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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· part
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· free
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· cause
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· just
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· wonder
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 2 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· matter
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· appear
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· all
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· great
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· place
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Delphi, Phocis
“On coming into the city, you will see temples in a continued series. The first of these is in a ruinous condition; the second is without statues; the third has images of the Roman emperors, but these are not numerous; and the fourth is called the temple of Athena Pronoia.”
— Pausanias
*
“Phurnutus informs us, that temples were raised in honour of Athena Pronoia, because this goddess is the same with the providence which subsists in Zeus. I only add, that providence (πρovoια) evidently signifies an energy prior to intellect (πρo voυ) and is therefore an energy of the gods, who are super-intellectual natures. The Gods, therefore, from being Gods, and from being goodnesses, provide for all things, and fill all things with the goodness which is prior to Intellect.”
— Thomas Taylor
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· that
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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The Alphaeus — Chapter 9
*
TEL. Please, Socrates, continue, and I am very much with you now.
(As Socrates is preparing to speak, a woman appears as if from nowhere. She is tall but bent, and at the dawn of old age; she wears her ragged dress with dignity, her feet are bare, and she is carrying a basket on her back containing many bundles of twigs and herbs. When she smiles in greeting, her blue eyes sparkle and her face appears old and yet young.)
WOMAN Good morning, gentlemen, and I apologise for interrupting your conversation, but I need to rest for a few moments beneath this fine tree, and to share your shade if you will allow. I shall be gone from you very shortly.
TEL. Please, lady, join us and let me help you with the burden that you bear.
WOMAN It is no burden, young man, merely some necessities of life; but thank you, and I shall sit for just a little time.
TEL. You are welcome.
WOMAN This is a beautiful place to rest and to contemplate the power of that temple. Is that where you have been this day?
TEL. No, lady, it is not. My friend here and I met by accident, as I was walking to the court of Alampis.
WOMAN (laughing) I do not think that anyone meets your friend by accident, and it is sure that he must have come to this place for some good reason or other.
TEL. You speak as if one who knows him.
WOMAN I do not know him personally, yet I do know his name, as do many who walk invisible through this city.
TEL. What can you mean by that, to walk invisible through this city?
WOMAN Good Socrates, if I may address you so, have you ever seen me before this day?
SOC. Welcome, lady, but I do not think that I have.
WOMAN And yet I have seen you many times as you walk the streets of Athena’s city, and I have heard you, and have even stood close by to you on not a few occasions. This is what it is to be invisible.
SOC. And would you say, good woman, that you have seen me and heard me talk, and even stood close to me however many times, by accident or was it by design?
WOMAN I must admit that it was and is by my design.
SOC. What, then, is your purpose behind such a design?
WOMAN To listen to you, and to hear you, as well as those with whom you converse.
SOC. Then you will be aware of some of my conversations, and how well or otherwise they have been received.
WOMAN I am aware, Socrates.
SOC. So what think you of them, lady?
WOMAN I think they are the conversations of a good man, however well or ill they are received.
SOC. I pray that is the truth; but do you wish to know what it was that my friend Telamon here and I, and one other who lately departed, were discussing?
WOMAN I do, as I saw that other as I approached, and there was hardly a pebble across his path that did not receive from him a most vehement kick.
TEL. He is a passionate man.
WOMAN Aye, he is and he looked deeply troubled.
SOC. And it is a passionate subject to many, for we were enquiring as to whether it is possible to be truly happy in this life.
WOMAN Your departing friend seemed not to be so.
TEL. Please, be not quick with your judgment, for he was angry and short of time.
WOMAN I do not judge him, sir, I only report what I saw, and those pebbles had done him no harm.
TEL. (laughing) Yes, he did not seem too happy with our talk.
SOC. Good lady, what would be your answer to that same simple question; do you think that it is possible to be truly happy in this life?
WOMAN I can only answer that, Socrates, from the experience of my life, and it will much depend upon how such happiness is defined.
