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diff --git a/78618-0.txt b/78618-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..865df7b --- /dev/null +++ b/78618-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,23848 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78618 *** + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note: + +This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. +Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. + +Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are +referenced. + +Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please +see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding +the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. + + + + + BOHN’S CLASSICAL LIBRARY. + + ------- + + THE WORKS OF PLATO, + + LITERALLY TRANSLATED. + + + + + THE + + WORKS OF PLATO. + + + -------------- + + + A NEW AND LITERAL VERSION, + + CHIEFLY FROM THE TEXT OF STALLBAUM. + + + VOL. I. + + CONTAINING + + THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES, + CRITO, PHÆDO, GORGIAS, PROTAGORAS, PHÆDRUS, + THEÆTETUS, EUTHYPHRON, AND LYSIS. + + BY HENRY CARY, M.A. + + WORCESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD. + + + LONDON: + HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. + 1854. + + + + + TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. + + + -------------- + +The only version of the entire works of Plato, which has appeared in the +English language, is that published by Taylor; in which nine of the +Dialogues previously translated by Floyer Sydenham are introduced. +Taylor’s portion of the work is far from correct, and betrays an +imperfect knowledge of Greek: that by Sydenham is much better, and +evidently the work of a scholar, but in many instances, and those +chiefly where difficulties present themselves, he obscures his author’s +meaning by too great amplification. Translations of several detached +Dialogues have appeared at various times, but of those which have fallen +into my hands none appear to me deserving of notice, with the exception +of a little volume containing the Phædrus, Lysis, and Protagoras, by Mr. +J. Wright, of Trinity College, Cambridge, the production of a promising +scholar. + +In the volume now offered to the public, I have endeavoured to keep as +closely to the original as the idioms of the two languages would allow. + +In the introduction to each Dialogue I have contented myself with giving +a brief outline of the arguments; sufficient, I trust, to enable a +reader not familiar with the rigid dialectics of Plato to follow the +chain of his reasoning, and catch the points at which he so frequently +diverges from, and again returns to, the main subject of each Dialogue. + +The editions which have been made use of are those of Bekker, Ast, and +Stallbaum, though with very few exceptions the readings of the latter +have been adopted. The division into sections, according to the London +edition of Bekker, has been retained, because the arrangement is +convenient, and it is believed that that edition is more generally to be +met with in this country than any other. + + H. C. + + Oxford, Nov. 28, 1848. + + + + + ERRATUM. + +Page 428. § 114, l. 6, _for_ objects, both, _read_ both objects. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + ------- + + + Page + PREFACE vii + + INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES 1 + THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES 3 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE CRITO 30 + CRITO OR THE DUTY OF A CITIZEN 31 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PHÆDO 46 + PHÆDO OR THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 54 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE GORGIAS 128 + GORGIAS OR ON RHETORIC 136 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PROTAGORAS 233 + PROTAGORAS OR THE SOPHISTS 237 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PHÆDRUS 295 + PHÆDRUS OR ON THE BEAUTIFUL 301 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE THEÆTETUS 361 + THEÆTETUS OR ON SCIENCE 369 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE EUTHYPHRON 456 + EUTHYPHRON OR ON HOLINESS 458 + + INTRODUCTION TO THE LYSIS 477 + LYSIS OR ON FRIENDSHIP 482 + + + + + INTRODUCTION + + TO + + THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES. + + +Two charges were brought against Socrates, one, that he did not believe +in the gods received by the state, the other, that he corrupted the +Athenian youth by teaching them not to believe. + +Plato, who was present at the trial, probably gives us the very +arguments employed by the accused on that occasion. Socrates disdained +to have recourse to the usual methods adopted by the popular orators of +the day to secure an acquittal; and, having devoted his whole life to +the search after and the inculcation of religious, philosophical, and +moral truth, resolved to bear himself in this extremity in a manner +consistent with his established character, and to take his stand on his +own integrity and innocence, utterly uninfluenced by that imaginary +evil, death. From this cause it is that his defence is so little +artificial. In his discussions with others, on whatever subject, it was +his constant habit to keep his opponents to the question before them, +and he would never suffer them to evade it, but by a connected series of +the most subtle questions or arguments compelled them to retract any +erroneous opinion they might have advanced: whereas, in defending +himself, he never once fairly grapples with either of the charges +brought against him. With regard to the first accusation, that he did +not believe in the established religion, he neither confesses nor denies +it, but shews that he had in some instances conformed to the religious +customs of his country, and that he did believe in God, so much so +indeed that even if they would acquit him on condition of his abandoning +his practice of teaching others, he could not consent to such terms, but +must persevere in fulfilling the mission on which the Deity had sent +him, for that he feared God rather than man. With reference to the +second charge which he meets first, by his usual method of a brief but +close cross-examination of his accuser Melitus, he brings him to this +dilemma, that he must either charge him with corrupting the youth +designedly, which would be absurd, or with doing so undesignedly, for +which he could not be liable to punishment. + +The Defence itself properly ends with the twenty-fourth section. The +second division to the twenty-ninth section relates only to the sentence +which ought to be passed on him. And in the third and concluding part, +with a dignity and fulness of hope worthy even of a Christian, he +expresses his belief that the death to which he is going is only a +passage to a better and a happier life. + + + + + THE + + APOLOGY OF SOCRATES. + + +I know not, O Athenians, how far you have been influenced by my +accusers: for my part, in listening to them I almost forgot myself, so +plausible were their arguments: however, so to speak, they have said +nothing true. But of the many falsehoods which they uttered I wondered +at one of them especially, that in which they said that you ought to be +on your guard lest you should be deceived by me, as being eloquent in +speech. For that they are not ashamed of being forthwith convicted by me +in fact, when I shall shew that I am not by any means eloquent, this +seemed to me the most shameless thing in them, unless indeed they call +him eloquent who speaks the truth. For, if they mean this, then I would +allow that I am an orator, but not after their fashion: for they, as I +affirm, have said nothing true; but from me you shall hear the whole +truth. Not indeed, Athenians, arguments highly wrought, as theirs were, +with choice phrases and expressions, nor adorned, but you shall hear a +speech uttered without premeditation, in such words as first present +themselves. For I am confident that what I say will be just, and let +none of you expect otherwise: for surely it would not become my time of +life to come before you like a youth with a got up speech. Above all +things therefore I beg and implore this of you, O Athenians, if you hear +me defending myself in the same language as that in which I am +accustomed to speak both in the forum at the counters, where many of you +have heard me, and elsewhere, not to be surprised or disturbed on this +account. For the case is this: I now for the first time come before a +court of justice, though more than seventy years old; I am therefore +utterly a stranger to the language here. As, then, if I were really a +stranger, you would have pardoned me if I spoke in the language and the +manner in which I had been educated, so now I ask this of you as an act +of justice, as it appears to me, to disregard the manner of my speech, +for perhaps it may be somewhat worse, and perhaps better, and to +consider this only, and to give your attention to this, whether I speak +what is just or not; for this is the virtue of a judge, but of an orator +to speak the truth. + +2. First then, O Athenians, I am right in defending myself against the +first false accusations alleged against me, and my first accusers, and +then against the latest accusations, and the latest accusers. For many +have been accusers of me to you, and for many years, who have asserted +nothing true, of whom I am more afraid than of Anytus and his party, +although they too are formidable; but those are still more formidable, +Athenians, who laying hold of many of you from childhood, have persuaded +you, and accused me of what is not true:—“that there is one Socrates, a +wise man, who occupies himself about celestial matters, and has explored +every thing under the earth, and makes the worse appear the better +reason.” Those, O Athenians, who have spread abroad this report are my +formidable accusers: for they who hear them think that such as search +into these things do not believe that there are gods. In the next place, +these accusers are numerous, and have accused me now for a long time; +moreover they said these things to you at that time of life in which you +were most credulous, when you were boys and some of you youths, and they +accused me altogether in my absence, when there was no one to defend me. +But the most unreasonable thing of all is, that it is not possible to +learn and mention their names, except that one of them happens to be a +comic poet[1]. Such, however, as influenced by envy and calumny have +persuaded you, and those who, being themselves persuaded, have persuaded +others, all these are most difficult to deal with; for it is not +possible to bring any of them forward here, nor to confute any; but it +is altogether necessary, to fight as it were with a shadow, in making my +defence, and to convict when there is no one to answer. Consider, +therefore, as I have said, that my accusers are twofold, some who have +lately accused me, and others long since, whom I have made mention of; +and believe that I ought to defend myself against these first; for you +heard them accusing me first, and much more than these last. + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + Aristophanes. + +----- + +Well. I must make my defence then, O Athenians, and endeavour in this so +short a space of time to remove from your minds the calumny which you +have long entertained. I wish, indeed, it might be so, if it were at all +better both for you and me, and that in making my defence I could effect +something more advantageous still: I think however that it will be +difficult, and I am not entirely ignorant what the difficulty is. +Nevertheless let this turn out as may be pleasing to God, I must obey +the law, and make my defence. + +3. Let us then repeat from the beginning what the accusation is from +which the calumny against me has arisen, and relying on which Melitus +has preferred this indictment against me. Well. What then do they who +charge me say in their charge? For it is necessary to read their +deposition as of public accusers. “Socrates acts wickedly, and is +criminally curious in searching into things under the earth, and in the +heavens, and in making the worse appear the better cause, and in +teaching these same things to others.” Such is the accusation: for such +things you have yourselves seen in the comedy of Aristophanes, one +Socrates there carried about, saying that he walks in the air, and +acting many other buffooneries, of which I understand nothing whatever. +Nor do I say this as disparaging such a science, if there be any one +skilled in such things, only let me not be prosecuted by Melitus on a +charge of this kind; but I say it, O Athenians, because I have nothing +to do with such matters. And I call upon most of you as witnesses of +this, and require you to inform and tell each other, as many of you as +have ever heard me conversing; and there are many such among you. +Therefore tell each other, if any one of you has ever heard me +conversing little or much on such subjects. And from this you will know +that other things also, which the multitude assert of me, are of a +similar nature. + +4. However not one of these things is true; nor, if you have heard from +any one that I attempt to teach men, and require payment, is this true. +Though this indeed appears to me to be an honourable thing, if one +should be able to instruct men, like Gorgias the Leontine, Prodicus the +Cean, and Hippias the Elean. For each of these, O Athenians, is able, by +going through the several cities, to persuade the young men, who can +attach themselves gratuitously to such of their own fellow citizens as +they please, to abandon their fellow citizens and associate with them, +giving them money and thanks besides. There is also another wise man +here, a Parian, who I hear is staying in the city. For I happened to +visit a person who spends more money on the sophists than all others +together, I mean Callias, son of Hipponicus. I therefore asked him, for +he has two sons, “Callias,” I said, “if your two sons were colts or +calves, we should have had to choose a master for them and hire a person +who would make them excel in such qualities as belong to their nature: +and he would have been a groom or an agricultural labourer. But now, +since your sons are men, what master do you intend to choose for them? +Who is there skilled in the qualities that become a man and a citizen? +For I suppose you must have considered this, since you have sons. Is +there any one,” I said, “or not?” “Certainly,” he answered. “Who is he?” +said I, “and whence does he come? and on what terms does he teach?” He +replied, “Evenus the Parian, Socrates, for five minæ.” And I deemed +Evenus happy, if he really possesses this art, and teaches so admirably. +And I too should think highly of myself and be very proud, if I +possessed this knowledge; but I possess it not, O Athenians. + +5. Perhaps, one of you may now object: “But, Socrates, what have you +done then? Whence have these calumnies against you arisen? For surely if +you had not busied yourself more than others, such a report and story +would never have got abroad, unless you had done something different +from what most men do. Tell us, therefore, what it is, that we may not +pass a hasty judgment on you.” He who speaks thus appears to me to speak +justly, and I will endeavour to shew you what it is that has occasioned +me this character and imputation. Listen then: to some of you perhaps I +shall appear to jest, yet be assured that I shall tell you the whole +truth. For I, O Athenians, have acquired this character through nothing +else than a certain wisdom. Of what kind, then, is this wisdom? Perhaps +it is merely human wisdom. For in this, in truth I appear to be wise. +They probably, whom I just now mentioned, possessed a wisdom more than +human, otherwise I know not what to say about it; for I am not +acquainted with it, and whosoever says I am, speaks falsely and for the +purpose of calumniating me. But, O Athenians, do not cry out against me, +even though I should seem to you to speak somewhat arrogantly. For the +account which I am going to give you, is not my own, but I shall refer +to an authority whom you will deem worthy of credit. For I shall adduce +to you the god at Delphi as a witness of my wisdom, if I have any, and +of what it is. You doubtless know Chærepho: he was my associate from +youth, and the associate of most of you; he accompanied you in your late +exile and returned with you. You know, then, what kind of a man Chærepho +was, how earnest in whatever he undertook. Having once gone to Delphi, +he ventured to make the following inquiry of the oracle, (and, as I +said, O Athenians, do not cry out,) for he asked if there was any one +wiser than me. The Pythian thereupon answered that there was not one +wiser: and of this, his brother here will give you proofs, since he +himself is dead. + +6. Consider then why I mention these things: it is because I am going to +shew you whence the calumny against me arose. For when I heard this, I +reasoned thus with myself, What does the god mean? What enigma is this? +For I am not conscious to myself that I am wise, either much or little. +What then does he mean by saying that I am the wisest? For assuredly he +does not speak falsely: that he cannot do. And for a long time, I was in +doubt what he meant; afterwards with considerable difficulty I had +recourse to the following method of searching out his meaning. I went to +one of those who have the character of being wise, thinking that there, +if any where, I should confute the oracle, and shew in answer to the +response that This man is wiser than I, though you affirmed that I was +the wisest. Having then examined this man, (for there is no occasion to +mention his name, he was however one of our great politicians, in +examining whom I felt as I proceed to describe, O Athenians,) having +fallen into conversation with him, this man appeared to me to be wise in +the opinion of most other men, and especially in his own opinion, though +in fact he was not so. I thereupon endeavoured to shew him that he +fancied himself to be wise, but really was not. Hence I became odious +both to him, and to many others who were present. When I left him, I +reasoned thus with myself, I am wiser than this man, for neither of us +appear to know any thing great and good: but he fancies he knows +something, although he knows nothing, whereas I, as I do not know any +thing, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I +appear to be wiser than him, because I do not fancy I know what I do not +know. After that I went to another who was thought to be wiser than the +former, and formed the very same opinion. Hence I became odious to him +and to many others. + +7. After this I went to others in turn, perceiving indeed and grieving +and alarmed that I was making myself odious; however it appeared +necessary to regard the oracle of the god as of the greatest moment, and +that in order to discover its meaning, I must go to all who had the +reputation of possessing any knowledge. And by the dog, O Athenians, for +I must tell you the truth, I came to some such conclusion as this: those +who bore the highest reputation appeared to me to be most deficient, in +my researches in obedience to the god, and others who were considered +inferior, more nearly approaching to the possession of understanding. +But I must relate to you my wandering, and the labours which I +underwent, in order that the oracle might prove incontrovertible. For +after the politicians I went to the poets as well the tragic as the +dithyrambic and others, expecting that here I should in very fact find +myself more ignorant than them. Taking up, therefore, some of their +poems, which appeared to me most elaborately finished, I questioned them +as to their meaning, that at the same time I might learn something from +them. I am ashamed, O Athenians, to tell you the truth; however it must +be told. For, in a word, almost all who were present could have given a +better account of them than those by whom they had been composed. I soon +discovered this, therefore, with regard to the poets, that they do not +effect their object by wisdom, but by a certain natural inspiration and +under the influence of enthusiasm like prophets and seers; for these +also say many fine things, but they understand nothing that they say. +The poets appeared to me to be affected in a similar manner: and at the +same time I perceived that they considered themselves, on account of +their poetry, to be the wisest of men in other things, in which they +were not. I left them, therefore, under the persuasion that I was +superior to them, in the same way that I was to the politicians. + +8. At last, therefore, I went to the artizans. For I was conscious to +myself that I knew scarcely any thing, but I was sure that I should find +them possessed of much beautiful knowledge. And in this I was not +deceived; for they knew things which I did not, and in this respect they +were wiser than me. But, O Athenians, even the best workmen appeared to +me to have fallen into the same error as the poets: for each, because he +excelled in the practice of his art, thought that he was very wise in +other most important matters, and this mistake of theirs obscured the +wisdom that they really possessed. I therefore asked myself in behalf of +the oracle, whether I should prefer to continue as I am, possessing none +either of their wisdom or their ignorance, or to have both as they have. +I answered, therefore, to myself and to the oracle, that it was better +for me to continue as I am. + +9. From this investigation, then, O Athenians, many enmities have arisen +against me, and those the most grievous and severe, so that many +calumnies have sprung from them and amongst them this appellation of +being wise. For those who are from time to time present think that I am +wise in those things, with respect to which I expose the ignorance of +others. The god however, O Athenians, appears to be really wise, and to +mean this by his oracle, that human wisdom is worth little or nothing; +and it is clear that he did not say this of Socrates, but made use of my +name, putting me forward as an example, as if he had said, that man is +the wisest among you, who, like Socrates, knows that he is in reality +worth nothing with respect to wisdom. Still therefore I go about and +search and inquire into these things, in obedience to the god, both +among citizens and strangers, if I think any one of them is wise; and +when he appears to me not to be so, I take the part of the god, and shew +that he is not wise. And in consequence of this occupation I have no +leisure to attend in any considerable degree to the affairs of the state +or my own; but I am in the greatest poverty through my devotion to the +service of the god. + +10. In addition to this, young men, who have much leisure and belong to +the wealthiest families, following me of their own accord, take great +delight in hearing men put to the test, and often imitate me, and +themselves attempt to put others to the test: and then, I think, they +find a great abundance of men who fancy they know something, although +they know little or nothing. Hence those who are put to the test by them +are angry with me, and not with them, and say that “there is one +Socrates, a most pestilent fellow, who corrupts the youth.” And when any +one asks them by doing or teaching what, they have nothing to say, for +they do not know: but that they may not seem to be at a loss, they say +such things as are ready at hand against all philosophers; “that he +searches into things in heaven and things under the earth, that he does +not believe there are gods, and that he makes the worse appear the +better reason.” For they would not, I think, be willing to tell the +truth, that they have been detected in pretending to possess knowledge, +whereas they know nothing. Therefore, I think, being ambitious and +vehement and numerous, and speaking systematically and persuasively +about me, they have filled your ears, for a long time and diligently +calumniating me. From amongst these, Melitus, Anytus, and Lycon, have +attacked me; Melitus being angry on account of the poets, Anytus on +account of the artizans and politicians, and Lycon on account of the +rhetoricians. So that as I said in the beginning, I should wonder if I +were able in so short a time to remove from your minds a calumny that +has prevailed so long. This, O Athenians, is the truth: and I speak it +without concealing or disguising any thing from you, much or little; +though I very well know that by so doing I shall expose myself to odium. +This however is a proof that I speak the truth, and that this is the +nature of the calumny against me, and that these are its causes. And if +you will investigate the matter, either now or hereafter, you will find +it to be so. + +11. With respect then to the charges which my first accusers have +alleged against me, let this be a sufficient apology to you. To Melitus, +that good and patriotic man, as he says, and to my later accusers, I +will next endeavour to give an answer; and here again, as there are +different accusers let us take up their deposition. It is pretty much as +follows: “Socrates,” it says, “acts unjustly in corrupting the youth, +and in not believing in those gods in whom the city believes, but in +other strange divinities.” Such is the accusation; let us examine each +particular of it. It says that I act unjustly in corrupting the youth. +But I, O Athenians, say that Melitus acts unjustly, because he jests on +serious subjects, rashly putting men upon trial, under pretence of being +zealous and solicitous about things in which he never at any time took +any concern. But that this is the case I will endeavour to prove to you. + +12. Come then, Melitus, tell me; do you not consider it of the greatest +importance that the youth should be made as virtuous as possible? + +_Mel._ I do. + +_Socr._ Well now, tell the judges who it is that makes them better, for +it is evident that you know, since it concerns you so much: for, having +detected me in corrupting them, as you say, you have cited me here and +accused me; come then, say, and inform the judges who it is that makes +them better. Do you see, Melitus, that you are silent, and have nothing +to say? But does it not appear to you to be disgraceful and a sufficient +proof of what I say, that you never took any concern about the matter? +But tell me, friend, who makes them better? + +_Mel._ The laws. + +_Socr._ I do not ask this, most excellent sir, but what man, who surely +must first know this very thing, the laws? + +_Mel._ These, Socrates, the judges. + +_Socr._ How say you, Melitus? Are these able to instruct the youth, and +make them better? + +_Mel._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Whether all, or some of them, and others not? + +_Mel._ All. + +_Socr._ You say well, by Juno, and have found a great abundance of those +that confer benefit. But what further? Can these hearers make them +better, or not? + +_Mel._ They too can. + +_Socr._ And what of the senators? + +_Mel._ The senators also. + +_Socr._ But, Melitus, do those who attend the public assemblies corrupt +the younger men? or do they all make them better? + +_Mel._ They too. + +_Socr._ All the Athenians therefore, as it seems, make them honourable +and good, except me, but I alone corrupt them. Do you say so? + +_Mel._ I do assert this very thing. + +_Socr._ You charge me with great ill-fortune. But answer me: does it +appear to you to be the same with respect to horses? do all men make +them better, and is there only some one that spoils them? or does quite +the contrary of this take place? is there some one person who can make +them better, or very few, that is the trainers? but if the generality of +men should meddle with and make use of horses, do they spoil them? Is +not this the case, Melitus, both with respect to horses and all other +animals? It certainly is so, whether you and Anytus deny it or not. For +it would be a great good-fortune for the youth if only one person +corrupted, and the rest benefited them. However, Melitus, you have +sufficiently shewn that you never bestowed any care upon youth; and you +clearly evince your own negligence, in that you have never paid any +attention to the things with respect to which you accuse me. + +13. Tell us further, Melitus, in the name of Jupiter, whether is it +better to dwell with good or bad citizens? Answer, my friend: for I ask +you nothing difficult. Do not the bad work some evil to those that are +continually near them, but the good some good? + +_Mel._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Is there any one that wishes to be injured rather than benefited +by his associates? Answer, good man: for the law requires you to answer. +Is there any one who wishes to be injured? + +_Mel._ No, surely. + +_Socr._ Come then, whether do you accuse me here, as one that corrupts +the youth, and makes them more depraved, designedly or undesignedly? + +_Mel._ Designedly, I say. + +_Socr._ What then, Melitus, are you at your time of life so much wiser +than me at my time of life, as to know that the evil are always working +some evil to those that are most near to them, and the good some good; +but I have arrived at such a pitch of ignorance as not to know, that if +I make any one of my associates depraved, I shall be in danger of +receiving some evil from him, and yet I designedly bring about this so +great evil, as you say? In this I cannot believe you, Melitus, nor do I +think would any other man in the world: but either I do not corrupt the +youth, or if I do corrupt them, I do it undesignedly: so that in both +cases you speak falsely. But if I corrupt them undesignedly, for such +involuntary offences it is not usual to accuse one here, but to take one +apart and teach and admonish one. For it is evident that if I am taught, +I shall cease doing what I do undesignedly. But you shunned me, and were +not willing to associate with and instruct