Plato
PHIST
translated
by Benjamin Jowett
Persons of the
Dialogue :
THEODORUS ; THEAETETUS ; SOCRATES ;
An
ELEATIC STRANGER, whom Theodorus
and Theaetetus bring with them ;
The
younger SOCRATES, who is a silent auditor.
Theodorus. Here we are,
Socrates, true to our agreement of yesterday ; and we bring with us a
stranger from Elea, who is a disciple of Parmenides and Zeno, and a true
philosopher.
Socrates. Is he not rather a
god, Theodorus, who comes to us in the disguise of a stranger ? For Homer
says that all the gods, and especially the god of strangers, are companions of
the meek and just, and visit the good and evil among men. And may not your
companion be one of those higher powers, a cross-examining deity, who has come
to spy out our weakness in argument, and to cross-examine
us ?
Theod. Nay, Socrates, he
is not one of the disputatious sort — he is too good for that. And, in my
opinion, he is not a god at all ; but divine he certainly is, for this is a
title which I should give to all philosophers.
Soc. Capital, my
friend ! and I may add that they are almost as hard to be discerned as the
gods. For the true philosophers, and such as are not merely made up for the
occasion, appear in various forms unrecognized by the ignorance of men, and they
“hover about cities,” as Homer declares, looking from above upon human
life ; and some think nothing of them, and others can never think
enough ; and sometimes they appear as statesmen, and sometimes as
sophists ; and then, again, to many they seem to be no better than madmen.
I should like to ask our Eleatic friend, if he would tell us, what is thought
about them in Italy, and to whom the terms are applied.
Theod. What
terms ?
Soc. Sophist,
statesman, philosopher.
Theod. What is your
difficulty about them, and what made you ask ?
Soc. I want to know
whether by his countrymen they are regarded as one or two ; or do they, as
the names are three, distinguish also three kinds, and assign one to each
name ?
Theod. I dare say that
the Stranger will not object to discuss the question. What do you say,
Stranger ?
Stranger. I am far from
objecting, Theodorus, nor have I any difficulty in replying that by us they are
regarded as three. But to define precisely the nature of each of them is by no
means a slight or easy task.
Theod. You have happened
to light, Socrates, almost on the very question which we were asking our friend
before we came hither, and he excused himself to us, as he does now you ;
although he admitted that the matter had been fully discussed, and that he
remembered the answer.
Soc. Then do not,
Stranger, deny us the first favour which we ask of you : I am sure that you
will not, and therefore I shall only beg of you to say whether you like and are
accustomed to make a long oration on a subject which you want to explain to
another, or to proceed by the method of question and answer. I remember hearing
a very noble discussion in which Parmenides employed the latter of the two
methods, when I was a young man, and he was far advanced in
years.
Str. I prefer to talk
with another when he responds pleasantly, and is light in hand ; if not, I
would rather have my own say.
Soc. Any one of the
present company will respond kindly to you, and you can choose whom you like of
them ; I should recommend you to take a young person — Theaetetus, for
example — unless you have a preference for some one else.
Str. I feel ashamed,
Socrates, being a new comer into your society, instead of talking a little and
hearing others talk, to be spinning out a long soliloquy or address, as if I
wanted to show off. For the true answer will certainly be a very long one, a
great deal longer than might be expected from such a short and simple question.
At the same time, I fear that I may seem rude and ungracious if I refuse your
courteous request, especially after what you have said. For I certainly cannot
object to your proposal, that Theaetetus should respond, having already
conversed with him myself, and being recommended by you to take
him.
Theaetetus. But are you sure,
Stranger, that this will be quite so acceptable to the rest of the company as
Socrates imagines ?
Str. You hear them
applauding, Theaetetus ; after that, there is nothing more to be said. Well
then, I am to argue with you, and if you tire of the argument, you may complain
of your friends and not of me.
Theaet. I do not think
that I shall tire, and if I do, I shall get my friend here, young Socrates, the
namesake of the elder Socrates, to help ; he is about my own age, and my
partner at the gymnasium, and is constantly accustomed to work with
me.
Str. Very good ;
you can decide about that for yourself as we proceed. Meanwhile you and I will
begin together and enquire into the nature of the Sophist, first of the
three : I should like you to make out what he is and bring him to light in
a discussion ; for at present we are only agreed about the name, but of the
thing to which we both apply the name possibly you have one notion and I
another ; whereas we ought always to come to an understanding about the
thing itself in terms of a definition, and not merely about the name minus the
definition. Now the tribe of Sophists which we are investigating is not easily
caught or defined ; and the world has long ago agreed, that if great
subjects are to be adequately treated, they must be studied in the lesser and
easier instances of them before we proceed to the greatest of all. And as I know
that the tribe of Sophists is troublesome and hard to be caught, I should
recommend that we practise beforehand the method which is to be applied to him
on some simple and smaller thing, unless you can suggest a better
way.
Theaet. Indeed I
cannot.
Str. Then suppose that
we work out some lesser example which will be a pattern of the
greater ?
Theaet.
Good.
Str. What is there
which is well known and not great, and is yet as susceptible of definition as
any larger thing ? Shall I say an angler ? He is familiar to all of
us, and not a very interesting or important person.
Theaet. He is
not.
Str. Yet I suspect that
he will furnish us with the sort of definition and line of enquiry which we
want.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Let us begin by
asking whether he is a man having art or not having art, but some other
power.
Theaet. He is clearly a
man of art.
Str. And of arts there
are two kinds ?
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. There is
agriculture, and the tending of mortal creatures, and the art of constructing or
moulding vessels, and there is the art of imitation — all these may be
appropriately called by a single name.
Theaet. What do you
mean ? And what is the name ?
Str. He who brings into
existence something that did not exist before is said to be a producer, and that
which is brought into existence is said to be produced.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And all the arts
which were just now mentioned are characterized by this power of
producing ?
Theaet. They
are.
Str. Then let us sum
them up under the name of productive or creative art.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Next follows the
whole class of learning and cognition ; then comes trade, fighting,
hunting. And since none of these produces anything, but is only engaged in
conquering by word or deed, or in preventing others from conquering, things
which exist and have been already produced — in each and all of these branches
there appears to be an art which may be called
acquisitive.
Theaet. Yes, that is the
proper name.
Str. Seeing, then, that
all arts are either acquisitive or creative, in which class shall we place the
art of the angler ?
Theaet. Clearly in the
acquisitive class.
Str. And the
acquisitive may be subdivided into two parts : there is exchange, which is
voluntary and is effected by gifts, hire, purchase ; and the other part of
acquisitive, which takes by force of word or deed, may be termed
conquest ?
Theaet. That is implied in
what has been said.
Str. And may not
conquest be again subdivided ?
Theaet.
How ?
Str. Open force
may ; be called fighting, and secret force may have the general name of
hunting ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And there is no
reason why the art of hunting should not be further
divided.
Theaet. How would you make
the division ?
Str. Into the hunting
of living and of lifeless prey.
Theaet. Yes, if both kinds
exist.
Str. Of course they
exist ; but the hunting after lifeless things having no special name,
except some sorts of diving, and other small matters, may be omitted ; the
hunting after living things may be called animal hunting.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And animal hunting
may be truly said to have two divisions, land-animal hunting, which has many
kinds and names, and water-animals hunting, or the hunting after animals who
swim ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And of swimming
animals, one class lives on the wing and the other in the
water ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Fowling is the
general term under which the hunting of all birds is
included.
Theaet.
True.
Str. The hunting of
animals who live in the water has the general name of
fishing.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And this sort of
hunting may be further divided also into two principal
kinds ?
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. There is one kind
which takes them in nets, another which takes them by a
blow.
Theaet. What do you mean,
and how do you distinguish them ?
Str. As to the first
kind — all that surrounds and encloses anything to prevent egress, may be
rightly called an enclosure.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. For which reason
twig baskets, casting nets, nooses, creels, and the like may all be termed
“enclosures” ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And therefore this
first kind of capture may be called by us capture with enclosures, or something
of that sort ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. The other kind,
which is practised by a blow with hooks and three pronged spears, when summed up
under one name, may be called striking, unless you, Theaetetus, can find some
better name ?
Theaet. Never mind the
name — what you suggest will do very well.
Str. There is one mode
of striking, which is done at night, and by the light of a fire, and is by the
hunters themselves called firing, or spearing by
firelight.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And the fishing by
day is called by the general name of barbing because the spears, too, are barbed
at the point.
Theaet. Yes, that is the
term.
Str. Of this
barb-fishing, that which strikes the fish Who is below from above is called
spearing, because this is the way in which the three-pronged spears are mostly
used.
Theaet. Yes, it is often
called so.
Str. Then now there is
only one kind remaining.
Theaet. What is
that ?
Str. When a hook is
used, and the fish is not struck in any chance part of his body — he as be is
with the spear, but only about the head and mouth, and is then drawn out from
below upwards with reeds and rods : — What is the right name of that mode
of fish, Theaetetus ?
Theaet. I suspect that we
have now discovered the object of our search.
Str. Then now you and I
have come to an understanding not only about the name of the angler’s art, but
about the definition of the thing itself. One half of all art was acquisitive —
half of all the art acquisitive art was conquest or taking by force, half of
this was hunting, and half of hunting was hunting animals, half of this was
hunting water animals — of this again, the under half was fishing, half of
fishing was striking ; a part of striking was fishing with a barb, and one
half of this again, being the kind which strikes with a hook and draws the fish
from below upwards, is the art which we have been seeking, and which from the
nature of the operation is denoted angling or drawing up (aspalienutike,
anaspasthai).
Theaet. The result has
been quite satisfactorily brought out.
Str. And now, following
this pattern, let us endeavour to find out what a Sophist
is.
Theaet. By all
means.
Str. The first question
about the angler was, whether he was a skilled artist or
unskilled ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And shall we call
our new friend unskilled, or a thorough master of his
craft ?
Theaet. Certainly not
unskilled, for his name, as, indeed, you imply, must surely express his
nature.
Str. Then he must be
supposed to have some art.
Theaet. What
art ?
Str. By heaven, they
are cousins ! it never occurred to us.
Theaet. Who are
cousins ?
Str. The angler and the
Sophist.
Theaet. In what way are
they related ?
Str. They both appear
to me to be hunters.
Theaet. How the
Sophist ? Of the other we have spoken.
Str. You remember our
division of hunting, into hunting after swimming animals and land
animals ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And you remember
that we subdivided the swimming and left the land animals, saying that there
were many kinds of them ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Thus far, then,
the Sophist and the angler, starting from the art of acquiring, take the same
road ?
Theaet. So it would
appear.
Str. Their paths
diverge when they reach the art of animal hunting ; the one going to the
seashore, and to the rivers and to the lakes, and angling for the animals which
are in them.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. While the other
goes to land and water of another sort — rivers of wealth and broad meadow —
lands of generous youth ; and he also is intending to take the animals
which are in them.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. Of hunting on land
there are two principal divisions.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. One is the hunting
of tame, and the other of wild animals.
Theaet. But are tame
animals ever hunted ?
Str. Yes, if you
include man under tame animals. But if you like you may say that there are no
tame animals, or that, if there are, man is not among them ; or you may say
that man is a tame animal but is not hunted — you shall decide which of these
alternatives you prefer.
Theaet. I should say,
Stranger, that man is a tame animal, and I admit that he is
hunted.
Str. Then let us divide
the hunting of tame animals into two parts.
Theaet. How shall we make
the division ?
Str. Let us define
piracy, man-stealing, tyranny, the whole military art, by one name, as hunting
with violence.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. But the art of the
lawyer, of the popular orator, and the art of conversation may be called in one
word the art of persuasion.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And of persuasion,
there may be said to be two kinds ?
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. One is private,
and the other public.
Theaet. Yes ; each of
them forms a class.
Str. And of private
hunting, one sort receives hire, and the other brings
gifts.
Theaet. I do not
understand you.
Str. You seem never to
have observed the manner in which lovers hunt.
Theaet. To what do you
refer ?
Str. I mean that they
lavish gifts on those whom they hunt in addition to other
inducements.
