I think that the art of the general is above all others the one of which
the possession is most likely to make a man happy.

I do not think so, he said.

Why not? I said.

The art of the general is surely an art of hunting mankind.

What of that? I said.

Why, he said, no art of hunting extends beyond hunting and capturing; and
when the prey is taken the huntsman or fisherman cannot use it; but they
hand it over to the cook, and the geometricians and astronomers and
calculators (who all belong to the hunting class, for they do not make
their diagrams, but only find out that which was previously contained in
them)--they, I say, not being able to use but only to catch their prey,
hand over their inventions to the dialectician to be applied by him, if
they have any sense in them.

Good, I said, fairest and wisest Cleinias. And is this true?

Certainly, he said; just as a general when he takes a city or a camp hands
over his new acquisition to the statesman, for he does not know how to use
them himself; or as the quail-taker transfers the quails to the keeper of
them. If we are looking for the art which is to make us blessed, and which
is able to use that which it makes or takes, the art of the general is not
the one, and some other must be found.