me, but you accuse me here, +where it is usual to accuse those who need punishment, and not +instruction. + +14. Thus, then, O Athenians, this now is clear that I have said, that +Melitus never paid any attention to these matters, much or little. +However tell us, Melitus, how you say I corrupt the youth? Is it not +evidently, according to the indictment which you have preferred, by +teaching them not to believe in the gods in whom the city believes, but +in other strange deities? Do you not say that by teaching these things, +I corrupt the youth? + +_Mel._ Certainly I do say so. + +_Socr._ By those very gods, therefore, Melitus, of whom the discussion +now is, speak still more clearly both to me and to these men. For I +cannot understand whether you say that I teach them to believe that +there are certain gods, (and in that case I do believe that there are +gods, and am not altogether an atheist, nor in this respect to blame,) +not however those which the city believes in, but others, and this it is +that you accuse me of, that I introduce others; or do you say outright +that I do not myself believe that there are gods, and that I teach +others the same? + +_Mel._ I say this, that you do not believe in any gods at all. + +_Socr._ O wonderful Melitus, how come you to say this? Do I not then +like the rest of mankind, believe that the sun and moon are gods? + +_Mel._ No, by Jupiter, O judges: for he says that the sun is a stone, +and the moon an earth. + +_Socr._ You fancy that you are accusing Anaxagoras, my dear Melitus, and +thus you put a slight on these men, and suppose them to be so +illiterate, as not to know that the books of Anaxagoras of Clazomene are +full of such assertions. And the young, moreover, learn these things +from me, which they might purchase for a drachma, at most, in the +orchestra, and so ridicule Socrates, if he pretended they were his own, +especially since they are so absurd? I ask then, by Jupiter, do I appear +to you to believe that there is no god? + +_Mel._ No, by Jupiter, none whatever. + +_Socr._ You say what is incredible, Melitus, and that, as appears to me, +even to yourself. For this man, O Athenians, appears to me to be very +insolent and intemperate, and to have preferred this indictment through +downright insolence, intemperance and wantonness. For he seems, as it +were, to have composed an enigma for the purpose of making an +experiment. Whether will Socrates the wise know that I am jesting, and +contradict myself, or shall I deceive him and all who hear me? For in my +opinion he clearly contradicts himself in the indictment, as if he +should say, Socrates is guilty of wrong in not believing that there are +gods, and in believing that there are gods. And this, surely, is the act +of one who is trifling. + +5. Consider with me now, Athenians, in what respect he appears to me to +say so. And do you, Melitus, answer me; and do ye, as I besought you at +the outset, remember not to make an uproar if I speak after my usual +manner. + +Is there any man, Melitus, who believes that there are human affairs, +but does not believe that there are men? Let him answer, judges, and not +make so much noise. Is there any one who does not believe that there are +horses, but that there are things pertaining to horses? or who does not +believe that there are pipers, but that there are things pertaining to +pipes? There is not, O best of men: for since you are not willing to +answer, I say it to you and to all here present. But answer to this at +least: is there any one who believes that there are things relating to +demons, but does not believe that there are demons? + +_Mel._ There is not. + +_Socr._ How obliging you are in having hardly answered, though compelled +by these judges. You assert then that I do believe and teach things +relating to demons, whether they be new or old; therefore, according to +your admission, I do believe in things relating to demons, and this you +have sworn in the bill of indictment. If then I believe in things +relating to demons, there is surely an absolute necessity that I should +believe that there are demons. Is it not so? It is. For I suppose you to +assent, since you do not answer. But with respect to demons, do we not +allow that they are gods, or the children of gods? Do you admit this or +not? + +_Mel._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Since then I allow that there are demons as you admit, if demons +are a kind of gods, this is the point in which I say you speak +enigmatically and divert yourself in saying that I do not allow there +are gods, and again that I do allow there are, since I allow that there +are demons? But if demons are the children of gods, spurious ones, +either from nymphs or any others, of whom they are reported to be, what +man can think that there are sons of gods, and yet that there are not +gods? For it would be just as absurd, as if any one should think that +there are mules the offspring of horses and asses, but should not think +there are horses and asses. However, Melitus, it cannot be otherwise +than that you have preferred this indictment for the purpose of trying +me, or because you were at a loss what real crime to allege against me: +for that you should persuade any man who has the smallest degree of +sense, that the same person can think that there are things relating to +demons and to gods, and yet that there are neither demons, nor gods, nor +heroes, is utterly impossible. + +16. That I am not guilty then, O Athenians, according to the indictment +of Melitus, appears to me not to require a lengthened defence; but what +I have said is sufficient. And as to what I said at the beginning, that +there is a great enmity towards me among the multitude, be assured it is +true. And this it is which will condemn me, if I am condemned, not +Melitus, nor Anytus, but the calumny and envy of the multitude, which +have already condemned many others, and those good men, and will I think +condemn others also; for there is no danger that it will stop with me. + +Perhaps, however, some one may say, “Are you not ashamed, Socrates, to +have pursued a study, from which you are now in danger of dying?” To +such a person I should answer with good reason, You do not say well, +friend, if you think that a man, who is even of the least value, ought +to take into the account the risk of life or death, and ought not to +consider that alone when he performs any action, whether he is acting +justly or unjustly, and the part of a good man or bad man. For according +to your reasoning, all those demi-gods that died at Troy would be vile +characters, as well all the rest as the son of Thetis, who so far +despised danger in comparison of submitting to disgrace, that when his +mother, who was a goddess, spoke to him, in his impatience to kill +Hector, something to this effect, as I think[2], “My son, if you revenge +the death of your friend Patroclus, and slay Hector, you will yourself +die, for,” she said, “death awaits you immediately after Hector.” But +he, on hearing this, despised death and danger, and dreading much more +to live as a coward, and not avenge his friends said; “May I die +immediately, when I have inflicted punishment on the guilty, that I may +not stay here an object of ridicule, by the curved ships, a burden to +the ground?” Do you think that he cared for death and danger? For thus +it is, O Athenians, in truth; wherever any one has posted himself, +either thinking it to be better, or has been posted by his chief, there, +as it appears to me, he ought to remain and meet danger, taking no +account either of death or any thing else in comparison with disgrace. + +----- + +Footnote 2: + + Iliad, lib. xviii. ver. 94, &c. + +----- + +17. I then should be acting strangely, O Athenians, if, when the +generals whom you chose to command me assigned me my post at Potidæa, at +Amphipolis, and at Delium, I then remained where they posted me, like +any other person, and encountered the danger of death, but when the +deity as I thought and believed, assigned it as my duty to pass my life +in the study of philosophy, and in examining myself and others, I should +on that occasion, through fear of death or any thing else whatsoever, +desert my post. Strange indeed would it be, and then in truth any one +might justly bring me to trial, and accuse me of not believing in the +gods, from disobeying the oracle, fearing death, and thinking myself to +be wise when I am not. For to fear death, O Athenians, is nothing else +than to appear to be wise, without being so; for it is to appear to know +what one does not know. For no one knows but that death is the greatest +of all goods to man; but men fear it, as if they well knew that it is +the greatest of evils. And how is not this the most reprehensible +ignorance, to think that one knows what one does not know? But I, O +Athenians, in this perhaps differ from most men; and if I should say +that I am in any thing wiser than another, it would be in this, that not +having a competent knowledge of the things in Hades, I also think that I +have not such knowledge. But to act unjustly, and to disobey my +superior, whether God or man, I know is evil and base. I shall never, +therefore, fear or shun things which, for aught I know, may be good, +before evils which I know to be evils. So that even if you should now +dismiss me, not yielding to the instances of Anytus, who said that +either I should not[3] appear here at all, or that, if I did appear, it +was impossible not to put me to death, telling you that if I escaped, +your sons, studying what Socrates teaches, would all be utterly +corrupted; if you should address me thus, “Socrates, we shall not now +yield to Anytus, but dismiss you, on this condition however, that you no +longer persevere in your researches nor study philosophy, and if +hereafter you are detected in so doing, you shall die,”—if, as I said, +you should dismiss me on these terms, I should say to you: “O Athenians, +I honour and love you: but I shall obey God rather than you; and as long +as I breathe and am able, I shall not cease studying philosophy, and +exhorting you and warning any one of you I may happen to meet, saying as +I have been accustomed to do: ‘O best of men, seeing you are an +Athenian, of a city the most powerful and most renowned for wisdom and +strength, are you not ashamed of being careful for riches, how you may +acquire them in greatest abundance, and for glory and honour, but care +not nor take any thought for wisdom and truth, and for your soul, how it +may be made most perfect?’” And if any one of you should question my +assertion, and affirm that he does care for these things, I shall not at +once let him go, nor depart, but I shall question him, sift and prove +him. And if he should appear to me not to possess virtue, but to pretend +that he does, I shall reproach him for that he sets the least value on +things of the greatest worth, but the highest on things that are +worthless. Thus I shall act to all whom I meet, both young and old, +stranger and citizen, but rather to you my fellow citizens, because ye +are more nearly allied to me. For be well assured, this the deity +commands. And I think that no greater good has ever befallen you in the +city, than my zeal for the service of the god. For I go about doing +nothing else than persuading you, both young and old, to take no care +either for the body, or for riches, prior to or so much as for the soul, +how it may be made most perfect, telling you that virtue does not spring +from riches, but riches and all other human blessings, both private and +public, from virtue. If, then, by saying these things, I corrupt the +youth, these things must be mischievous; but if any one says that I +speak other things than these, he misleads you[4]. Therefore I must say, +O Athenians, either yield to Anytus or do not, either dismiss me or not, +since I shall not act otherwise, even though I must die many deaths. + +----- + +Footnote 3: + + See the Crito, s. 5. + +Footnote 4: + + Οὐδὲν λέγει, literally “he says nothing:” on se trompe, ou l’on vous + impose, _Cousin_. + +----- + +18. Murmur not, O Athenians, but continue to attend to my request, not +to murmur at what I say, but to listen, for as I think, you will derive +benefit from listening. For I am going to say other things to you, at +which perhaps you will raise a clamour; but on no account do so. Be well +assured, then, if you put me to death, being such a man as I say I am, +you will not injure me more than yourselves. For neither will Melitus +nor Anytus harm me; nor have they the power: for I do not think that it +is possible for a better man to be injured by a worse. He may perhaps +have me condemned to death, or banished or deprived of civil rights; and +he or others may perhaps consider these as mighty evils: I however do +not consider them so, but that it is much more so to do what he is now +doing, to endeavour to put a man to death unjustly. Now, therefore, O +Athenians, I am far from making a defence on my own behalf, as any one +might think, but I do so on your behalf, lest by condemning me you +should offend at all with respect to the gift of the deity to you. For, +if you should put me to death, you will not easily find such another, +though it may be ridiculous to say so, altogether attached by the deity +to this city as to a powerful and generous horse, somewhat sluggish from +his size, and requiring to be roused by a gad-fly; so the deity appears +to have united me, being such a person as I am, to the city, that I may +rouse you, and persuade and reprove every one of you, nor ever cease +besetting you throughout the whole day. Such another man, O Athenians, +will not easily be found, therefore, if you will take my advice, you +will spare me. But you, perhaps, being irritated, like drowsy persons +who are roused from sleep, will strike me, and, yielding to Anytus, will +unthinkingly condemn me to death; and then you will pass the rest of +your life in sleep, unless the deity, caring for you, should send some +one else to you. But that I am a person who has been given by the deity +to this city, you may discern from hence; for it is not like the +ordinary conduct of men, that I should have neglected all my own affairs +and suffered my private interest to be neglected for so many years, and +that I should constantly attend to your concerns, addressing myself to +each of you separately, like a father, or elder brother, persuading you +to the pursuit of virtue. And if I had derived any profit from this +course, and had received pay for my exhortations, there would have been +some reason for my conduct; but now you see yourselves, that my +accusers, who have so shamelessly calumniated me in every thing else, +have not had the impudence to charge me with this, and to bring +witnesses to prove that I ever either exacted or demanded any reward. +And I think I produce a sufficient proof that I speak the truth, +_namely_, my poverty. + +19. Perhaps, however, it may appear absurd, that I, going about, thus +advise you in private and make myself busy, but never venture to present +myself in public before your assemblies and give advice to the city. The +cause of this is that which you have often and in many places heard me +mention: because I am moved by a certain divine and spiritual influence, +which also Melitus, through mockery, has set out in the indictment. This +began with me from childhood, being a kind of voice which, when present, +always diverts me from what I am about to do, but never urges me on. +This it is which opposed my meddling in public politics; and it appears +to me to have opposed me very properly. For be well assured, O +Athenians, if I had long since attempted to intermeddle with politics, I +should have perished long ago, and should not have at all benefited you +or myself. And be not angry with me for speaking the truth. For it is +not possible that any man should be safe, who sincerely opposes either +you, or any other multitude, and who prevents many unjust and illegal +actions from being committed in a city; but it is necessary that he who +in earnest contends for justice, if he will be safe for but a short +time, should live privately, and take no part in public affairs. + +20. I will give you strong proofs of this, not words, but, what you +value, facts. Hear then what has happened to me, that you may know that +I would not yield to any one contrary to what is just, through fear of +death, at the same time that, by not yielding, I must perish. I shall +tell you what will be displeasing and wearisome[5], yet true. For I, O +Athenians, never bore any other magisterial office in the city, but have +been a senator: and our Antiochean tribe happened to supply the Prytanes +when you chose to condemn in a body the ten generals, who had not taken +off those that perished in the sea-fight, in violation of the law, as +you afterwards all thought. At that time I alone of the Prytanes opposed +your doing any thing contrary to the laws, and I voted against you; and +when the orators were ready to denounce me, and to carry me before a +magistrate, and you urged and cheered them on, I thought I ought rather +to meet the danger with law and justice on my side, than through fear of +imprisonment or death to take part with you in your unjust designs. And +this happened while the city was governed by a democracy. But when it +became an oligarchy, the Thirty, having sent for me with four others to +the Tholus, ordered us to bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, that +he might be put to death; and they gave many similar orders to many +others, wishing to involve as many as they could in guilt. Then however +I shewed, not in word but in deed, that I did not care for death, if the +expression be not too rude, in the smallest degree, but that all my care +was to do nothing unjust or unholy. For that government, strong as it +was, did not so overawe me as to make me commit an unjust action; but +when we came out from the Tholus, the four went to Salamis, and brought +back Leon; but I went away home. And perhaps for this I should have been +put to death, if that government had not been speedily broken up. And of +this you can have many witnesses. + +----- + +Footnote 5: + + But for the authority of Stallbaum, I should have translated δικανικὰ + “forensic,” that is, such arguments as an advocate would use in a + court of justice. + +----- + +21. Do you think, then, that I should have survived so many years, if I +had engaged in public affairs, and, acting as becomes a good man, had +aided the cause of justice, and, as I ought, had deemed this of the +highest importance? Far from it, O Athenians: nor would any other man +have done so. But I, through the whole of my life, if I have done any +thing in public, shall be found to be a man, and the very same in +private, who has never made a concession to any one contrary to justice, +neither to any other, nor to any one of these whom my calumniators say +are my disciples. I however was never the preceptor of any one; but if +any one desired to hear me speaking and to see me busied about my own +mission, whether he were young or old, I never refused him. Nor do I +discourse when I receive money, and not when I do not receive any, but I +allow both rich and poor alike to question me, and, if any one wishes +it, to answer me and hear what I have to say. And for these, whether any +one proves to be a good man or not, I cannot justly be responsible, +because I never either promised them any instruction or taught them at +all. But if any one says that he has ever learnt or heard any thing from +me in private, which all others have not, be well assured that he does +not speak the truth. + +22. But why do some delight to spend so long a time with me? Ye have +heard, O Athenians. I have told you the whole truth, that they delight +to hear those closely questioned who think that they are wise but are +not: for this is by no means disagreeable. But this duty, as I say, has +been enjoined me by the deity, by oracles, by dreams, and by every mode +by which any other divine decree has ever enjoined any thing to man to +do. These things, O Athenians, are both true, and easily confuted if not +true. For if I am now corrupting some of the youths, and have already +corrupted others, it were fitting, surely, that if any of them, having +become advanced in life, had discovered that I gave them bad advice when +they were young, they should now rise up against me, accuse me, and have +me punished; or if they were themselves unwilling to do this, some of +their kindred, their fathers, or brothers, or other relatives, if their +kinsmen have ever sustained any damage from me, should now call it to +mind. Many of them however are here present, whom I see: first, Crito, +my contemporary and fellow-burgher, father of this Critobulus; then, +Lysanias of Sphettus, father of this Æschines; again, Antiphon of +Cephisus, father of Epigenes; there are those others too, whose brothers +maintained the same intimacy with me, namely, Nicostratus, son of +Theosdotidus, brother of Theodotus—Theodotus indeed is dead, so that he +could not deprecate his brother’s proceedings, and Paralus here, son of +Demodocus, whose brother was Theages; and Adimantus son of Ariston, +whose brother is this Plato; and Æantodorus, whose brother is this +Apollodorus. I could also mention many others to you, some one of whom +certainly Melitus ought to have adduced in his speech as a witness. If +however he then forgot to do so, let him now adduce them, I give him +leave to do so, and let him say it, if he has any thing of the kind to +allege. But quite contrary to this, you will find, O Athenians, all +ready to assist me, who have corrupted and injured their relatives, as +Melitus and Anytus say. For those who have been themselves corrupted +might perhaps have some reason for assisting me; but those who have not +been corrupted, men now advanced in life, their relatives, what other +reason can they have for assisting me, except that right and just one, +that they know that Melitus speaks falsely, and that I speak the truth. + +23. Well then, Athenians; these are pretty much the things I have to say +in my defence, and others perhaps of the same kind. Perhaps, however, +some among you will be indignant on recollecting his own case, if he, +when engaged in a cause far less than this, implored and besought the +judges with many tears, bringing forward his children in order that he +might excite their utmost compassion, and many others of his relatives +and friends, whereas I do none of these things, although I may appear to +be incurring the extremity of danger. Perhaps, therefore, some one, +taking notice of this, may become more determined against me, and, being +enraged at this very conduct of mine, may give his vote under the +influence of anger. If then any one of you is thus affected,—I do not +however suppose that there is,—but if there should be, I think I may +reasonably say to him; “I too, O best of men, have relatives; for to +make use of that saying of Homer, I am not sprung from an oak, nor from +a rock, but from men, so that I too, O Athenians, have relatives, and +three sons, one now grown up, and two boys: I shall not however bring +any one of them forward and implore you to acquit me. Why then shall I +not do this? Not from contumacy, O Athenians, nor disrespect towards +you. Whether or not I am undaunted at the prospect of death, is another +question, but out of regard to my own character, and yours, and that of +the whole city, it does not appear to me to be honourable that I should +do any thing of this kind at my age, and with the reputation I have, +whether true or false. For it is commonly agreed that Socrates in some +respects excels the generality of men. If, then, those among you who +appear to excel either in wisdom, or fortitude, or any other virtue +whatsoever, should act in such a manner as I have often seen some when +they have been brought to trial, it would be shameful, who appearing +indeed to be something, have conducted themselves in a surprising +manner, as thinking they should suffer something dreadful by dying, and +as if they would be immortal if you did not put them to death. Such men +appear to me to bring disgrace on the city, so that any stranger might +suppose that such of the Athenians as excel in virtue, and whom they +themselves choose in preference to themselves for magistracies and other +honours, are in no respect superior to women. For these things, O +Athenians, neither ought we to do who have attained to any height of +reputation, nor, should we do them, ought you to suffer us; but you +should make this manifest, that you will much rather condemn him who +introduces these piteous dramas, and makes the city ridiculous, than him +who quietly awaits your decision.” + +24. But reputation apart, O Athenians, it does not appear to me to be +right to entreat a judge, or to escape by entreaty, but one ought to +inform and persuade him. For a judge does not sit for the purpose of +administering justice out of favour, but that he may judge rightly, and +he is sworn not to shew favour to whom he pleases, but that he will +decide according to the laws. It is therefore right that neither should +we accustom you, nor should you accustom yourselves to violate your +oaths; for in so doing neither of us would act righteously. Think not +then, O Athenians, that I ought to adopt such a course towards you as I +neither consider honourable, nor just, nor holy, as well, by Jupiter, on +any other occasion, and now especially when I am accused of impiety by +this Melitus. For clearly, if I should persuade you, and by my +entreaties should put a constraint on you who are bound by an oath, I +should teach you to think that there are no gods, and in reality, while +making my defence, should accuse myself of not believing in the gods. +This, however, is far from being the case: for I believe, O Athenians, +as none of my accusers do, and I leave it to you and to the deity to +judge concerning me in such way as will be best both for me and for you. + +[Socrates here concludes his defence, and the votes being taken, he is +declared guilty by a majority of voices. He thereupon resumes his +address.] + +25. That I should not be grieved, O Athenians, at what has happened, +namely, that you have condemned me, as well many other circumstances +concur in bringing to pass, and moreover this, that what has happened +has not happened contrary to my expectation; but I much rather wonder at +the number of votes on either side. For I did not expect that I should +be condemned by so small a number, but by a large majority; but now, as +it seems, if only three more votes had changed sides, I should have been +acquitted. As far as Melitus is concerned, as it appears to me, I have +been already acquitted, and not only have I been acquitted, but it is +clear to every one that had not Anytus and Lycon come forward to accuse +me, he would have been fined a thousand drachmas, for not having +obtained a fifth part of the votes. + +26. The man then awards me the penalty of death. Well. But what shall I, +on my part, O Athenians, award myself? Is it not clear that it will be +such as I deserve? What then is that? do I deserve to suffer or to pay a +fine, for that I have purposely during my life not remained quiet, but +neglecting what most men seek after, money-making, domestic concerns, +military command, popular oratory, and moreover all the magistracies, +conspiracies and cabals that are met with in the city, thinking that I +was in reality too upright a man to be safe if I took part in such +things, I therefore did not apply myself to those pursuits, by attending +to which I should have been of no service either to you or to myself; +but in order to confer the greatest benefit on each of you privately, as +I affirm, I thereupon applied myself to that object, endeavouring to +persuade every one of you, not to take any care of his own affairs, +before he had taken care of himself, in what way he may become the best +and wisest, nor of the affairs of the city before he took care of the +city itself; and that he should attend to other things in the same +manner. What treatment then do I deserve, seeing I am such a man? Some +reward, O Athenians, if at least I am to be estimated according to my +real deserts; and moreover such a reward as would be suitable to me. +What then is suitable to a poor man, a benefactor, and who has need of +leisure in order to give you good advice? There is nothing so suitable, +O Athenians, as that such a man should be maintained in the Prytaneum, +and this much more than if one of you had been victorious at the Olympic +games in a horse race, or in the two or four-horsed chariot race: for +such a one makes you appear to be happy, but I, to be so: and he does +not need support, but I do. If, therefore, I must award a sentence +according to my just deserts, I award this, maintenance in the +Prytaneum. + +27. Perhaps, however, in speaking to you thus, I appear to you to speak +in the same presumptuous manner as I did respecting commiseration and +entreaties: but such is not the case, O Athenians, it is rather this. I +am persuaded that I never designedly injured any man, though I cannot +persuade you of this, for we have conversed with each other but for a +short time. For if there was the same law with you as with other men, +that in capital cases the trial should last not only one day but many, I +think you would be persuaded; but it is not easy in a short time to do +away with great calumnies. Being persuaded then that I have injured no +one, I am far from intending to injure myself, and of pronouncing +against myself that I am deserving of punishment, and from awarding +myself any thing of the kind. Through fear of what? lest I should suffer +that which Melitus awards me, of which I say I know not whether it be +good or evil? instead of this, shall I choose what I well know to be +evil, and award that? Shall I choose imprisonment? And why should I live +in prison, a slave to the established magistracy, the