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. Let us admit this,
then, to be the amatory art.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But that sort of
hireling whose conversation is pleasing and who baits his hook only with
pleasure and exacts nothing but his maintenance in return, we should all, if I
am not mistaken, describe as possessing flattery or an art of making things
pleasant.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And that sort,
which professes to form acquaintances only for the sake of virtue, and demands a
reward in the shape of money, may be fairly called by another
name ?
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. And what is the
name ? Will you tell me ?
Theaet. It is obvious
enough ; for I believe that we have discovered the Sophist : which is,
as I conceive, the proper name for the class described.
Str. Then now,
Theaetetus, his art may be traced as a branch of the appropriative, acquisitive
family — which hunts animals, — living — land — tame animals ; which hunts
man, — privately — for hire, — taking money in exchange — having the semblance
of education ; and this is termed Sophistry, and is a hunt after young men
of wealth and rank — such is the conclusion.
Theaet. Just
so.
Str. Let us take
another branch of his genealogy ; for he is a professor of a great and many
sided art ; and if we look back at what has preceded we see that he
presents another aspect, besides that of which we are
speaking.
Theaet. In what
respect ?
Str. There were two
sorts of acquisitive art ; the one concerned with hunting, the other with
exchange.
Theaet. There
were.
Str. And of the art of
exchange there are two divisions, the one of giving, and the other of
selling.
Theaet. Let us assume
that.
Str. Next, will suppose
the art of selling to be divided into two parts.
Theaet.
How ?
Str. There is one part
which is distinguished as the sale of a man’s own productions ; another,
which is the exchange of the works of others.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And is not that
part of exchange which takes place in the city, being about half of the whole,
termed retailing ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And that which
exchanges the goods of one city for those of another by selling and buying is
the exchange of the merchant ?
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. And you are aware
that this exchange of the merchant is of two kinds : it is partly concerned
with food for the use of the body, and partly with the food of the soul which is
bartered and received in exchange for money.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. You want to know
what is the meaning of food for the soul ; the other kind you surely
understand.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Take music in
general and painting and marionette playing and many other things, which are
purchased in one city, and carried away and sold in another — wares of the soul
which are hawked about either for the sake of instruction or amusement ; —
may not he who takes them about and sells them be quite as truly called a
merchant as he who sells meats and drinks ?
Theaet. To be sure he
may.
Str. And would you not
call by the same name him who buys up knowledge and goes about from city to city
exchanging his wares for money ?
Theaet. Certainly I
should.
Str. Of this
merchandise of the soul, may not one part be fairly termed the art of
display ? And there is another part which is certainly not less ridiculous,
but being a trade in learning must be called by some name germane to the
matter ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. The latter should
have two names, — one descriptive of the sale of the knowledge of virtue, and
the other of the sale of other kinds of knowledge.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. The name of
art-seller corresponds well enough to the latter ; but you must try and
tell me the name of the other.
Theaet. He must be the
Sophist, whom we are seeking ; no other name can possibly be
right.
Str. No other ;
and so this trader in virtue again turns out to be our friend the Sophist, whose
art may now be traced from the art of acquisition through exchange, trade,
merchandise, to a merchandise of the soul which is concerned with speech and the
knowledge of virtue.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And there may be a
third reappearance of him ; — for he may have settled down in a city, and
may fabricate as well as buy these same wares, intending to live by selling
them, and he would still be called a Sophist ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Then that part of
acquisitive art which exchanges, and of exchange which either sells a man’s own
productions or retails those of others ; as the case may be, and in either
way sells the knowledge of virtue, you would again term
Sophistry ?
Theaet. I must, if I am to
keep pace with the argument.
Str. Let us consider
once more whether there may not be yet another aspect of
sophistry.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. In the acquisitive
there was a subdivision of the combative or fighting art.
Theaet. There
was.
Str. Perhaps we had
better divide it.
Theaet. What shall be the
divisions ?
Str. There shall be one
division of the competitive, and another of the
pugnacious.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. That part of the
pugnacious which is contest of bodily strength may be properly called by some
such name as violent.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And when the war
is one of words, it may be termed controversy ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And controversy
may be of two kinds.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. When long speeches
are answered by long speeches, and there is public discussion about the just and
unjust, that is forensic controversy.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And there is a
private sort of controversy, which is cut up into questions and answers, and
this is commonly called disputation ?
Theaet. Yes, that is the
name.
Str. And of
disputation, that sort which is only a discussion about contracts, and is
carried on at random, and without rules-art, is recognized by the reasoning
faculty to be a distinct class, but has hitherto had no distinctive name, and
does not deserve to receive one from us.
Theaet. No ; for the
different sorts of it are too minute and heterogeneous.
Str. But that which
proceeds by rules of art to dispute about justice and injustice in their own
nature, and about things in general, we have been accustomed to call
argumentation (Eristic) ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And of
argumentation, one sort wastes money, and the other makes
money.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Suppose we try and
give to each of these two classes a name.
Theaet. Let us do
so.
Str. I should say that
the habit which leads a man to neglect his own affairs for the pleasure of
conversation, of which the style is far from being agreeable to the majority of
his hearers, may be fairly termed loquacity : such is my
opinion.
Theaet. That is the common
name for it.
Str. But now who the
other is, who makes money out of private disputation, it is your turn to
say.
Theaet. There is only one
true answer : he is the wonderful Sophist, of whom we are in pursuit, and
who reappears again for the fourth time.
Str. Yes, and with a
fresh pedigree, for he is the money-making species of the Eristic, disputatious,
controversial. pugnacious, combative, acquisitive family, as the argument has
already proven.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. How true was the
observation that he was a many-sided animal, and not to be caught with one hand,
as they say !
Theaet. Then you must
catch him with two.
Str. Yes, we must, if
we can. And therefore let us try, another track in our pursuit of him : You
are aware that there are certain menial occupations which have names among
servants ?
Theaet. Yes, there are
many such ; which of them do you mean ?
Str. I mean such as
sifting, straining, winnowing, threshing.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And besides these
there are a great many more, such as carding, spinning, adjusting the warp and
the woof ; and thousands of similar expressions are used in the
arts.
Theaet. Of what are they
to be patterns, and what are we going to do with them
all ?
Str. I think that in
all of these there is implied a notion of division.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Then if, as I was
saying, there is one art which includes all of them, ought not that art to have
one name ?
Theaes. And what is
the name of the art ?
Str. The art of
discerning or discriminating.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Think whether you
cannot divide this.
Theaet. I should have to
think a long while.
Str. In all the
previously named processes either like has been separated from like or the
better from the worse.
Theaet. I see now what you
mean.
Str, There is no
name for the first kind of separation ; of the second, which throws away
the worse and preserves the better, I do know a name.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. Every discernment
or discrimination of that kind, as I have observed, is called a
purification.
Theaet. Yes, that is the
usual expression.
Str. And any one may
see that purification is of two kinds.
Theaet. Perhaps so, if he
were allowed time to think ; but I do not see at this
moment.
Str. There are many
purifications of bodies which may with propriety be comprehended under a single
name.
Theaet. What are they, and
what is their name ?
Str. There is the
purification of living bodies in their inward and in their outward parts, of
which the former is duly effected by medicine and gymnastic, the latter by the
not very dignified art of the bath-man ; and there is the purification of
inanimate substances — to this the arts of fulling and of furbishing in general
attend in a number of minute particulars, having a variety of names which are
thought ridiculous.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. There can be no
doubt that they are thought ridiculous, Theaetetus ; but then the
dialectical art never considers whether the benefit to be derived from the purge
is greater or less than that to be derived from the sponge, and has not more
interest in the one than in the other ; her endeavour is to know what is
and is not kindred in all arts, with a view to the acquisition of
intelligence ; and having this in view, she honours them all alike, and
when she makes comparisons, she counts one of them not a whit more ridiculous
than another ; nor does she esteem him who adduces as his example of
hunting, the general’s art, at all more decorous than another who cites that of
the vermin-destroyer, but only as the greater pretender of the two. And as to
your question concerning the name which was to comprehend all these arts of
purification, whether of animate or inanimate bodies, the art of dialectic is in
no wise particular about fine words, if she maybe only allowed to have a general
name for all other purifications, binding them up together and separating them
off from the purification of the soul or intellect. For this is the purification
at which she wants to arrive, and this we should understand to be her
aim.
Theaet. Yes, I
understand ; and I agree that there are two sorts of purification and that
one of them is concerned with the soul, and that there is another which is
concerned with the body.
Str. Excellent ;
and now listen to what I am going to say, and try to divide further the first of
the two.
Theaet. Whatever line of
division you suggest, I will endeavour to assist you.
Str. Do we admit that
virtue is distinct from vice in the soul ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And purification
was to leave the good and to cast out whatever is
bad ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then any taking
away of evil from the soul may be properly called
purification ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And in the soul
there are two kinds of evil.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. The one may be
compared to disease in the body, the other to deformity.
Theaet. I do not
understand.
Str. Perhaps you have
never reflected that disease and discord are the same.
Theaet. To this, again, I
know not what I should reply.
Str. Do you not
conceive discord to be a dissolution of kindred clements, originating in some
disagreement ?
Theaet. Just
that.
Str. And is deformity
anything but the want of measure, which is always
unsightly ?
Theaet.
Exactly.
Str. And do we not see
that opinion is opposed to desire, pleasure to anger, reason to pain, and that
all these elements are opposed to one another in the souls of bad
men ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And yet they must
all be akin ?
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. Then we shall be
right in calling vice a discord and disease of the
soul ?
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. And when things
having motion, an aiming at an appointed mark, continually miss their aim and
glance aside, shall we say that this is the effect of symmetry among them, or of
the want of symmetry ?
Theaet. Clearly of the
want of symmetry.
Str. But surely we know
that no soul is voluntarily ignorant of anything ?
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. And what is
ignorance but the aberration of a mind which is bent on truth, and in which the
process of understanding is perverted ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then we are to
regard an unintelligent soul as deformed and devoid of
symmetry ?
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Then there are
these two kinds of evil in the soul — the one which is generally called vice,
and is obviously a disease of the soul...
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And there is the
other, which they call ignorance, and which, because existing only in the soul,
they will not allow to be vice.
Theaet. I certainly admit
what I at first disputed — that there are two kinds of vice in the soul, and
that we ought to consider cowardice, intemperance, and injustice to be alike
forms of disease in the soul, and ignorance, of which there are all sorts of
varieties, to be deformity.
Str. And in the case of
the body are there not two arts, which have to do with the two bodily
states ?
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. There is
gymnastic, which has to do with deformity, and medicine, which has to do with
disease.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And where there is
insolence and injustice and cowardice, is not chastisement the art which is most
required ?
Theaet. That certainly
appears to be the opinion of mankind.
Str. Again, of the
various kinds of ignorance, may not instruction be rightly said to be the
remedy ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And of the art of
instruction, shall we say that there is one or many kinds ? At any rate
there are two principal ones. Think.
Theaet. I
will.
Str. I believe that I
can see how we shall soonest arrive at the answer to this
question.
Theaet.
How ?
Str. If we can discover
a line which divides ignorance into two halves. For a division of ignorance into
two parts will certainly imply that the art of instruction is also twofold,
answering to the two divisions of ignorance.
Theaet. Well, and do you
see what you are looking for ?
Str. I do seem to
myself to see one very large and bad sort of ignorance which is quite separate,
and may be weighed in the scale against all other sorts of ignorance put
together.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. When a person
supposes that he knows, and does not know this appears to be the great source of
all the errors of the intellect.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And this, if I am
not mistaken, is the kind of ignorance which specially earns the title of
stupidity.
Theaet.
True.
Str. What name, then,
shall be given to the sort of instruction which gets rid of
this ?
Theaet. The instruction
which you mean, Stranger, is, I should imagine, not the teaching of handicraft
arts, but what, thanks to us, has been termed education in this part the
world.
Str. Yes, Theaetetus,
and by nearly all Hellenes. But we have still to consider whether education
admits of any further division.
Theaet. We
have.
Str. I think that there
is a point at which such a division is possible.
Theaet.
Where ?
Str. Of education, one
method appears to be rougher, and another smoother.
Theaet. How are we to
distinguish the two ?
Str. There is the
time-honoured mode which our fathers commonly practised towards their sons, and
which is still adopted by many — either of roughly reproving their errors, or of
gently advising them ; which varieties may be correctly included under the
general term of admonition.
