Introduction

Lysimachus, the son of Aristides the Just, and Melesias, the son of the elder Thucydides, two aged men who live together, are desirous of educating their sons in the best manner. Their own education, as often happens with the sons of great men, has been neglected; and they are resolved that their children shall have more care taken of them, than they received themselves at the hands of their fathers.

Lysimachus, the son of Aristides the Just, and Melesias, the son of the elder Thucydides, are two elderly men. They live together and want to give their sons the best possible education. Their own education was neglected, as often happens with the sons of great men. So they are determined to give their children more care than their own fathers gave them.

At their request, Nicias and Laches have accompanied them to see a man named Stesilaus fighting in heavy armour. The two fathers ask the two generals what they think of this exhibition, and whether they would advise that their sons should acquire the accomplishment. Nicias and Laches are quite willing to give their opinion; but they suggest that Socrates should be invited to take part in the consultation. He is a stranger to Lysimachus, but is afterwards recognised as the son of his old friend Sophroniscus, with whom he never had a difference to the hour of his death. Socrates is also known to Nicias, to whom he had introduced the excellent Damon, musician and sophist, as a tutor for his son, and to Laches, who had witnessed his heroic behaviour at the battle of Delium (compare Symp.).

At their request, Nicias and Laches have joined them to watch a man named Stesilaus fight in heavy armour. The two fathers ask the two generals what they think of the display. They also ask whether the generals would recommend that their sons learn this skill. Nicias and Laches are quite willing to give their opinions. But they suggest inviting Socrates to join the discussion. Lysimachus does not know Socrates at first, but later recognises him as the son of his old friend Sophroniscus. Lysimachus never had a disagreement with Sophroniscus right up to the time Sophroniscus died. Nicias also knows Socrates, who introduced him to the excellent Damon, a musician and sophist, to tutor Nicias’s son. Laches knows Socrates too, having witnessed his heroic conduct at the battle of Delium (compare Symp.).

Socrates, as he is younger than either Nicias or Laches, prefers to wait until they have delivered their opinions, which they give in a characteristic manner. Nicias, the tactician, is very much in favour of the new art, which he describes as the gymnastics of war—useful when the ranks are formed, and still more useful when they are broken; creating a general interest in military studies, and greatly adding to the appearance of the soldier in the field. Laches, the blunt warrior, is of opinion that such an art is not knowledge, and cannot be of any value, because the Lacedaemonians, those great masters of arms, neglect it. His own experience in actual service has taught him that these pretenders are useless and ridiculous. This man Stesilaus has been seen by him on board ship making a very sorry exhibition of himself. The possession of the art will make the coward rash, and subject the courageous, if he chance to make a slip, to invidious remarks. And now let Socrates be taken into counsel. As they differ he must decide.

Socrates is younger than both Nicias and Laches, so he prefers to wait until they have given their opinions. Each speaks in his own characteristic way. Nicias, the tactician, strongly supports the new art, describing it as gymnastics for war. It is useful when the ranks are formed, and even more useful when they are broken. It encourages a general interest in military studies and greatly improves a soldier’s appearance on the battlefield. Laches, the blunt warrior, thinks this art is not knowledge and cannot have any value. His reason is that the Lacedaemonians, those great masters of weapons, neglect it. His own experience in active service has taught him that these pretenders are useless and ridiculous. He has seen this man Stesilaus make a very poor showing aboard a ship. Learning the art will make a coward reckless. It will also expose a brave man to spiteful comments if he happens to make a mistake. Now let Socrates join the discussion. Since Nicias and Laches disagree, he must decide.

Socrates would rather not decide the question by a plurality of votes: in such a serious matter as the education of a friend's children, he would consult the one skilled person who has had masters, and has works to show as evidences of his skill. This is not himself; for he has never been able to pay the sophists for instructing him, and has never had the wit to do or discover anything. But Nicias and Laches are older and richer than he is: they have had teachers, and perhaps have made discoveries; and he would have trusted them entirely, if they had not been diametrically opposed.

Socrates would rather not settle the question by a majority vote. Educating a friend's children is a serious matter. He would consult the one skilled person who has learned from teachers and can show work that proves his skill. Socrates himself is not that person. He has never been able to afford instruction from the sophists. Nor has he ever been clever enough to achieve or discover anything. But Nicias and Laches are older and richer than he is. They have had teachers, and perhaps they have made discoveries. He would have trusted them completely if their views had not been entirely opposed.

