Xanthippic Dialogues by Roger Scrutton
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Reproduced under the s41 of the Copyright Act (Cth) 1968 for the purposes of review and criticism by members of PhiloSophia NOT TO BE REDISTRIBUTED OR PUBLISHED OR MADE AVAILABLE GENERALLY Xanthippic Dialogues by Roger Scrutton XANTHIPPE’S REPUBLIC Characters: SOCRATES, an Athenian philosopher, about 65 XANTHIPPE, his wife, about 30 In the Republic we find, expressed through the mouth of Socrates, the two most famous of Plato’s theories: that of the just state, ruled over by a class of guardians, in which the philosophers are kings; and that of the forms – the abstract and eternal essences which are the true reality behind the world of appearance. Modern scholarship tends to the view that the second of these theories never crossed the mind of the historic Socrates, and that the whole episode so brilliantly described in the Republic is an invention of Plato’s. The following dialogue seems to confirm the view that Socrates really believed the theories attributed to him by Plato. It also suggests that he defended them on that historic occasion (405 BC, according to the chronology implied in Perictione’s Parmenides) in a manner not unlike the one recorded (though admittedly with many embellishments) in the Republic. Until the discovery of these dialogues, little was known of Xanthippe, besides the fact that she had two, possibly three, sons by Socrates. Antisthenes, in Xenophon’s Symposium (2, 10), describes her as ‘the most troublesome woman of all time,’ a remark that illustrates the jealousy of Socrates’ male disciples, who could not bear to think that a woman might be closer to their master than they were. (See Xanthippe’s Laws.) Socrates’ eldest son Lamprocles is also recorded by Xenophon as having complained of his mother’s ill-humour (Memorabilia, II, ii, 1); but again the complaint may be dismissed, since it certainly refers to a former wife, Myrto: in any case Lamprocles is rewarded with a strong rebuke from Socrates. Xanthippe is described in Plato’s Phaedo as carrying one of her sons as a babe-in-arms to visit the seventy-year-old philosopher, who has been condemned to drink hemlock on charges of impiety and ‘corrupting the youth’. She must therefore have been considerably younger than her husband. And if Xanthippe was as she appears in the following dialogue, it is not surprising that Socrates chose to behave in public as though she hardly existed. Of all the ancient accounts of her, that given fleetingly by John Chrysostom (Homily on I Corinthians 4, 26, 8) probably comes nearest to the truth. Xanthippe, he writes, was ‘difficult, talkative and tipsy’, while Socrates, when questioned, said that he put up with her because she provided ‘a practice-ground for philosophy at home’. Socrates’ hearers assumed that he meant a practice-ground for the philosophical virtues of patience and self- control. In fact, as this dialogue shows, Socrates meant what he said. Socrates’ mother was a midwife, and he described himself as a ‘midwife’ to others’ ideas. (Plato, Theaetetus, 149ff.) It was his famous maxim that ‘the unexamined life is not a life for a human being’: a belief which conveniently excused the enormous amount of time that he spent in 1 conversation. It now seems that one person saw through this piece of humbug, and was prepared – in private, at least (and what woman in ancient Athens could speak in public?2) – not only to defend the unexamined life, but also to warn against the political consequences of the Socratic philosophy. (Scene: the interior of Socrates’ house; Xanthippe, a young woman in her early thirties, is arranging the table for the evening meal. Socrates, a large man with bare feet, a wispy beard, and a disorderly robe that gives him an unkempt and tramp-like appearance, enters left. He is about sixty-five, and stares about him in a manner that is slightly shifty and insecure. Xanthippe smiles, and goes back to her work.) SOCRATES: I can stand just so much. XANTHIPPE: Yes, Socks.3 SOCRATES: I am patient, I think, just, generous, even to a fault. XANTHIPPE: Yes, Socks. SOCRATES (sits down at the table): I don’t ask much of others; I don’t expect them to put up with me for longer than is strictly required by common decency. And if, despite my defects, young men seek my company and affect to relish my words, am I to blame? To be brutally frank, I’d rather spend my time with old Aspasia. Hello, what’s this? XANTHIPPE: Your supper, Socks. SOCRATES: Do stop calling me Socks! XANTHIPPE: Yes, dear. SOCRATES: Today, for instance, that Plato – how he gets on my nerves, with his sycophantic manners and his snobbish ways. No sooner had I sat down because of my weary bones in the Palaestra after a neat game of dice with Aristonymus, when the little creep catches sight of me, and comes mincing across with Timaeus and Cleitophon (who I must admit is rather charming), oh yes, and the winsome Themocrates as well. And seeing him, they all begin to gather round: a crowd of unknown faces in which there is sure to be some tell-tale democrat. Then up pipes Plato in that mimsy voice of his, asking me whether there is such a thing as a just state, and if so how would I define it: right there in the Palaestra, with half of Athens listening over his shoulders. I could have been lynched. Which was perhaps his intention, so that he can weep over my tragic demise and write heroic dialogues about me, without fear of my contradicting him. Yes, I see it all: that’s his scheme. To become a celebrity by killing me. The little runt! XANTHIPPE: So what did you do? SOCRATES: What did I do? What could I do? To say nothing would be to imply a criticism of our wonderful democracy, and maybe even a secret leaning towards Sparta. To say what I think, would be even worse. Then I thought of a brilliant wheeze. You’ll like this.… XANTHIPPE: What? 2 SOCRATES: I pretended that, the day before, when discussing the difference between a just and unjust man … XANTHIPPE: Or woman … SOCRATES: Between a just and unjust man, I had described the just and unjust state, but only, you understand, as allegories of the human soul. So that nobody could accuse me of talking politics. And I added a few ironical twists, so that I could always make out, you know, that this bit was a joke, that bit metaphorical, this bit allegory, and so on. By the dog, what’s this stuff you’ve given me? XANTHIPPE: Goat, Socrates. Goat with anchovies. Good for the rheumatism. And the goat was sacrificed to Asclepius only this morning. SOCRATES: No wonder it’s so tough. But the anchovies are good. I adore anchovies! XANTHIPPE: I know. SOCRATES: Do you know, or merely believe? XANTHIPPE: I beg your pardon? SOCRATES: Oh, nothing, just a thought. Anyway, no sooner had I begun than Plato took tablets and stylus from his handbag, and began to scribble it all down. So I packed the thing full of stories, he being a sucker for fictions. He’ll never make the grade as a philosopher, you know. His mind begins to work only when there is some image rattling around inside it – the story of Gyges and the magic ring, for instance. I ask you! XANTHIPPE: I like that story. SOCRATES: Of course you do; you told it to me. Anyway, I made up a yarn about the party in Piraeus – the one in Cephalus’ house last night. XANTHIPPE: You were rather drunk last night. SOCRATES: Just so. But I was rather less drunk today, and decided to tell a tale that would give that Plato something to think about. I pretended that the greatest philosophical event in the entire history of the world had happened, and he alone had not been there. His brothers had taken part – Glaucon, you know, and Adeimantus – and that made him pretty furious, because, to do him justice, he has a bit more on top than they have. And Thrasymachus too; by the dog, how that Plato hates Thrasymachus! You could see him going white with rage beneath his make-up. If he ever gets to write it all down – and you can bet your boots he will, stringing the whole pack of lies on those threads of dialectic he is so proud of, but which stick to honest fingers like spiders’ webs – when as I say he writes it down, you can be sure there will be a rough part in it for poor old Thrasymachus. Not, mind you, that Thrasymachus is what you would call a subtle intellect, roaring like a bull as he does and thumping his fist on the table. And I confess, I did the old boy a disservice this morning. I attributed that foolish definition of justice to him. XANTHIPPE: What definition 3 SOCRATES: You know, justice as the interest of the stronger, a ruse to manipulate the masses, the ideology of a ruling class, as you might say – though even Thrasymachus wouldn’t use quite so vulgar a phrase. Of course, it is inconceivable that anybody could believe such rubbish, and whether Plato wrote it down and took the trouble to refute it (as any fool can refute it), it won’t make the slightest difference to the world. Anyway, where was I? XANTHIPPE: You were going to talk about beds. SOCRATES: How did you know? XANTHIPPE: It’s your favourite example: the bed, the form of the bed, that kind of thing.