Theaet.
True.
Str. But whereas some
appear to have arrived at the conclusion that all ignorance is involuntary, and
that no one who thinks himself wise is willing to learn any of those things in
which he is conscious of his own cleverness, and that the admonitory sort of
instruction gives much trouble and does little good —
Theaet. There they are
quite right.
Str. Accordingly, they
set to work to eradicate the spirit of conceit in another
way.
Theaet. In what
way ?
Str. They cross-examine
a man’s words, when he thinks that he is saying something and is really saying
nothing, and easily convict him of inconsistencies in his opinions ; these
they then collect by the dialectical process, and placing them side by side,
show that they contradict one another about the same things, in relation to the
same things, and in the same respect. He, seeing this, is angry with himself,
and grows gentle towards others, and thus is entirely delivered from great
prejudices and harsh notions, in a way which is most amusing to the hearer, and
produces the most lasting good effect on the person who is the subject of the
operation. For as the physician considers that the body will receive no benefit
from taking food until the internal obstacles have been removed, so the purifier
of the soul is conscious that his patient will receive no benefit from the
application of knowledge until he is refuted, and from refutation learns
modesty ; he must be purged of his prejudices first and made to think that
he knows only what he knows, and no more.
Theaet. That is certainly
the best and wisest state of mind.
Str. For all these
reasons, Theaetetus, we must admit that refutation is the greatest and chiefest
of purifications, and he who has not been refuted, though he be the Great King
himself, is in an awful state of impurity ; he is uninstructed and deformed
in those things in which he who would be truly blessed ought to be fairest and
purest.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. And who are the
ministers of this art ? I am afraid to say the
Sophists.
Theaet.
Why ?
Str. Lest we should
assign to them too high a prerogative.
Theaet. Yet the Sophist
has a certain likeness to our minister of purification.
Str. Yes, the same sort
of likeness which a wolf, who is the fiercest of animals, has to a dog, who is
the gentlest. But he who would not be found tripping, ought to be very careful
in this matter of comparisons, for they are most slippery things. Nevertheless,
let us assume that the Sophists are the men. I say this provisionally, for I
think that the line which divides them will be marked enough if proper care is
taken.
Theaet. Likely
enough.
Str. Let us grant,
then, that from the discerning art comes purification, and from purification let
there be separated off a part which is concerned with the soul ; of this
mental purification instruction is a portion, and of instruction education, and
of education, that refutation of vain conceit which has been discovered in the
present argument ; and let this be called by you and me the nobly-descended
art of Sophistry.
Theaet. Very well ;
and yet, considering the number of forms in which he has presented himself, I
begin to doubt how I can with any truth or confidence describe the real nature
of the Sophist.
Str. You naturally feel
perplexed ; and yet I think that he must be still more perplexed in his
attempt to escape us, for as the proverb says, when every way is blocked, there
is no escape ; now, then, is the time of all others to set upon
him.
Theaet.
True.
Str. First let us wait
a moment and recover breath, and while we are resting, we may reckon up in how
many forms he has appeared. In the first place, he was discovered to be a paid
hunter after wealth and youth.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. In the second
place, he was a merchant in the goods of the soul.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. In the third
place, he has turned out to be a retailer of the same sort of
wares.
Theaet. Yes ; and in
the fourth place, he himself manufactured the learned wares which he
sold.
Str. Quite right ;
I will try and remember the fifth myself. He belonged to the fighting class, and
was further distinguished as a hero of debate, who professed the eristic
art.
Theaet.
True.
Str. The sixth point
was doubtful, and yet we at last agreed that he was a purger of souls, who
cleared away notions obstructive to knowledge.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Do you not see
that when the professor of any art has one name and many kinds of knowledge,
there must be something wrong ? The multiplicity of names which is applied
to him shows that the common principle to which all these branches of knowledge
are tending, is not understood.
Theaet. I should imagine
this to be the case.
Str. At any rate we
will understand him, and no indolence shall prevent us. Let us begin again,
then, and re-examine some of our statements concerning the Sophist ; there
was one thing which appeared to me especially characteristic of
him.
Theaet. To what are you
referring ?
Str. We were saying of
him, if I am not mistaken, that he was a disputer ?
Theaet. We
were.
Str. And does he not
also teach others the art of disputation ?
Theaet. Certainly he
does.
Str. And about what
does he profess that he teaches men to dispute ? To begin at the beginning
— Does he make them able to dispute about divine things, which are invisible to
men in general ?
Theaet. At any rate, he is
said to do so.
Str. And what do you
say of the visible things in heaven and earth, and the
like ?
Theaet. Certainly he
disputes, and teaches to dispute about them.
Str. Then, again, in
private conversation, when any universal assertion is made about generation and
essence, we know that such persons are tremendous argufiers, and are able to
impart their own skill to others.
Theaet.
Undoubtedly.
Str. And do they not
profess to make men able to dispute about law and about politics in
general ?
Theaet. Why, no one would
have anything to say to them, if they did not make these
professions.
Str. In all and every
art, what the craftsman ought to say in answer to any question is written down
in a popular form, and he who likes may learn.
Theaet. I suppose that you
are referring to the precepts of Protagoras about wrestling and the other
arts ?
Str. Yes, my friend,
and about a good many other things. In a word, is not the art of disputation a
power of disputing about all things ?
Theaet. Certainly ;
there does not seem to be much which is left out.
Str. But oh ! my
dear youth, do you suppose this possible ? for perhaps your young eyes may
see things which to our duller sight do not appear.
Theaet. To what are you
alluding ? I do not think that I understand your present
question.
Str. I ask whether
anybody can understand all things.
Theaet. Happy would
mankind be if such a thing were possible !
Soc. But how can any
one who is ignorant dispute in a rational manner against him who
knows ?
Theaet. He
cannot.
Str. Then why has the
sophistical art such a mysterious power ?
Theaet. To what do you
refer ?
Str. How do the
Sophists make young men believe in their supreme and universal wisdom ? For
if they neither disputed nor were thought to dispute rightly, or being thought
to do so were deemed no wiser for their controversial skill, then, to quote your
own observation, no one would give them money or be willing to learn their
art.
Theaet. They certainly
would not.
Str. But they are
willing.
Theaet. Yes, they
are.
Str. Yes, and the
reason, as I should imagine, is that they are supposed to have knowledge of
those things about which they dispute ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And they dispute
about all things ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And therefore, to
their disciples, they appear to be all-wise ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But they are
not ; for that was shown to be impossible.
Theaet. Impossible, of
course.
Str. Then the Sophist
has been shown to have a sort of conjectural or apparent knowledge only of all
things, which is not the truth ?
Theaet. Exactly ; no
better description of him could be given.
Str. Let us now take an
illustration, which will still more clearly explain his
nature.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. I will tell you,
and you shall answer me, giving your very closest attention. Suppose that a
person were to profess, not that he could speak or dispute, but that he knew how
to make and do all things, by a single art.
Theaet. All
things ?
Str. I see that you do
not understand the first word that I utter, for you do not understand the
meaning of “all.”
Theaet. No, I do
not.
Str. Under all things,
I include you and me, and also animals and trees.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. Suppose a person
to say that he will make you and me, and all creatures.
Theaet. What would he mean
by “making” ? He cannot be a husbandman ; — for you said that he is a
maker of animals.
Str. Yes ; and I
say that he is also the maker of the sea, and the earth, and the heavens, and
the gods, and of all other things ; and, further, that he can make them in
no time, and sell them for a few pence.
Theaet. That must be a
jest.
Str. And when a man
says that he knows all things, and can teach them to another at a small cost,
and in a short time, is not that a jest ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And is there any
more artistic or graceful form of jest than
imitation ?
Theaet. Certainly
not ; and imitation is a very comprehensive term, which includes under one
class the most diverse sorts of things.
Str. We know, of
course, that he who professes by one art to make all things is really a painter,
and by the painter’s art makes resemblances of real things which have the same
name with them ; and he can deceive the less intelligent sort of young
children, to whom he shows his pictures at a distance, into the belief that he
has the absolute power of making whatever he likes.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And may there not
be supposed to be an imitative art of reasoning ? Is it not possible to
enchant the hearts of young men by words poured through their ears, when they
are still at a distance from the truth of facts, by exhibiting to them
fictitious arguments, and making them think that they are true, and that the
speaker is the wisest of men in all things ?
Theaet. Yes ; why
should there not be another such art ?
Str. But as time goes
on, and their hearers advance in years, and come into closer contact with
realities, and have learnt by sad experience to see and feel the truth of
things, are not the greater part of them compelled to change many opinions which
they formerly entertained, so that the great appears small to them, and the easy
difficult, and all their dreamy speculations are overturned by the facts of
life ?
Theaet. That is my view,
as far as I can judge, although, at my age, I may be one of those who see things
at a distance only.
Str. And the wish of
all of us, who are your friends, is and always will be to bring you as near to
the truth as we can without the sad reality. And now I should like you to tell
me, whether the Sophist is not visibly a magician and imitator of true
being ; or are we still disposed to think that he may have a true knowledge
of the various matters about which he disputes ?
Theaet. But how can he,
Stranger ? Is there any doubt, after what has been said, that he is to be
located in one of the divisions of children’s play ?
Str. Then we must place
him in the class of magicians and mimics.
Theaet. Certainly we
must.
Str. And now our
business is not to let the animal out, for we have got him in a sort of
dialectical net, and there is one thing which he decidedly will not
escape.
Theaet. What is
that ?
Str. The inference that
he is a juggler.
Theaet. Precisely my own
opinion of him.
Str. Then, clearly, we
ought as soon as possible to divide the image-making art, and go down into the
net, and, if the Sophist does not run away from us, to seize him according to
orders and deliver him over to reason, who is the lord of the hunt, and proclaim
the capture of him ; and if he creeps into the recesses of the imitative
art, and secretes himself in one of them, to divide again and follow him up
until in some sub-section of imitation he is caught. For our method of tackling
each and all is one which neither he nor any other creature will ever escape in
triumph.
Theaet. Well said ;
and let us do as you propose.
Str. Well, then,
pursuing the same analytic method as before, I think that I can discern two
divisions of the imitative art, but I am not as yet able to see in which of them
the desired form is to be found.
Theaet. Will you tell me
first what are two divisions of which you are
speaking ?
Str. One is the art of
likeness-making ; — generally a likeness of anything is made by producing a
copy which is executed according to the proportions of the original, similar in
length and breadth and depth, each thing receiving also its appropriate
colour.
Theaet. Is not this always
the aim of imitation ?
Str. Not always ;
in works either of sculpture or of painting, which are of any magnitude, there
is a certain degree of deception ; — for artists were to give the true
proportions of their fair works, the upper part, which is farther off, would
appear to be out of proportion in comparison with the lower, which is
nearer ; and so they give up the truth in their images and make only the
proportions which appear to be beautiful, disregarding the real
ones.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And that which
being other is also like, may we not fairly call a likeness or
image ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And may we not, as
I did just now, call that part of the imitative art which is concerned with
making such images the art of likeness making ?
Theaet. Let that be the
name.
Str. And what shall we
call those resemblances of the beautiful, which appear such owing to the
unfavourable position of the spectator, whereas if a person had the power of
getting a correct view of works of such magnitude, they would appear not even
like that to which they profess to be like ? May we not call these
“appearances,” since they appear only and are not really
like ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. There is a great
deal of this kind of thing in painting, and in all
imitation.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. And may we not
fairly call the sort of art, which produces an appearance and not an image,
phantastic art ?
Theaet. Most
fairly.
Str. These then are the
two kinds of image making — the art of making likenesses, and phantastic or the
art of making appearances ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. I was doubtful
before in which of them I should place the Sophist, nor am I even now able to
see clearly ; verily he is a wonderful and inscrutable creature. And now in
the cleverest manner he has got into an impossible place.
Theaet. Yes, he
has.
Str. Do you speak
advisedly, or are you carried away at the moment by the habit of assenting into
giving a hasty answer ?
Theaet. May I ask to what
you are referring ?
Str. My dear friend, we
are engaged in a very difficult speculation — there can be no doubt of
that ; for how a thing can appear and seem, and not be, or how a man can
say a thing which is not true, has always been and still remains a very
perplexing question. Can any one say or think that falsehood really exists, and
avoid being caught in a contradiction ? Indeed, Theaetetus, the task is a
difficult one.