Lysimachus here proposes to resign the argument into the hands of the younger part of the company, as he is old, and has a bad memory. He earnestly requests Socrates to remain;—in this showing, as Nicias says, how little he knows the man, who will certainly not go away until he has cross-examined the company about their past lives. Nicias has often submitted to this process; and Laches is quite willing to learn from Socrates, because his actions, in the true Dorian mode, correspond to his words.

Lysimachus now proposes leaving the discussion to the younger members of the group, because he is old and forgetful. He earnestly asks Socrates to stay. As Nicias points out, this request shows how little Lysimachus knows Socrates. Socrates certainly will not leave until he has closely questioned everyone about their past lives. Nicias has often submitted to such questioning. And Laches is quite willing to learn from Socrates, because Socrates’ actions match his words in true Dorian fashion.

Socrates proceeds: We might ask who are our teachers? But a better and more thorough way of examining the question will be to ask, 'What is Virtue?'—or rather, to restrict the enquiry to that part of virtue which is concerned with the use of weapons—'What is Courage?' Laches thinks that he knows this: (1) 'He is courageous who remains at his post.' But some nations fight flying, after the manner of Aeneas in Homer; or as the heavy-armed Spartans also did at the battle of Plataea. (2) Socrates wants a more general definition, not only of military courage, but of courage of all sorts, tried both amid pleasures and pains. Laches replies that this universal courage is endurance. But courage is a good thing, and mere endurance may be hurtful and injurious. Therefore (3) the element of intelligence must be added. But then again unintelligent endurance may often be more courageous than the intelligent, the bad than the good. How is this contradiction to be solved? Socrates and Laches are not set 'to the Dorian mode' of words and actions; for their words are all confusion, although their actions are courageous. Still they must 'endure' in an argument about endurance. Laches is very willing, and is quite sure that he knows what courage is, if he could only tell.

Socrates continues: We might ask who our teachers are. But a better, more thorough way to examine the question is to ask, 'What is Virtue?' Or rather, we should focus on the part of virtue concerned with using weapons and ask, 'What is Courage?' Laches thinks he knows the answer: (1) 'A courageous man stays at his post.' But some nations fight while retreating, as Aeneas does in Homer. The heavily armed Spartans also fought this way at the battle of Plataea. (2) Socrates wants a broader definition covering not just military courage, but all kinds of courage, tested by both pleasures and pains. Laches replies that courage in this broad sense is endurance. But courage is good, while endurance alone may be harmful and damaging. Therefore (3) intelligence must be added to endurance. But then again, endurance without intelligence may often be more courageous than intelligent endurance, and bad endurance more courageous than good. How can this contradiction be resolved? Socrates and Laches have not brought their words and actions into harmony, 'to the Dorian mode'. Their words are completely confused, although their actions are courageous. Still, they must 'endure' in an argument about endurance. Laches is very willing to continue. He is quite sure he knows what courage is, if only he could explain it.

Nicias is now appealed to; and in reply he offers a definition which he has heard from Socrates himself, to the effect that (1) 'Courage is intelligence.' Laches derides this; and Socrates enquires, 'What sort of intelligence?' to which Nicias replies, 'Intelligence of things terrible.' 'But every man knows the things to be dreaded in his own art.' 'No they do not. They may predict results, but cannot tell whether they are really terrible; only the courageous man can tell that.' Laches draws the inference that the courageous man is either a soothsayer or a god.

Nicias is now asked to respond. He offers a definition he has heard from Socrates himself: (1) 'Courage is intelligence.' Laches mocks this definition, and Socrates asks, 'What kind of intelligence?' Nicias replies, 'Knowledge of things to fear.' 'But every man knows what to fear in his own field.' 'No, they do not. They may predict results, but cannot tell whether those results are truly to be feared. Only the courageous man can tell that.' Laches concludes that the courageous man is either a fortune-teller or a god.

Again, (2) in Nicias' way of speaking, the term 'courageous' must be denied to animals or children, because they do not know the danger. Against this inversion of the ordinary use of language Laches reclaims, but is in some degree mollified by a compliment to his own courage. Still, he does not like to see an Athenian statesman and general descending to sophistries of this sort. Socrates resumes the argument. Courage has been defined to be intelligence or knowledge of the terrible; and courage is not all virtue, but only one of the virtues. The terrible is in the future, and therefore the knowledge of the terrible is a knowledge of the future. But there can be no knowledge of future good or evil separated from a knowledge of the good and evil of the past or present; that is to say, of all good and evil. Courage, therefore, is the knowledge of good and evil generally. But he who has the knowledge of good and evil generally, must not only have courage, but also temperance, justice, and every other virtue. Thus, a single virtue would be the same as all virtues (compare Protagoras). And after all the two generals, and Socrates, the hero of Delium, are still in ignorance of the nature of courage. They must go to school again, boys, old men and all.