TEL. It is certain, Socrates, that this lady has heard you often, as now she now questions just like you. But come, good woman, would you say that you are happy?
WOMAN I am.
TEL. And has your happiness been achieved from the fulfillment of your desires?
WOMAN What know you of my desires, young man?
TEL. Please, I shall express my question another way. Would you say that your desires for wealth, health, power, reputation and good family have been fulfilled?
WOMAN (laughing) No, good fellow, they have not.
TEL. And yet you say that you are happy?
WOMAN I do.
TEL. Yet, according to my friend, the fulfillment of those desires is what happiness truly is, and therefore, by that mark, you cannot then be happy.
WOMAN It will not be your friend Socrates here who has said these things, so it must have been that other angry one; and he has made two towering assumptions, which are always a cause of error.
TEL. What assumptions are they, good lady?
WOMAN The first is that I even possess those named desires for such objects.
TEL. But do you not?
WOMAN I do not, and hence they will not be fulfilled.
TEL. And what was the second assumption that has caused or has lead to some error?
WOMAN It is that happiness may be measured and defined by such fulfillment of those same desires.
TEL. But, do you say that these desires are not common to all men and women?
WOMAN The desires may well be common but their objects, I think, are not.
TEL. Please, lady, explain your meaning to us.
WOMAN Have you not observed the attraction young children suffer for bright and sparkling things?
TEL. I have.
WOMAN And at times that attraction is so potent as to cause a crawling tot to lift itself up, or a walking tot to climb, as being focused solely upon the object of its desire, no risk or difficulty preventing. Have you observed this too, young man?
TEL. This, too, I have seen.
WOMAN And when that sparkling object is finally grasped, and held close to and examined, is the child then happy and fulfilled?
TEL. For a time it so appears.
WOMAN But what, then, if a brighter and more glittering object attracts the attention of that little person, is not the first put aside and the desire for it replaced?
TEL. It is.
WOMAN What say you of this form of happiness, good man, is it true?
TEL. I can only think that it is true for so long as it lasts.
WOMAN But when the happiness has departed what then happens to its truth?
TEL. It must surely depart along with it.
WOMAN Then the sparkling object itself was not sufficient to a permanent happiness.
TEL. It was not.
WOMAN Why so, young man; is that not now the question you should answer?
TEL. (Quietly, after a long silent pause) Because it was itself impermanent, and whether cast aside, lost, or when perished through time, it would depart and cease to be an object of desire.
WOMAN (Standing up) For that very reason I am not happy from such fulfillment of the desires your friend announced, as it is as temporary as it is true, and, likewise, the form of happiness it promotes. But my time here is now over and there is another I must attend to, so farewell, good Telamon, and you dear Socrates; until another time when we may meet. And use such time well, both of you, as this life may be so very short.
TEL. Thank you, fair lady.
SOC. Woman, you are a blessing.
(The woman departs, and is soon hidden among the ripening olive groves.)
TEL. What kind of a woman was that, Socrates, and do you know who she is?
(To be continued)
— Guy
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Word’s Worth
Being a regular and continuous series of single words, to consider, penetrate, define, use and enjoy.
· like
Where the true definition remains unknown, a word thus becomes a meaningless name.
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kalosophia · 3 years
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The Alphaeus — Chapter 8
*
SOC. Imagine, then, a man or a woman, who has all possible wealth and power and health, and the fulfillment of the desires you pronounced; and then imagine another one, who has but a necessary portion of the same, in order to maintain existence. Which of these do you consider will be the happiest?
ALP. I have heard that this is a question that you love to banter around, Socrates; but I will not give you the answer I know you have stored up, and which you know that I know. My answer is simple, and it is the man or woman who has fulfilled those desires that will be the happiest – and tell me not that it is whichever of them is the wisest. For a wise man would never be poor.
SOC. Then are all poor people unwise and ignorant?
ALP. They are.
SOC. And likewise wanting in power, and health and good family and reputation?
ALP. Undoubtedly so.
SOC. Must they all then be likewise unhappy?
