmen might be temperate in doing another’s things, as well as doing their own (Ouk oligon proteron, ephȇn egȏ, elegeto hupo sou hoti tous dȇmiourgous ouden kȏluei kai au ta tȏn allȏn poiountas sȏphronein;)? … But must the physician necessarily know (Ȇ oun kai gignȏskein anankȇ tȏi iatrȏi) when his treatment is likely to prove beneficial (hotan te ȏphelimȏs iatai), and when not (kai hotan mȇ;)? Or the craftsman when he is likely to be benefited, and when not to be benefited, by the work which he is doing (kai hekastȏi tȏn dȇmiourgȏn hotan te mellȇi onȇsesthai apo tou ergou hou an prattȇi kai hotan mȇi;)?’ … Then, as would seem, in doing good, he may act wisely or temperately, and be wise or temperate, but not know his own wisdom or temperance (Oukoun, hȏs eoiken, eniote ȏphelimȏs praxas prattei men sȏphronȏs kai sȏphronei, agnoei d’heauton hoti sȏphronei;)?

‘But that (Alla touto men)’, he said (ephȇ), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), is impossible (ouk an pote genoito); and therefore if this is, as you imply, the necessary consequence of any of my previous admissions (all’ ei ti su oiei ek tȏn emprosthen hup’ emou hȏmologȇmenȏn eis touto anankaion einai sumbainein), I will withdraw them (ekeinȏn an ti egȏge mallon anatheimȇn), and I am not ashamed to confess that I was in error (kai ouk an aischuntheiȇn mȇ ouchi orthȏs phanai eirȇkenai), rather than admit (mallon ȇ pote sunchȏrȇsaim’ an) that a man can be temperate or wise who does not know himself (agnoounta auton heauton anthrȏpon sȏphronein). For this would certainly be maintained by me to be temperance and wisdom (schedon gar ti egȏge auto touto phȇmi einai sȏphrosunȇn), knowing oneself (to gignȏskein heauton), and I agree with him who dedicated at Delphi this inscription (kai sumpheromai tȏi en Delphois anathenti to toiouton gramma).

I shall leave Critias' and Socrates' discussion of sȏphrosunȇ as self-knowledge for the next post.