Eleven? Shall I +choose a fine, and to be imprisoned until I have paid it? But this is +the same as that which I just now mentioned, for I have not money to pay +it. Shall I then award myself exile? For perhaps you would consent to +this award. I should indeed be very fond of life, O Athenians, if I were +so devoid of reason as not to be able to reflect that you, who are my +fellow citizens, have been unable to endure my manner of life and +discourses, but they have become so burdensome and odious to you, that +you now seek to be rid of them: others however will easily bear them: +far from it, O Athenians. A fine life it would be for me at my age to go +out wandering and driven from city to city, and so to live. For I well +know that, wherever I may go, the youth will listen to me when I speak, +as they do here. And if I repulse them, they will themselves drive me +out, persuading the elders; and if I do not repulse them, their fathers +and kindred will banish me on their account. + +28. Perhaps however some one will say, Can you not, Socrates, when you +have gone from us, live a silent and quiet life? This is the most +difficult thing of all to persuade some of you. For if I say that that +would be to disobey the deity, and that therefore it is impossible for +me to live quietly, you would not believe me, thinking I spoke +ironically. If, on the other hand, I say that this is the greatest good +to man, to discourse daily on virtue, and other things which you have +heard me discussing, examining both myself and others, but that a life +without investigation is not worth living for, still less would you +believe me if I said this. Such however is the case, as I affirm, O +Athenians, though it is not easy to persuade you. And at the same time I +am not accustomed to think myself deserving of any ill. If indeed I were +rich, I would amerce myself in such a sum as I should be able to pay; +for then I should have suffered no harm, but now—for I cannot, unless +you are willing to amerce me in such a sum as I am able to pay. But +perhaps I could pay you a mina of silver: in that sum then I amerce +myself. But Plato here, O Athenians, and Crito, Critobulus, and +Apollodorus bid me amerce myself in thirty minæ, and they offer to be +sureties. I amerce myself then to you in that sum; and they will be +sufficient sureties for the money. + +[The judges now proceeded to pass the sentence, and condemned Socrates +to death; whereupon he continued:] + +29. For the sake of no long space of time, O Athenians, you will incur +the character and reproach at the hands of those who wish to defame the +city, of having put that wise man, Socrates, to death. For those who +wish to defame you will assert that I am wise, though I am not. If, +then, you had waited for a short time, this would have happened of its +own accord; for observe my age, that it is far advanced in life, and +near death. But I say this not to you all, but to those only who have +condemned me to die. And I say this too to the same persons. Perhaps you +think, O Athenians, that I have been convicted through the want of +arguments, by which I might have persuaded you, had I thought it right +to do and say any thing, so that I might escape punishment. Far +otherwise: I have been convicted through want indeed, yet not of +arguments, but of audacity and impudence, and of the inclination to say +such things to you as would have been most agreeable for you to hear, +had I lamented and bewailed and done and said many other things unworthy +of me, as I affirm, but such as you are accustomed to hear from others. +But neither did I then think that I ought, for the sake of avoiding +danger, to do any thing unworthy of a freeman, nor do I now repent of +having so defended myself; but I should much rather choose to die, +having so defended myself, than to live in that way. For neither in a +trial nor in battle, is it right that I or any one else should employ +every possible means whereby he may avoid death; for in battle it is +frequently evident that a man might escape death by laying down his +arms, and throwing himself on the mercy of his pursuers. And there are +many other devices in every danger, by which to avoid death, if a man +dares to do and say every thing. But this is not difficult, O Athenians, +to escape death, but it is much more difficult to avoid depravity, for +it runs swifter than death. And now I, being slow and aged, am overtaken +by the slower of the two; but my accusers, being strong and active, have +been overtaken by the swifter, wickedness. And now I depart, condemned +by you to death; but they condemned by truth, as guilty of iniquity and +injustice: and I abide my sentence and so do they. These things, +perhaps, ought so to be, and I think that they are for the best. + +30. In the next place, I desire to predict to you who have condemned me, +what will be your fate: for I am now in that condition in which men most +frequently prophecy, namely, when they are about to die. I say then to +you, O Athenians, who have condemned me to death, that immediately after +my death a punishment will overtake you, far more severe, by Jupiter, +than that which you have inflicted on me. For you have done this, +thinking you should be freed from the necessity of giving an account of +your life. The very contrary however, as I affirm, will happen to you. +Your accusers will be more numerous, whom I have now restrained, though +you did not perceive it; and they will be more severe, inasmuch as they +are younger, and you will be more indignant. For, if you think that by +putting men to death you will restrain any one from upbraiding you +because you do not live well, you are much mistaken; for this method of +escape is neither possible nor honourable, but that other is most +honourable and most easy, not to put a check upon others, but for a man +to take heed to himself, how he may be most perfect. Having predicted +thus much to those of you who have condemned me, I take my leave of you. + +31. But with you who have voted for my acquittal, I would gladly hold +converse on what has now taken place, while the magistrates are busy and +I am not yet carried to the place where I must die. Stay with me then, +so long, O Athenians, for nothing hinders our conversing with each +other, whilst we are permitted to do so; for I wish to make known to +you, as being my friends, the meaning of that which has just now +befallen me. To me then, O my judges,—and in calling you judges I call +you rightly,—a strange thing has happened. For the wonted prophetic +voice of my guardian deity, on every former occasion even in the most +trifling affairs opposed me, if I was about to do any thing wrong; but +now, that has befallen me which ye yourselves behold, and which any one +would think and which is supposed to be the extremity of evil, yet +neither when I departed from home in the morning did the warning of the +god oppose me, nor when I came up here to the place of trial, nor in my +address when I was about to say any thing; yet on other occasions it has +frequently restrained me in the midst of speaking. But now, it has never +throughout this proceeding opposed me, either in what I did or said. +What then do I suppose to be the cause of this? I will tell you: what +has befallen me appears to be a blessing; and it is impossible that we +think rightly who suppose that death is an evil. A great proof of this +to me is the fact that it is impossible but that the accustomed signal +should have opposed me, unless I had been about to meet with some good. + +32. Moreover we may hence conclude that there is great hope that death +is a blessing. For to die is one of two things: for either the dead may +be annihilated and have no sensation of any thing whatever; or, as it is +said, there is a certain change and passage of the soul from one place +to another. And if it is a privation of all sensation, as it were a +sleep in which the sleeper has no dream, death would be a wonderful +gain. For I think that if any one, having selected a night, in which he +slept so soundly as not to have had a dream, and having compared this +night with all the other nights and days of his life, should be required +on consideration to say how many days and nights he had passed better +and more pleasantly than this night throughout his life, I think that +not only a private person, but even the great king himself would find +them easy to number in comparison with other days and nights. If, +therefore, death is a thing of this kind, I say it is a gain; for thus +all futurity appears to be nothing more than one night. But if, on the +other hand, death is a removal from hence to another place, and what is +said be true, that all the dead are there, what greater blessing can +there be than this, my judges? For if, on arriving at Hades, released +from these who pretend to be judges, one shall find those who are true +judges, and who are said to judge there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, Æacus +and Triptolemus, and such others of the demigods as were just during +their own life, would this be a sad removal? At what price would you not +estimate a conference with Orpheus and Musæus, Hesiod and Homer? I +indeed should be willing to die often, if this be true. For to me the +sojourn there would be admirable, when I should meet with Palamedes, and +Ajax son of Telamon, and any other of the ancients who has died by an +unjust sentence. The comparing my sufferings with theirs would, I think, +be no unpleasing occupation. But the greatest pleasure would be to spend +my time in questioning and examining the people there as I have done +those here, and discovering who among them is wise, and who fancies +himself to be so but is not. At what price, my judges, would not any one +estimate the opportunity of questioning him who led that mighty army +against Troy, or Ulysses, or Sisyphus, or ten thousand others, whom one +might mention, both men and women? with whom to converse and associate, +and to question them, would be an inconceivable happiness. Surely for +that the judges there do not condemn to death; for in other respects +those who live there are more happy than those that are here, and are +henceforth immortal, if at least what is said be true. + +33. You, therefore, O my judges, ought to entertain good hopes with +respect to death, and to meditate on this one truth, that to a good man +nothing is evil, neither while living nor when dead, nor are his +concerns neglected by the gods. And what has befallen me is not the +effect of chance; but this is clear to me, that now to die, and be freed +from my cares, is better for me. On this account the warning in no way +turned me aside; and I bear no resentment towards those who condemned +me, or against my accusers, although they did not condemn and accuse me +with this intention, but thinking to injure me: in this they deserve to +be blamed. + +Thus much however I beg of them. Punish my sons, when they grow up, O +judges, paining them as I have pained you, if they appear to you to care +for riches or any thing else before virtue, and if they think themselves +to be something when they are nothing, reproach them as I have done you, +for not attending to what they ought, and for conceiving themselves to +be something when they are worth nothing. If ye do this, both I and my +sons shall have met with just treatment at your hands. + +But it is now time to depart,—for me to die, for you to live. But which +of us is going to a better state is unknown to every one but God. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE CRITO. + + +It has been remarked by Stallbaum that Plato had a twofold design in +this Dialogue; one, and that the primary one, to free Socrates from the +imputation of having attempted to corrupt the Athenian youth; the other, +to establish the principle that under all circumstances it is the duty +of a good citizen to obey the laws of his country. These two points, +however, are so closely interwoven with each other, that the general +principle appears only to be illustrated by the example of Socrates. + +Crito was one of those friends of Socrates who had been present at his +trial and had offered to assist in paying a fine, had a fine been +imposed instead of the sentence of death. He appears to have frequently +visited his friend in prison after his condemnation, and now, having +obtained access to his cell very early in the morning, finds him +composed in a quiet sleep. He brings intelligence that the ship, the +arrival of which would be the signal for his death on the following day, +is expected to arrive forthwith, and takes occasion to entreat Socrates +to make his escape, the means of which were already prepared. Socrates +thereupon, having promised to follow the advice of Crito, if after the +matter had been fully discussed it should appear to be right to do so, +proposes to consider the duty of a citizen towards his country, and +having established the divine principle, that it is wrong to return evil +for evil, goes on to shew that the obligations of a citizen to his +country are even more binding than those of a child to its parent or a +slave to his master, and that therefore it is his duty to obey the +established laws, at whatever cost to himself. + +At length Crito admits that he has no answer to make, and Socrates +resolves to submit himself to the will of Providence. + + + + + CRITO; + + OR + + THE DUTY OF A CITIZEN. + + ------- + + SOCRATES, CRITO. + + +_Socr._ Why have you come at this hour, Crito? Is it not very early? + +_Cri._ It is. + +_Socr._ About what time? + +_Cri._ Scarce day-break. + +_Socr._ I wonder how the keeper of the prison came to admit you. + +_Cri._ He is familiar with me, Socrates, from my having frequently come +hither; and he is under some obligations to me. + +_Socr._ Have you just now come, or some time since? + +_Cri._ A considerable time since. + +_Socr._ Why then did you not wake me at once, instead of sitting down by +me in silence? + +_Cri._ By Jupiter, Socrates, I should not myself like to be so long +awake and in such affliction. But I have been for some time wondering at +you, perceiving how sweetly you slept; and I purposely did not awake +you, that you might pass your time as pleasantly as possible. And indeed +I have often before throughout your whole life considered you happy in +your disposition, but far more so in the present calamity, seeing how +easily and meekly you bear it. + +_Socr._ However, Crito, it would be disconsonant for a man at my time of +life to repine because he must needs die. + +_Cri._ But others, Socrates, at your age have been involved in similar +calamities, yet their age has not hindered their repining at their +present fortune. + +_Socr._ So it is. But why did you come so early? + +_Cri._ Bringing sad tidings, Socrates; not sad to you, as it appears, +but to me and all your friends sad and heavy; and which I, I think, +shall bear worst of all. + +_Socr._ What tidings? Has the ship[6] arrived from Delos, on the arrival +of which I must die? + +----- + +Footnote 6: + + See the Phædo, s. 1. + +----- + +_Cri._ It has not yet arrived; but it appears to me that it will come +to-day, from what certain persons report who have come from Sunium[7], +and left it there. It is clear, therefore, from these messengers, that +it will come to-day, and consequently it will be necessary, Socrates, +for you to die to-morrow. + +----- + +Footnote 7: + + A promontory at the southern extremity of Attica. + +----- + +2. _Socr._ But with good fortune, Crito: and if so it please the gods, +so be it. I do not think, however, that it will come to-day. + +_Cri._ Whence do you form this conjecture? + +_Socr._ I will tell you. I must die on the day after that on which the +ship arrives. + +_Cri._ So they say[8] who have the control of these things. + +----- + +Footnote 8: + + The Eleven. + +----- + +_Socr._ I do not think, then, that it will come to-day, but to-morrow. I +conjecture this from a dream which I had this very night, not long ago; +and you seem very opportunely to have refrained from waking me. + +_Cri._ But what was this dream? + +_Socr._ A beautiful and majestic woman, clad in white garments, seemed +to approach me, and to call to me and say, “Socrates, three days hence +you will reach fertile Phthia[9].” + +----- + +Footnote 9: + + See Homer’s Iliad, l. ix. v. 363. + +----- + +_Cri._ What a strange dream, Socrates! + +_Socr._ Very clear, however, as it appears to me, Crito. + +3. _Cri._ Very much so, as it seems. But, my dear Socrates, even now be +persuaded by me, and save yourself. For, if you die, not only a single +calamity will befal me, but besides being deprived of such a friend as I +shall never meet with again, I shall also appear to many who do not know +you and me well, when I might have saved you, had I been willing to +spend my money, to have neglected to do so. And what character can be +more disgraceful than this to appear to value one’s riches more than +one’s friends? For the generality of men will not be persuaded that you +were unwilling to depart hence, when we urged you to it. + +_Socr._ But why, my dear Crito, should we care so much for the opinion +of the many? For the most worthy men, whom we ought rather to regard, +will think that matters have transpired as they really have. + +_Cri._ Yet you see, Socrates, that it is necessary to attend to the +opinion of the many. For the very circumstances of the present case shew +that the multitude are able to effect not only the smallest evils, but +even the greatest, if any one is calumniated to them. + +_Socr._ Would, O Crito, that the multitude could effect the greatest +evils, that they might also effect the greatest good, for then it would +be well. But now they can do neither; for they can neither make a man +wise, nor foolish; but they do whatever chances. + +4. _Cri._ So let it be then. But answer me this, Socrates; are you not +anxious for me and other friends, lest, if you should escape from hence, +informers should give us trouble, as having secretly carried you off, +and so we should be compelled either to lose all our property, or a very +large sum, or to suffer something else beside this? For, if you fear any +thing of the kind, dismiss your fears. For we are justified in running +this risk to save you, and, if need be, even a greater than this. But be +persuaded by me, and do not refuse. + +_Socr._ I am anxious about this, Crito, and about many other things. + +_Cri._ Do not fear this, however; for the sum is not large on receipt of +which certain persons are willing to save you, and take you hence. In +the next place, do you not see how cheap these informers are, so that +there would be no need of a large sum for them? My fortune is at your +service, sufficient, I think, for the purpose: then if, out of regard to +me, you do not think right to spend my money, these strangers here are +ready to spend theirs. One of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought with +him a sufficient sum for the very purpose. Cebes, too, is ready, and +very many others. So that, as I said, do not through fears of this kind +hesitate to save yourself, nor let what you said in court give you any +trouble, that if you went from hence you would not know what to do with +yourself. For in many places, and wherever you go, men will love you: +and if you are disposed to go to Thessaly, I have friends there who will +esteem you very highly, and will ensure your safety, so that no one in +Thessaly will molest you. + +5. Moreover, Socrates, you do not appear to me to pursue a just course +in giving yourself up when you might be saved; and you press on the very +results with respect to yourself which your enemies would press and have +pressed in their anxiety to destroy you. Besides this, too, you appear +to me to betray your own sons, whom, when it is in your power to rear +and educate them, you will abandon, and, as far as you are concerned, +they will meet with such a fate as chance brings them, and, as is +probable, they will meet with such things as orphans are wont to +experience in a state of orphanage. Surely one ought not to have +children, or one should go through the toil of rearing and instructing +them. But you appear to me to have chosen the most indolent course; +though you ought to have chosen such a course as a good and brave man +would have done, since you profess to have made virtue your study +through the whole of your life; so that I am ashamed both for you and +for us who are your friends, lest this whole affair of yours should seem +to be the effect of cowardice on our part; your appearing to stand your +trial in the court, since you appeared when it was in your power not to +have done so, the very manner in which the trial was conducted, and this +last circumstance, as it were a ridiculous consummation of the whole +business, your appearing to have escaped from us through our indolence +and cowardice, who did not save you, nor did you save yourself, when it +was practicable and possible, had we but exerted ourselves a little. +Think of these things, therefore, Socrates, and beware, lest, besides +the evil _that will result_, they be disgraceful both to you and to us; +advise then with yourself, though indeed there is no longer time for +advising, your resolve should be already made. And there is but one +plan; for in the following night the whole must be accomplished. If we +delay, it will be impossible and no longer practicable. By all means, +therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and on no account refuse. + +6. _Socr._ My dear Crito, your zeal would be very commendable were it +united with right principle; otherwise, by how much the more earnest it +is, by so much is it the more sad. We must consider, therefore, whether +this plan should be adopted or not. For I not now only, but always, am a +person who will obey nothing within me but reason, according as it +appears to me on mature deliberation to be best. And the reasons, which +I formerly professed, I cannot now reject, because this misfortune \.bn +035.png has befallen me; but they appear to me in much the same light, +and I respect and honour them as before; so that if we are unable to +adduce any better at the present time, be assured that I shall not give +in to you, even though the power of the multitude should endeavour to +terrify us like children, by threatening more than it does now, bonds +and death, and confiscation of property. How, therefore, may we consider +the matter most conveniently? First of all, if we recur to the argument +which you used about opinions, whether on former occasions it was +rightly resolved or not, that we ought to pay attention to some +opinions, and to others not; or whether, before it was necessary that I +should die, it was rightly resolved, but now it has become clear that it +was said idly for argument’s sake, though in reality it was merely jest +and trifling. I desire then, Crito, to consider, in common with you, +whether it will appear to me in a different light now that I am in this +condition, or the same, and whether we shall give it up or yield to it. +It was said, I think, on former occasions, by those who were thought to +speak seriously, as I just now observed, that of the opinions which men +entertain some should be very highly esteemed and others not. By the +gods, Crito, does not this appear to you to be well said? For you, in +all human probability, are out of all danger of dying to-morrow, and the +present calamity will not lead your judgment astray. Consider then: does +it not appear to you to have been rightly settled, that we ought not to +respect all the opinions of men, but some we should and others not? Nor +yet the opinions of all men, but of some we should and of others not? +What say you? Is not this rightly resolved? + +_Cri._ It is. + +_Socr._ Therefore, we should respect the good but not the bad? + +_Cri._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And are not the good those of the wise, and the bad those of the +foolish? + +_Cri._ How can it be otherwise? + +7. _Socr._ Come then, how again were the following points settled? Does +a man who practises gymnastic exercises, and applies himself to them, +pay attention to the praise and censure and opinion of every one, or of +that one man only who happens to be a physician or teacher of the +exercises? + +_Cri._ Of that one only. + +_Socr._ He ought, therefore, to fear the censures and covet the praises +of that one, but not those of the multitude. + +_Cri._ Clearly. + +_Socr._ He ought, therefore, so to practise and exercise himself, and to +eat and drink, as seems fitting to the one who presides and knows, +rather than to all others together. + +_Cri._ It is so. + +_Socr._ Well, then, if he disobeys the one, and disregards his opinion +and praise, but respects that of the multitude and of those who know +nothing, will he not suffer some evil? + +_Cri._ How should he not? + +_Socr._ But what is this evil? whither does it tend, and on what part of +him that disobeys will it fall? + +_Cri._ Clearly on his body, for this it ruins. + +_Socr._ You say well. The case is the same too, Crito, with all other +things, not to go through them all. With respect, then, to things just +and unjust, base and honourable, good and evil, about which we are now +consulting, ought we to follow the opinion of the multitude, and to +respect it, or that of one, if there is any one who understands, whom we +ought to reverence and respect rather than all others together? and if +we do not obey him, shall we not corrupt and injure that part of +ourselves which becomes better by justice, but is ruined by injustice? +Or is this nothing? + +_Cri._ I agree with you, Socrates. + +8. _Socr._ Come then, if we destroy that which becomes better by what is +wholesome, but is impaired by what is unwholesome, through being +persuaded by those who do not understand, can we enjoy life when that is +impaired? And this is the body we are speaking of, is it not? + +_Cri._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Can we then enjoy life with a diseased and impaired body? + +_Cri._ By no means. + +_Socr._ But can we enjoy life when that is impaired which injustice +ruins, but justice benefits? Or do we think that to be of less value +than the body, whatever part of us it may be, about which injustice and +justice are concerned? + +_Cri._ By no means. + +_Socr._ But of more value? + +_Cri._ Much more. + +_Socr._ We must not, then, my excellent friend, so much regard what the +multitude will say of us, but what he will say who understands the just +and unjust; the one, even truth itself. So that at first you did not set +out with a right principle, when you laid it down that we ought to +regard the opinion of the multitude with respect to things just and +honourable and good, and their contraries. However, some one may say, +are not the multitude able to put us to death? + +_Cri._ This, too, is clear, Socrates; any one might say so. + +_Socr._ You say truly. But, my admirable friend, this principle which we +have just discussed appears to me to be the same as it was before[10]. +And consider this moreover, whether it still holds good with us or not, +that we are not to be anxious about living, but about living well. + +----- + +Footnote 10: + + That is to say, the principle which we had laid down in former + discussions, that no regard is to be had to popular opinion, is still + found to hold good. + +----- + +_Cri._ It does hold good. + +_Socr._ And does this hold good or not, that to live well and honourably +and justly, are the same thing? + +_Cri._ It does. + +9. _Socr._ From what has been admitted, then, this consideration arises, +whether it is just or not, that I should endeavour to leave this place +without the permission of the Athenians. And should it appear to be +just, we will make the attempt; but if not, we will give it up; but as +to the considerations which you mention, of an outlay of money, +reputation, and the education of children, beware, Crito, lest such +considerations as these in reality belong to these multitudes, who +rashly put one to death, and would restore one to life, if they could do +so, without any reason at all. But we, since reason so requires, must +consider nothing else than what we just now mentioned, whether we shall +act justly in paying money and contracting obligations to those who will +lead me hence, as well they who lead me as we who are led hence, or +whether in truth we shall not act unjustly in doing all these things. +And if we should appear in so doing to be acting unjustly, observe that +we must not consider whether from remaining here and continuing quiet we +must needs die, or suffer any thing else, rather than whether we shall +be acting unjustly. + +_Cri._ You appear to me to speak wisely, Socrates; but see what we are +to do. + +_Socr._ Let us consider the matter together, my friend; and if you have +any thing to object to what I say make good your objection, and I will +yield to you; but if not, cease, my excellent friend, to urge upon me +the same thing so often, that I ought to depart hence, against the will +of the Athenians. For I highly esteem your endeavours to persuade me +thus to act, so long as it is not against my will. Consider, then, the +beginning of our enquiry, whether it is stated to your entire +satisfaction, and endeavour to answer the question put to you exactly as +you think right. + +_Cri._ I will endeavour to do so. + +10. _Socr._ Say we, then, that we should on no account deliberately +commit injustice, or may we commit injustice under certain +circumstances, under others not? Or is it on no account either good or +honourable to commit injustice, as we have often agreed on former +occasions, and as we just now said? Or have all those our former +admissions been dissipated in these few days; and have we, Crito, old +men as we are, been for a long time seriously conversing with each +other, without knowing that we in no respect differ from children? Or +does the case, beyond all question, stand as we then determined? whether +the multitude allow