Again, (2) in Nicias' terms, animals or children cannot be called 'courageous', because they do not understand the danger. Laches objects to this reversal of ordinary usage, but a compliment to his own courage softens his objections somewhat. Still, he dislikes seeing an Athenian statesman and general resort to clever but misleading arguments of this kind. Socrates returns to the argument. Courage has been defined as understanding or knowledge of what is terrible. And courage is not the whole of virtue, but only one of the virtues. What is terrible lies in the future, so knowing what is terrible means knowing the future. But knowledge of future good or evil cannot be separated from knowledge of past or present good and evil. In other words, it means knowing all good and evil. Courage, therefore, is knowledge of good and evil in general. But anyone who knows good and evil in general must have more than courage. Such a person must also have temperance, justice, and every other virtue. Thus, a single virtue would be the same as all virtues (compare Protagoras). And after all this, the two generals and Socrates, the hero of Delium, still do not know what courage is. They must all go back to school, boys and old men alike.

Some points of resemblance, and some points of difference, appear in the Laches when compared with the Charmides and Lysis. There is less of poetical and simple beauty, and more of dramatic interest and power. They are richer in the externals of the scene; the Laches has more play and development of character. In the Lysis and Charmides the youths are the central figures, and frequent allusions are made to the place of meeting, which is a palaestra. Here the place of meeting, which is also a palaestra, is quite forgotten, and the boys play a subordinate part. The seance is of old and elder men, of whom Socrates is the youngest.

The Laches has some similarities to the Charmides and Lysis, and some differences. It has less poetic and simple beauty, but more dramatic interest and power. The Charmides and Lysis describe the setting more fully, but the Laches gives more scope to character interaction and development. In the Lysis and Charmides, the young men are the central figures. Both dialogues frequently mention the meeting place, a palaestra, or wrestling school. In the Laches, the meeting place is also a palaestra, but the setting is entirely forgotten. The boys play a lesser role. The gathering consists of old and older men, with Socrates the youngest among them.

First is the aged Lysimachus, who may be compared with Cephalus in the Republic, and, like him, withdraws from the argument. Melesias, who is only his shadow, also subsides into silence. Both of them, by their own confession, have been ill-educated, as is further shown by the circumstance that Lysimachus, the friend of Sophroniscus, has never heard of the fame of Socrates, his son; they belong to different circles. In the Meno their want of education in all but the arts of riding and wrestling is adduced as a proof that virtue cannot be taught. The recognition of Socrates by Lysimachus is extremely graceful; and his military exploits naturally connect him with the two generals, of whom one has witnessed them. The characters of Nicias and Laches are indicated by their opinions on the exhibition of the man fighting in heavy armour. The more enlightened Nicias is quite ready to accept the new art, which Laches treats with ridicule, seeming to think that this, or any other military question, may be settled by asking, 'What do the Lacedaemonians say?' The one is the thoughtful general, willing to avail himself of any discovery in the art of war (Aristoph. Aves); the other is the practical man, who relies on his own experience, and is the enemy of innovation; he can act but cannot speak, and is apt to lose his temper. It is to be noted that one of them is supposed to be a hearer of Socrates; the other is only acquainted with his actions. Laches is the admirer of the Dorian mode; and into his mouth the remark is put that there are some persons who, having never been taught, are better than those who have. Like a novice in the art of disputation, he is delighted with the hits of Socrates; and is disposed to be angry with the refinements of Nicias.

First comes the elderly Lysimachus, who may be compared with Cephalus in the Republic. Like Cephalus, he withdraws from the discussion. Melesias, who is little more than Lysimachus’s shadow, also falls silent. Both admit that they have been poorly educated. Further evidence is that Lysimachus, a friend of Sophroniscus, has never heard of the fame of Sophroniscus’s son, Socrates. Lysimachus and Socrates belong to different circles. In the Meno, their lack of education in anything beyond riding and wrestling is offered as proof that virtue cannot be taught. The moment when Lysimachus recognizes Socrates is especially graceful. Socrates’ military achievements naturally connect him with the two generals, one of whom has witnessed those achievements. The characters of Nicias and Laches emerge through their opinions about the demonstration by the man fighting in heavy armour. The more enlightened Nicias is quite ready to accept the new art, while Laches ridicules it. Laches seems to think that this military question, or any other, can be settled by asking, 'What do the Lacedaemonians say?' Nicias is the thoughtful general, willing to use any discovery in the art of war (Aristoph. Aves). Laches is the practical man, who relies on his own experience and opposes innovation. He can act but cannot speak, and he tends to lose his temper. Notice that one general is presented as someone who has listened to Socrates, while the other knows only his actions. Laches admires the Dorian mode. He is given the observation that some people who have never been taught are better than those who have. Like a beginner in debate, he delights in Socrates’ well-aimed arguments. But he is inclined to become angry at Nicias’s subtle distinctions.