Theaet.
Why ?
Str. He who says that
falsehood exists has the audacity to assert the being of not-being ; for
this is implied in the possibility of falsehood. But, my boy, in the days when I
was a boy, the great Parmenides protested against this doctrine, and to the end
of his life he continued to inculcate the same lesson — always repeating both in
verse and out of verse :
Keep your mind from this way of
enquiry, for never will you show that not-being is.
Such is his
testimony, which is confirmed by the very expression when sifted a little. Would
you object to begin with the consideration of the words
themselves ?
Theaet. Never mind about
me ; I am only desirous that you should carry on the argument in the best
way, and that you should take me with you.
Str. Very good ;
and now say, do we venture to utter the forbidden word
“not-being” ?
Theaet. Certainly we
do.
Str. Let us be serious
then, and consider the question neither in strife nor play : suppose that
one of the hearers of Parmenides was asked, “To is the term ‘not-being’ to be
applied ?” — do you know what sort of object he would single out in reply,
and what answer he would make to the enquirer ?
Theaet. That is a
difficult question, and one not to be answered at all by a person like
myself.
Str. There is at any
rate no difficulty in seeing that the predicate “not-being” is not applicable to
any being.
Theaet. None,
certainly.
Str. And if not to
being, then not to something.
Theaet. Of course
not.
Str. It is also plain,
that in speaking of something we speak of being, for to speak of an abstract
something naked and isolated from all being is impossible.
Theaet.
Impossible.
Str. You mean by
assenting to imply that he who says something must say some one
thing ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Some in the
singular (ti) you would say is the sign of one, some in the dual (tine) of two,
some in the plural (tines) of many ?
Theaet.
Exactly.
Str. Then he who says
“not something” must say absolutely nothing.
Theaet. Most
assuredly.
Str. And as we cannot
admit that a man speaks and says nothing, he who says “not-being” does not speak
at all.
Theaet. The difficulty of
the argument can no further go.
Str. Not yet, my
friend, is the time for such a word ; for there still remains of all
perplexities the first and greatest, touching the very foundation of the
matter.
Theaet. What do you
mean ? Do not be afraid to speak.
Str. To that which is,
may be attributed some other thing which is ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But can anything
which is, be attributed to that which is not ?
Theaet.
Impossible.
Str. And all number is
to be reckoned among things which are ?
Theaet. Yes, surely
number, if anything, has a real existence.
Str. Then we must not
attempt to attribute to not-being number either in the singular or
plural ?
Theaet. The argument
implies that we should be wrong in doing so.
Str. But how can a man
either express in words or even conceive in thought things which are not or a
thing which is not without number ?
Theaet. How
indeed ?
Str. When we speak of
things which are not attributing plurality to
not-being ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But, on the other
hand, when we say “what is not,” do we not attribute
unity ?
Theaet.
Manifestly.
Str. Nevertheless, we
maintain that you may not and ought not to attribute being to
not-being ?
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. Do you see, then,
that not-being in itself can neither be spoken, uttered, or thought, but that it
is unthinkable, unutterable, unspeakable,
indescribable ?
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. But, if so, I was
wrong in telling you just now that the difficulty which was coming is the
greatest of all.
Theaet. What ! is
there a greater still behind ?
Str. Well, I am
surprised, after what has been said already, that you do not see the difficulty
in which he who would refute the notion of not-being is involved. For he is
compelled to contradict himself as soon as he makes the
attempt.
Theaet. What do you
mean ? Speak more clearly.
Str. Do not expect
clearness from me. For I, who maintain that not-being has no part either in the
one or many, just now spoke and am still speaking of not-being as one ; for
I say “not-being.” Do you understand ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And a little while
ago I said that not-being is unutterable, unspeakable, indescribable : do
you follow ?
Theaet. I do after a
fashion.
Str. When I introduced
the word “is,” did I not contradict what I said
before ?
Theaet.
Clearly.
Str. And in using the
singular verb, did I not speak of not-being as one ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And when I spoke
of not-being as indescribable and unspeakable and unutterable, in using each of
these words in the singular, did I not refer to not-being as
one ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And yet we say
that, strictly speaking, it should not be defined as one or many, and should not
even be called “it,” for the use of the word “it” would imply a form of
unity.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. How, then, can any
one put any faith in me ? For now, as always, I am unequal to the
refutation of not-being. And therefore, as I was saying, do not look to me for
the right way of speaking about not-being ; but come, let us try the
experiment with you.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. Make a noble
effort, as becomes youth, and endeavour with all your might to speak of
not-being in a right manner, without introducing into it either existence or
unity or plurality.
Theaet. It would be a
strange boldness in me which would attempt the task when I see you thus
discomfited.
Str. Say no more of
ourselves ; but until we find some one or other who can speak of not-being
without number, we must acknowledge that the Sophist is a clever rogue who will
not be got out of his hole.
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. And if we say to
him that he professes an art of making appearances, he will grapple with us and
retort our argument upon ourselves ; and when we call him an image-maker he
will say, “Pray what do you mean at all by an image ?” — and I should like
to know, Theaetetus, how we can possibly answer the younker’s
question ?
Theaet. We shall doubtless
tell him of the images which are reflected in water or in mirrors ; also of
sculptures, pictures, and other duplicates.
Str. I see, Theaetetus,
that you have never made the acquaintance of the Sophist.
Theaet. Why do you think
so ?
Str. He will make
believe to have his eyes shut, or to have none.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. When you tell him
of something existing in a mirror, or in sculpture, and address him as though he
had eyes, he will laugh you to scorn, and will pretend that he knows nothing of
mirrors and streams, or of sight at all ; he will say that he is asking
about an idea.
Theaet. What can he
mean ?
Str. The common notion
pervading all these objects, which you speak of as many, and yet call by the
single name of image, as though it were the unity under which they were all
included. How will you maintain your ground against
him ?
Theaet. How. Stranger, can
I describe an image except as something fashioned in the likeness of the
true ?
Str. And do you mean
this something to be some other true thing, or what do you
mean ?
Theaet. Certainly not
another true thing, but only a resemblance.
Str. And you mean by
true that which really is ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And the not true
is that which is the opposite of the true ?
Theaet.
Exactly.
Str. A resemblance,
then, is not really real, if, as you say, not true ?
Theaet. Nay, but it is in
a certain sense.
Str. You mean to say,
not in a true sense ?
Theaet. Yes ; it is
in reality only an image.
Str. Then what we call
an image is in reality really unreal.
Theaet. In what a strange
complication of being and not-being we are involved !
Str. Strange ! I
should think so. See how, by his reciprocation of opposites, the many-headed
Sophist has compelled us, quite against our will, to admit the existence of
not-being.
Theaet. Yes, indeed, I
see.
Str. The difficulty is
how to define his art without falling into a
contradiction.
Theaet. How do you
mean ? And where does the danger lie ?
Str. When we say that
he deceives us with an illusion, and that his art is illusory, do we mean that
our soul is led by his art to think falsely, or what do we
mean ?
Theaet. There is nothing
else to be said.
Str. Again, false
opinion is that form of opinion which thinks the opposite of the truth : —
You would assent ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. You mean to say
that false opinion thinks what is not ?
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. Does false opinion
think that things which are not are not, or that in a certain sense they
are ?
Theaet. Things that are
not must be imagined to exist in a certain sense, if any degree of falsehood is
to be possible.
Str. And does not false
opinion also think that things which most certainly exist do not exist at
all ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And here, again,
is falsehood ?
Theaet. Falsehood —
yes.
Str. And in like
manner, a false proposition will be deemed to be one which are, the nonexistence
of things which are, and the existence of things which are
not.
Theaet. There is no other
way in which a false proposition can arise.
Str. There is
not ; but the Sophist will deny these statements. And indeed how can any
rational man assent to them, when the very expressions which we have just used
were before acknowledged by us to be unutterable, unspeakable, indescribable,
unthinkable ? Do you see his point, Theaetetus ?
Theaet. Of course he will
say that we are contradicting ourselves when we hazard the assertion, that
falsehood exists in opinion and in words ; for in maintaining this, we are
compelled over and over again to assert being of not-being, which we admitted
just now to be an utter impossibility.
Str. How well you
remember ! And now it is high time to hold a consultation as to what we
ought to do about the Sophist ; for if we persist in looking for him in the
class of false workers and magicians, you see that the handles for objection and
the difficulties which will arise are very numerous and
obvious.
Theaet. They are
indeed.
Str. We have gone
through but a very small portion of them, and they are really
infinite.
Theaet. If that is the
case, we cannot possibly catch the Sophist.
Str. Shall we then be
so faint-hearted as to give him up ?
Theaet. Certainly not, I
should say, if we can get the slightest hold upon him.
Str. Will you then
forgive me, and, as your words imply, not be altogether displeased if I flinch a
little from the grasp of such a sturdy argument ?
Theaet. To be sure I
will.
Str. I have a yet more
urgent request to make.
Theaet. Which is —
?
Str. That you will
promise not to regard me as a parricide.
Theaet. And
why ?
Str. Because, in
self-defence, I must test the philosophy of my father Parmenides, and try to
prove by main force, that in a certain sense not-being is, and that being, on
the other hand, is not.
Theaet. Some attempt of
the kind is clearly needed.
Str. Yes, a blind man,
as they say, might see that, and, unless these questions are decided in one way
or another, no one when he speaks false words, or false opinion, or idols, or
images or imitations or appearances, or about the arts which are concerned with
them ; can avoid falling into ridiculous
contradictions.
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. And therefore I
must venture to lay hands on my father’s argument ; for if I am to be
over-scrupulous, I shall have to give the matter up.
Theaet. Nothing in the
world should ever induce us to do so.
Str. I have a third
little request which I wish to make.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. You heard me — say
what — I have always felt and still feel — that I have no heart for this
argument ?
Theaet. I
did.
Str. I tremble at the
thought of what I have said, and expect that you will deem me mad, when you hear
of my sudden changes and shiftings ; let me therefore observe, that I am
examining the question entirely out of regard for you.
Theaet. There is no reason
for you to fear that I shall impute any impropriety to you, if you attempt this
refutation and proof ; take heart, therefore, and
proceed.
Str. And where shall I
begin the perilous enterprise ? I think that the road which I must take is
—
Theaet. Which ? — Let
me hear.
Str. I think that we
had better, first of all, consider the points which at present are regard as
self-evident, lest we may have fallen into some confusion, and be too ready to
assent to one another, fancying that we are quite clear about
them.
Theaet. Say more
distinctly what you mean.
Str. I think that
Parmenides, and all ever yet undertook to determine the number and nature of
existences, talked to us in rather a light and easy
strain.
Theaet.
How ?
Str. As if we had been
children, to whom they repeated each his own mythus or story ; — one said
that there were three principles, and that at one time there was war between
certain of them ; and then again there was peace, and they were married and
begat children, and brought them up ; and another spoke of two principles,
— a moist and a dry, or a hot and a cold, and made them marry and cohabit. The
Eleatics, however, in our part of the world, say that things are many in name,
but in nature one ; this is their mythus, which goes back to Xenophanes,
and is even older. Then there are Ionian, and in more recent times Sicilian
muses, who have arrived at the conclusion that to unite the two principles is
safer, and to say that being is one and many, and that these are held together
by enmity and friendship, ever parting, ever meeting, as the severer Muses
assert, while the gentler ones do not insist on the perpetual strife and peace,
but admit a relaxation and alternation of them ; peace and unity sometimes
prevailing under the sway of Aphrodite, and then again plurality and war, by
reason of a principle of strife. Whether any of them spoke the truth in all this
is hard to determine ; besides, antiquity and famous men should have
reverence, and not be liable to accusations ; so serious ; Yet one
thing may be said of them without offence —
Theaet. What
thing ?
Str. That they went on
their several ways disdaining to notice people like ourselves ; they did
not care whether they took us with them, or left us behind
them.
Theaet. How do you
mean ?
Str. I mean to say,
that when they talk of one, two, or more elements, which are or have become or
are becoming, or again of heat mingling with cold, assuming in some other part
of their works separations and mixtures, — tell me, Theaetetus, do you
understand what they mean by these expressions ? When I was a younger man,
I used to fancy that I understood quite well what was meant by the term
“not-being,” which is our present subject of dispute ; and now you see in
what a fix we are about it.