it or not, and whether we must suffer a more severe +or a milder punishment than this, still is injustice on every account +both evil and disgraceful to him who commits it? Do we admit this, or +not? + +_Cri._ We do admit it. + +_Socr._ On no account, therefore, ought we to act unjustly. + +_Cri._ Surely not. + +_Socr._ Neither ought one who is injured to return the injury, as the +multitude think, since it is on no account right to act unjustly. + +_Cri._ It appears not. + +_Socr._ What then? Is it right to do evil, Crito, or not? + +_Cri._ Surely it is not right, Socrates. + +_Socr._ But what? To do evil in return when one has been evil-entreated, +is that right or not? + +_Cri._ By no means. + +_Socr_. For to do evil to men, differs in no respect from committing +injustice. + +_Cri._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ It is not right, therefore, to return an injury, or to do evil +to any man, however one may have suffered from him. But take care Crito, +that in allowing these things, you do not allow them contrary to your +opinion. For I know that to some few only these things both do appear +and will appear to be true. They then to whom these things appear true, +and they to whom they do not, have no sentiment in common, and must +needs despise each other, while they look to each other’s opinions. +Consider well then, whether you coincide and think with me; and whether +we can begin our deliberations from this point, that it is never right +either to do an injury, or to return an injury, or when one has been +evil-entreated to revenge one’s-self by doing evil in return; or, do you +dissent from and not coincide in this principle? For so it appears to me +both long since and now; but if you in any respect think otherwise, say +so and inform me. But if you persist in your former opinions, hear what +follows. + +_Cri._ I do persist in them and think with you. Speak on then. + +_Socr._ I say next then, or rather I ask; whether when a man has +promised to do things that are just, he ought to do them, or evade his +promise? + +_Cri._ He ought to do them. + +11. _Socr._ Observe then what follows. By departing hence without the +leave of the city, are we not doing evil to some, and that to those to +whom we ought least of all to do it, or not? And do we abide by what we +agreed on as being just, or do we not? + +_Cri._ I am unable to answer your question, Socrates: for I do not +understand it. + +_Socr._ Then consider it thus. If while we were preparing to run away, +or by whatever name we should call it, the laws and commonwealth should +come and, presenting themselves before us, should say: “Tell me, +Socrates, what do you purpose doing? Do you design any thing else by +this proceeding in which you are engaged, than to destroy us, the laws, +and the whole city as far as you are able? Or do you think it possible +for that city any longer to subsist and not be subverted, in which +judgments that are passed have no force, but are set aside and destroyed +by private persons?” What should we say, Crito, to these and similar +remonstrances? For any one, especially an orator, would have much to say +on the violation of the law, which enjoins that judgments passed shall +be enforced. Shall we say to them that the city has done us an injustice +and not passed a right sentence? Shall we say this, or what else? + +_Cri._ This, by Jupiter, Socrates. + +12. _Socr._ What then if the laws should say: “Socrates, was it not +agreed between us that you should abide by the judgments which the city +should pronounce?” And if we should wonder at their speaking thus, +perhaps they would say, “Wonder not, Socrates, at what we say, but +answer, since you are accustomed to make use of questions and answers. +For come, what charge have you against us and the city, that you attempt +to destroy us? Did we not first give you being? and did not your father +through us take your mother to wife and beget you? Say then, do you find +fault with those laws amongst us that relate to marriage as being bad?” +I should say, “I do not find fault with them.” “Do you with those that +relate to your nurture when born, and the education with which you were +instructed? Or did not the laws, ordained on this point, enjoin rightly, +in requiring your father to instruct you in music and gymnastic +exercises?” I should say, rightly. Well then: since you were born, +nurtured, and educated through our means, can you say, first of all, +that you are not both our offspring and our slave, as well you as your +ancestors? And if this be so, do you think that there are equal rights +between us, and whatever we attempt to do to you, do you think you may +justly do to us in turn? Or had you not equal rights with your father, +or master, if you happened to have one, so as to return what you +suffered, neither to retort when found fault with, nor when stricken to +strike again, nor many other things of the kind; but that with your +country and the laws you may do so; so that if we attempt to destroy +you, thinking it to be just, you also should endeavour as far as you are +able, in return to destroy us, the laws, and your country, and in doing +this will you say that you act justly, you who, in reality, make virtue +your chief object? Or are you so wise as not to know that one’s country +is more honourable, venerable and sacred, and more highly prized both by +gods and men possessed of understanding, than mother and father, and all +other progenitors, and that one ought to reverence, submit to, and +appease one’s country, when angry, rather than one’s father, and either +persuade it or do what it orders, and to suffer quietly if it bids one +suffer, whether to be beaten, or put in bonds; or if it sends one out to +battle there to be wounded or slain, this must be done, for justice so +requires, and one must not give way, or retreat, or leave one’s post; +but that both in war, and in a court of justice, and every where, one +must do what one’s city and country enjoins, or persuade it in such +manner as justice allows: but that to offer violence either to one’s +mother or father is not holy, much less to one’s country? What shall we +say to these things, Crito? That the laws speak the truth or not? + +_Cri._ It seems so to me. + +13. _Socr._ “Consider, then, Socrates,” the laws perhaps might say, +“whether we say truly that in what you are now attempting you are +attempting to do what is not just towards us. For we, having given you +birth, nurtured, instructed you, and having imparted to you and all +other citizens all the good in our power, still proclaim, by giving the +power to every Athenian who pleases, when he has arrived at years of +discretion and become acquainted with the business of the state, and us, +the laws, that any one, who is not satisfied with us, may take his +property and go wherever he pleases. And if any one of you wishes to go +to a colony, if he is not satisfied with us and the city, or to migrate +and settle in another country, none of us, the laws, hinder or forbid +him going whithersoever he pleases, taking with him all his property. +But whoever continues with us after he has seen the manner in which we +administer justice, and in other respects govern the city, we now say, +that he has in fact entered into a compact with us, to do what we order, +and we affirm that he who does not obey is in three respects guilty of +injustice, because he does not obey us who gave him being, and because +he does not obey us who nurtured him, and because, having made a compact +that he would obey us, he neither does so nor does he persuade us if we +do any thing wrongly, though we propose for his consideration, and do +not rigidly command him to do what we order, but leave him the choice of +one of two things, either to persuade us, or to do what we require, and +yet he does neither of these. + +14. “And we say that you, O Socrates, will be subject to these charges +if you accomplish your design, and that not least of the Athenians, but +most so of all.” And if I should ask, for what reason? They would +probably justly retort on me by saying, that among all the Athenians I +especially made this compact with them. For they would say, “Socrates, +we have strong proof of this, that you were satisfied both with us and +the city; for of all the Athenians you especially would never have dwelt +in it, if it had not been especially agreeable to you. For you never +went out of the city to any of the public spectacles, except once to the +Isthmian games, nor any where else, except on military service, nor have +you ever gone abroad as other men do, nor had you ever had any desire to +become acquainted with any other city or other laws, but we and our city +were sufficient for you; so strongly were you attached to us, and so far +did you consent to submit to our government, both in other respects and +in begetting children in this city, in consequence of your being +satisfied with it. Moreover in your very trial, it was in your power to +have imposed on yourself a sentence of exile, if you pleased, and might +then have done, with the consent of the city, what you now attempt +against its consent. Then indeed you boasted yourself as not being +grieved if you must needs die; but you preferred, as you said, death to +exile. Now, however, you are neither ashamed of those professions, nor +do you revere us, the laws, since you endeavour to destroy us; and you +act as the vilest slave would act, by endeavouring to make your escape +contrary to the conventions and the compacts by which you engaged to +submit to our government. First then, therefore, answer us this, whether +we speak the truth or not in affirming that you agreed to be governed by +us in deed though not in word?” What shall we say to this, Crito? Can we +do otherwise than assent? + +_Cri._ We must needs do so, Socrates? + +_Socr._ “What else, then,” they will say, “are you doing but violating +the conventions and compacts which you made with us, though you did not +enter into them from compulsion or through deception, or from being +compelled to determine in a short time, but during the space of seventy +years, in which you might have departed if you had been dissatisfied +with us, and the compacts had not appeared to you to be just? You, +however, neither preferred Lacedæmon nor Crete, which you several times +said are governed by good laws, nor any other of the Grecian or +barbarian cities; but you have been less out of Athens than the lame and +the blind, and other maimed persons. So much, it is evident, were you +satisfied with the city and us, the laws, beyond the rest of the +Athenians: for who can be satisfied with a city without laws? But now +will you not abide by your compacts? You will, if you are persuaded by +us, Socrates, and will not make yourself ridiculous by leaving the city. + +15. “For consider, by violating these compacts and offending against any +of them, what good you will do to yourself or your friends. For that +your friends will run the risk of being themselves banished, and +deprived of the rights of citizenship, or of forfeiting their property, +is pretty clear. And as for yourself, if you should go to one of the +neighbouring cities, either Thebes or Megara, for both are governed by +good laws, you will go there, Socrates, as an enemy to their polity, and +such as have any regard for their country will look upon you with +suspicion, regarding you as a corrupter of the laws, and you will +confirm the opinion of the judges, so that they will appear to have +condemned you rightly, for whoso is a corrupter of the laws will appear +in all likelihood to be a corrupter of youths and weak-minded men. Will +you then avoid these well-governed cities, and the best-ordered men? And +should you do so, will it be worth your while to live? Or will you +approach them, and have the effrontery to converse with them, Socrates, +on subjects the same as you did here, that virtue and justice, legal +institutions and laws, should be most highly valued by men? And do you +not think that this conduct of Socrates would be very indecorous? You +must think so. But you will keep clear of these places, and go to +Thessaly, to Crito’s friends, for there is the greatest disorder and +licentiousness, and perhaps they will gladly hear you relating how +drolly you escaped from prison, clad in some dress or covered with a +skin, or in some other disguise such as fugitives are wont to dress +themselves in, having so changed your usual appearance. And will no one +say that you, though an old man, with but a short time to live, in all +probability, have dared to have such a base desire of life as to violate +the most sacred laws? Perhaps not, should you not offend any one. But if +you should, you will hear, Socrates, many things utterly unworthy of +you. You will live, too, in a state of abject dependence on all men, and +as their slave. But what will you do in Thessaly besides feasting, as if +you had gone to Thessaly to a banquet? And what will become of those +discourses about justice and all other virtues?—But do you wish to live +for the sake of your children, that you may rear and educate them? What +then? Will you take them to Thessaly, and there rear and educate them, +making them aliens to their country, that they may owe you this +obligation too? Or if not so, being reared here, will they be better +reared and educated while you are living, though not with them? for your +friends will take care of them. Whether, if you go to Thessaly, will +they take care of them, but if you go to Hades will they not take care +of them? If, however, any advantage is to be derived from those that say +they are your friends, we must think they will. + +16. “Then, O Socrates, be persuaded by us who have nurtured you, and do +not set a higher value on your children, or on life, or on any thing +else than justice, that, when you arrive in Hades, you may have all this +to say in your defence before those who have dominion there. For neither +here in this life, if you do what is proposed, does it appear to be +better, or more just, or more holy to yourself, or any of your friends; +nor will it be better for you when you arrive there. But now you depart, +if you do depart, unjustly treated, not by us, the laws, but by men; but +should you escape, having thus disgracefully returned injury for injury, +and evil for evil, having violated your own compacts and conventions +which you made with us, and having done evil to those to whom you least +of all should have done it, namely, yourself, your friends, your +country, and us, both we shall be indignant with you as long as you +live, and there our brothers, the laws in Hades, will not receive you +favourably, knowing that you attempted, as far as you were able, to +destroy us. Let not Crito, then, persuade you to do what he advises, +rather than we.” + +17. These things, my dear friend Crito, be assured I seem to hear, as +the votaries of Cybele[11] seem to hear the flutes. And the sound of +these words booms in my ear, and makes me incapable of hearing any thing +else. Be sure, then, so long as I retain my present opinions, if you +should say any thing contrary to these, you will speak in vain. If, +however, you think that you can prevail at all, say on. + +----- + +Footnote 11: + + The Corybantes, priests of Cybele, who in their solemn festivals made + such a noise with flutes that the hearers could hear no other sound. + +----- + +_Cri._ But, Socrates, I have nothing to say. + +_Socr._ Desist, then, Crito, and let us pursue this course, since this +way the deity leads us. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PHÆDO. + + +This dialogue presents us with an account of the manner in which +Socrates spent the last day of his life, and how he met his death. The +main subject is that of the soul’s immortality, which Socrates takes +upon himself to prove with as much certainty as it is possible for the +human mind to arrive at. The question itself, though none could be +better suited to the occasion, arises simply and naturally from the +general conversation that precedes it. + +When his friends visit him in the morning for the purpose of spending +this his last day with him, they find him sitting up in bed and rubbing +his leg, which had just been freed from bonds. He remarks on the +unaccountable alternation and connexion between pleasure and pain, and +adds that Æsop, had he observed it, would have made a fable from it. +This remark reminds Cebes of Socrates’ having put some of Æsop’s fables +into metre since his imprisonment, and he asks, for the satisfaction of +the poet Evenus, what had induced him to do so. Socrates explains his +reason, and concludes by bidding him tell Evenus to follow him as soon +as he can. Simmias expresses his surprise at this message, on which +Socrates asks, “Is not Evenus a philosopher?” and on the question being +answered in the affirmative, he says, that he or any philosopher would +be willing to die, though perhaps he would not commit violence on +himself. This, again, seems a contradiction to Simmias, but Socrates +explains it by shewing that our souls are placed in the body by God, and +may not leave it without His permission. Whereupon Cebes objects, that +in that case foolish men only would wish to die and quit the service of +the best of masters, to which Simmias agrees. Socrates, therefore, +proposes to plead his cause before them, and to shew that there is a +great probability that after this life he shall go into the presence of +God and good men, and be happy in proportion to the purity of his own +mind. + +He begins[12] by stating that philosophy itself is nothing else than a +preparation for and meditation on death. Death and philosophy have this +in common: death separates the soul from the body, philosophy draws off +the mind from bodily things to the contemplation of truth and virtue: +for he is not a true philosopher who is led away by bodily pleasures, +since the senses are the source of ignorance and all evil; the mind, +therefore, is entirely occupied in meditating on death, and freeing +itself as much as possible from the body. How, then, can such a man be +afraid of death? He who grieves at the approach of death cannot be a +true lover of wisdom, but is a lover of his body. And, indeed, most men +are temperate through intemperance, that is to say, they abstain from +some pleasures that they may the more easily and permanently enjoy +others. They embrace only a shadow of virtue, not virtue itself, since +they estimate the value of all things by the pleasures they afford. +Whereas the philosopher purifies his mind from all such things, and +pursues virtue and wisdom for their own sakes. This course Socrates +himself had pursued to the utmost of his ability, with what success he +should shortly know; and on these grounds he did not repine at leaving +his friends in this world, being persuaded that in another he should +meet with good masters and good friends. + +----- + +Footnote 12: + + § 21-39. + +----- + +Upon this Cebes[13] says that he agrees with all else that had been +said, but cannot help entertaining doubts of what will become of the +soul when separated from the body, for the common opinion is that it is +dispersed and vanishes like breath or smoke, and no longer exists any +where. Socrates, therefore, proposes to enquire into the probability of +the case, a fit employment for him under his present circumstances. + +----- + +Footnote 13: + + § 39, 40. + +----- + +His first argument[14] is drawn from the ancient belief prevalent +amongst men, that souls departing hence exist in Hades, and are produced +again from the dead. If this be true, it must follow that our souls are +there, for they could not be produced again if they did not exist: and +its truth is confirmed by this, that it is a general law of nature that +contraries are produced from contraries, the greater from the less, +strong from weak, slow from swift, heat from cold, and in like manner +life from death, and _vice versâ_. To explain this more clearly, he +proceeds to shew that what is changed passes from one state to another, +and so undergoes three different states, first the actual state, then +the transition, and thirdly the new state, as from a state of sleep, by +awaking to being awake: in like manner birth is a transition from a +state of death to life, and dying from life to death, so that the soul, +by the act of dying, only passes to another state; if it were not so, +all nature would in time become dead, just as if people did not awake +out of sleep all would at last be buried in eternal sleep. Whence the +conclusion is that the souls of men are not annihilated by death. + +----- + +Footnote 14: + + § 40-46. + +----- + +Cebes[15] agrees to this reasoning, and adds that he is further +convinced of its truth by calling to mind an argument used by Socrates +on former occasions, that knowledge is nothing but reminiscence, and if +this is so, the soul must have existed and had knowledge before it +became united to the body. + +----- + +Footnote 15: + + § 47. + +----- + +But in case Simmias should not yet be satisfied, Socrates[16] proceeds +to enlarge on this, his second argument, drawn from reminiscence. We +daily find that we are carried from the knowledge of one thing to +another. Things perceived by the eyes, ears, and other senses, bring up +the thought of other things: thus the sight of a lyre or a garment +reminds us of a friend, and not only are we thus reminded of sensible +objects, but of things which are comprehended by the mind alone, and +have no sensitive existence. For we have formed in our minds an idea of +abstract equality, of the beautiful, the just, the good, in short, of +every thing which we say exists without the aid of the senses, for we +use them only in the perception of individual things, whence it follows +that the mind did not acquire this knowledge in this life, but must have +had it before, and therefore the soul must have existed before. + +----- + +Footnote 16: + + § 48-57. + +----- + +Simmias and Cebes[17] both agree in admitting that Socrates has proved +the pre-existence of the soul, but insist that he has not shewn it to be +immortal, for that nothing hinders but that, according to the popular +opinion, it may be dispersed at the dissolution of the body. To which +Socrates replies, that if their former admissions are joined to his last +argument, the immortality, as well as the pre-existence of the soul, has +been sufficiently proved. For if it is true that any thing living is +produced from that which is dead, then the soul must exist after death, +otherwise it could not be produced again. + +----- + +Footnote 17: + + § 55-59. + +----- + +However to remove the apprehension that the soul may be dispersed by a +wind as it were, Socrates proceeds, in his third argument[18], to +examine that doubt more thoroughly. What then is meant by being +dispersed but being dissolved into its parts? In order therefore to a +thing being capable of dispersion it must be compounded of parts. Now +there are two kinds of things, one compounded, the other simple, the +former kind is subject to change, the latter not, and can be +comprehended by the mind alone. The one is visible, the other invisible; +and the soul, which is invisible, when it employs the bodily senses +wanders and is confused, but when it abstracts itself from the body it +attains to the knowledge of that which is eternal, immortal, and +unchangeable. The soul, therefore, being uncompounded and invisible must +be indissoluble, that is to say immortal. + +----- + +Footnote 18: + + § 61-75. + +----- + +Still Simmias and Cebes[19] are unconvinced. The former objects, that +the soul, according to Socrates’ own shewing, is nothing but a harmony +resulting from a combination of the parts of the body, and so may perish +with the body as the harmony of a lyre does when the lyre itself is +broken. And Cebes, though he admits that the soul is more durable than +the body, yet objects that it is not therefore of necessity immortal but +may in time wear out, and it is by no means clear that this is not its +last period. + +----- + +Footnote 19: + + § 76-84. + +----- + +These objections produce a powerful effect on the rest of the company, +but Socrates, undismayed, exhorts them not to suffer themselves to be +deterred from seeking the truth by any difficulties they may meet with; +and then proceeds[20] to shew, in a moment, the fallacy of Simmias’ +objection. It was before admitted, he says, that the soul existed before +the body, but harmony is produced after the lyre is formed, so that the +two cases are totally different. And further, there are various degrees +of harmony, but every soul is as much a soul as any other. But then what +will a person who holds this doctrine, that the soul is harmony, say of +virtue and vice in the soul? Will he call them another kind of harmony +and discord? If so, he will contradict himself, for it is admitted that +one soul is not more or less a soul than another, and therefore one +cannot be more or less harmonized than another, and one could not admit +of a greater degree of virtue or vice than another; and indeed a soul, +being harmony, could not partake of vice at all, which is discord. + +----- + +Footnote 20: + + § 93-99. + +----- + +Socrates, having thus satisfactorily answered the argument adduced by +Simmias, goes on to rebut that of Cebes[21], who objected that the soul +might in time wear out. In order to do this, he relates that when a +young man he attempted to investigate the causes of every thing, why +they exist and why they perish; and in the course of his researches +finding the futility of attributing the existence of things to what are +called natural causes, he resolved on endeavouring to find out the +reasons of things. He therefore assumed that there is a certain abstract +beauty, and goodness, and magnitude, and so of all other things: the +truth of which being granted he thinks he shall be able to prove that +the soul is immortal. + +----- + +Footnote 21: + + § 100-112. + +----- + +This then being conceded by Cebes, Socrates[22] argues that every thing +that is beautiful is so from partaking of abstract beauty, and great +from partaking of magnitude, and little from partaking of littleness. +Now it is impossible he argues that contraries can exist in the same +thing at the same time, for instance the same thing cannot possess both +magnitude and littleness, but one will withdraw at the approach of the +other: and not only so, but things which, though not contrary to each +other, yet always contain contraries within themselves cannot co-exist; +for instance the number three has no contrary, yet it contains within +itself the idea of odd, which is the contrary to even, and so three +never can become even; in like manner heat while it is heat can never +admit the idea of its contrary, cold. Now if this method of reasoning is +applied to the soul it will be found to be immortal; for life and death +are contraries, and never can co-exist, but wherever the soul is there +is life, so that it contains within itself that which is contrary to +death, and consequently can never admit of death; therefore it is +immortal. + +----- + +Footnote 22: + + § 112-128. + +----- + +With this he closes his arguments in support of the soul’s immortality. +Cebes owns himself convinced, but Simmias, though he is unable to make +any objection to the soundness of Socrates’ reasoning, cannot help still +entertaining doubts on the subject. If, however, the soul is immortal, +Socrates proceeds[23], great need is there in this life to endeavour to +become as wise and good as possible. For if death were a deliverance +from every thing it would be a great gain for the wicked, but since the +soul appears to be immortal, it must go to the place suited to its +nature. For it is said that each person’s demon conducts him to a place +where he receives sentence according to his deserts. + +----- + +Footnote 23: + + § 129-131. + +----- + +He then[24] draws a fanciful picture of the various regions of the +earth, to which the good and the bad will respectively go after death, +and exhorts his friends to use every endeavour to acquire virtue and +wisdom in this life, “for,” he adds, “the reward is noble and the hope +great.” + +----- + +Footnote 24: + + § 132-145. + +----- + +Having thus brought his subject to a conclusion, Socrates proposes to +bathe himself, in order not to trouble others to wash his dead body. +Crito thereupon asks if he has any commands to give, and especially how +he would be buried, to which he, with his usual cheerfulness, makes +answer, “Just as you please, if only you can catch me;” and then, +smiling, he reminds them that after death he shall be no longer with +them, and begs the others of the party to be sureties to Crito for his +absence from the body, as they had been before bound for his presence +before his judges. + +After he had bathed, and taken leave of his children and the women of +his family, the officer of the Eleven comes in to intimate to him that +it is now time to drink the poison. Crito urges a little delay, as the +sun had not yet set, but Socrates refuses to make himself ridiculous by +shewing such a fondness for life; the man who is to administer the +poison is therefore sent for, and on his holding out the cup, Socrates, +neither trembling nor changing colour or countenance at all, but, as he +was wont, looking stedfastly at the man, asked if he might make a +libation to any one, and being told that no more poison than enough had +been mixed, he simply prayed that his departure from this to another +world might be happy, and then drank off the poison readily and calmly. +His friends, who had hitherto with difficulty restrained themselves, +could no longer control the outward expressions of grief, to which +Socrates said, “What are you doing, my friends? I, for this reason +chiefly, sent away the women, that they might not commit any folly of +this kind. For I have heard that it is right to die with good omens. Be +quiet, therefore, and bear up.” + +When he had walked about for a while