ALP. They must.
SOC. Does it follow that all wealthy people are then wise?
ALP. It does, Socrates, it does; as their wealth is the fruit of a wise use of life.
SOC. And, therefore, they are happy?
ALP. They are.
SOC. And does it then follow that all poor people are most unhappy?
ALP. It does, as I have already said.
SOC. So, this unhappiness that the poor suffer, is this the product then of unfulfilled desires, such as those you have espoused?
ALP. It is, and very much so.
SOC. But I see before us a puzzling equation, which has been trying to voice itself throughout our investigation.
ALP. I am not surprised, Socrates; but go on then, give it some air if you so wish.
SOC. Thank you, my friend, and I will, as I suspect that it is veiled behind your own assertions, given with such alacrity.
ALP. Proceed.
SOC. Does it, then, equate that those who have fulfilled the most of their desires therefore, being happy, acquire a greater portion of good to themselves? And that those who have fulfilled only a necessary portion of the desires you hold, thereby acquire or continue to enjoy only a necessary portion of good? Is this an equation you would assent to as being accurate?
ALP. I would, Socrates, as far as it goes.
SOC. Then the wealthy, the healthy, the renowned, the well-born and the powerful are all of them good?
ALP. They are, and also they are happy.
SOC. And the poor, the infirm, the unknown, the lowly born and the singular are all of them not good?
ALP. They may be good to a certain degree, but it is an impotent good.
SOC. And do you say further that this same ratio can be applied to wisdom? So that the poor and those others are also unwise, and that the wealthy and their fellows are wise?
ALP. I do so say, and repeat.
SOC. But what of beauty; is it the same process with this?
ALP. It is.
SOC. So that the poor and the others are not beautiful, but the wealthy and the desire-fulfilled are?
ALP. That is the case I support and have observed.
SOC. In summing up, my friend, your argument, it is that all poor people and those others are not only unhappy, but likewise they are evil, ignorant, ugly and impotent. And that all wealthy people, and the others, are happy, good, wise and beautiful.
ALP. That is, Socrates, my argument.
SOC. What then, Alphaeus, if a man or a woman, poor from birth, on a sudden acquires very substantial wealth; does this same person, on a sudden, also acquire substantial happiness?
ALP. They do.
SOC. And this together with goodness and wisdom and beauty?
ALP. You are trying to entrap me, Socrates.
SOC. But no, Alphaeus, as you have already entrapped yourself. Yet answer the question, whether the sudden acquisition of abundant wealth, or power, or health, or fame, likewise bestows the equally sudden abundance of goodness, happiness, beauty and wisdom, and other such excellences.
ALP. Enough of this, Socrates; I have patronized your argument from respect to Telamon, when I would have left some time ago if alone. You talk of extremes and exceptions and miss the normal and the common, to which I look in assessing any person.
SOC. Yet, good man, if you do not answer this question, both Telamon here and I, and in truth all who ask such questions, will know not where to turn, or who to ask, if those such as you refuse the opportunity to answer upon subjects about which you are certain.
ALP. Then I will answer, in recognition of my good friend here, that such a sudden acquisition and fulfillment of desires would at the least provide the opportunity for the acquisition of such goodness, wisdom and beauty as you propose.
SOC. Thank you, and I believe that there is one last question which should seal the circle, so to speak, and reveal to us the heart of the matter.
ALP. Then ask it, Socrates, and do not delay, as my time here is now getting short.
SOC. It is simple, and it is this; would the sudden removal of wealth and health and those other fulfilled desires you champion, cause the sudden removal also of happiness, and goodness, wisdom and beauty? Consider this, Alphaeus, and whether you believe it to be true.
ALP. (standing up in silence for long moments) Talk not to me of belief, man, for knowledge is my calling, not belief!
SOC. There are many of the present time, and there will be many more in the future, who profess to know certain things, having been schooled in the ways of detailed convincement and thesis; yet at the same time do not believe what they speak of, or write about, or claim to know. So, in deference to you, Alphaeus, I will alter the question this way: do you then know this to be true?