Theaet. I
see.
Str. And very likely we
have been getting into the same perplexity about “being,” and yet may fancy that
when anybody utters the word, we understand him quite easily, although we do not
know about not-being. But we may be ; equally ignorant of
both.
Theaet. I dare
say.
Str. And the same may
be said of all the terms just mentioned.
Theaet.
True.
Str. The consideration
of most of them may be deferred ; but we had better now discuss the chief
captain and leader of them.
Theaet. Of what are you
speaking ? You clearly think that we must first investigate what people
mean by the word “being.”
Str. You follow close
at heels, Theaetetus. For the right method, I conceive, will be to call into our
presence the dualistic philosophers and to interrogate them. “Come,” we will
say, “Ye, who affirm that hot and cold or any other two principles are the
universe, what is this term which you apply to both of them, and what do you
mean when you say that both and each of them ‘are’ ? How are we to
understand the word ‘are’ ? Upon your view, are we to suppose that there is
a third principle over and above the other two-three in all, and not two ?
For clearly you cannot say that one of the two principles is being, and yet
attribute being equally to both of them ; for, if you did, whichever of the
two is identified with being, will comprehend the other ; and so they will
be one and not two.”
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. But perhaps you
mean to give the name of “being” to both of them
together ?
Theaet. Quite
likely.
Str. “Then, friends,”
we shall reply to them, “the answer is plainly that the two will still be
resolved into one.”
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. “Since then, we
are in a difficulty, please to tell us what you mean, when you speak of
being ; for there can be no doubt that you always from the first understood
your own meaning, whereas we once thought that we understood you, but now we are
in a great strait. Please to begin by explaining this matter to us, and let us
no longer fancy that we understand you, when we entirely misunderstand you.”
There will be no impropriety in our demanding an answer to this question, either
of the dualists or of the pluralists ?
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. And what about the
assertors of the oneness of the all — must we not endeavour to ascertain from
them what they mean by “being” ?
Theaet. By all
means.
Str. Then let them
answer this question : One, you say, alone is ? “Yes,” they will
reply.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And there is
something which you call “being” ?
Theaet.
“Yes.”
Str. And is being the
same as one, and do you apply two names to the same
thing ?
Theaet. What will be their
answer, Stranger ?
Str. It is clear,
Theaetetus, that he who asserts the unity of being will find a difficulty in
answering this or any other question.
Theaet. Why
so ?
Str. To admit of two
names, and to affirm that there is nothing but unity, is surely
ridiculous ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And equally
irrational to admit that a name is anything ?
Theaet. How
so ?
Str. To distinguish the
name from the thing, implies duality.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And yet he who
identifies the name with the thing will be compelled to say that it is the name
of nothing, or if he says that it is the name of something, even then the name
will only be the name of a name, and of nothing else.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And the one will
turn out to be only one of one, and being absolute unity, will represent a mere
name.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And would they say
that the whole is other than the one that is, or the same with
it ?
Theaet. To be sure they
would, and they actually say so.
Str. If being is a
whole, as Parmenides sings, —
Every way like unto the fullness of a
well-rounded sphere,
Evenly balanced from the centre on every
side,
And must needs be neither greater
nor less in any way,
Neither on this
side nor on that then being has a centre and extremes, and, having these, must
also have parts.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Yet that which has
parts may have the attribute of unity in all the parts, and in this way being
all and a whole, may be one ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But that of which
this is the condition cannot be absolute unity ?
Theaet. Why
not ?
Str. Because, according
to right reason, that which is truly one must be affirmed to be absolutely
indivisible.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. But this
indivisible, if made up of many parts, will contradict
reason.
Theaet. I
understand.
Str. Shall we say that
being is one and a whole, because it has the attribute of unity ? Or shall
we say that being is not a whole at all ?
Theaet. That is a hard
alternative to offer.
Str. Most true ;
for being, having in a certain sense the attribute of one, is yet proved not to
be the same as one, and the all is therefore more than
one.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And yet if being
be not a whole, through having the attribute of unity, and there be such a thing
as an absolute whole, being lacks something of its own
nature ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Upon this view,
again, being, having a defect of being, will become
not-being ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And, again, the
all becomes more than one, for being and the whole will each have their separate
nature.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. But if the whole
does not exist at all, all the previous difficulties remain the same, and there
will be the further difficulty, that besides having no being, being can never
have come into being.
Theaet. Why
so ?
Str. Because that which
comes into being always comes into being as a whole, so that he who does not
give whole a place among beings, cannot speak either of essence or generation as
existing.
Theaet. Yes, that
certainly appears to be true.
Str. Again ; how
can that which is not a whole have any quantity ? For that which is of a
certain quantity must necessarily be the whole of that
quantity.
Theaet.
Exactly.
Str. And there will be
innumerable other points, each of them causing infinite trouble to him who says
that being is either, one or two.
Theaet. The difficulties
which are dawning upon us prove this ; for one objection connects with
another, and they are always involving what has preceded in a greater and worse
perplexity.
Str. We are far from
having exhausted the more exact thinkers who treat of being and not-being. But
let us be content to leave them, and proceed to view those who speak less
precisely ; and we shall find as the result of all, that the nature of
being is quite as difficult to comprehend as that of
not-being.
Theaet. Then now we will
go to the others.
Str. There appears to
be a sort of war of Giants and Gods going on amongst them ; they are
fighting with one another about the nature of essence.
Theaet. How is
that ?
Str. Some of them are
dragging down all things from heaven and from the unseen to earth, and they
literally grasp in their hands rocks and oaks ; of these they lay hold, and
obstinately maintain, that the things only which can be touched or handled have
being or essence, because they define being and body as one, and if any one else
says that what is not a body exists they altogether despise him, and will hear
of nothing but body.
Theaet. I have often met
with such men, and terrible fellows they are.
Str. And that is the
reason why their opponents cautiously defend themselves from above, out of an
unseen world, mightily contending that true essence consists of certain
intelligible and incorporeal ideas ; the bodies of the materialists, which
by them are maintained to be the very truth, they break up into little bits by
their arguments, and affirm them to be, not essence, but generation and motion.
Between the two armies, Theaetetus, there is always an endless conflict raging
concerning these matters.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Let us ask each
party in turn, to give an account of that which they call
essence.
Theaet. How shall we get
it out of them ?
Str. With those who
make being to consist in ideas, there will be less difficulty, for they are
civil people enough ; but there will be very great difficulty, or rather an
absolute impossibility, in getting an opinion out of those who drag everything
down to matter. Shall I tell you what we must do ?
Theaet.
What ?
Str. Let us, if we can,
really improve them ; but if this is not possible, let us imagine them to
be better than they are, and more willing to answer in accordance with the rules
of argument, and then their opinion will be more worth having ; for that
which better men acknowledge has more weight than that which is acknowledged by
inferior men. Moreover we are no respecters of persons, but seekers after
time.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Then now, on the
supposition that they are improved, let us ask them to state their views, and do
you interpret them.
Theaet.
Agreed.
Str. Let them say
whether they would admit that there is such a thing as a mortal
animal.
Theaet. Of course they
would.
Str. And do they not
acknowledge this to be a body having a soul ?
Theaet. Certainly they
do.
Str. Meaning to say the
soul is something which exists ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And do they not
say that one soul is just, and another unjust, and that one soul is wise, and
another foolish ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And that the just
and wise soul becomes just and wise by the possession of justice and wisdom, and
the opposite under opposite circumstances ?
Theaet. Yes, they
do.
Str. But surely that
which may be present or may be absent will be admitted by them to
exist ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And, allowing that
justice, wisdom, the other virtues, and their opposites exist, as well as a soul
in which they inhere, do they affirm any of them to be visible and tangible, or
are they all invisible ?
Theaet. They would say
that hardly any of them are visible.
Str. And would they say
that they are corporeal ?
Theaet. They would
distinguish : the soul would be said by them to have a body ; but as
to the other qualities of justice, wisdom, and the like, about which you asked,
they would not venture either to deny their existence, or to maintain that they
were all corporeal.
Str. Verily,
Theaetetus, I perceive a great improvement in them ; the real aborigines,
children of the dragon’s teeth, would have been deterred by no shame at all, but
would have obstinately asserted that nothing is which they are not able to
squeeze in their hands.
Theaet. That is pretty
much their notion.
Str. Let us push the
question ; for if they will admit that any, even the smallest particle of
being, is incorporeal, it is enough ; they must then say what that nature
is which is common to both the corporeal and incorporeal, and which they have in
their mind’s eye when they say of both of them that they “are.” Perhaps they may
be in a difficulty ; and if this is the case, there is a possibility that
they may accept a notion of ours respecting the nature of being, having nothing
of their own to offer.
Theaet. What is the
notion ? Tell me, and we shall soon see.
Str. My notion would
be, that anything which possesses any sort of power to affect another, or to be
affected by another, if only for a single moment, however trifling the cause and
however slight the effect, has real existence ; and I hold that the
definition of being is simply power of
Theaet. They accept your
suggestion, having nothing better of their own to offer.
Str. Very good ;
perhaps we, as well as they, may one day change our minds ; but, for the
present, this may be regarded as the understanding which is established with
them.
Theaet.
Agreed.
Str. Let us now go to
the friends of ideas ; of their opinions, too, you shall be the
interpreter.
Theaet. I
will.
Str. To them we say —
You would distinguish essence from generation ?
Theaet. “Yes,” they
reply.
Str. And you would
allow that we participate in generation, with the body, and through perception,
but we participate with the soul through in true essence ; and essence you
would affirm to be always the same and immutable, whereas generation or becoming
varies ?
Theaet. Yes ; that is
what we should affirm.
Str. Well, fair sirs,
we say to them, what is this participation, which you assert of both ? Do
you agree with our recent definition ?
Theaet. What
definition ?
Str. We said that being
was an active or passive energy, arising out of a certain power which proceeds
from elements meeting with one another. Perhaps your cars, Theaetetus, may fail
to catch their answer, which I recognize because I have been accustomed to hear
it.
Theaet. And what is their
answer ?
Str. They deny the
truth of what we were just now, saying to the aborigines about
existence.
Theaet. What was
that ?
Str. Any power of doing
or suffering in a degree however slight was held by us to be a sufficient
definition of being ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. They deny this,
and say that the power of doing or suffering is confined to becoming, and that
neither power is applicable to being.
Theaet. And is there not
some truth in what they say ?
Str. Yes ; but our
reply will be that we want to ascertain from them more distinctly, whether they
further admit that the soul knows, and that being or essence is
known.
Theaet. There can be no
doubt that they say so.
Str. And is knowing and
being known, doing or suffering, or both, or is the one doing and the other
suffering, or has neither any share in either ?
Theaet. Clearly, neither
has any share in either ; for if they say anything else, they will
contradict themselves.
Str. I
understand ; but they will allow that if to know is active, then, of
course, to be known is passive. And on this view being, in so far as it is
known, is acted upon by knowledge, and is therefore in motion ; for that
which is in a state of rest cannot be acted upon, as we
affirm.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And, O heavens,
can we ever be made to believe that motion and life and soul and mind are not
present with perfect being ? Can we imagine that, being is devoid of life
and mind, and exists in awful unmeaningness an everlasting
fixture ?
Theaet. That would be a
dreadful thing to admit, Stranger.
Str. But shall we say
that has mind and not life ?
Theaet. How is that
possible ?
Str. Or shall we say
that both inhere in perfect being, but that it has no soul which contains
them ?
Theaet. And in what other
way can it contain them ?
Str. Or that being has
mind and life and soul, but although endowed with soul remains absolutely
unmoved ?
Theaet. All three
suppositions appear to me to be irrational.
Str. Under being, then,
we must include motion, and that which is moved.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Then, Theaetetus,
our inference is, that if there is no motion, neither is there any mind
anywhere, or about anything or belonging to any one.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And yet this
equally follows, if we grant that all things are in motion — upon this view too
mind has no existence.
Theaet. How
so ?
Str. Do you think that
sameness of condition and mode and subject could ever exist without a principle
of rest ?
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. Can you see how
without them mind could exist, or come into existence
anywhere ?