his legs began to grow heavy, so he +laid down on his back, and his body, from the feet upwards, gradually +grew cold and stiff. His last words were, “Crito, we owe a cock to +Æsculapius: pay it, therefore, and do not neglect it.” + +“This,” concludes Phædo, “was the end of our friend, a man, as we may +say, the best of all his time that we have known, and moreover, the most +wise and just.” + + + + + PHÆDO, + + OR + + THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. + + FIRST ECHECRATES, PHÆDO. + + THEN SOCRATES, APOLLODORUS, CEBES, SIMMIAS, AND CRITO. + + ------- + + +_Ech._ Were you personally present, Phædo, with Socrates on that day +when he drank the poison in prison? or did you hear an account of it +from some one else? + +_Phæd._ I was there myself, Echecrates. + +_Ech._ What then did he say before his death? and how did he die? for I +should be glad to hear: for scarcely any citizen of Phlius[25] ever +visits Athens now, nor has any stranger for a long time come from +thence, who was able to give us a clear account of the particulars, +except that he died from drinking poison; but he was unable to tell us +any thing more. + +----- + +Footnote 25: + + Phlius, to which Echecrates belonged, was a town of Sicyonia in + Peloponnesus. + +----- + +2. _Phæd._ And did you not hear about the trial how it went off? + +_Ech._ Yes; some one told me this; and I wondered, that as it took place +so long ago, he appears to have died long afterwards. What was the +reason of this, Phædo? + +_Phæd._ An accidental circumstance happened in his favour, Echecrates: +for the poop of the ship which the Athenians send to Delos, chanced to +be crowned on the day before the trial. + +_Ech._ But what is this ship? + +_Phæd._ It is the ship, as the Athenians say, in which Theseus formerly +conveyed the fourteen boys and girls to Crete, and saved both them and +himself. They, therefore, made a vow to Apollo on that occasion, as it +is said, that if they were saved they would every year despatch a solemn +embassy to Delos; which from that time to the present, they send yearly +to the god. 3. When they begin the preparations for this solemn embassy, +they have a law that the city shall be purified during this period, and +that no public execution shall take place until the ship has reached +Delos, and returned to Athens: and this occasionally takes a long time, +when the winds happen to impede their passage. The commencement of the +embassy is when the priest of Apollo has crowned the poop of the ship. +And this was done, as I said, on the day before the trial: on this +account Socrates had a long interval in prison between the trial and his +death. + +4. _Ech._ And what, Phædo, were the circumstances of his death? what was +said and done? and who of his friends were with him? or would not the +magistrates allow them to be present, but did he die destitute of +friends? + +_Phæd._ By no means; but some, indeed several, were present. + +_Ech._ Take the trouble, then, to relate to me all the particulars as +clearly as you can, unless you have any pressing business. + +_Phæd._ I am at leisure, and will endeavour to give you a full account: +for to call Socrates to mind, whether speaking myself or listening to +some one else, is always most delightful to me. + +5. _Ech._ And indeed, Phædo, you have others to listen to you who are of +the same mind. However, endeavour to relate every thing as accurately as +you can. + +_Phæd._ I was indeed wonderfully affected by being present, for I was +not impressed with a feeling of pity, like one present at the death of a +friend; for the man appeared to me to be happy, Echecrates, both from +his manner and discourse, so fearlessly and nobly did he meet his death: +so much so, that it occurred to me, that in going to Hades he was not +going without a divine destiny, but that when he arrived there he would +be happy, if any one ever was. For this reason I was entirely +uninfluenced by any feeling of pity, as would seem likely to be the case +with one present on so mournful an occasion; nor was I affected by +pleasure from being engaged in philosophical discussions, as was our +custom; for our conversation was of that kind. But an altogether +unaccountable feeling possessed me, a kind of unusual mixture compounded +of pleasure and pain together, when I considered that he was immediately +about to die. And all of us who were present were affected in much the +same manner, at one time laughing, at another weeping, one of us +especially, Apollodorus, for you know the man and his manner. + +_Ech._ How should I not? + +6. _Phæd._ He, then, was entirely overcome by these emotions; and I too +was troubled, as well as the others. + +_Ech._ But who were present, Phædo? + +_Phæd._ Of his fellow-countrymen, this Apollodorus was present, and +Critobulus, and his father Crito, moreover Hermogenes, Epigenes, +Æschines, and Antisthenes; Ctesippus the Pæanian, Menexenus, and some +other of his countrymen were also there: Plato I think was sick. + +_Ech._ Were any strangers present? + +_Phæd._ Yes: Simmias the Theban, Cebes, and Phædondes: and from Megara, +Euclides and Terpsion. + +7. _Ech._ But what! were not Aristippus and Cleombrotus present? + +_Phæd._ No: for they were said to be at Ægina. + +_Ech._ Was any one else there? + +_Phæd._ I think that these were nearly all who were present. + +_Ech._ Well now: what do you say was the subject of conversation? + +_Phæd._ I will endeavour to relate the whole to you from the beginning. +On the preceding days I and the others were constantly in the habit of +visiting Socrates, meeting early in the morning at the court-house where +the trial took place, for it was near the prison. 8. Here then we waited +every day till the prison was opened, conversing with each other; for it +was not opened very early, but, as soon as it was opened we went in to +Socrates, and usually spent the day with him. On that occasion however, +we met earlier than usual; for on the preceding day, when we left the +prison in the evening, we heard that the ship had arrived from Delos. We +therefore urged each other to come as early as possible to the +accustomed place; accordingly we came, and the porter, who used to admit +us, coming out, told us to wait, and not enter until he called us. +“For,” he said, “the Eleven are now freeing Socrates from his bonds, and +announcing to him that he must die to-day.” But in no long time he +returned, and bade us enter. + +9. When we entered, we found Socrates just freed from his bonds, and +Xantippe, you know her, holding his little boy and sitting by him. As +soon as Xantippe saw us, she wept aloud and said such things as women +usually do on such occasions, as “Socrates, your friends will now +converse with you for the last time and you with them.” But Socrates, +looking towards Crito, said, “Crito, let some one take her home.” Upon +which some of Crito’s attendants led her away, wailing and beating +herself. + +But Socrates sitting up in bed, drew up his leg, and rubbed it with his +hand, and as he rubbed it, said; “What an unaccountable thing, my +friends, that seems to be, which men call pleasure; and how wonderfully +is it related towards that which appears to be its contrary, pain; in +that they will not both be present to a man at the same time, yet, if +any one pursues and attains the one, he is almost always compelled to +receive the other, as if they were both united together from one head. + +10. “And it seems to me,” he said, “that if Æsop had observed this he +would have made a fable from it, how the deity, wishing to reconcile +these warring principles, when he could not do so, united their heads +together, and from hence whomsoever the one visits the other attends +immediately after; as appears to be the case with me, since I suffered +pain in my leg before from the chain, but now pleasure seems to have +succeeded.” + +Hereupon Cebes, interrupting him, said, “By Jupiter, Socrates, you have +done well in reminding me: with respect to the poems which you made, by +putting into metre those Fables of Æsop and the hymn to Apollo, several +other persons asked me, and especially Evenus recently, with what design +you made them after you came here, whereas before you had never made +any. 11. If, therefore, you care at all that I should be able to answer +Evenus, when he asks me again, for I am sure he will do so, tell me what +I must say to him.” + +“Tell him the truth then, Cebes,” he replied, “that I did not make them +from a wish to compete with him, or his poems, for I knew that this +would be no easy matter; but that I might discover the meaning of +certain dreams, and discharge my conscience, if this should happen to be +the music which they have often ordered me to apply myself to. For they +were to the following purport: often in my past life the same dream +visited me, appearing at different times in different forms, yet always +saying the same thing, ‘Socrates,’ it said, ‘apply yourself to and +practise music.’ 12. And I formerly supposed that it exhorted and +encouraged me to continue the pursuit I was engaged in, as those who +cheer on racers, so that the dream encouraged me to continue the pursuit +I was engaged in, namely, to apply myself to music, since philosophy is +the highest music, and I was devoted to it. But now since my trial took +place, and the festival of the god retarded my death, it appeared to me +that, if by chance the dream so frequently enjoined me to apply myself +to popular music, I ought not to disobey it but do so, for that it would +be safer for me not to depart hence before I had discharged my +conscience by making some poems in obedience to the dream. Thus, then, I +first of all composed a hymn to the god whose festival was present, and +after the god, considering that a poet, if he means to be a poet, ought +to make fables and not discourses, and knowing that I was not skilled in +making fables, I therefore put into verse those fables of Æsop, which +were at hand, and were known to me, and which first occurred to me. + +13. Tell this then to Evenus, Cebes, and bid him farewell, and, if he is +wise, to follow me as soon as he can. But I depart, as it seems, to-day; +for so the Athenians order.” + +To this Simmias said; “What is this, Socrates, which you exhort Evenus +to do? for I often meet with him; and from what I know of him, I am +pretty certain that he will not at all be willing to comply with your +advice.” + +“What then,” said he, “is not Evenus a philosopher?” + +“To me he seems to be so,” said Simmias. + +“Then he will be willing,” rejoined Socrates, “and so will every one who +worthily engages in this study; perhaps indeed he will not commit +violence on himself, for that they say is not allowable.” And as he said +this he let down his leg from the bed on the ground, and in this posture +continued during the remainder of the discussion. + +Cebes then asked him, “What do you mean, Socrates, by saying that it is +not lawful to commit violence on one’s-self, but that a philosopher +should be willing to follow one who is dying?” + +14. “What, Cebes, have not you and Simmias, who have conversed +familiarly with Philolaus[26] on this subject, heard?” + +----- + +Footnote 26: + + A Pythagorean of Crotona. + +----- + +“Nothing very clearly, Socrates.” + +“I however speak only from hearsay; what then I have heard I have no +scruple in telling. And perhaps it is most becoming for one who is about +to travel there, to enquire and speculate about the journey thither, +what kind we think it is. What else can one do in the interval before +sunset?” + +“Why then, Socrates, do they say that it is not allowable to kill +one’s-self? for I, as you asked just now, have heard both Philolaus, +when he lived with us, and several others say that it was not right to +do this; but I never heard any thing clear upon the subject from any +one.” + +15. “Then you should consider it attentively,” said Socrates, “for +perhaps you may hear: probably however, it will appear wonderful to you, +if this alone of all other things is an universal truth[27], and it +never happens to a man, as is the case in all other things, that at +sometimes and to some persons only it is better to die than to live; yet +that these men for whom it is better to die—this probably will appear +wonderful to you—may not without impiety do this good to themselves, but +must await another benefactor.” + +----- + +Footnote 27: + + Namely, “that it is better to die than live.” + +----- + +16. Then Cebes, gently smiling, said, speaking in his own dialect[28], +“Jove be witness.” + +----- + +Footnote 28: + + Ἴττω Bœotian for ἴστω. + +----- + +“And indeed,” said Socrates, “it would appear to be unreasonable, yet +still perhaps it has some reason on its side. The maxim indeed given on +this subject in the mystical doctrines[29], that we men are in a kind of +prison, and that we ought not to free ourselves from it and escape, +appears to me difficult to be understood, and not easy to penetrate. +This however appears to me, Cebes, to be well said, that the gods take +care of us, and that we men are one of their possessions. Does it not +seem so to you?” + +----- + +Footnote 29: + + Of Pythagoras. + +----- + +“It does,” replied Cebes. + +“Therefore,” said he, “if one of your slaves were to kill himself, +without your having intimated that you wished him to die, should you not +be angry with him, and should you not punish him if you could?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +“Perhaps then in this point of view, it is not unreasonable to assert, +that a man ought not to kill himself before the deity lays him under a +necessity of doing so, such as that now laid on me.” + +17. “This, indeed,” said Cebes, “appears to be probable. But what you +said just now, Socrates, that philosophers should be very willing to +die, appears to be an absurdity, if what we said just now is agreeable +to reason, that it is God who takes care of us, and that we are his +property. For that the wisest men should not be grieved at leaving that +service in which they govern them who are the best of all masters, +namely the gods, is not consistent with reason. For surely he cannot +think that he will take better care of himself when he has become free: +but a foolish man might perhaps think thus, that he should fly from his +master, and would not reflect that he ought not to fly from a good one, +but should cling to him as much as possible, therefore he would fly +against all reason: but a man of sense would desire to be constantly +with one better than himself. Thus, Socrates, the contrary of what you +just now said is likely to be the case; for it becomes the wise to be +grieved at dying, but the foolish to rejoice.” + +18. Socrates, on hearing this, appeared to me to be pleased with the +pertinacity of Cebes, and looking towards us, said, “Cebes, you see, +always searches out arguments, and is not at all willing to admit at +once any thing one has said.” + +Whereupon Simmias replied; “But indeed, Socrates, Cebes appears to me, +now, to say something to the purpose: for with what design should men +really wise fly from masters who are better than themselves, and so +readily leave them? And Cebes appears to me to direct his argument +against you, because you so easily endure to abandon both us, and those +good rulers, as you yourself confess, the gods.” + +“You speak justly,” said Socrates, “for I think you mean that I ought to +make my defence to this charge, as if I were in a court of justice.” + +“Certainly,” replied Simmias. + +19. “Come then,” said he, “I will endeavour to defend myself more +successfully before you than before the judges. For,” he proceeded, +“Simmias and Cebes, if I did not think that I should go first of all +amongst other deities who are both wise and good, and, next, amongst men +who have departed this life, better than any here, I should be wrong in +not grieving at death: but now be assured, I hope to go amongst good +men, though I would not positively assert it; that, however, I shall go +amongst gods who are perfectly good masters, be assured I can positively +assert this, if I can any thing of the kind. So that, on this account, I +am not so much troubled, but I entertain a good hope that something +awaits those who die, and that, as was said long since, it will be far +better for the good than the evil.” + +20. “What then, Socrates,” said Simmias, “would you go away keeping this +persuasion to yourself, or would you impart it to us? For this good +appears to me to be also common to us; and at the same time it will be +an apology for you, if you can persuade us to believe what you say.” + +“I will endeavour to do so,” he said. “But first let us attend to Crito +here, and see what it is he seems to have for some time wished to say.” + +“What else, Socrates,” said Crito, “but what he who is to give you the +poison told me some time ago, that I should tell you to speak as little +as possible? For he says that men become too much heated by speaking, +and that nothing of this kind ought to interfere with the poison, and +that otherwise, those who did so were sometimes compelled to drink two +or three times.” + +To which Socrates replied, “Let him alone, and let him attend to his own +business, and prepare to give it me twice, or, if occasion requires, +even thrice.” + +21. “I was almost certain what you would say,” answered Crito, “but he +has been some time pestering me.” + +“Never mind him,” he rejoined. + +“But now I wish to render an account to you, my judges, of the reason +why a man who has really devoted his life to philosophy, when he is +about to die, appears to me, on good grounds, to have confidence, and to +entertain a firm hope that the greatest good will befal him in the other +world, when he has departed this life. How then this comes to pass, +Simmias and Cebes, I will endeavour to explain. + +“For as many as rightly apply themselves to philosophy seem to have left +all others in ignorance, that they aim at nothing else than to die and +be dead. If this then is true, it would surely be absurd to be anxious +about nothing else than this during their whole life, but, when it +arrives, to be grieved at what they have been long anxious about and +aimed at.” + +22. Upon this, Simmias, smiling, said, “By Jupiter, Socrates, though I +am not now at all inclined to smile, you have made me do so; for I think +that the multitude, if they heard this, would think it was very well +said in reference to philosophers, and that our countrymen particularly +would agree with you, that true philosophers do desire death, and that +they are by no means ignorant that they deserve to suffer it.” + +“And indeed, Simmias, they would speak the truth, except in asserting +that they are not ignorant; for they are ignorant of the sense in which +true philosophers desire to die, and in what sense they deserve death, +and what kind of death. But,” he said, “let us take leave of them, and +speak to one another. Do we think that death is any thing?” + +“Certainly,” replied Simmias. + +23. “Is it any thing else than the separation of the soul from the body? +and is not this to die, for the body to be apart by itself separated +from the soul, and for the soul to subsist apart by itself separated +from the body? Is death any thing else than this?” + +“No, but this,” he replied. + +“Consider then, my good friend, whether you are of the same opinion as +me; for thus I think we shall understand better the subject we are +considering. Does it appear to you to be becoming in a philosopher to be +anxious about pleasures, as they are called, such as meats and drinks?” + +“By no means, Socrates,” said Simmias. + +“But what? about the pleasures of love?” + +“Not at all.” + +24. “What then? does such a man appear to you to think other bodily +indulgences of value? for instance, does he seem to you to value or +despise the possession of magnificent garments and sandals, and other +ornaments of the body, except so far as necessity compels him to use +them?” + +“The true philosopher,” he answered, “appears to me to despise them.” + +“Does not then,” he continued, “the whole employment of such a man +appear to you to be, not about the body, but to separate himself from it +as much as possible, and be occupied about his soul?” + +“It does.” + +“First of all then, in such matters, does not the philosopher, above all +other men, evidently free his soul as much as he can from communion with +the body?” + +“It appears so.” + +25. “And it appears, Simmias, to the generality of men, that he who +takes no pleasure in such things, and who does not use them, does not +deserve to live; but that he nearly approaches to death who cares +nothing for the pleasures that subsist through the body.” + +“You speak very truly.” + +“But what with respect to the acquisition of wisdom, is the body an +impediment or not, if any one takes it with him as a partner in the +search? What I mean is this: Do sight and hearing convey any truth to +men, or are they such as the poets constantly sing, who say that we +neither hear nor see any thing with accuracy? If however these bodily +senses are neither accurate nor clear, much less can the others be so: +for they are all far inferior to these. Do they not seem so to you?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +26. “When then,” said he, “does the soul light on the truth? for, when +it attempts to consider any thing in conjunction with the body, it is +plain that it is then led astray by it.” + +“You say truly.” + +“Must it not then be by reasoning, if at all, that any of the things +that really are become known to it?” + +“Yes.” + +“And surely the soul then reasons best when none of these things disturb +it, neither hearing, nor sight, nor pain, nor pleasure of any kind, but +it retires as much as possible within itself, taking leave of the body, +and, as far as it can, not communicating or being in contact with it, it +aims at the discovery of that which is.” + +“Such is the case.” + +“Does not then the soul of the philosopher, in these cases, despise the +body, and flee from it, and seek to retire within itself?” + +“It appears so.” + +“But what as to such things as these, Simmias? Do we say that justice +itself is something or nothing?” + +“We say it is something, by Jupiter.” + +“And that beauty and goodness are something?” + +“How not?” + +“Now then have you ever seen any thing of this kind with your eyes?” + +“By no means,” he replied. + +“Did you ever lay hold of them by any other bodily sense? but I speak +generally, as of magnitude, health, strength, and, in a word, of the +essence of every thing, that is to say, what each is. Is then the exact +truth of these perceived by means of the body, or is it thus, whoever +amongst us habituates himself to reflect most deeply and accurately on +each several thing about which he is considering, he will make the +nearest approach to the knowledge of it?” + +“Certainly.” + +28. “Would not he, then, do this with the utmost purity, who should in +the highest degree approach each subject by means of the mere mental +faculties, neither employing the sight in conjunction with the +reflective faculty, nor introducing any other sense together with +reasoning; but who, using pure reflection by itself, should attempt to +search out each essence purely by itself, freed as much as possible from +the eyes and ears, and, in a word, from the whole body, as disturbing +the soul, and not suffering it to acquire truth and wisdom, when it is +in communion with it. Is not he the person, Simmias, if any one can, who +will arrive at the knowledge of that which is?” + +29. “You speak with wonderful truth, Socrates,” replied Simmias. + +“Wherefore,” he said, “it necessarily follows from all this, that some +such opinion as this should be entertained by genuine philosophers, so +that they should speak among themselves as follows: ‘A by-path, as it +were, seems to lead us on in our researches undertaken by reason,’ +because as long as we are encumbered with the body, and our soul is +contaminated with such an evil, we can never fully attain to what we +desire; and this, we say, is truth. For the body subjects us to +innumerable hindrances on account of its necessary support, and moreover +if any diseases befal us, they impede us in our search after that which +is; and it fills us with longings, desires, fears, all kinds of fancies, +and a multitude of absurdities, so that, as it is said in real truth, by +reason of the body it is never possible for us to make any advances in +wisdom. 30. “For nothing else but the body and its desires occasion +wars, seditions, and contests; for all wars amongst us arise on account +of our desire to acquire wealth; and we are compelled to acquire wealth +on account of the body, being enslaved to its service; and consequently +on all these accounts we are hindered in the pursuit of philosophy. But +the worst of all is, that if it leaves us any leisure, and we apply +ourselves to the consideration of any subject, it constantly obtrudes +itself in the midst of our researches, and occasions trouble and +disturbance, and confounds us so that we are not able by reason of it to +discern the truth. It has then in reality been demonstrated to us, that +if we are ever to know any thing purely, we must be separated from the +body, and contemplate the things themselves by the mere soul. And then, +as it seems, we shall obtain that which we desire, and which we profess +ourselves to be lovers of, wisdom, when we are dead, as reason shews, +but not while we are alive. 31. For if it is not possible to know any +thing purely in conjunction with the body, one of these two things must +follow, either that we can never acquire knowledge, or only after we are +dead; for then the soul will subsist apart by itself, separate from the +body, but not before. And while we live, we shall thus, as it seems, +approach nearest to knowledge, if we hold no intercourse or communion at +all with the body, except what absolute necessity requires, nor suffer +ourselves to be polluted by its nature, but purify ourselves from it, +until God himself shall release us. And thus being pure, and freed from +the folly of body, we shall in all likelihood be with others like +ourselves, and shall of ourselves know the whole real essence, and that +probably is truth; for it is not allowable for the impure to attain to +the pure. Such things, I think, Simmias, all true lovers of wisdom must +both think and say to one another. Does it not seem so to you?” + +“Most assuredly, Socrates.” + +32. “If this then,” said Socrates, “is true, my friend, there is great +hope for one who arrives where I am going, there, if any where, to +acquire that in perfection for the sake of which we have taken so much +pains during our past life; so that the journey now appointed me is set +out upon with good hope, and will be so by any other man who thinks that +his mind has been as it were purified.” + +“Certainly,” said Simmias. + +“But does not purification consist in this, as was said in a former part +of our discourse, in separating as much as possible the soul from the +body, and in accustoming it to gather and collect itself by itself on +all sides apart from the body, and to dwell, as far as it can, both now +and hereafter, alone by itself, delivered as it were from the shackles +of the body?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +33. “Is this then called death, this deliverance and separation of the +soul from the body?” + +“Assuredly,” he answered. + +“But, as we affirmed, those who pursue philosophy rightly, are +especially and alone desirous to deliver it, and this is the very study +of philosophers, the deliverance and separation of the soul from the +body, is it not?” + +“It appears so.” + +“Then, as I said at first, would it not be ridiculous for a man who has +endeavoured throughout his life to live as near as possible to death, +then, when death arrives, to grieve? would not this be ridiculous?” + +“How should it not?” + +“In reality then, Simmias,” he continued, “those who pursue philosophy +rightly study to die; and to them of all men death is least formidable. +Judge from this. Since they altogether hate the body and desire to keep +the soul by itself, would it not be irrational if, when this comes to +pass, they should be afraid and grieve, and not be glad to go to that +place, where on their arrival they may hope to obtain that which they +longed for throughout life; but they longed for wisdom; and to be freed +from association with that which they hated? 