ALP. By the dog, how you infuriate me! I will co-operate no more with your semantic gymnastics, Socrates, as you are plainly involved only with your own self-justification and defence for a way of life that you are trapped in, by your own lack of practical wisdom. You are an idiot and full with mania, and see not that those theoretic virtues you embrace so much are of no worth at all to those who have not fulfilled the desires I have strenuously and exhaustingly explained. I condemn you as a hack, as you will soon be condemned as a conjuror. Come, Telamon, we are leaving this place!
(Telamon then raises himself to one knee, and looks into the eyes of Socrates, who bows his head slowly.)
TEL. I think not, Alphaeus, for I cannot leave with these conflicting thoughts racing in me unresolved. 
ALP. But they are resolved, Telamon, they are! The doubts have been sown by Socrates here, and they are his doubts, not yours, and certainly they are not mine.
TEL. But I own them to be mine now, my friend.
ALP. Then I must leave you both with them like some ill-disciplined nursery, as I am due in the court of Alampis in but a little time. Farewell, until later, Telamon; and good-bye, Socrates.
TEL. Farewell.
(Alphaeus departs. Socrates is silent, his head still bowed low and deep in thought.)
TEL. Socrates, my friend, why do you sit so? Are you troubled by what we have just heard?
SOC. (after a long pause) No, good Telamon, I am not; and I sit here so because of a voice I seem to hear and that prompts me to be quiet, to be still and to see.
TEL. Is, then, our conversation over, and would you rather that I retired now with Alphaeus?
SOC. This, our conversation, concerns a subject of greatest moment, and not the one that appears now as obvious.
TEL. What subject do you mean, and how is it not obvious?
SOC. It has been standing in front of us, like some doe blending in with its surroundings, and is only obvious and visible to a hunter.
TEL. Is it the nature of happiness that you see, and which is blended with the confusions we have heard?
SOC. It is, and barely behind it I survey its sire. Do you wish to pursue this, with all the stealth and guile that we can muster?
TEL. I do so very much, and follow you.
SOC. By the huntress then, Telamon my friend, let us hunt, and together with her close upon our prey.
TEL. Only lead and show me the tracks.
SOC. What think you of the happiness promoted just now?
TEL. I almost think the opposite to that which I have held for years.
SOC. And what is this opposite that you now hold close?
TEL. That true happiness cannot be generated from the fulfillment of those desires which we lately considered; and that far from being satiable and dignified they appear to be boundless and base on their own, leading only to a form of happiness both temporary and contingent.
SOC. What then, do you perceive other desires not lately mentioned, that admit of some bound and more worth?
TEL. No, I do not perceive them, but suspect that they must exist, for those so recently described now appear to be insufficient for the purpose of attaining true happiness.
SOC. Yet, Telamon, those desires so well pronounced just now, may not be as boundless or base as they presently appear to you; but that they are just the trees that obscure our prey, and if we look well to them, and to that, they will reveal even more than they obscure, and we will see the difference clearly.
TEL. Say on, Socrates.
SOC. Do you not remember the rumour from those celebrations, of which I know you were an auditor in your young manhood – that from the bosom of the mother of life are two great fountains formed, being the one of soul and the other of virtue?
TEL. I hear, and now remember, as if waking from a nocturnal dream.
SOC. And that from those ample fountains all souls and all virtues are nourished.
TEL. I hear it again, yet anew.
SOC. So that each is nourished from both, as to be nurtured together, being for the one the life and for the other the excellence.
TEL. It is indeed so said and is a mystery.
SOC. It is. Then let us continue to hunt, my good friend, with the truth of her mystery before us.
