Callicles on philosophy
CalliclesThat, then, is how the truth stands; and you will recognise it if you go on to greater things and let philosophy go at last. For philosophy, Socrates, is a charming thing, if one takes hold of it in moderation, at the age for it; but if one lingers over it further than one should, it is the ruin of human beings. For even someone who is very naturally gifted, if he philosophises far on in life, will necessarily have become inexperienced in everything that a man must be experienced in if he is to be fine and good and well regarded. In fact, such people become inexperienced in the laws of the city, and in the kind of speech one must use in dealing with people in transactions, both in private and in public, and in human pleasures and desires; and, in a word, they become altogether inexperienced in human character.
So when they come to some private or political affair, they become laughable, just as politicians, I think, are laughable when they in their turn come to your pastimes and your arguments. For what Euripides said comes true: “each man shines in that, and presses on to it, giving the greatest part of the day to it, / in which he happens to be at his best”. But whatever he is poor at, he flees from and reviles, while he praises the other, out of goodwill towards himself, considering that in this way he is praising himself. But what is most right, I think, is to take a share in both. It is fine to take a share in philosophy to the extent that it is for the sake of education, and it is not shameful to philosophise while one is a lad; but when a person who is already older still philosophises, the thing becomes laughable, Socrates, and I, for my part, feel very much the same towards those who philosophise as towards those who lisp and play.
For when I see a little child lisping and playing, one for whom it is still fitting to converse like that, I am glad, and it appears charming to me, and befitting the free, and suited to the child’s age; but when I hear a small child conversing distinctly, it seems to me a harsh sort of thing, it distresses my ears, and it seems to me something slavish. And when one hears a man lisping, or sees him playing, it appears laughable and unmanly and deserving of a beating. So I, for my part, feel the same way towards those who philosophise too. For when I see philosophy in a young lad, I admire it, it seems to me to suit him, and I consider this person one of the free, and the one who does not philosophise, illiberal, one who will never think himself worthy of any fine or noble undertaking; but when it is an older man I see still philosophising and not giving it up, this man, Socrates, seems to me by now to need a beating.