Theaet.
No.
Str. And surely contend
we must in every possible way against him who would annihilate knowledge and
reason and mind, and yet ventures to speak confidently about
anything.
Theaet. Yes, with all our
might.
Str. Then the
philosopher, who has the truest reverence for these qualities, cannot possibly
accept the notion of those who say that the whole is at rest, either as unity or
in many forms : and he will be utterly deaf to those who assert universal
motion. As children say entreatingly “Give us both.” so he will include both the
moveable and immoveable in his definition of being and
all.
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. And now, do we
seem to have gained a fair notion of being ?
Theaet. Yes
truly.
Str. Alas, Theaetetus,
methinks that we are now only beginning to see the real difficulty of the
enquiry into the nature of it.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. O my friend, do
you not see that nothing can exceed out ignorance, and yet we fancy that we are
saying something good ?
Theaet. I certainly
thought that we were ; and I do not at all understand how we never found
out our desperate case.
Str. Reflect :
after having made, these admissions, may we not be justly asked, the same
questions which we ourselves were asking of those who said that all was hot and
cold ?
Theaet. What were
they ? Will you recall them to my mind ?
Str. To be sure, I will
remind you of them, by putting the same questions, to you which I did to them,
and then we shall get on.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Would you not say
that rest and motion are in the most entire opposition to one
another ?
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. And yet you would
say that both and either of them equally are ?
Theaet. I
should.
Str. And when you admit
that both or either of them are, do you mean to say that both or either, of them
are in motion ?
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. Or do you wish to
imply that they are both at rest, when you say that they
are ?
Theaet. Of course
not.
Str. Then you conceive
of being as some third and distinct nature, under which rest and motion are
alike included ; and, observing that they both participate in being, you
declare that they are.
Theaet. Truly we seem to
have an intimation that being is some third thing, when we say that rest and
motion are.
Str. Then being is not
the combination of rest and motion, but something different from
them.
Theaet. So it would
appear.
Str. Being, then,
according to its own nature, is neither in motion nor at
rest.
Theaet. That is very much
the truth.
Str. Where, then, is a
man to look for help who would have any clear or fixed notion of being in his
mind ?
Theaet. Where,
indeed ?
Str. I scarcely think
that he can look anywhere ; for that which is not in motion must be at
rest, and again, that which is not at rest must be in motion ; but being is
placed outside of both these classes. Is this
possible ?
Theaet. Utterly
impossible.
Str. Here, then, is
another thing which we ought to bear in mind.
Theaet.
What ?
Str. When we were asked
to what we were to assign the appellation of not-being, we were in the greatest
difficulty : — do you remember ?
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. And are we not now
in as a difficulty about being ?
Theaes. I should
say, Stranger, that we are in one which is, if possible, even
greater.
Str. Then let us
acknowledge the difficulty ; and as being and not-being are involved in the
same perplexity, there is hope that when the one appears more or less
distinctly, the other will equally appear ; and if we are able to see
neither there may still be a chance of steering our way in between them, without
any great discredit.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Let us enquire,
then, how we come to predicate many names of the same
thing.
Theaet. Give an
example.
Str. I mean that we
speak of man, for example, under many names — that we attribute to him colours
and forms and magnitudes and virtues and vices, in all of which instances and in
ten thousand others we not only speak of him as a man, but also as good, and
having number-less other attributes, and in the same way anything else which we
originally supposed to be one is described by us as many, and under many
names.
Theaet. That is
true.
Str. And thus we
provide a rich feast for tyros, whether young or old ; for there is nothing
easier than to argue that the one cannot be many, or the many one ; and
great is their delight in denying that a man is good ; for man, they
insist, is man and good is good. I dare say that you have met with persons who
take an interest in such matters — they are often elderly men, whose meagre
sense is thrown into amazement by these discoveries of theirs, which they
believe to be the height of wisdom.
Theaet. Certainly, I
have.
Str. Then, not to
exclude any one who has ever speculated at all upon the nature of being, let us
put our questions to them as well as to our former
friends.
Theaet. What
questions ?
Str. Shall we refuse to
attribute being to motion and rest, or anything to anything, and assume that
they do not mingle, and are incapable of participating in one another ? Or
shall we gather all into one class of things communicable with one
another ? Or are some things communicable and others not ? — Which of
these alternatives, Theaetetus, will they prefer ?
Theaet. I have nothing to
answer on their behalf. Suppose that you take all these hypotheses in turn, and
see what are the consequences which follow from each of
them.
Str. Very good, and
first let us assume them to say that nothing is capable of participating in
anything else in any respect ; in that case rest and motion cannot
participate in being at all.
Theaet. They
cannot.
Str. But would either
of them be if not participating in being ?
Theaet.
No.
Str. Then by this
admission everything is instantly overturned, as well the doctrine of universal
motion as of universal rest, and also the doctrine of those who distribute being
into immutable and everlasting kinds ; for all these add on a notion of
being, some affirming that things “are” truly in motion, and others that they
“are” truly at rest.
Theaes. Just
so.
Str. Again, those who
would at one time compound, and at another resolve all things, whether making
them into one and out of one creating infinity, or dividing them into finite
clements, and forming compounds out of these ; whether they suppose the
processes of creation to be successive or continuous, would be talking nonsense
in all this if there were no admixture.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Most ridiculous of
all will the men themselves be who want to carry out the argument and yet forbid
us to call anything, because participating in some affection from another, by
the name of that other.
Theaet. Why
so ?
Str. Why, because they
are compelled to use the words “to be,” “apart,” “from others. “in itself,” and
ten thousand more, which they cannot give up, but must make the connecting links
of discourse ; and therefore they do not require to be refuted by others,
but their enemy, as the saying is, inhabits the same house with them ; they
are always carrying about with them an adversary, like the wonderful
ventriloquist, Eurycles, who out of their own bellies audibly contradicts
them.
Theaet. Precisely
so ; a very true and exact illustration.
Str. And now, if we
suppose that all things have the power of communion with one another — what will
follow ?
Theaet. Even I can solve
that riddle.
Str.
How ?
Theaet. Why, because
motion itself would be at rest, and rest again in motion, if they could be
attributed to one another.
Str. But this is
utterly impossible.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. Then only the
third hypothesis remains.
Theaet.
True.
Str. For, surely,
either all things have communion with all ; or nothing with any other
thing ; or some things communicate with some things and others
not.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And two out of
these three suppositions have been found to be impossible.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Every one then,
who desires to answer truly, will adopt the third and remaining hypothesis of
the communion of some with some.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. This communion of
some with some may be illustrated by the case of letters ; for some letters
do not fit each other, while others do.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. And the vowels,
especially, are a sort of bond which pervades all the other letters, so that
without a vowel one consonant cannot be joined to another.
Theaet.
True.
Str. But does every one
know what letters will unite with what ? Or is art required in order to do
so ?
Theaet. What is
required.
Str. What
art ?
Theaet. The art of
grammar.
Str. And is not this
also true of sounds high and low ? — Is not he who has the art to know what
sounds mingle, a musician, and he who is ignorant, not a
musician ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And we shall find
this to be generally true of art or the absence of art.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. And as classes are
admitted by us in like manner to be some of them capable and others incapable of
intermixture, must not he who would rightly show what kinds will unite and what
will not, proceed by the help of science in the path of argument ? And will
he not ask if the connecting links are universal, and so capable of intermixture
with all things ; and again, in divisions, whether there are not other
universal classes, which make them possible ?
Theaet. To be sure he will
require science, and, if I am not mistaken, the very greatest of all
sciences.
Str. How are we to call
it ? By Zeus, have we not lighted unwittingly upon our free and noble
science, and in looking for the Sophist have we not entertained the philosopher
unawares ?
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. Should we not say
that the division according to classes, which neither makes the same other, nor
makes other the same, is the business of the dialectical
science ?
Theaet. That is what we
should say.
Str. Then, surely, he
who can divide rightly is able to see clearly one form pervading a scattered
multitude, and many different forms contained under one higher form ; and
again, one form knit together into a single whole and pervading many such
wholes, and many forms, existing only in separation and isolation. This is the
knowledge of classes which determines where they can have communion with one
another and where not.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And the art of
dialectic would be attributed by you only to the philosopher pure and
true ?
Theaet. Who but he can be
worthy ?
Str. In this region we
shall always discover the philosopher, if we look for him ; like the
Sophist, he is not easily discovered, but for a different
reason.
Theaet. For what
reason ?
Str. Because the
Sophist runs away into the darkness of not-being, in which he has learned by
habit to feel about, and cannot be discovered because of the darkness of the
place. is not that true ?
Theaet. It seems to be
so.
Str. And the
philosopher, always holding converse through reason with the idea of being, is
also dark from excess of light ; for the souls of the many have no eye
which can endure the vision of the divine.
Theaet. Yes ; that
seems to be quite as true as the other.
Str. Well, the
philosopher may hereafter be more fully considered by us, if we are
disposed ; but the Sophist must clearly not be allowed to escape until we
have had a good look at him.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. Since, then, we
are agreed that some classes have a communion with one another, and others not,
and some have communion with a few and others with many, and that there is no
reason why some should not have universal communion with all, let us now pursue
the enquiry, as the argument suggests, not in relation to all ideas, lest the
multitude of them should confuse us, but let us select a few of those which are
reckoned to be the principal ones, and consider their several natures and their
capacity of communion with one another, in order that if we are not able to
apprehend with perfect clearness the notions of being and not-being, we may at
least not fall short in the consideration of them, so far as they come within
the scope of the present enquiry, if peradventure we may be allowed to assert
the reality of not-being, and yet escape unscathed.
Theaet. We must do
so.
Str. The most important
of all the genera are those which we were just now mentioning — being and rest
and motion.
Theaet. Yes, by
far.
Str. And two of these
are, as we affirm, incapable of communion with one
another.
Theaet. Quite
incapable.
Str. Whereas being
surely has communion with both of them, for both of them
are ?
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. That makes up
three of them.
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. And each of them
is other than the remaining two, but the same with itself.
Theaet.
True.
Str. But then, what is
the meaning of these two words, “same” and “other” ? Are they two new kinds
other than the three, and yet always of necessity intermingling with them, and
are we to have five kinds instead of three ; or when we speak of the same
and other, are we unconsciously speaking of one of the three first
kinds ?
Theaet. Very likely we
are.
Str. But, surely,
motion and rest are neither the other nor the same.
Theaet. How is
that ?
Str. Whatever we
attribute to motion and rest in common, cannot be either of
them.
Theaet. Why
not ?
Str. Because motion
would be at rest and rest in motion, for either of them, being predicated of
both, will compel the other to change into the opposite of its own nature,
because partaking of its opposite.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. Yet they surely
both partake of the same and of the other ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Then we must not
assert that motion, any more than rest, is either the same or the
other.
Theaet. No ; we must
not.
Str. But are we to
conceive that being and the same are identical ?
Theaet.
Possibly.
Str. But if they are
identical, then again in saying that motion and rest have being, we should also
be saying that they are the same.
Theaet. Which surely
cannot be.
Str. Then being and
same cannot be one.
Theaet.
Scarcely.
Str. Then we may
suppose the same to be a fourth class, which is now to be added to the three
others.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And shall we call
the other a fifth class ? Or should we consider being and other to be two
names of the same class ?
Theaet. Very
likely.
Str. But you would
agree, if I am not mistaken, that existences are relative as well as
absolute ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And the other is
always relative to other ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. But this would not
be the case unless being and the other entirely differed ; for, if the
other, like being, were absolute as well as relative, then there would have been
a kind of other which was not other than other. And now we find that what is
other must of necessity be what it is in relation to some
other.
Theaet. That is the true
state of the case.
Str. Then we must admit
the other as the fifth of our selected classes.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And the fifth
class pervades all classes, for they all differ from one another, not by reason
of their own nature, but because they partake of the idea of the
other.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. Then let us now
put the case with reference to each of the five.
Theaet.
How ?
Str. First there is
motion, which we affirm to be absolutely “other” than rest : what else can
we say ?
Theaet. It is
so.
Str. And therefore is
not rest.
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. And yet is,
because partaking of being.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Again, motion is
other than the same ?
Theaet. Just
so.
Str. And is therefore
not the same.