34. Have many of their own +accord wished to descend into Hades, on account of human objects of +affection, their wives and sons, induced by this very hope of there +seeing and being with those whom they have loved; and shall one who +really loves wisdom, and firmly cherishes this very hope, that he shall +no where else attain it in a manner worthy of the name, except in Hades, +be grieved at dying, and not gladly go there? We must think that he +would gladly go, my friend, if he be in truth a philosopher; for he will +be firmly persuaded of this, that he will no where else but there attain +wisdom in its purity: and if this be so, would it not be very +irrational, as I just now said, if such a man were to be afraid of +death?” + +“Very much so, by Jupiter,” he replied. + +35. “Would not this then,” he resumed, “be a sufficient proof to you, +with respect to a man whom you should see grieved when about to die, +that he was not a lover of wisdom but a lover of his body? and this same +person is probably a lover of riches and a lover of honour, one or both +of these.” + +“It certainly is as you say,” he replied. + +“Does not then,” he said, “that which is called fortitude, Simmias, +eminently belong to philosophers?” + +“By all means,” he answered. + +“And temperance also, which even the multitude call temperance, and +which consists in not being carried away by the passions, but in holding +them in contempt, and keeping them in subjection, does not this belong +to those only who most despise the body, and live in the study of +philosophy?” + +“Necessarily so,” he replied. + +36. “For,” he continued, “if you will consider the fortitude and +temperance of others, they will appear to you to be absurd.” + +“How so, Socrates?” + +“Do you know,” he said, “that all others consider death among the great +evils?” + +“They do indeed,” he answered. + +“Then do the brave amongst them endure death, when they do endure it, +through dread of greater evils?” + +“It is so.” + +“All men, therefore, except philosophers, are brave through being afraid +and fear; though it is absurd that any one should be brave through fear +and cowardice.” + +“Certainly.” + +“But what, are not those amongst them who keep their passions in +subjection, affected in the same way? and are they not temperate through +a kind of intemperance? and although we may say, perhaps, that this is +impossible, nevertheless the manner in which they are affected with +respect to this silly temperance resembles this; for, fearing to be +deprived of other pleasures, and desiring them, they abstain from some, +being mastered by others. And though they call intemperance the being +governed by pleasures, yet it happens to them that, by being mastered by +some pleasures, they master others; and this is similar to what was just +now said, that in a certain manner they become temperate through +intemperance.” + +“So it seems.” + +37. “My dear Simmias, consider that this is not a right exchange for +virtue, to barter pleasures for pleasures, pains for pains, fear for +fear, and the greater for the lesser, like pieces of money; but that +that alone is the right coin, for which we ought to barter all these +things, wisdom; and for this, and with this every thing is in reality +bought and sold, fortitude, temperance, and justice, and, in a word, +true virtue subsists with wisdom, whether pleasures and fears, and every +thing else of the kind, are present or absent; but when separated from +wisdom, and changed one for another, consider whether such virtue is not +a mere outline, and in reality servile, possessing neither soundness nor +truth; but the really true virtue is a purification from all such +things, and temperance, justice, fortitude, and wisdom itself, are a +kind of initiatory purification. 38. And those who instituted the +mysteries for us appear to have been by no means contemptible, but in +reality to have intimated long since that whoever shall arrive in Hades +unexpiated and uninitiated shall lie in mud, but he that arrives there +purified and initiated, shall dwell with the gods. ‘For there are,’ say +those who preside at the mysteries, ‘many wand-bearers, but few +inspired.’ These last, in my opinion, are no other than those who have +pursued philosophy rightly: that I might be of their number, I have, to +the utmost of my ability, left no means untried, but have endeavoured to +the utmost of my power. But whether I have endeavoured rightly and have +in any respect succeeded, on arriving there I shall know clearly, if it +please God, very shortly, as it appears to me. + +39. “Such then, Simmias and Cebes,” he added, “is the defence I make, +for that I, on good grounds, do not repine or grieve at leaving you and +my masters here, being persuaded that there, no less than here, I shall +meet with good masters and friends. But to the multitude this is +incredible. If however I have succeeded better with you in my defence +than I did with the Athenian judges, it is well.” + +When Socrates had thus spoken, Cebes, taking up the discussion said, +“Socrates, all the rest appears to me to be said rightly, but what you +have said respecting the soul will occasion much incredulity in many +from the apprehension that, when it is separated from the body, it no +longer exists any where, but is destroyed and perishes on the very day +in which a man dies, and that immediately it is separated and goes out +from the body, it is dispersed and vanishes like breath or smoke, and is +no longer any where; since, if it remained any where united in itself, +and freed from those evils which you have just now enumerated, there +would be an abundant and good hope, Socrates, that what you say is true. +40. But this probably needs no little persuasion and proof, that the +soul of a man who dies, exists, and possesses activity and +intelligence.” + +“You say truly, Cebes,” said Socrates, “but what shall we do? Are you +willing that we should converse on these points, whether such is +probably the case or not?” + +“Indeed,” replied Cebes, “I should gladly hear your opinion on these +matters.” + +“I do not think,” said Socrates, “that any one who should now hear us, +even though he were a comic poet, would say that I am talking idly, or +discoursing on subjects that do not concern me. If you please, then, we +will examine into it. Let us consider it in this point of view, whether +the souls of men who are dead exist in Hades, or not. This is an ancient +saying, which we now call to mind, that souls departing hence exist +there, and return hither again, and are produced from the dead. 41. And +if this is so, that the living are produced again from the dead, can +there be any other consequence than that our souls are there? for surely +they could not be produced again if they did not exist; and this would +be a sufficient proof that these things are so, if it should in reality +be evident that the living are produced from no other source than the +dead. But, if this is not the case, there will be need of other +arguments.” + +“Certainly,” said Cebes. + +“You must not, then,” he continued, “consider this only with respect to +men, if you wish to ascertain it with greater certainty, but also with +respect to all animals and plants, and, in a word, with respect to every +thing that is subject to generation, let us see whether they are not all +so produced, no otherwise than contraries from contraries, wherever they +have any such quality, as for instance the honourable is contrary to the +base, and the just to the unjust, and so with ten thousand other things. +42. Let us consider this, then, whether it is necessary that all things +which have a contrary should be produced from nothing else than their +contrary. As for instance, when any thing becomes greater is it not +necessary that, from being previously smaller, it afterwards became +greater?” + +“Yes.” + +“And if it becomes smaller, will it not, from being previously greater, +afterwards become smaller?” + +“It is so,” he replied. + +“And from stronger, weaker? and from slower, swifter?” + +“Certainly.” + +“What then? if any thing becomes worse, must it not become so from +better? and if more just, from more unjust?” + +“How should it not?” + +“We have then,” he said, “sufficiently determined this, that all things +are thus produced, contraries from contraries?” + +“Certainly.” + +“What next? is there also something of this kind in them, for instance, +between all two contraries a mutual twofold production, from one to the +other, and from that other back again? for between a greater thing and a +smaller there is increase and decrease, and do we not accordingly call +the one to increase, the other to decrease?” + +“Yes,” he replied. + +43. “And must not to be separated and commingled, to grow cold and to +grow warm, and every thing in the same manner, even though sometimes we +have not names to designate them, yet in fact be every where thus +circumstanced of necessity, as to be produced from each other, and be +subject to a reciprocal generation?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +“What then?” said Socrates, “has life any contrary, as waking has its +contrary, sleeping?” + +“Certainly,” he answered. + +“What?” + +“Death,” he replied. + +“Are not these, then, produced from each other, since they are +contraries, and are not the modes by which they are produced twofold, +intervening between these two?” + +“How should it be otherwise?” + +“I then,” continued Socrates, “will describe to you one pair of the +contraries which I have just now mentioned, both what it is and its mode +of production; and do you describe to me the other. I say that one is to +sleep, the other to awake; and from sleeping awaking is produced, and +from awaking sleeping, and that the modes of their production are the +one to fall asleep, the other to be roused. 44. Have I sufficiently +explained this to you or not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Do you then,” he said, “describe to me, in the same manner, with +respect to life and death? Do you not say that life is contrary to +death?” + +“I do.” + +“Yes.” + +“And that they are produced from each other?” + +“What then, is produced from life?” + +“Death,” he replied. + +“What, then,” said he, “is produced from death?” + +“I must needs confess,” he replied, “that life is.” + +“From the dead, then, O Cebes, living things and living men, are +produced.” + +“It appears so,” he said. + +“Our souls, therefore,” said Socrates, “exist in Hades.” + +“So it seems.” + +“With respect, then, to their mode of production, is not one of them +very clear? for to die surely is clear? is it not?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +“What then shall we do?” he continued; “shall we not find a +corresponding contrary mode of production, or will nature be defective +in this? Or must we discover a contrary mode of production to dying?” + +“By all means,” he said. + +“What is this?” + +“To revive.” + +“Therefore,” he proceeded, “if there is such a thing as to revive, will +not this reviving be a mode of production from the dead to the living?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Thus, then, we have agreed, that the living are produced from the dead, +no less than the dead from the living: but, this being the case, there +appears to me sufficient proof that the souls of the dead must +necessarily exist somewhere, from whence they are again produced.” + +45. “It appears to me, Socrates,” he said, “that this must necessarily +follow from what has been admitted.” + +“See now, O Cebes,” he said, “that we have not agreed on these things +improperly, as it appears to me: for if one class of things were not +constantly given back in the place of another, revolving as it were in a +circle, but generation were direct from one thing alone into its +opposite, and did not turn round again to the other, or retrace its +course, do you know that all things would at length have the same form, +be in the same state, and cease to be produced?” + +“How say you?” he asked. + +“It is by no means difficult,” he replied, “to understand what I mean; +if, for instance, there should be such a thing as falling asleep, but no +reciprocal waking again produced from a state of sleep, you know that at +length all things would shew the fable of Endymion to be a jest, and it +would be thought nothing at all of, because every thing else would be in +the same state as him, namely, asleep. And if all things were mingled +together, but never separated, that doctrine of Anaxagoras would soon be +verified, ‘all things would be together.’ 46. Likewise, my dear Cebes, +if all things that partake of life should die, and after they are dead +should remain in this state of death, and not revive again, would it not +necessarily follow that at length all things should be dead, and nothing +alive? for if living beings are produced from other things, and living +beings die, what could prevent their being all absorbed in death?” + +“Nothing whatever, I think, Socrates,” replied Cebes, “but you appear to +me to speak the exact truth.” + +“For, Cebes,” he continued, “as it seems to me, such undoubtedly is the +case, and we have not admitted these things under a delusion, but it is +in reality true that there is a reviving again, that the living are +produced from the dead, that the souls of the dead exist, and that the +condition of the good is better, and of the evil, worse.” + +47. “And indeed,” said Cebes, interrupting him, “according to that +doctrine, Socrates, which you are frequently in the habit of advancing, +if it is true, that our learning is nothing else than reminiscence, +according to this it is surely necessary that we must at some former +time have learned what we now remember. But this is impossible, unless +our soul existed somewhere before it came into this human form; so that +from hence also the soul appears to be something immortal.” + +“But, Cebes,” said Simmias, interrupting him, “what proofs are there of +these things? remind me of them, for I do not very well remember them at +present.” + +48. “It is proved,” said Cebes, “by one argument, and that a most +beautiful one, that men, when questioned, if one questions them +properly, of themselves describe all things as they are: however, if +they had not innate knowledge and right reason, they would never be able +to do this. Moreover, if one leads them to diagrams, or any thing else +of the kind, it is then most clearly apparent that this is the case.” + +“But if you are not persuaded in this way, Simmias,” said Socrates, “see +if you will agree with us on considering the matter thus. For do you +doubt how that which is called learning is reminiscence?” + +“I do not doubt,” said Simmias, “but I require this very thing of which +we are speaking, to be reminded; and indeed, from what Cebes has begun +to say, I almost now remember, and am persuaded; nevertheless, however, +I should like to hear now how you would attempt to prove it.” + +“I do it thus,” he replied: “we admit surely that if any one be reminded +of any thing, he must needs have known that thing at some time or other +before.” + +“Certainly,” he said. + +49. “Do we then admit this also, that when knowledge comes in a certain +manner it is reminiscence? But the manner I mean is this; if any one, +upon seeing or hearing, or perceiving through the medium of any other +sense, some particular thing, should not only know that, but also form +an idea of something else, of which the knowledge is not the same, but +different, should we not justly say, that he remembered that of which he +received the idea?” + +“How mean you?” + +“For instance; the knowledge of a man is different from that of a lyre.” + +“How not?” + +“Do you not know, then, that lovers when they see a lyre, or a garment, +or any thing else which their favourite is accustomed to use, are thus +affected; they both recognise the lyre, and receive in their minds the +form of the person to whom the lyre belonged? This is reminiscence: just +as any one, seeing Simmias, is often reminded of Cebes, and so in an +infinite number of similar instances.” + +“An infinite number indeed, by Jupiter,” said Simmias. + +“Is not then,” he said, “something of this sort a kind of reminiscence? +especially when one is thus affected with respect to things which, from +lapse of time, and not thinking of them, one has now forgotten?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +50. “But what?” he continued, “does it happen, that when one sees a +painted horse or a painted lyre, one is reminded of a man, and that when +one sees a picture of Simmias one is reminded of Cebes!” + +“Certainly.” + +“And does it not also happen, that on seeing a picture of Simmias one is +reminded of Simmias himself?” + +“It does indeed,” he replied. + +“Does it not happen, then, according to all this, that reminiscence +arises partly from things like, and partly from things unlike?” + +“It does.” + +“But when one is reminded by things like, is it not necessary that one +should be thus further affected, so as to perceive whether, as regards +likeness, this falls short or not of the thing of which one has been +reminded?” + +“It is necessary,” he replied. + +“Consider, then,” said Socrates, “if the case is thus. Do we allow that +there is such a thing as equality? I do not mean of one log with +another, nor one stone with another, nor any thing else of this kind, +but something altogether different from all these, abstract equality; do +we allow that there is any such thing or not?” + +“By Jupiter, we most assuredly do allow it,” replied Simmias. + +51. “And do we know what it is itself?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +“Whence have we derived the knowledge of it? Is it not from the things +we have just now mentioned, and that from seeing logs, or stones, or +other things of the kind, equal, we have from these formed an idea of +that which is different from these? for does it not appear to you to be +different? Consider the matter thus. Do not stones that are equal, and +logs sometimes that are the same, appear at one time equal, and at +another not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But what? does abstract equality ever appear to you unequal? or +equality inequality?” + +“Never, Socrates, at any time.” + +“These equal things, then,” he said, “and abstract equality, are not the +same?” + +“By no means, Socrates, as it appears.” + +“However, from these equal things,” he said, “which are different from +that abstract equality, have you not formed your idea and derived your +knowledge of it?” + +“You speak most truly,” he replied. + +“Is it not, therefore, from its being like or unlike them?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But it makes no difference,” he said. “When, therefore, on seeing one +thing, you form, from the sight of it, the notion of another, whether +like or unlike, this,” he said, “must necessarily be reminiscence.” + +“Certainly.” + +52. “What, then, as to this?” he continued; “are we affected in any such +way with regard to logs and the equal things we have just now spoken of? +and do they appear to us to be equal in the same manner as abstract +equality itself is, or do they fall short in some degree, or not at all, +of being such as equality itself is?” + +“They fall far short,” he replied. + +“Do we admit, then, that when one, on beholding some particular thing, +perceives that it aims, as that which I now see, at being like something +else that exists, but falls short of it, and cannot become such as that +is, but is inferior to it, do we admit that he who perceives this must +necessarily have had a previous knowledge of that which he says it +resembles, though imperfectly?” + +“It is necessary.” + +“What then? are we affected in some such way, or not, with respect to +things equal and abstract equality itself?” + +“Assuredly.” + +“It is necessary, therefore, that we must have known abstract equality +before the time when on first seeing equal things, we perceived that +they all aimed at resembling equality, but failed in doing so.” + +“Such is the case.” + +53. “Moreover, we admit this too, that we perceived this, and could not +possibly perceive it by any other means than the sight, or touch, or +some other of the senses: for I say the same of them all.” + +“For they are the same, Socrates, so far as our argument is concerned.” + +“However, we must perceive by means of the senses, that all things which +come under the senses aim at that abstract equality, and yet fall short +of it: or how shall we say it is?” + +“Even so.” + +“Before, then, we began to see, and hear, and use our other senses, we +must have had a knowledge of equality itself, what it is, if we were to +refer to it those equal things that come under the senses, and observe +that all such things aim at resembling that, but fall far short of it.” + +“This necessarily follows, Socrates, from what has been already said.” + +“But did we not, as soon as we were born, see and hear, and possess our +other senses?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But, we have said, before we possessed these, we must have a knowledge +of abstract equality?” + +“Yes.” + +“We must have had it, then, as it seems, before we were born.” + +“It seems so.” + +54. “If, therefore, having this before we were born, we were born +possessing it, we knew both before we were born, and as soon as we were +born, not only the equal and the greater and smaller, but all things of +the kind; for our present discussion is not more respecting equality +than the beautiful itself, the good, the just, and the holy, and in one +word, respecting every thing which we mark with the seal of existence, +both in the questions we ask, and the answers we give. So that we must +necessarily have had a knowledge of all these before we were born.” + +“Such is the case.” + +“And if, having once had it, we did not constantly forget it, we should +always be born with this knowledge, and should always retain it through +life: for to know is this, when one has got a knowledge of any thing, to +retain and not lose it; for do we not call this oblivion, Simmias, the +loss of knowledge?” + +“Assuredly, Socrates,” he replied. + +55. “But if, having had it before we were born, we lose it at our birth, +and afterwards, through exercising the senses about these things, we +recover the knowledge which we once before possessed, would not that +which we call learning be a recovery of our own knowledge? and in saying +that this is to remember should we not say rightly?” + +“Certainly.” + +“For this appeared to be possible, for one having perceived any thing, +either by seeing or hearing, or employing any other sense, to form an +idea of something different from this, which he had forgotten, and with +which this was connected by being unlike or like. So that, as I said, +one of these two things must follow, either we are all born with this +knowledge, and we retain it through life, or those whom we say learn +afterwards do nothing else but remember, and this learning will be +reminiscence.” + +“Such certainly is the case, Socrates.” + +56. “Which, then, do you choose, Simmias: that we are born with +knowledge, or that we afterwards remember what we had formerly known?” + +“At present, Socrates, I am unable to choose?” + +“But what? are you able to choose in this case, and what do you think +about it? Can a man, who possesses knowledge, give a reason for the +things that he knows, or not?” + +“He needs must be able to do so, Socrates,” he replied. + +“And do all men appear to you, to be able to give a reason for the +things of which we have just now been speaking?” + +“I wish they could,” said Simmias; “but I am much more afraid, that at +this time to-morrow, there will no longer be any one able to do this +properly.” + +“Do not all men then, Simmias,” he said, “seem to you to know these +things?” + +“By no means.” + +“Do they remember, then, what they once learned?” + +“Necessarily so.” + +“When did our souls receive this knowledge? not surely, since we were +born into the world.” + +“Assuredly not.” + +“Before then.” + +“Yes.” + +“Our souls therefore, Simmias, existed before they were in a human form, +separate from bodies, and possessed intelligence.” + +57. “Unless, Socrates, we receive this knowledge at our birth, for this +period yet remains.” + +“Be it so, my friend. But at what other time do we lose it? for we are +not born with it, as we have just now admitted. Do we lose it then at +the very time in which we receive it? Or can you mention any other +time?” + +“By no means, Socrates: I was not aware that I was saying nothing to the +purpose.” + +“Does the case then stand thus with us, Simmias,” he proceeded. “If +those things which we are continually talking about really exist, the +beautiful, the good, and every such essence, and to this we refer all +things that come under the senses, as finding it to have a prior +existence, and to be our own, and if we compare these things to it, it +necessarily follows, that as these exist, so likewise our soul exists +even before we are born; but if these do not exist this discussion will +have been undertaken in vain. Is it not so? and is there not an equal +necessity, both that these things should exist, and our souls also +before we are born, and if not the former neither the latter?” + +58. “Most assuredly, Socrates,” said Simmias, “there appears to me to be +the same necessity, and the argument admirably tends to prove that our +souls exist before we are born, just as that essence does which you have +now mentioned. For I hold nothing so clear to me as this, that all such +things most certainly exist, as the beautiful, the good, and all the +rest that you just now spoke of; and as far as I am concerned the case +is sufficiently demonstrated.” + +“But how does it appear to Cebes,” said Socrates; “for it is necessary +to persuade Cebes too.” + +“He is sufficiently persuaded, I think,” said Simmias, “although he is +the most pertinacious of men in distrusting arguments. Yet I think he is +sufficiently persuaded of this, that our soul existed before we were +born. But whether when we are dead, it will still exist, does not appear +to me to have been demonstrated, Socrates,” he continued, “but that +popular doubt, which Cebes just now mentioned, still stands in our way, +whether, when a man dies, the soul is not dispersed, and this is the end +of its existence. 59. For what hinders its being born, and formed from +some other source, and existing before it came into a human body, and +yet when it has come, and is separated from this body, its then also +dying itself, and being destroyed?” + +“You say well, Simmias,” said Cebes; “for it appears that only one half +of what is necessary has been demonstrated, namely, that our soul +existed before we were born: but it is necessary to demonstrate further, +that when we are dead, it will exist no less than before we were born, +if the demonstration is to be made complete.” + +“This has been even now demonstrated, Simmias and Cebes,” said Socrates, +“if you will only connect this last argument with that which we before +assented to, that every thing living is produced from that which is +dead. For if the soul exists before, and it is necessary for it when it +enters into life, and is born, to be produced from nothing else than +death, and from being dead, how is it not necessary for it also to exist +after death, since it must needs be produced again? 60. What you require +then, has been already demonstrated. However, both you and Simmias +appear to me as if you wished to sift this argument more thoroughly, and +to be afraid like children, lest on the soul’s departure from the body +the winds should blow it away and disperse it, especially if one should +happen to die not in a calm, but in a violent storm.” + +Upon this Cebes smiling said, “Endeavour to teach us better, Socrates, +as if we were afraid, or rather not as if we were afraid, though perhaps +there is some boy[30] within us, who has such a dread. Let us then +endeavour to persuade him not to be afraid of death, as of hobgoblins.” + +----- + +Footnote 30: + + Some boyish spirit. + +----- + +“But you must charm him every day,” said Socrates, “until you have +quieted his fears.” + +“But whence, Socrates,” he said, “can we procure a skilful charmer for +such a case, now that you are about to leave us?” + +61. “Greece is wide, Cebes,” he replied, “and in it surely there are +skilful men, there are also many barbarous nations, all of which you +should search through, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither money nor +toil, as there is nothing on which you can more seasonably spend your +money. You should also seek for him among yourselves; for perhaps you +could not easily find any more competent than yourselves to do this.” + +“This shall be done,” said Cebes, “but, if it is agreeable to you, let +us return to the point from whence we digressed.” + +“It will be agreeable to me, for how should it not?” + +“You say well,” rejoined Cebes. + +“We ought then,” said Socrates, “to ask ourselves some such question as +this, to what kind of thing it appertains to be thus affected, namely to +be dispersed, and for what we ought to fear, lest it should be so +affected, and for what not. And after this, we should consider which of +the two the soul is; and in the result should either be confident or +fearful for our soul.” + +“You speak truly,” said he. + +62. “Does it not, then, appertain to that which is formed by +composition, and is naturally compounded, to be thus affected, to be +dissolved in the same manner as that in which it was compounded; and if +there is any thing not compounded, does it not appertain to this alone, +if to any thing, not to be thus affected?” + +“It appears to me to be so,” said Cebes. + +“Is it not most probable then that things which are always the same, and +in the same state, are uncompounded, but that things which are +constantly changing, and are never in the same state, are compounded?” + +“To me it appears so.” + +“Let us return then,” he said, “to the subjects on which we before +discoursed. Whether is essence itself, of which we gave this account +that it exists, both in our questions and answers, always the same, or +does it sometimes change? Does equality itself, the beautiful itself, +and each several thing which is, ever undergo any change, however small? +Or does each of them which exists, being an unmixed essence by itself, +continue always the same, and in the same state, and never undergo any +variation at all under any circumstances?” + +“They must of necessity continue the same and in the same state, +Socrates,” said Cebes. + +63. “But what shall we say of the many beautiful things, such as men, +horses, garments, or other things of the kind, whether equal, or +beautiful, or of all things synonymous with them? Do they continue the +same, or, quite contrary to the former, are they never at any time, so +to say, the same, either with respect to themselves or one another?” + +“These on the other hand,” replied Cebes, “never continue the same.” + +“These then you can touch, or see, or perceive by the other senses; but +those that continue the same, you cannot apprehend in any other way than +by the exercise of thought; for such things are invisible, and are not +seen?” + +“You say what is strictly true,” replied Cebes. + +64. “We may assume then, if you please,” he continued, “that there are +two species of things, the one visible, the other invisible?” + +“We may,” he said. + +“And the invisible always continuing the same, but the visible never the +same?” + +“This too,” he said, “we may assume.” + +“Come then,” he asked, “is there any thing else belonging to us, than on +the one hand body, and on the other soul?” + +“Nothing else,” he replied. + +“To which species, then, shall we say the body is more like, and more +nearly allied?” + +“It is clear to every one,” he said, “that it is to the visible.” + +“But what of the soul? Is it visible or invisible?” + +“It is not visible to men, Socrates,” he replied. + +“But we speak of things which are visible or not so to the nature of +men: or to some other nature, think you?” + +“To that of men.” + +“What then shall we say of the soul, that it is visible, or not +visible?” + +“Not visible.” + +“Is it then invisible?” + +“Yes.” + +“The soul then is more like the invisible than the body, and the body, +the visible?” + +“It must needs be so, Socrates.” + +65. “And did we not some time since say this too, that the soul, when it +employs the body to examine any thing, either by means of the sight or +hearing, or any other sense, (for to examine any thing by means of the +body is to do so by the senses,) is then drawn by the body to things +that never continue the same, and wanders and is confused, and reels as +if intoxicated through coming into contact with things of this kind?