In the discussion of the main thesis of the Dialogue—'What is Courage?' the antagonism of the two characters is still more clearly brought out; and in this, as in the preliminary question, the truth is parted between them. Gradually, and not without difficulty, Laches is made to pass on from the more popular to the more philosophical; it has never occurred to him that there was any other courage than that of the soldier; and only by an effort of the mind can he frame a general notion at all. No sooner has this general notion been formed than it evanesces before the dialectic of Socrates; and Nicias appears from the other side with the Socratic doctrine, that courage is knowledge. This is explained to mean knowledge of things terrible in the future. But Socrates denies that the knowledge of the future is separable from that of the past and present; in other words, true knowledge is not that of the soothsayer but of the philosopher. And all knowledge will thus be equivalent to all virtue—a position which elsewhere Socrates is not unwilling to admit, but which will not assist us in distinguishing the nature of courage. In this part of the Dialogue the contrast between the mode of cross-examination which is practised by Laches and by Socrates, and also the manner in which the definition of Laches is made to approximate to that of Nicias, are worthy of attention.

The discussion of the Dialogue’s main question, 'What is Courage?' brings out the opposition between the two characters even more clearly. Here, as in the preliminary question, each holds part of the truth. Gradually, and with difficulty, Laches is led from the common view toward a more philosophical understanding. He has never considered any courage other than a soldier’s. He can form a general idea of courage only through mental effort. But as soon as he forms this general idea, it dissolves under Socrates’ questioning. Nicias then approaches from the other side, offering the Socratic doctrine that courage is knowledge. He explains this as knowledge of things to fear in the future. But Socrates denies that knowledge of the future can be separated from knowledge of the past and present. In other words, true knowledge belongs to the philosopher, not the soothsayer. All knowledge will therefore be equivalent to all virtue. Elsewhere, Socrates is not unwilling to accept this position, but it does not help us identify the nature of courage. Two features of this part of the Dialogue deserve attention. One is the contrast between how Laches and Socrates conduct their cross-examinations. The other is how Laches’ definition is brought closer to that of Nicias.

Thus, with some intimation of the connexion and unity of virtue and knowledge, we arrive at no distinct result. The two aspects of courage are never harmonized. The knowledge which in the Protagoras is explained as the faculty of estimating pleasures and pains is here lost in an unmeaning and transcendental conception. Yet several true intimations of the nature of courage are allowed to appear: (1) That courage is moral as well as physical: (2) That true courage is inseparable from knowledge, and yet (3) is based on a natural instinct. Laches exhibits one aspect of courage; Nicias the other. The perfect image and harmony of both is only realized in Socrates himself.

Thus, despite some hints of the connection and unity between virtue and knowledge, we reach no clear conclusion. The two aspects of courage are never brought into harmony. In the Protagoras, knowledge is explained as the ability to weigh pleasures and pains. Here, that understanding of knowledge is lost in a meaningless concept beyond experience. Yet several true insights into the nature of courage emerge: (1) Courage is moral as well as physical. (2) True courage cannot be separated from knowledge, and yet (3) courage is based on a natural instinct. Laches shows one aspect of courage, and Nicias the other. Only Socrates himself perfectly embodies both aspects in harmony.

The Dialogue offers one among many examples of the freedom with which Plato treats facts. For the scene must be supposed to have occurred between B.C. 424, the year of the battle of Delium, and B.C. 418, the year of the battle of Mantinea, at which Laches fell. But if Socrates was more than seventy years of age at his trial in 399 (see Apology), he could not have been a young man at any time after the battle of Delium.

This dialogue is one of many examples of how freely Plato handles facts. The scene must take place between 424 BC, the year of the battle of Delium, and 418 BC. Laches died at the battle of Mantinea in 418 BC. But if Socrates was over seventy at his trial in 399 BC (see Apology), he could not have been young at any time after the battle of Delium.