Theages

Following the order given in the Cooper edition, Theages is the last of the non-Platonic dialogs before we return to the early dialogs we know were written by Plato himself.  There are a number of other Socratic dialogs not written by Plato included at the end of the collection, but I expect I'll skip those.  Reading five of these dialogs of dubious authorship is enough to understand some of the context in which Plato wrote; for example, it was news to me that the Socratic dialog was a generic form that a number of authors used.  It's also enough to see that Plato probably got famous for a reason -- these other dialogs are less nuanced stylistically and less interesting philosophically.

Theages has been nagging his father Demodocus to pay for Theages to go study with an expert tutor so that he can become wise.  Since Demodocus doesn't know exactly what kind of tutor makes one wise, he enlists the help of his friend Socrates, who questions the boy to try to draw out what he really wants.  In other words, the problem is how can we learn wisdom, so the initial question obviously becomes what Theages thinks wisdom is.  First, similarly to the other impostor dialogs we've just read, Socrates establishes that wisdom is not a skill like making shoes or breeding horses.  If you want to become wise in those skills, go apprentice with a shoemaker or a horse breeder.  Then he proceeds to suggest, along the lines of Rival Lovers, that maybe wisdom is a more general skill that organizes the use of other skills, and so what we're really trying to learn in becoming wise is how to direct or rule over and organize others that have those skills.  Unfortunately, one learns the skill of ruling over others either from tyrants or from democratic politicians, and neither of these seem like particularly wise or savory characters to Socrates.  So then who can Theages learn wisdom from?

In his despair, he proposes to study with Socrates himself.  But what does Socrates know?  Here the dialog takes a slightly odd turn.  Socrates, of course, famously, knows nothing.  Though, presumably after his starring role in the Symposium, people think he knows all about love (of wisdom).  How just loving wisdom is supposed to make you wise is then deliberately left vague here.  Socrates says that while, yes, some of his students have gotten wiser, he doesn't really teach them anything at all.  He himself attributes their progress to some mysterious resonance with his inner voice, which here seems to go beyond simply warning Socrates off of certain actions, and extends the same service to his students.  Meanwhile, Theages thinks that the mere presence of Socrates is educational somehow, even though he never teaches anything.  So the dialog ends with Theages deciding to learn wisdom just by being near Socrates, while Socrates disclaims all liability.

"By the gods, Socrates, you're not going to believe this, but it's true!  I've never learned anything from you, as you know. But I made progress whenever I was with you, even if I was only in the same house and not in the same room—but more when I was in the same room. And it seemed, to me at least, that when I was in the same room and looked at you when you were speaking, I made much more progress than when I looked away. And I made by far the most and greatest progress when I sat right beside you, and physically held on to you or touched you. But now," he said, "all that condition has trickled away."
    So this is how it is when you associate with me, Theages. If it's favored by the god, you'll make great and rapid progress; if not, you won't. So think about it; wouldn't it be safer for you to become educated in the company of somebody who has control over the way he benefits people rather than taking your chances with me?

Perhaps the implication is that falling in love with Socrates, the greatest mental lover of all time, is the only path to wisdom?  Truly, the brain is the biggest erogenous zone.  Too bad they didn't just title this one Jackie Treehorn to make the meaning clearer.