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But when it examines any thing by itself, does it approach that which +is pure, eternal, immortal, and unchangeable, and, as being allied to +it, continue constantly with it, so long as it subsists by itself, and +has the power, and does it cease from its wandering, and constantly +continue the same with respect to those things, through coming into +contact with things of this kind? and is this affection of the soul +called wisdom?” + +“You speak,” he said, “in every respect, well and truly, Socrates.” + +“To which species of the two, then, both from what was before, and now +said, does the soul appear to you to be more like and more nearly +allied?” + +66. “Every one, I think, would allow, Socrates,” he replied, “even the +dullest person, from this method of reasoning that the soul is in every +respect more like that which continues constantly the same, than that +which does not so.” + +“But what as to the body?” + +“It is more like the other.” + +“Consider it also thus, that, when soul and body are together, nature +enjoins the latter to be subservient and obey, the former to rule and +exercise dominion. And in this way, which of the two appears to you to +be like the divine, and which the mortal? Does it not appear to you to +be natural that the divine should rule and command, but the mortal obey +and be subservient?” + +“To me it does so.” + +“Which then, does the soul resemble?” + +“It is clear, Socrates, that the soul resembles the divine, but the +body, the mortal.” + +“Consider then, Cebes,” said he, “whether, from all that has been said, +these conclusions follow, that the soul is most like that which is +divine, immortal, intelligent, uniform, indissoluble, and which always +continues in the same state, but that the body on the other hand is most +like that which is human, mortal, unintelligent, multiform, dissoluble, +and which never continues in the same state. Can we say any thing +against this, my dear Cebes, to shew that it is not so?” + +“We cannot.” + +67. “What then? Since these things are so, does it not appertain to the +body to be quickly dissolved, but to the soul, on the contrary, to be +altogether indissoluble, or nearly so?” + +“How not?” + +“You perceive, however,” he said, “that when a man dies, the visible +part of him, the body, which is exposed to sight, and which we call a +corpse, to which it appertains to be dissolved, to fall asunder and be +dispersed, does not immediately undergo any of these affections, but +remains for a considerable time, and especially so if any one should die +with his body in full vigour, and at a corresponding age[31]; for when +the body has collapsed and been embalmed, as those that are embalmed in +Egypt, it remains almost entire for an incredible length of time; and +some parts of the body, even though it does decay, such as the bones and +nerves, and every thing of that kind, are nevertheless, as one may say, +immortal. Is it not so?” + +----- + +Footnote 31: + + That is, at a time of life when the body is in full vigour. + +----- + +“Yes.” + +68. “Can the soul, then, which is invisible, and which goes to another +place like itself, excellent, pure, and invisible, and therefore truly +called the invisible world[32], to the presence of a good and wise God, +(whither if God will, my soul also must shortly go,) can this soul of +ours, I ask, being such and of such a nature, when separated from the +body be immediately dispersed and destroyed, as most men assert? Far +from it, my dear Cebes and Simmias. But the case is much rather thus; if +it is separated in a pure state, taking nothing of the body with it, as +not having willingly communicated with it in the present life, but +having shunned it and gathered itself within itself, as constantly +studying this; but this is nothing else than to pursue philosophy +aright, and in reality to study how to die easily; would not this be to +study how to die?” + +----- + +Footnote 32: + + In the original there is a play on the words Ἅιδης and ἀείδης, which I + can only attempt to retain by departing from the usual rendering of + the former word. + +----- + +“Most assuredly.” + +“Does not the soul, then, when in this state, depart to that which +resembles itself, the invisible, the divine, immortal, and wise? and on +its arrival there, is it not its lot to be happy, free from error, +ignorance, fears, wild passions, and all the other evils to which human +nature is subject, and, as is said of the initiated, does it not in +truth pass the rest of its time with the gods? Must we affirm that it is +so, Cebes, or otherwise?” + +“So, by Jupiter,” said Cebes. + +69. “But, I think, if it departs from the body polluted and impure, as +having constantly held communion with the body, and having served and +loved it, and been bewitched by it, through desires and pleasures, so as +to think that there is nothing real except what is corporeal, which one +can touch and see, and drink and eat, and employ for sensual purposes; +but what is dark and invisible to the eyes, which is intellectual and +apprehended by philosophy, having been accustomed to hate, fear, and +shun this, do you think that a soul thus affected can depart from the +body by itself, and uncontaminated?” + +“By no means whatever,” he replied. + +“But I think it will be impressed with that which is corporeal, which +the intercourse and communion of the body, through constant association +and great attention, have made natural to it.” + +“Certainly.” + +“We must think, my dear Cebes, that this is ponderous and heavy, earthly +and visible, by possessing which such a soul is weighed down, and drawn +again into the visible world through dread of the invisible and of +Hades, wandering, as it is said, amongst monuments and tombs, about +which, indeed, certain shadowy phantoms of souls have been seen, being +such images as those souls produced which have not departed pure from +the body, but which partake of the visible, on which account also they +are visible.” + +“That is probable, Socrates.” + +70. “Probable indeed, Cebes; and not that these are the souls of the +good, but of the wicked, which are compelled to wander about such +places, paying the penalty of their former conduct, which was evil; and +they wander about so long, until, through the desire of the corporeal +nature that accompanies them, they are again united to a body; and they +are united, as is probable, to animals having the same habits as those +they have given themselves up to during life.” + +“But what do you say these are, Socrates?” + +“For instance, those who have given themselves up to gluttony, +wantonness, and drinking, and have put no restraint on themselves, will +probably be clothed in the form of asses and brutes of that kind. Do you +not think so?” + +“You say what is very probable.” + +“And that such as have set great value on injustice, tyranny, and +rapine, will be clothed in the species of wolves, hawks, and kites? +Where else can we say such souls go?” + +“Without doubt,” said Cebes, “into such as these.” + +“Is it not then evident,” he continued, “as to the rest, whither each +will go, according to the resemblances of their several pursuits?” + +71. “It is evident,” he replied, “how not?” + +“Of these, then,” he said, “are not they the most happy, and do they not +go to the best place, who have practised that social and civilized +virtue, which they call temperance and justice, and which is produced +from habit and exercise, without philosophy and reflection?” + +“In what respect are these the most happy?” + +“Because it is probable that these should again migrate into a +corresponding civilized and peaceable kind of animals, such as bees +perhaps, or wasps, or ants, or even into the same human species again, +and from these become moderate men.” + +“It is probable.” + +“But it is not lawful for any one, who has not studied philosophy and +departed this life perfectly pure, to pass into the rank of gods, but +only for the true lover of wisdom. And on this account, my friends +Simmias and Cebes, those who philosophize rightly abstain from all +bodily desires, and persevere in doing so, and do not give themselves up +to them, not fearing the loss of property and poverty, as the generality +of men and the lovers of wealth; nor again dreading disgrace and +ignominy like those who are lovers of power and honour, do they then +abstain from them.” + +“For it would not become them to do so, Socrates,” says Cebes. + +72. “It would not, by Jupiter,” he rejoined. “Wherefore, Cebes, they who +care at all for their soul, and do not spend their lives in the culture +of their bodies, despising all these, proceed not in the same way with +them, as being ignorant whither they are going, but being convinced that +they ought not to act contrary to philosophy, but in accordance with the +freedom and purification she affords, they give themselves up to her +direction, following her wherever she leads.” + +“How, Socrates?” + +“I will tell you,” he replied. “The lovers of wisdom know, that +philosophy receiving their soul plainly bound and glued to the body, and +compelled to view things through this, as through a prison, and not +directly by herself, and sunk in utter ignorance, and perceiving too the +strength of the prison, that it arises from desire, so that he that is +bound as much as possible assists in binding himself. 73. I say, then, +the lovers of wisdom know that philosophy, receiving their soul in this +state, gently exhorts it, and endeavours to free it, by shewing that the +view of things by means of the eyes is full of deception, as also is +that through the ears and the other senses, persuading an abandonment of +these so far as it is not absolutely necessary to use them, and advising +the soul to be collected and concentrated within itself, and to believe +nothing else but herself, with respect to what she herself understands +of things that have a real subsistence, and to consider nothing true +which she views through the medium of others, and which differ under +different aspects[33]; for that a thing of this kind is sensible and +visible, but that what she herself perceives is intelligible and +invisible. The soul of the true philosopher, therefore, thinking that +she ought not to oppose this deliverance, accordingly abstains as much +as possible from pleasures and desires, griefs and fears, considering +that when any one is exceedingly delighted or alarmed, grieved or +influenced by desire, he does not merely suffer such evil from these +things as one might suppose, such as either being sick or wasting his +property, through indulging his desires; but that which is the greatest +evil, and the worst of all, this he suffers and is not conscious of it.” + +----- + +Footnote 33: + + By this I understand him to mean that the soul alone can perceive the + truth, but the senses, as they are different, receive and convey + different impressions of the same thing; thus the eye receives one + impression of an object, the ear a totally different one. + +----- + +“But what is this evil, Socrates?” said Cebes. + +74. “That the soul of every man is compelled to be either vehemently +delighted or grieved about some particular thing, and at the same time +to consider that the thing about which it is thus strongly affected is +most real and most true, though it is not so. But these are chiefly +visible objects; are they not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“In this state of affection, then, is not the soul especially shackled +by the body?” + +“How so?” + +“Because each pleasure and pain, having a nail as it were, nails the +soul to the body, and fastens it to it, and causes it to become +corporeal, deeming those things to be true whatever the body asserts to +be so. For, in consequence of its forming the same opinions with the +body, and delighting in the same things, it is compelled, I think, to +possess similar manners, and to be similarly nourished, so that it can +never pass into Hades in a pure state, but must ever depart polluted by +the body, and so quickly falls again into another body, and grows up as +if it were sown, and consequently is deprived of all association with +that which is divine, and pure, and uniform.” + +“You speak most truly, Socrates,” said Cebes. + +75. “For these reasons, therefore, Cebes, those who are truly lovers of +wisdom are moderate and resolute, and not for the reasons that most +people say. Do you think as they do?” + +“Assuredly not.” + +“No, truly. But the soul of a philosopher would reason thus, and would +not think that philosophy ought to set it free, and that when it is +freed it should give itself up again to pleasures and pains, to bind it +down again, and make her work void, weaving a kind of Penelope’s web the +reverse way. On the contrary, effecting a calm of the passions, and +following the guidance of reason, and being always intent on this, +contemplating that which is true and divine, and not subject to opinion, +and being nourished by it, it thinks that it ought to live in this +manner as long as it does live, and that when it dies it shall go to a +kindred essence, and one like itself, and shall be freed from human +evils. From such a regimen as this the soul has no occasion to fear, +Simmias and Cebes, while it strictly attends to these things, lest being +torn to pieces at its departure from the body it should be blown about +and dissipated by the winds, and no longer have an existence any where.” + +76. When Socrates had thus spoken, a long silence ensued; and Socrates +himself was pondering upon what had been said, as he appeared, and so +did most of us: but Cebes and Simmias were conversing a little while +with each other. At length Socrates perceiving them, said, “What think +you of what has been said? does it appear to you to have been proved +sufficiently? for many doubts and objections still remain if any one +will examine them thoroughly. If, then, you are considering some other +subject, I have nothing to say; but if you are doubting about this, do +not hesitate both yourselves to speak and express your opinion, if it +appears to you in any respect that it might have been argued better, and +to call me in again to your assistance, if you think you can be at all +benefited by my help.” + +Upon this Simmias said, “Indeed, Socrates, I will tell you the truth: +for some time each of us, being in doubt, has been urging and exhorting +the other to question you, from a desire to hear our doubts solved, but +we were afraid of giving you trouble, lest it should be disagreeable to +you in your present circumstances.” + +77. But he, upon hearing this, gently smiled, and said, “Bless me, +Simmias; with difficulty indeed, could I persuade other men that I do +not consider my present condition a calamity, since I am not able to +persuade even you; but you are afraid lest I should be more morose now +than during the former part of my life. And, as it seems, I appear to +you to be inferior to swans with respect to divination, who, when they +perceive that they must needs die, though they have been used to sing +before, sing then more than ever, rejoicing that they are about to +depart to that deity whose servants they are. But men, through their own +fear of death, belie the swans too, and say that, they lamenting their +death, sing their last song through grief, and they do not consider that +no bird sings when it is hungry or cold, or is afflicted with any other +pain, not even the nightingale, or swallow, or the hoopoes, which they +say sing lamenting through grief. But neither do these birds appear to +me to sing through sorrow, nor yet do swans; but in my opinion, +belonging to Apollo, they are prophetic, and foreseeing the blessings of +Hades, they sing and rejoice on that day more excellently than at any +preceding time. 78. But I too consider myself to be a fellow-servant of +the swans, and sacred to the same god, and that I have received the +power of divination from our common master no less than they, and that I +do not depart from this life with less spirits than they. On this +account, therefore, it is right that you should both speak and ask +whatever you please, as long as the Athenian Eleven permit.” + +“You say well,” said Simmias, “and both I will tell you what are my +doubts, and he in turn how far he does not assent to what has been said. +For it appears to me, Socrates, probably as it does to you with respect +to these matters, that to know them clearly in the present life is +either impossible, or very difficult: on the other hand, however, not to +test what has been said of them in every possible way, so as not to +desist until on examining them in every point of view, one has exhausted +every effort, is the part of a very weak man. For we ought with respect +to these things, either to learn from others how they stand, or to +discover them for one’s-self, or, if both these are impossible, then, +taking the best of human reasonings and that which is the most difficult +to be confuted, and embarking on this, as one who risks himself on a +raft, so to sail through life, unless one could be carried more safely, +and with less risk, on a surer conveyance or some divine reason. 79. I, +therefore, shall not now be ashamed to question you, since you bid me do +so, nor shall I blame myself hereafter, for not having now told you what +I think; for to me, Socrates, when I consider the matter, both with +myself and with Cebes, what has been said does not appear to have been +sufficiently proved.” + +Then said Socrates, “Perhaps, my friend, you have the truth on your +side; but tell me in what respect it was not sufficiently proved.” + +“In this,” he answered, “because any one might use the same argument +with respect to harmony, and a lyre, and its chords, that harmony is +something invisible and incorporeal, very beautiful and divine, in a +well-modulated lyre: but the lyre and its chords are bodies, and of +corporeal form, compounded and earthly, and akin to that which is +mortal. When any one, then, has either broken the lyre, or cut or burst +the chords, he might maintain from the same reasoning as yours, that it +is necessary the harmony should still exist and not be destroyed; for +there could be no possibility that the lyre should subsist any longer +when the chords are burst, and that the chords which are of a mortal +nature should subsist, but that the harmony, which is of the same nature +and akin to that which is divine and immortal, should become extinct, +and perish before that which is mortal; but he might say that the +harmony must needs subsist somewhere, and that the wood and chords must +decay, before it can undergo any change. 80. For I think, Socrates, that +you yourself have arrived at this conclusion, that we consider the soul +to be pretty much of this kind, namely, that our body being compacted +and held together by heat and cold, dryness and moisture, and other such +qualities, our soul is the fusion and harmony of these, when they are +well and duly combined with each other. If then, the soul is a kind of +harmony, it is evident that when our body is unduly relaxed or strained +through diseases and other maladies, the soul must of necessity +immediately perish, although it is most divine, just as other harmonies +which subsist in sounds or in the various works of artizans, but that +the remains of the body of each person last for a long time, till they +are either burnt or decayed. Consider then what we shall say to this +reasoning, if any one should maintain that the soul being a fusion of +the several qualities in the body, perishes first in that which is +called death.” + +81. Socrates, therefore, looking stedfastly at us, as he was generally +accustomed to do, and smiling, said, “Simmias indeed speaks justly. If +then, any one of you is more prompt than I am, why does he not answer? +for he seems to have handled my argument not badly. It appears to me, +however, that before we make our reply we should first hear from Cebes, +what he too objects to our argument, in order that, some time +intervening, we may consider what we shall say, and then when we have +heard them, we may give up to them, if they appear to speak agreeably to +truth, or if not, we may then uphold our own argument. Come then, +Cebes,” he continued, “say what it is that disturbs you, so as to cause +your unbelief.” + +“I will tell you,” said Cebes; “the argument seems to me to rest where +it was, and to be liable to the same objection that we mentioned before. +For, that our soul existed even before it came into this present form, I +do not deny has been very elegantly, and, if it is not too much to say +so, very fully demonstrated: but that it still exists any where when we +are dead, does not appear to me to have been clearly proved; nor do I +give in to the objection of Simmias, that the soul is not stronger and +more durable than the body, for it appears to me to excel very far all +things of this kind. 82. ‘Why then,’ reason might say, ‘do you still +disbelieve? for, since you see that when a man dies his weaker part +still exists, does it not appear to you to be necessary that the more +durable part should still be preserved during this period?’ Consider +then, whether I say any thing to the purpose in reply to this. For I +too, as well as Simmias, as it seems, stand in need of an illustration: +for the argument appears to me to have been put thus, as if any one +should advance this argument about an aged weaver who had died, that the +man has not yet perished, but perhaps still exists somewhere; and as a +proof, should exhibit the garment which he wore and had woven himself, +that it is entire and has not perished; and if any one should disbelieve +him he would ask, whether of the two is the more durable, the species of +a man or of a garment, that is constantly in use and being worn; then +should any one answer, that the species of man is much more durable, he +would think it demonstrated, that beyond all question the man is +preserved, since that which is less durable has not perished. 83. But I +do not think, Simmias, that this is the case, and do you consider what I +say, for every one must think that he who argues thus argues foolishly. +For this weaver, having worn and woven many such garments, perished +after almost all of them, but before the last I suppose, and yet it does +not on this account follow any the more that a man is inferior to or +weaker than a garment. And I think the soul might admit this same +illustration with respect to the body, and he who should say the same +things concerning them would appear to me to speak correctly, that the +soul is more durable, but the body weaker and less durable; for he would +say that each soul wears out many bodies, especially if it lives many +years; for, if the body wastes and is dissolved while the man still +lives, but the soul continually weaves anew what is worn out, it must +necessarily follow that when the soul is dissolved it must then have on +its last garment, and perish before this alone; but when the soul has +perished the body would shew the weakness of its nature, and quickly rot +and vanish. 84. So that it is not by any means right to place implicit +reliance on this argument, and to believe that when we die our soul +still exists somewhere. For, if any one should concede to him who admits +even more than you do, and should grant to him that not only did our +soul exist before we were born, but that even when we die nothing +hinders the souls of some of us from still existing, and continuing to +exist hereafter, and from being often born, and dying again; for so +strong is it by nature, that it can hold out against repeated births; if +he granted this, he would not yet concede that it does not exhaust +itself in its many births, and at length perish altogether in some one +of the deaths. But he would say that no one knows this death and +dissolution of the body, which brings destruction to the soul; for it is +impossible for any one of us to perceive it. If however, this be the +case, it follows that every one who is confident at the approach of +death is foolishly confident, unless he is able to prove that the soul +is absolutely immortal and imperishable: otherwise it necessarily +follows that he who is about to die must be alarmed for his soul, lest +in its present disunion from the body it should entirely perish.” + +85. Upon this, all of us who had heard them speaking were disagreeably +affected, as we afterwards mentioned to each other; because, after we +had been fully persuaded by the former arguments, they seemed to disturb +us anew, and to cast us into a distrust, not only of the arguments +already adduced, but of such as might afterwards be urged, for fear lest +we should not be fit judges of any thing, or lest the things themselves +should be incredible. + +_Echec._ By the gods, Phædo, I can readily excuse you: for, while I am +now hearing you, it occurs to me to ask myself some such question as +this, What arguments can we any longer believe? since the argument which +Socrates advanced, and which was exceedingly credible, has now fallen +into discredit. For this argument, that our soul is a kind of harmony, +produces a wonderful impression on me, both now and always, and in being +mentioned, it has reminded me, as it were, that I too was formerly of +the same opinion: so that I stand in need again, as if from the very +beginning, of some other argument which may persuade me that the soul of +one who dies does not die with the body. Tell me therefore, by Jupiter, +how Socrates followed up the argument; and whether he too, as you +confess was the case with yourselves, seemed disconcerted at all, or +not, but calmly maintained his position; and maintained it sufficiently, +or defectively. Relate every thing to me as accurately as you can. + +_Phæd._ Indeed, Echecrates, though I have often admired Socrates, I was +never more delighted than at being with him on that occasion. That he +should be able to say something is perhaps not at all surprising; but I +especially admired this in him, first of all that he listened to the +argument of the young men so sweetly, affably, and approvingly; in the +next place, that he so quickly perceived how we were affected by their +arguments; and lastly, that he cured us so well and recalled us, when we +were put to flight as it were and vanquished, and encouraged us to +accompany him, and consider the argument with him. + +_Echec._ How was that? + +_Phæd._ I will tell you: I happened to be sitting at his right hand, +near the bed, upon a low seat, but he himself sat much higher than I. +Stroking my head, then, and laying hold of the hair that hung on my +neck, for he used, often, to play with my hairs, “To-morrow,” he said, +“perhaps, Phædo, you will cut off these beautiful locks?” + +“It seems likely, Socrates,” said I. + +87. “Not if you are persuaded by me.” + +“Why so?” I asked. + +“To-day,” he replied, “both I ought to cut off mine and you yours, if +our argument must die, and we are unable to revive it. And I, if I were +you, and the arguments were to escape me, would take an oath, as the +Argives do, not to suffer my hair to grow until I had renewed the +contest, and vanquished the arguments of Simmias and Cebes.” + +“But,” I said, “even Hercules himself is said not to have been a match +for two.” + +“Call upon me, then,” he said, “as your Iolaus, while it is yet day.” + +“I do call on you, then,” I said, “not as Hercules upon Iolaus, but as +Iolaus upon Hercules.” + +“It will make no difference,” he replied. “But first of all we must +beware lest we meet with some mischance.” + +“What?” I asked. + +“That we do not become,” he answered, “haters of reasoning as some +become haters of men; for no greater evil can happen to any one than to +hate reasoning. 