Theaet. It is
not.
Str. Yet, surely,
motion is the same, because all things partake of the
same.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Then we must
admit, and not object to say, that motion is the same and is not the same, for
we do not apply the terms “same” and “not the same,” in the same sense ;
but we call it the “same,” in relation to itself, because partaking of the
same ; and not the same, because having communion with the other, it is
thereby severed from the same, and has become not that but other, and is
therefore rightly spoken of as “not the same.”
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. And if absolute
motion in any point of view partook of rest, there would be no absurdity in
calling motion stationary.
Theaet. Quite right, —
that is, on the supposition that some classes mingle with one another, and
others not.
Str. That such a
communion of kinds is according to nature, we had already proved before we
arrived at this part of our discussion.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Let us proceed,
then. we not say that motion is other than the other, having been also proved by
us to be other than the same and other than rest ?
Theaet. That is
certain.
Str. Then, according to
this view, motion is other and also not other ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. What is the next
step ? Shall we say that motion is other than the three and not other than
the fourth — for we agreed that there are five classes about and in the sphere
of which we proposed to make enquiry ?
Theaet. Surely we cannot
admit that the number is less than it appeared to be just
now.
Str. Then we may
without fear contend that motion is other than
being ?
Theaet. Without the least
fear.
Str. The plain result
is that motion, since it partakes of being, really is and also is
not ?
Theaet. Nothing can be
plainer.
Str. Then not-being
necessarily exists in the case of motion and of every class ; for the
nature of the other entering into them all, makes each of them other than being,
and so non-existent ; and therefore of all of them, in like manner, we may
truly say that they are not — and again, inasmuch as they partake of being, that
they are and are existent.
Theaet. So we may
assume.
Str. Every class, then,
has plurality of being and infinity of not-being.
Theaet. So we must
infer.
Str. And being itself
may be said to be other than the other kinds.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Then we may infer
that being is not, in respect of as many other things as there are ; for
not-being these it is itself one, and is : not the other things, which are
infinite in number.
Theaet. That is not far
from the truth.
Str. And we must not
quarrel with this result, since it is of the nature of classes to have communion
with one another ; and if any one denies our present statement [viz., that
being is not, etc.], let him first argue with our former conclusion [i.e.,
respecting the communion of ideas], and then he may proceed to argue with what
follows.
Theaet. Nothing can be
fairer.
Str. Let me ask you to
consider a further question.
Theaet. What
question ?
Str. When we speak of
not-being, we speak, I suppose, not of something opposed to being, but only
different.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. When we speak of
something as not great, does the expression seem to you to imply what is little
any more than what is equal ?
Theaet. Certainly
not.
Str. The negative
particles, ou and me, when prefixed to words, do not imply opposition, but only
difference from the words, or more correctly from the things represented by the
words, which follow them.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. There is another
point to be considered, if you do not object.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. The nature of the
other appears to me to be divided into fractions like
knowledge.
Theaet. How
so ?
Str. Knowledge, like
the other, is one ; and yet the various parts of knowledge have each of
them their own particular name, and hence there are many arts and kinds of
knowledge.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And is not the
case the same with the parts of the other, which is also
one ?
Theaet. Very likely ;
but will you tell me how ?
Str. There is some part
of the other which is opposed to the beautiful ?
Theaet. There
is.
Str. Shall we say that
this has or has not a name ?
Theaet. It has ; for
whatever we call not beautiful is other than the beautiful, not than something
else.
Str. And now tell me
another thing.
Theaet.
What ?
Str. Is the
not-beautiful anything but this — an existence parted off from a certain kind of
existence, and again from another point of view opposed to an existing
something ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then the
not-beautiful turns out to be the opposition of being to
being ?
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. But upon this
view, is the beautiful a more real and the not-beautiful a less real
existence ?
Theaet. Not at
all.
Str. And the not-great
may be said to exist, equally with the great ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And, in the same
way, the just must be placed in the same category with the not-just the one
cannot be said to have any more existence than the other.
Theaet.
True.
Str. The same may be
said of other things ; seeing that the nature of the other has a real
existence, the parts of this nature must equally be supposed to
exist.
Theaet. Of
course.
Str. Then, as would
appear, the opposition of a part of the other, and of a part of being, to one
another, is, if I may venture to say so, as truly essence as being itself, and
implies not the opposite of being, but only what is other than
being.
Theaet. Beyond
question.
Str. What then shall we
call it ?
Theaet. Clearly,
not-being ; and this is the very nature for which the Sophist compelled us
to search.
Str. And has not this,
as you were saying, as real an existence as any other class ? May I not say
with confidence that not-being has an assured existence, and a nature of its
own ? just as the great was found to be great and the beautiful beautiful,
and the not-great not-great, and the not-beautiful not-beautiful, in the same
manner not-being has been found to be and is not-being, and is to be reckoned
one among the many classes of being. Do you, Theaetetus, still feel any doubt of
this ?
Theaet. None
whatever.
Str. Do you observe
that our scepticism has carried us beyond the range of Parmenides’
prohibition ?
Theaet. In
what ?
Str. We have advanced
to a further point, and shown him more than he for bad us to
investigate.
Theaet. How is
that ?
Str. Why, because he
says —
Not-being never is, and do thou keep
thy thoughts from this way of enquiry.
Theaet. Yes, he says
so.
Str. Whereas, we have
not only proved that things which are not are, but we have shown what form of
being not-being is ; for we have shown that the nature of the other is, and
is distributed over all things in their relations to one another, and whatever
part of the other is contrasted with being, this is precisely what we have
ventured to call not-being.
Theaet. And surely,
Stranger, we were quite right.
Str. Let not any one
say, then, that while affirming the opposition of not-being to being, we still
assert the being of not-being ; for as to whether there is an opposite of
being, to that enquiry we have long said good-bye — it may or may not be, and
may or may not be capable of definition. But as touching our present account of
not-being, let a man either convince us of error, or, so long as he cannot, he
too must say, as we are saying, that there is a communion of classes, and that
being, and difference or other, traverse all things and mutually interpenetrate,
so that the other partakes of being, and by reason of this participation is, and
yet is not that of which it partakes, but other, and being other than being, it
is clearly a necessity that not-being should be. again, being, through partaking
of the other, becomes a class other than the remaining classes, and being other
than all of them, is not each one of them, and is not all the rest, so that
undoubtedly there are thousands upon thousands of cases in which being is not,
and all other things, whether regarded individually or collectively, in many
respects are, and in many respects are not.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And he who is
sceptical of this contradiction, must think how he can find something better to
say ; or if. he sees a puzzle, and his pleasure is to drag words this way
and that, the argument will prove to him, that he is not making a worthy use of
his faculties ; for there is no charm in such puzzles, and there is no
difficulty in detecting them ; but we can tell him of something else the
pursuit of which is noble and also difficult.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. A thing of which I
have already spoken ; — letting alone these puzzles as involving no
difficulty, he should be able to follow, and criticize in detail every argument,
and when a man says that the same is in a manner other, or that other is the
same, to understand and refute him from his own point of view, and in the same
respect in which he asserts either of these affections. But to show that somehow
and in some sense the same is other, or the other same, or the great small, or
the like unlike ; and to delight in always bringing forward such
contradictions, is no real refutation, but is clearly the new-born babe of some
one who is only beginning to approach the problem of
being.
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. For certainly, my
friend, the attempt to separate all existences from one another is a barbarism
and utterly unworthy of an educated or philosophical mind.
Theaet. Why
so ?
Str. The attempt at
universal separation is the final annihilation of all reasoning ; for only
by the union of conceptions with one another do we attain to discourse of
reason.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And, observe that
we were only just in time in making a resistance to such separatists, and
compelling them to admit that one thing mingles with
another.
Theaet. Why
so ?
Str. Why, that we might
be able to assert discourse to be a kind of being ; for if we could not,
the worst of all consequences would follow ; we should have no philosophy.
Moreover, the necessity for determining the nature of discourse presses upon us
at this moment ; if utterly deprived of it, we could no more hold
discourse ; and deprived of it we should be if we admitted that there was
no admixture of natures at all.
Theaet. Very true. But I
do not understand why at this moment we must determine the nature of
discourse.
Str. Perhaps you will
see more clearly by the help of the following explanation.
Theaet. What
explanation ?
Str. Not-being has been
acknowledged by us to be one among many classes diffused over all
being.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And thence arises
the question, whether not-being mingles with opinion and
language.
Theaet. How
so ?
Str. If not-being has
no part in the proposition, then all things must be true ; but if not-being
has a part, then false opinion and false speech are possible, for think or to
say what is not is falsehood, which thus arises in the region of thought and in
speech.
Theaet. That is quite
true.
Str. And where there is
falsehood surely there must be deceit.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And if there is
deceit, then all things must be full of idols and images and
fancies.
Theaet. To be
sure.
Str. Into that region
the Sophist, as we said, made his escape, and, when he had got there, denied the
very possibility of falsehood ; no one, he argued, either conceived or
uttered falsehood, inasmuch as not-being did not in any way partake of
being.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And now, not-being
has been shown to partake of being, and therefore he will not continue fighting
in this direction, but he will probably say that some ideas partake of
not-being, and some not, and that language and opinion are of the non-partaking
class ; and he will still fight to the death against the existence of the
image-making and phantastic art, in which we have placed him, because, as he
will say, opinion and language do not partake of not-being, and unless this
participation exists, there can be no such thing as falsehood. And, with the
view of meeting this evasion, we must begin by enquiring into the nature of
language, opinion, and imagination, in order that when we find them we may find
also that they have communion with not-being, and, having made out the
connection of them, may thus prove that falsehood exists ; and therein we
will imprison the Sophist, if he deserves it, or, if not, we will let him go
again and look for him in another class.
Theaet. Certainly,
Stranger, there appears to be truth in what was said about the Sophist at first,
that he was of a class not easily caught, for he seems to have abundance of
defences, which he throws up, and which must every one of them be stormed before
we can reach the man himself. And even now, we have with difficulty got through
his first defence, which is the not-being of not-being, and lo ! here is
another ; for we have still to show that falsehood exists in the sphere of
language and opinion, and there will be another and another line of defence
without end.
Str. Any one,
Theaetetus, who is able to advance even a little ought to be of good cheer, for
what would he who is dispirited at a little progress do, if he were making none
at all, or even undergoing a repulse ? Such a faint heart, as the proverb
says, will never take a city : but now that we have succeeded thus far, the
citadel is ours, and what remains is easier.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Then, as I was
saying, let us first of all obtain a conception of language and opinion, in
order that we may have clearer grounds for determining, whether not-being has
any concern with them, or whether they are both always true, and neither of them
ever false.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then, now, let us
speak of names, as before we were speaking of ideas and letters ; for that
is the direction in which the answer may be expected.
Theaet. And what is the
question at issue about names ?
Str. The question at
issue is whether all names may be connected with one another, or none, or only
some of them.
Theaet. Clearly the last
is true.
Str. I understand you
to say that words which have a meaning when in sequence may be connected, but
that words which have no meaning when in sequence cannot be
connected ?
Theaet. What are you
saying ?
Str. What I thought
that you intended when you gave your assent ; for there are two sorts of
intimation of being which are given by the voice.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. One of them is
called nouns, and the other verbs.
Theaet. Describe
them.
Str. That which denotes
action we call a verb.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And the other,
which is an articulate mark set on those who do the actions, we call a
noun.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. A succession of
nouns only is not a sentence any more than of verbs without
nouns.
Theaet. I do not
understand you.
Str. I see that when
you gave your assent you had something else in your mind. But what I intended to
say was, that a mere succession of nouns or of verbs is not
discourse.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. I mean that words
like “walks,” “runs,” “sleeps,” or any other words which denote action, however
many of them you string together, do not make discourse.
Theaet. How can
they ?
Str. Or, again, when
you say “lion,” “stag,” “horse,” or any other words which denote agents —
neither in this way of stringing words together do you attain to
discourse ; for there is no expression of action or inaction, or of the
existence of existence or non-existence indicated by the sounds, until verbs are
mingled with nouns ; then the words fit, and the smallest combination of
them forms language, and is the simplest and least form of
discourse.
Theaet. Again I ask, What
do you mean ?