(To be continued)
— Guy
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kalosophia · 3 years
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Nemea, Argolis
“In these mountains the cave of the Nemean lion is yet to be seen, and the village Nemea is distant from hence about fifteen stadia. There is a temple of Nemean Zeus in this place well worthy of inspection, though the roof of it has fallen off, and no statue is left. About the temple there is a grove of cypresses: and they report, that Opheltes, being placed here on the grass by his nurse, was destroyed by a dragon. But the Argives sacrifice to Zeus in Nemea, and choose a priest for Nemean Zeus . They propose, besides this, a contest of the course to armed men, which is celebrated in the winter. The sepulchre of Opheltes, too, is in this place, about which there is an inclosure of stones, and there are certain altars within the inclosure. There is also a tomb raised from turf, of Lycurgus the father of Opheltes; but they call the fountain Adrastia, either because Adrastus discovered it, or for some other reason. They say, however, that the region was denominated from Nemea, the daughter of Asopus.”
— Pausanias
*
“It appears, however, from the present passage, that a part of one of them consisted in explaining the labours of Hercules, who, like Odysseus, is an allegorical character, representing the progress of a man from the impurity of a sensible life, till he acquires the perfection and purity of a life intellectual and divine. Hence Proclus on Plato's Republic, ‘Hercules being purified by sacred initiations, and having acquired undefiled advantages, deserved a perfect establishment among the gods.’ We may conceive, therefore, that by the club of Hercules is meant philosophy, and by his lion's skin, prudence; through whose assistance he tamed the passions, those monsters of the soul, and destroyed vain cogitations: both which are occultly signified by the twelve labours he endured.”
— Thomas Taylor
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kalosophia · 3 years
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The Alphaeus — Chapter 7
*
ALP. Come, Socrates, and cease your pedantry, as I began by saying that the desires I enumerated were those of all men and women, whether ignorant, intelligent or otherwise.
SOC. But you affirm that there are some who desire that which appears to be beneficial to them, but that when acquired then appears to be detrimental?
ALP. I do, as I qualified a similar answer earlier.
SOC. I remember your qualification, and it follows that an intelligent man or woman will know which objects of desire are beneficial and which are not. Is this then a position you will affirm?
ALP. I will and I do.
SOC. And do you say that there are some things, though desired, that are beneficial to one man yet detrimental to another?
ALP. I believe that there are such things, the results of the acquisition of which are affected by the condition of the acquirer.
SOC. But are there also some things that affect the condition of the acquirer himself, and not that of the acquired?
ALP. Again you repeat and state the obvious, Socrates, as the desire for most, if not all things, is not merely for acquisition’s sake, but for the change in condition that these acquisitions will then enable.
SOC. And does it follow then, Alphaeus, that an intelligent man will not only know what things, as objects of desire, are beneficial, but also what beneficial changes in condition these same acquired objects will donate?
ALP. He will.
SOC. But the ignorant man will neither know what objects of desire are beneficial, nor what beneficial changes their acquisition will promote; or would you say otherwise?
ALP. I would not, as the case is fairly stated.
SOC. And is it likewise fairly stated that an intelligent man will also know how to retain and preserve his acquisitions, and the beneficial changes they have facilitated, but that an ignorant man will not?
ALP. Likewise.
SOC. And do you hold, Alphaeus, that this knowledge of what it is beneficial to desire, and the benefits its fulfillment will bestow, is essential for any man or woman who wishes to be truly happy?
ALP. Yes, Socrates, I do.
SOC. Then we are close to the heart of this matter, and I would propose to you this further question.
ALP. And what is that question?
SOC. Whether you say that the desirable is the same with the good?
ALP. It is, to the intelligent man or woman.
SOC. But not, would you say, to the ignorant man or woman?
ALP. I would not.
SOC. Then, is it the case that to an ignorant man or woman, wealth, power, reputation and those others, may not be beneficial and good in their acquisition?
ALP. They may be, but they may also prove to be so many curses.
SOC. But, Alphaeus, those you teach, are they intelligent or ignorant men and women?
ALP. For the most part they are intelligent.
SOC. And thus, is it that they know what it is that is good to desire, and what is good in the desirable, and what the good will be resulting from such acquisitions? Or is this what you teach them?