Str. When any one says
“A man learns,” should you not call this the simplest and least of
sentences ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Yes, for he now
arrives at the point of giving an intimation about something which is, or is
becoming, or has become, or will be. And he not only names, but he does
something, by connecting verbs with nouns ; and therefore we say that he
discourses, and to this connection of words we give the name of
discourse.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And as there are
some things which fit one another, and other things which do not fit, so there
are some vocal signs which do, and others which do not, combine and form
discourse.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. There is another
small matter.
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. A sentence must
and cannot help having a subject.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And must be of a
certain quality.
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And now let us
mind what we are about.
Theaet. We must do
so.
Str. I will repeat a
sentence to you in which a thing and an action are combined, by the help of a
noun and a verb ; and you shall tell me of whom the sentence
speaks.
Theaet. I will, to the
best my power.
Str. “Theaetetus sits”
— not a very long sentence.
Theaet. Not
very.
Str. Of whom does the
sentence speak, and who is the subject that is what you have to
tell.
Theaet. Of me ; I am
the subject.
Str. Or this sentence,
again —
Theaet. What
sentence ?
Str. “Theaetetus, with
whom I am now speaking, is flying.”
Theaet. That also is a
sentence which will be admitted by every one to speak of me, and to apply to
me.
Str. We agreed that
every sentence must necessarily have a certain quality.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And what is the
quality of each of these two sentences ?
Theaet. The one, as I
imagine, is false, and the other true.
Str. The true says what
is true about you ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And the false says
what is other than true ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And therefore
speaks of things which are not as if they were ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And say that
things are real of you which are not ; for, as we were saying, in regard to
each thing or person, there is much that is and much that is
not.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. The second of the
two sentences which related to you was first of all an example of the shortest
form consistent with our definition.
Theaet. Yes, this was
implied in recent admission.
Str. And, in the second
place, it related to a subject ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Who must be you,
and can be nobody else ?
Theaet.
Unquestionably.
Str. And it would be no
sentence at all if there were no subject, for, as we proved, a sentence which
has no subject is impossible.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. When other, then,
is asserted of you as the same, and not-being as being, such a combination of
nouns and verbs is really and truly false discourse.
Theaet. Most
true.
Str. And therefore
thought, opinion, and imagination are now proved to exist in our minds both as
true and false.
Theaet. How
so ?
Str. You will know
better if you first gain a knowledge of what they are, and in what they
severally differ from one another.
Theaet. Give me the
knowledge which you would wish me to gain.
Str. Are not thought
and speech the same, with this exception, that what is called thought is the
unuttered conversation of the soul with herself ?
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. But the stream of
thought which flows through the lips and is audible is called
speech ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. And we know that
there exists in speech...
Theaet. What
exists ?
Str.
Affirmation.
Theaet. Yes, we know
it.
Str. When the
affirmation or denial takes Place in silence and in the mind only, have you any
other name by which to call it but opinion ?
Theaet. There can be no
other name.
Str. And when opinion
is presented, not simply, but in some form of sense, would you not call it
imagination ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. And seeing that
language is true and false, and that thought is the conversation of the soul
with herself, and opinion is the end of thinking, and imagination or phantasy is
the union of sense and opinion, the inference is that some of them, since they
are akin to language, should have an element of falsehood as well as of
truth ?
Theaet.
Certainly.
Str. Do you perceive,
then, that false opinion and speech have been discovered sooner than we
expected ? — For just now we seemed to be undertaking a task which would
never be accomplished.
Theaet. I
perceive.
Str. Then let us not be
discouraged about the future ; but now having made this discovery, let us
go back to our previous classification.
Theaet. What
classification ?
Str. We divided
image-making into two sorts ; the one likeness-making, the other
imaginative or phantastic.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And we said that
we were uncertain in which we should place the Sophist.
Theaet. We did say
so.
Str. And our heads
began to go round more and more when it was asserted that there is no such thing
as an image or idol or appearance, because in no manner or time or place can
there ever be such a thing as falsehood.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And now, since
there has been shown to be false speech and false opinion, there may be
imitations of real existences, and out of this condition of the mind an art of
deception may arise.
Theaet. Quite
possible.
Str. And we have :
already admitted, in what preceded, that the Sophist was lurking in one of the
divisions of the likeness-making art ?
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Let us, then,
renew the attempt, and in dividing any class, always take the part to the right,
holding fast to that which holds the Sophist, until we have stripped him of all
his common properties, and reached his difference or peculiar. Then we may
exhibit him in his true nature, first to ourselves and then to kindred
dialectical spirits.
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. You may remember
that all art was originally divided by us into creative and
acquisitive.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And the Sophist
was flitting before us in the acquisitive class, in the subdivisions of hunting,
contests, merchandise, and the like.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. But now that the
imitative art has enclosed him, it is clear that we must begin by dividing the
art of creation ; for imitation is a kind of creation of images, however,
as we affirm, and not of real things.
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. In the first
place, there are two kinds of creation.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. One of them is
human and the other divine.
Theaet. I do not
follow.
Str. Every power, as
you may remember our saying originally, which causes things to exist, not
previously existing, was defined by us as creative.
Theaet. I
remember.
Str. Looking, now, at
the world and all the animals and plants, at things which grow upon the earth
from seeds and roots, as well as at inanimate substances which are formed within
the earth, fusile or non-fusile, shall we say that they come into existence —
not having existed previously — by the creation of God, or shall we agree with
vulgar opinion about them ?
Theaet. What is
it ?
Str. The opinion that
nature brings them into being from some spontaneous and unintelligent cause. Or
shall we say that they are created by a divine reason and a knowledge which
comes from God ?
Theaet. I dare say that,
owing to my youth, I may often waver in my view, but now when I look at you and
see that you incline to refer them to God, I defer to your
authority.
Str. Nobly said,
Theaetetus, and if I thought that you were one of those who would hereafter
change your mind, I would have gently argued with you, and forced you to
assent ; but as I perceive that you will come of yourself and without any
argument of mine, to that belief which, as you say, attracts you, I will not
forestall the work of time. Let me suppose then, that things which are said to
be made by nature are the work of divine art, and that things which are made by
man out of these are work of human art. And so there are two kinds of making and
production, the one human and the other divine.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then, now,
subdivide each of the two sections which we have already.
Theaet. How do you
mean ?
Str. I mean to say that
you should make a vertical division of production or invention, as you have
already made a lateral one.
Theaet. I have done
so.
Str. Then, now, there
are in all four parts or segments — two of them have reference to us and are
human, and two of them have reference to the gods and are
divine.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And, again, in the
division which was supposed to be made in the other way, one part in each
subdivision is the making of the things themselves, but the two remaining parts
may be called the making of likenesses ; and so the productive art is again
divided into two parts.
Theaet. Tell me the
divisions once more.
Str. I suppose that we,
and the other animals, and the elements out of which things are made — fire,
water, and the like — are known by us to be each and all the creation and work
of God.
Theaet.
True.
Str. And there are
images of them, which are not them, but which correspond to them ; and
these are also the creation of a wonderful skill.
Theaet. What are
they ?
Str. The appearances
which spring up of themselves in sleep or by day, such as a shadow when darkness
arises in a fire, or the reflection which is produced when the light in bright
and smooth objects meets on their surface with an external light, and creates a
perception the opposite of our ordinary sight.
Theaet. Yes ; and the
images as well as the creation are equally the work of a divine
hand.
Str. And what shall we
say of human art ? Do we not make one house by the art of building, and
another by the art of drawing, which is a sort of dream created by man for those
who are awake ?
Theaet. Quite
true.
Str. And other products
of human creation are twofold and go in pairs ; there is the thing, with
which the art of making the thing is concerned, and the image, with which
imitation is concerned.
Theaet. Now I begin to
understand, and am ready to acknowledge that there are two kinds of production,
and each of them two fold ; in the lateral division there is both a divine
and a human production ; in the vertical there are realities and a creation
of a kind of similitudes.
Str. And let us not
forget that of the imitative class the one part to have been likeness making,
and the other phantastic, if it could be shown that falsehood is a reality and
belongs to the class of real being.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. And this appeared
to be the case ; and therefore now, without hesitation, we shall number the
different kinds as two.
Theaet.
True.
Str. Then, now, let us
again divide the phantastic art.
Theaet. Where shall we
make the division ?
Str. There is one kind
which is produced by an instrument, and another in which the creator of the
appearance is himself the instrument.
Theaet. What do you
mean ?
Str. When any one makes
himself appear like another in his figure or his voice, imitation is the name
for this part of the phantastic art.
Theaet.
Yes.
Str. Let this, then, be
named the art of mimicry, and this the province assigned to it ; as for the
other division, we are weary and will give that up, leaving to some one else the
duty of making the class and giving it a suitable name.
Theaet. Let us do as you
say — assign a sphere to the one and leave the other.
Str. There is a further
distinction, Theaetetus, which is worthy of our consideration, and for a reason
which I will tell you.
Theaet. Let me
hear.
Str. There are some who
imitate, knowing what they imitate, and some who do not know. And what line of
distinction can there possibly be greater than that which divides ignorance from
knowledge ?
Theaet. There can be no
greater.
Str. Was not the sort
of imitation of which we spoke just now the imitation of those who know ?
For he who would imitate you would surely know you and your
figure ?
Theaet.
Naturally.
Str. And what would you
say of the figure or form of justice or of virtue in general ? Are we not
well aware that many, having no knowledge of either, but only a sort of opinion,
do their best to show that this opinion is really entertained by them, by
expressing it, as far as they can, in word and deed ?
Theaet. Yes, that is very
common.
Str. And do they always
fail in their attempt to be thought just, when they are not ? Or is not the
very opposite true ?
Theaet. The very
opposite.
Str. Such a one, then,
should be described as an imitator — to be distinguished from the other, as he
who is ignorant is distinguished from him who knows ?
Theaet.
True.
Str. Can we find a
suitable name for each of them ? This is clearly not an easy task ;
for among the ancients there was some confusion of ideas, which prevented them
from attempting to divide genera into species ; wherefore there is no great
abundance of names. Yet, for the sake of distinctness, I will make bold to call
the imitation which coexists with opinion, the imitation of appearance — that
which coexists with science, a scientific or learned
imitation.
Theaet.
Granted.
Str. The former is our
present concern, for the Sophist was classed with imitators indeed, but not
among those who have knowledge.
Theaet. Very
true.
Str. Let us, then,
examine our imitator of appearance, and see whether he is sound, like a piece of
iron, or whether there is still some crack in him.
Theaet. Let us examine
him.
Str. Indeed there is a
very considerable crack ; for if you look, you find that one of the two
classes of imitators is a simple creature, who thinks that he knows that which
he only fancies ; the other sort has knocked about among arguments, until
he suspects and fears that he is ignorant of that which to the many he pretends
to know.
Theaet. There are
certainly the two kinds which you describe.
Str. Shall we regard
one as the simple imitator — the other as the dissembling or ironical
imitator ?
Theaet. Very
good.
Str. And shall we
further speak of this latter class as having one or two
divisions ?
Theaet. Answer
yourself.
Str. Upon
consideration, then, there appear to me to be two ; there is the
dissembler, who harangues a multitude in public in a long speech, and the
dissembler, who in private and in short speeches compels the person who is
conversing with him to contradict himself.
Theaet. What you say is
most true.
Str. And who is the
maker of the longer speeches ? Is he the statesman or the popular
orator ?
Theaet. The
latter.
Str. And what shall we
call the other ? Is he the philosopher or the
Sophist ?
Theaet. The philosopher he
cannot be, for upon our view he is ignorant ; but since he is an imitator
of the wise he will have a name which is formed by an adaptation of the word
sothos. What shall we name him ? I am pretty sure that I cannot be mistaken
in terming him the true and very Sophist.
Str. Shall we bind up
his name as we did before, making a chain from one end of his genealogy to the
other ?
Theaet. By all
means.
Str. He, then, who
traces the pedigree of his art as follows — who, belonging to the conscious or
dissembling section of the art of causing self-contradiction, is an imitator of
appearance, and is separated from the class of phantastic which is a branch of
image-making into that further division of creation, the juggling of words, a
creation human, and not divine — any one who affirms the real Sophist to be of
this blood and lineage will say the very truth.
Theaet.
Undoubtedly.