ALP. They have a basic knowledge of these things, but it is my calling to develop that knowledge, and to teach how these very things can be known with certainty.
SOC. If, that is, they have already acquired sufficient wealth to supply your modest fees.
ALP. That is so.
SOC. Then the most important element of your teaching is that which concerns the nature of goodness, and the good, and how it is to be known with certainty, or would you say otherwise?
ALP. This is, essentially, what I teach.
SOC. And do you also teach what the nature of man consists of?
ALP. I am not an arrogant man, Socrates. Hence, I know my boundaries, and do not attempt to teach such a subject, leaving it to the intelligence of my pupils to decide upon.
SOC. But surely, Alphaeus, ignorance regarding either or both of these subjects will totally eclipse the intelligence of anything else?
ALP. What is this that you say now, Socrates?
SOC. Only this, that if a man does not know his own nature and what in reality he is, how can he know what is good for him in any and every sphere of his life? And further, if a man does not know what the good is, how can he know whether that which he desires is, or will be, beneficial? And how then can a man who is ignorant of both of these, know what is beneficial or good to others, whether or not they desire those things you described, or want them, or profess they must and should have them? For the danger is akin to feeding a bird with sand, or a hungry lion with bricks.
ALP. You speak now of things that all men know, save for those who are insane or not yet of age.
SOC. Though all men may know these things, good Alphaeus, there are few, if any, that can remember them.
ALP. Your arrogance announces itself like a Spartan horn, Socrates, designed by the few to strike fear in the hearts of the many. Unless you perceive the state of all men’s minds, your words are just bluster and a loud but hollow judgment.
SOC. The horn you mention is a herald of dire times, whether blown by one or a multitude. But your position, as you describe it, is clear, and is this – that it is your part to develop the basic knowledge that men and women possess regarding the good and the desirable, and this to the point of certainty; and also, that you leave the knowledge of what the self of man is for your pupils to decide upon, according to their own intelligence. Are you content with this summation, Alphaeus?
ALP. It will do.
SOC. That is well; but you said further, that to an intelligent man or woman the good and the desirable are one and the same thing; is this again your judgment?
ALP. It is, and your repetition is becoming tedious.
SOC. Then we shall avoid it in our further discussion, if only you will answer me this.
ALP. And what would that be?
SOC. Whether you would say that all things desirable are then good?
ALP. Again you repeat yourself, as I have already said that to an intelligent man they are.
SOC. Not quite, Alphaeus, but it matters little. So inasmuch as this is true, do you say that no man would desire that which he knows would be harmful to acquire?
ALP. I do.
SOC. But it is possible to desire something, through ignorance, which will indeed prove harmful when obtained?
ALP. That is indeed my considered opinion, Socrates.
SOC. And it is your part, as you have stated it, to teach what it is good to desire, and what is good in the desirable, but not to advance a knowledge of the desiring nature, leaving that to individual or common judgment.
ALP. Unlike yourself, I assume that all intelligent men and women know in what their nature consists.
SOC. I, too, predict that this will be the condition with all such truly intelligent souls.
ALP. Why must you continue so, Socrates, with this incessant slight of mouth, where you add words to mine as if they were insufficient? Thus your addition of truly to intelligent is ungracious and pedantic, and changes not the essence of what I said.
SOC. Then I withdraw that truly, Alphaeus, and leave your assumption as it was. Yet, from my own experience, there are many who desire to know in what their nature consists, and what it is to be a man or woman or soul. And there are many more who assume that they know what this self is, and seek happiness according to that assumption. But few men there are who know their essential nature, and they are to be found with great difficulty, being all but invisible to the many. In which do you camp yourself, Alphaeus, as one who desires this knowledge, or one who assumes he already has this knowledge, or one who possesses this knowledge in truth?
ALP. The third is mine, as the saying goes.
SOC. It is but a saying from a play, good man. But come now, let us then armed with your certain knowledge, and my desire for learning, approach to the truth of the question.
ALP. Let us do that, please.
(To be continued)
— Guy
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