88. But hatred of reasoning and hatred of mankind both +spring from the same source. For hatred of mankind is produced in us +from having placed too great reliance on some one without sufficient +knowledge of him, and from having considered him to be a man altogether +true, sincere, and faithful, and then after a little while finding him +depraved and unfaithful, and after him another. And when a man has often +experienced this, and especially from those whom he considered his most +intimate and best friends, at length, having frequently stumbled, he +hates all men, and thinks that there is no soundness at all in any of +them. Have you not perceived that this happens so?” + +“Certainly,” I replied. + +“Is it not a shame?” he said, “and is it not evident that such a one +attempts to deal with men, without sufficient knowledge of human +affairs? For if he had dealt with them with competent knowledge, as the +case really is, so he would have considered that the good and the bad +are each very few in number, and that those between both are most +numerous.” + +89. “How say you?” I asked. + +“In the same manner,” he replied, “as with things very little and very +large. Do you think that any thing is more rare than to find a very +large or a very little man, or dog, or any thing else? and again swift +or slow, beautiful or ugly, white or black? Do you not perceive that of +all such things the extremes are rare and few, but that the intermediate +are abundant and numerous?” + +“Certainly,” I replied. + +“Do you not think, then,” he continued, “that if a contest in wickedness +were proposed, even here very few would be found pre-eminent?” + +“It is probable,” I said. + +“It is so,” he said; “but in this respect reasonings do not resemble +men, for I was just now following you as my leader, but in this they do +resemble them, when any one believes in any argument as true without +being skilled in the art of reasoning, and then shortly afterwards it +appears to him to be false, at one time being so and at another time +not, and so on with one after another[34]; and especially they who +devote themselves to controversial arguments, you are aware at length +think they have become very wise, and have alone discovered that there +is nothing sound and stable either in things or reasonings, but that all +things that exist, as is the case with the Euripus, are in a constant +state of flux and reflux, and never continue in any one condition for +any length of time.” + +----- + +Footnote 34: + + καὶ αὖθις ἕτερος καὶ ἕτερος, that is, “with one argument after + another.” Though Cousin translates it _et successivement tout + différent de lui-mâne_, and Ast, _et rursus alia atque alia_, which + may be taken in either sense, yet it appears to me to mean that, when + a man repeatedly discovers the fallacy of arguments which he before + believed to be true, he distrusts reasoning altogether, just as one + who meets with friend after friend who proves unfaithful, becomes a + misanthrope. + +----- + +“You speak perfectly true,” I said. + +90. “Would it not then, Phædo,” he said, “be a sad thing if, when there +is a true and sound reasoning, and such as one can understand, one +should then, through lighting upon such arguments as appear to be at one +time true, and at another false, not blame one’s-self and one’s own want +of skill, but at length through grief should anxiously transfer the +blame from one’s-self to the arguments, and thereupon pass the rest of +one’s life in hating and reviling arguments, and so be deprived of the +truth and knowledge of things that exist?” + +“By Jupiter,” I said, “it would be sad indeed.” + +“In the first place, then,” he said, “let us beware of this, and let us +not admit into our souls the notion, that there appears to be nothing +sound in reasoning, but much rather that we are not yet in a sound +condition, and that we ought vigorously and strenuously to endeavour to +become sound, you and the others, on account of your whole future life, +but I, on account of my death, since I am in danger at the present time, +of not behaving as becomes a philosopher, with respect to this very +subject, but as a wrangler like those who are utterly uninformed. 91. +For they, when they dispute about any thing, care nothing at all for the +subject about which the discussion is, but are anxious about this, that +what they have themselves advanced shall appear true to the persons +present. And I seem to myself on the present occasion to differ from +them only in this respect; for I shall not be anxious to make what I say +appear true to those who are present, except that may happen by the way, +but that it may appear certainly to be so to myself. For I thus reason, +my dear friend, and observe how interestedly, if what I say be true, it +is well to be persuaded of it: but if nothing remains to one that is +dead, I shall at least during the interval before death, be less +disagreeable to those present by my lamentations. But this ignorance of +mine will not continue long, for that would be bad, but will shortly be +put an end to. Thus prepared then, Simmias and Cebes,” he continued, “I +now proceed to my argument. Do you however, if you will be persuaded by +me, pay little attention to Socrates, but much more to the truth, and if +I appear to you to say any thing true, assent to it, but if not, oppose +me with all your might, taking good care that in my zeal I do not +deceive both myself and you, and like a bee depart leaving my sting +behind.” + +92. “But let us proceed,” he said; “first of all, remind me of what you +said, if I should appear to have forgotten it. For Simmias, as I think, +is in doubt and fears lest the soul, though more divine and beautiful +than the body, should perish before it, as being a species of harmony. +But Cebes appeared to me to grant me this, that the soul is more durable +than the body, but he argued that it is uncertain to every one, whether +when the soul has worn out many bodies, and that repeatedly, it does +not, on leaving the last body, itself also perish, so that this very +thing is death, the destruction of the soul, since the body never ceases +decaying. Are not these the things, Simmias and Cebes, which we have to +enquire into?” + +They both agreed that they were. + +“Whether, then,” he continued, “do you reject all our former arguments, +or some of them only, and not others?” + +“Some we do,” they replied, “and others not.” + +“What then,” he proceeded, “do you say about that argument, in which we +asserted that knowledge is reminiscence, and that, this being the case, +our soul must necessarily have existed somewhere before it was enclosed +in the body?” + +93. “I, indeed,” replied Cebes, “was both then wonderfully persuaded by +it, and now persist in it, as in no other argument.” + +“And I too,” said Simmias, “am of the same mind, and should very much +wonder if I should ever think otherwise on that point.” + +“Then,” Socrates said, “you must needs think otherwise, my Theban +friend, if this opinion holds good, that harmony is something +compounded, and that the soul is a kind of harmony that results from the +parts compacted together in the body. For surely you will not allow +yourself to say that harmony was composed prior to the things from which +it required to be composed. Would you allow this?” + +“By no means Socrates,” he replied. + +“Do you perceive then,” he said, “that this results from what you say, +when you assert that the soul existed before it came into a human form +and body, but that it was composed from things that did not yet exist? +For harmony is not such as that to which you compare it; but first the +lyre, and the chords, and the sounds yet unharmonized, exist, and last +of all harmony is produced, and first perishes. How then will this +argument accord with that?” + +“Not at all,” said Simmias. + +94. “And yet,” he said, “if in any argument, there ought to be an +accordance in one respecting harmony.” + +“There ought,” said Simmias. + +“This of yours however,” he said, “is not in accordance. Consider then, +which of these two statements do you prefer, that knowledge is +reminiscence, or the soul harmony?” + +“The former, by far, Socrates,” he replied, “for the latter occurred to +me without demonstration, through a certain probability and speciousness +whence most men derive their opinions. But I am well aware that +arguments which draw their demonstrations from probabilities are idle; +and unless one is on one’s guard against them, they are very deceptive, +both in geometry and all other subjects. But the argument respecting +reminiscence and knowledge may be said to have been demonstrated by a +satisfactory hypothesis. For in this way it was said that our soul +existed before it came into the body, because the essence that bears the +appellation of ‘that which is,’ belongs to it. But of this, as I +persuade myself, I am fully and rightly convinced. It is therefore +necessary, as it seems, that I should neither allow myself nor any one +else to maintain that the soul is harmony.” + +95. “But what, Simmias,” said he, “if you consider it thus? Does it +appear to you to appertain to harmony, or to any other composition, to +subsist in any other way than the very things do of which it is +composed?” + +“By no means.” + +“And indeed, as I think, neither to do any thing, nor suffer any thing +else, besides what they do or suffer.” + +He agreed. + +“It does not, therefore, appertain to harmony to take the lead of the +things of which it is composed, but to follow them.” + +He assented. + +“It is then far from being the case that harmony is moved or sends forth +sounds contrariwise, or is in any other respect opposed to its parts?” + +“Far indeed,” he said. + +“What then? is not every harmony naturally harmony, so far as it has +been made to accord?” + +“I do not understand you,” he replied. + +“Whether,” he said, “if it should be in a greater degree and more fully +made to accord, supposing that were possible, would the harmony be +greater and more full, but if in a less degree and less fully, then +would it be inferior and less full?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Is this then the case with the soul, that, even in the smallest extent, +one soul is more fully and in a greater degree, or less fully and in a +less degree this very thing, a soul, than another?” + +“In no respect whatever,” he replied. + +96. “Well then,” he said, “by Jupiter, is one soul said to possess +intelligence and virtue, and to be good, and another folly and vice, and +to be bad? and is this said with truth?” + +“With truth, certainly.” + +“Of those, then, who maintain that the soul is harmony, what will any +one say that these things are in the soul, virtue and vice? Will he call +them another kind of harmony and discord? and say that the one, the good +soul, is harmonized, and, being harmony, contains within itself another +harmony, but that the other is discordant, and does not contain within +itself another harmony?” + +“I am unable to say,” replied Simmias, “but it is clear that he who +maintains that opinion would say something of the kind.” + +“But it has been already granted,” said he, “that one soul is not more +or less a soul than another; and this is an admission that one harmony +is not to a greater degree or more fully, or to a less degree or less +fully, a harmony, than another: is it not so?” + +“Certainly.” + +“And that that which is neither more nor less harmony, is neither more +nor less harmonized: is it so?” + +“It is.” + +“But does that which is neither more nor less harmonized partake of more +or less harmony, or an equal amount?” + +“An equal amount.” + +97. “A soul, therefore, since it is not more or less this very thing, a +soul, than another, is not more or less harmonized?” + +“Even so.” + +“Such then being its condition, it cannot partake of a greater degree of +discord or harmony?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“And again, such being its condition, can one soul partake of a greater +degree of vice or virtue than another, if vice be discord, and virtue +harmony?” + +“It cannot.” + +“Or rather, surely, Simmias, according to right reason, no soul will +partake of vice, if it is harmony: for doubtless harmony, which is +perfectly such, can never partake of discord?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“Neither, therefore, can a soul, which is perfectly a soul, partake of +vice.” + +“How can it, from what has been already said?” + +“From this reasoning, then, all souls of all animals will be equally +good, if at least they are by nature equally this very thing, souls?” + +“It appears so to me, Socrates,” he said. + +“And does it appear to you,” he said, “to have been thus rightly argued, +and that the argument would lead to this result, if the hypothesis were +correct, that the soul is harmony?” + +98. “On no account whatever,” he replied. + +“But what,” said he, “of all the things that are in man, is there any +thing else that you say bears rule except the soul, especially if it be +wise?” + +“I should say not.” + +“Whether by yielding to the passions in the body, or by opposing them? +My meaning is this, for instance, when heat and thirst are present, by +drawing it the contrary way, so as to hinder it from drinking, and when +hunger is present, by hindering it from eating; and in ten thousand +other instances we see the soul opposing the desires of the body. Do we +not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But have we not before allowed that if the soul were harmony, it would +never utter a sound contrary to the tension, relaxation, vibration, or +any other affection to which its component parts are subject, but would +follow, and never govern them?” + +“We did allow it,” he replied, “for how could we do otherwise?” + +“What, then, does not the soul now appear to act quite the contrary, +ruling over all the parts, from which any one might say it subsists, and +resisting almost all of them through the whole of life, and exercising +dominion over them in all manner of ways, punishing some more severely +even with pain, both by gymnastics and medicine, and others more mildly, +partly threatening, and partly admonishing the desires, angers, and +fears, as if, being itself of a different nature, it were conversing +with something quite different? 99. Just as Homer has done in the +Odyssey[35], where he speaks of Ulysses: ‘Having struck his breast, he +chid his heart in the following words, Bear up, my heart; ere this thou +hast borne far worse.’ Do you think that he composed this in the belief +that the soul was harmony, and capable of being led by the passions of +the body, and not rather that it was able to lead and govern them, as +being something much more divine than to be compared with harmony?” + +----- + +Footnote 35: + + Lib. xx. v. 7. + +----- + +“By Jupiter, Socrates, it appears so to me.” + +“Therefore, my excellent friend, it is on no account correct for us to +say that the soul is a kind of harmony; for as it appears, we should +neither agree with Homer, that divine poet, nor with ourselves.” + +“Such is the case,” he replied. + +“Be it so, then,” said Socrates, “we have already, as it seems, +sufficiently appeased this Theban harmony. But how, Cebes, and by what +arguments shall we appease this Cadmus[36]?” + +----- + +Footnote 36: + + Harmony was the wife of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes; Socrates, + therefore, compares his two Theban friends, Simmias and Cebes, with + them, and says that having overcome Simmias, the advocate of Harmony, + he must now deal with Cebes, who is represented by Cadmus. + +----- + +100. “You appear to me,” replied Cebes, “to be likely to find out; for +you have made out this argument against harmony wonderfully beyond my +expectation. For when Simmias was saying what his doubts were, I +wondered very much whether any one would be able to answer his +reasoning. It therefore appeared to me unaccountable that he did not +withstand the very first onset of your argument. I should not, +therefore, be surprised if the arguments of Cadmus met with the same +fate.” + +“My good friend,” said Socrates, “do not speak so boastfully, lest some +envious power should overthrow the argument that is about to be urged. +These things, however, will be cared for by the deity, but let us, +meeting hand to hand, in the manner of Homer, try whether you say any +thing to the purpose. This, then, is the sum of what you enquire: you +require it to be proved that our soul is imperishable and immortal; if a +philosopher that is about to die, full of confidence and hope that after +death he shall be far happier than if he had died after leading a +different kind of life, shall not entertain this confidence foolishly +and vainly. 101. But to shew that the soul is something strong and +divine, and that it existed before we men were born, you say not at all +hinders, but that all these things may evince, not its immortality, but +that the soul is durable, and existed an immense space of time before, +and knew and did many things. But that, for all this, it was not at all +the more immortal, but that its very entrance into the body of a man was +the beginning of its destruction, as if it were a disease, so that it +passes through this life in wretchedness, and at last perishes in that +which is called death. But you say that it is of no consequence whether +it comes into a body once or often, with respect to our occasion of +fear: for it is right he should be afraid, unless he is foolish, who +does not know, and cannot give a reason to prove, that the soul is +immortal. Such, I think, Cebes, is the sum of what you say; and I +purposely repeat it often, that nothing may escape us, and, if you +please, you may add to or take from it.” + +Cebes replied, “I do not wish at present either to take from or add to +it; that is what I mean.” + +102. Socrates, then, having paused for some time, and considered +something within himself, said, “You enquire into no easy matter, Cebes; +for it is absolutely necessary to discuss the whole question of +generation and corruption. If you please, then, I will relate to you +what happened to me with reference to them; and afterwards, if any thing +that I shall say shall appear to you useful, towards producing +conviction on the subject you are now treating of, make use of it.” + +“I do indeed wish it,” replied Cebes. + +“Hear my relation then. When I was a young man, Cebes, I was wonderfully +desirous of that wisdom which they call a history of nature: for it +appeared to me to be a very sublime thing to know the causes of every +thing, why each thing is generated, why it perishes, and why it exists. +And I often tossed myself upwards and downwards, considering first such +things as these, whether when heat and cold have undergone a certain +corruption, as some say, then animals are formed; and whether the blood +is that by means of which we think, or air, or fire, or none of these, +but that it is the brain that produces the perceptions of hearing, +seeing, and smelling, and that from these come memory and opinion, and +from memory and opinion, when in a state of rest, in the same way +knowledge is produced? 103. And again considering the corruptions of +these, and the affections incidental to the heavens and the earth, I at +length appeared to myself so unskilful in these speculations, that +nothing could be more so. But I will give you a sufficient proof of +this: for I then became, by these very speculations, so very blind with +respect to things which I knew clearly before, as it appeared to myself +and others, that I unlearnt even the things which I thought I knew +before, both on many other subjects and also this, why a man grows. For +before I thought this was evident to every one, that it proceeds from +eating and drinking; for that, when, from the food, flesh is added to +flesh, bone to bone, and so on in the same proportion, what is proper to +them is added to the several other parts, then the bulk which was small +becomes afterwards large, and thus that a little man becomes a big one. +Such was my opinion at that time: does it appear to you correct?” + +“To me it does,” said Cebes. + +104. “Consider this farther. I thought that I had formed a right +opinion, when on seeing a tall man standing by a short one, I judged +that he was taller by the head, and in like manner one horse than +another: and still more clearly than this, ten appeared to me to be more +than eight, by two being added to them, and that two cubits are greater +than one cubit, by exceeding it a half.” + +“But now,” said Cebes, “what think you of these matters?” + +“By Jupiter,” said he, “I am far from thinking that I know the cause of +these, for that I cannot even persuade myself of this, when a person has +added one to one, whether the one to which the addition has been made +has become two, or whether that which has been added, and that to which +the addition has been made, have become two by the addition of the one +to the other. For I wonder, if when each of these was separate from the +other, each was one, and they were not yet two, but when they have +approached nearer each other, this should be the cause of their becoming +two, namely, the union by which they have been placed nearer one +another. 105. Nor yet, if any person should divide one, am I able to +persuade myself that this, their division, is the cause of its becoming +two. For this cause is the contrary to the former one of their becoming +two; for then it was because they were brought nearer to each other, and +the one was added to the other; but now it is, because one is removed +and separated from the other. Nor do I yet persuade myself, that I know +why one is one, nor, in a word, why any thing else is produced or +perishes, or exists, according to this method of proceeding; but I mix +up another method of my own at random, for this I can on no account give +in to. + +“But having once heard a person reading from a book, written, as he +said, by Anaxagoras, and which said that it is intelligence that sets in +order and is the cause of all things, I was delighted with this cause, +and it appeared to me in a manner to be well that intelligence should be +the cause of all things, and I considered with myself, if this is so, +that the regulating intelligence orders all things, and disposes each in +such way as will be best for it. 106. If any one, then, should desire to +discover the cause of every thing, in what way it is produced, or +perishes, or exists, he must discover this respecting it, in what way it +is best for it either to exist, or to suffer, or do any thing else; from +this mode of reasoning, then, it is proper that a man should consider +nothing else, both with respect to himself and others, than what is most +excellent and best: and it necessarily follows that this same person +must also know that which is worst, for that the knowledge of both of +them is the same. Thus reasoning with myself, I was delighted to think I +had found in Anaxagoras a preceptor who would instruct me in the causes +of things, agreeably to my own mind, and that he would inform me, first, +whether the earth is flat or round, and when he had informed me, would +moreover explain the cause and necessity of its being so, arguing on the +principle of the better, and shewing that it is better for it to be such +as it is, and if he should say that it is in the middle, that he would +moreover explain how it is better for it to be in the middle; and if he +should make all this clear to me, I was prepared no longer to require +any other species of cause. 107. I was in like manner prepared to +enquire respecting the sun, and moon, and the other stars, with respect +to their velocities in reference to each other and their revolutions, +and other conditions, in what way it is better for both to act and be +affected as it does and is. For I never thought that after he had said +that these things were set in order by intelligence, he would introduce +any other cause for them than that it is best for them to be as they +are: hence, I thought, that in assigning the cause to each of them, and +to all in common, he would explain that which is best for each, and the +common good of all. And I would not have given up my hopes for a good +deal, but having taken up his books with great eagerness, I read through +them as quickly as I could; that I might as soon as possible know the +best, and the worst. + +108. “From this wonderful hope, however, my friend, I was speedily +thrown down, when, as I advance and read over his works, I meet with a +man who makes no use of intelligence, nor assigns any causes for the +ordering of all things, but makes the causes to consist of air, ether, +and water, and many other things equally absurd. And he appeared to me +to be very like one who should say, that whatever Socrates does he does +by intelligence, and then, attempting to describe the causes of each +particular action, should say, first of all, that for this reason I am +now sitting here, because my body is composed of bones and sinews, and +that the bones are hard, and have joints separate from each other, but +that the sinews, being capable of tension and contraction, cover the +bones, together with the flesh and skin which contains them. The bones, +therefore, being suspended in their sockets, the nerves relaxing and +tightening enable me to bend my limbs as I now do, and from this cause I +sit here bent up. 109. And if again, he should assign other similar +causes for my conversing with you, assigning as causes voice, and air, +and hearing, and ten thousand other things of the kind, omitting to +mention the real causes, that since it appeared better to the Athenians +to condemn me, I therefore thought it better to sit here, and more just +to remain and submit to the punishment which they have ordered; for, by +the dog, I think these sinews and bones would have been long ago either +in Megara or Bœotia, borne thither by an opinion of that which is best, +if I had not thought it more just and honourable to submit to whatever +sentence the city might order, than to flee and run stealthily away. But +to call such things causes is too absurd. But if any one should say that +without possessing such things as bones and sinews, and whatever else I +have, I could not do what I pleased, he would speak the truth; but to +say that I do as I do through them, and that I act thus by intelligence, +and not from the choice of what is best, would be a great and extreme +disregard of reason. 110. For this would be not to be able to +distinguish that the real cause is one thing, and that another without +which a cause could not be a cause: which indeed the generality of men +appear to me to do, fumbling as it were in the dark, and making use of +strange names, so as to denominate them as the very cause. Wherefore one +encompassing the earth with a vortex from heaven, makes the earth remain +fixed; but another, as if it were a broad trough, rests it upon the air +as its base: but the power by which these things are now so disposed +that they may be placed in the best manner possible, this they neither +enquire into, nor do they think that it requires any superhuman +strength; but they think they will some time or other find out an Atlas +stronger and more immortal than this, and more capable of containing all +things, and in reality, the good, and that which ought to hold them +together and contain them, they take no account of at all. I then should +most gladly have become the disciple of any one who would teach me of +such a cause, in what way it is. But when I was disappointed of this, +and was neither able to discover it myself, nor to learn it from +another, do you wish, Cebes, that I should shew you in what way I set +out upon a second voyage in search of the cause?” + +111. “I wish it exceedingly,” he replied. + +“It appeared to me then,” said he, “after this, when I was wearied with +considering things that exist, that I ought to beware lest I should +suffer in the same way as they do who look at and examine an eclipse of +the sun, for some lose the sight of their eyes, unless they behold its +image in water, or some similar medium. And I was affected with a +similar feeling, and was afraid lest I should be utterly blinded in my +soul through beholding things with the eyes, and endeavouring to grasp +them by means of the several senses. It seemed to me, therefore, that I +ought to have recourse to reasons, and to consider in them the truth of +things. Perhaps, however, this similitude of mine may in some respect be +incorrect; for I do not altogether admit that he who considers things in +their reasons considers them in their images, more than he does who +views them in their effects. However, I proceeded thus, and on each +occasion laying down the reason, which I deem to be the strongest, +whatever things appear to me to accord with this I regard as true, both +with respect to the cause and every thing else, but such as do not +accord I regard as not true. 112. But I wish to explain my meaning to +you in a clearer manner; for I think that you do not yet understand me.” + +“No, by Jupiter,” said Cebes, “not well.” + +“However,” continued he, “I am now saying nothing new, but what I have +always at other times, and in a former part of this discussion, never +ceased to say. I proceed then to attempt to explain to you that species +of cause which I have busied myself about, and return again to those +well-known subjects, and set out from them, laying down as an +hypothesis, that there is a certain abstract beauty, and goodness, and +magnitude, and so of all other things; which if you grant me, and allow +that they do exist, I hope that I shall be able from these to explain +the cause to you, and to discover that the soul is immortal.” + +“But,” said Cebes, “since I grant you this, you may draw your conclusion +at once.” + +“But consider,” he said, “what follows from thence, and see if you can +agree with me. For it appears to me, that if there be any thing else +beautiful, besides beauty itself, it is not beautiful for any other +reason than because it partakes of that abstract beauty; and I say the +same of every thing. Do you admit such a cause?” + +“I do admit it,” he replied. + +113. “I do not yet understand,” he continued, “nor am I able to +conceive, those other wise causes; but if any one should tell me why any +thing is beautiful, either because it has a blooming florid colour, or +figure, or any thing else of the kind, I dismiss all other reasons, for +I am confounded by them all; but I simply, wholly, and perhaps +foolishly, confine myself to this, that nothing else causes it to be +beautiful, except either the presence or communication of that abstract +beauty, by whatever means and in whatever way communicated: for I cannot +yet affirm this with certainty, but only that by means of beauty all +beautiful things become beautiful. For this appears to me the safest +answer to give both to myself and others, and adhering to this, I think +that I shall never fall, but that it is a safe answer both for me and +any one else to give, that by means of beauty beautiful things become +beautiful. Does it not also seem so to you?” + +“It does.” + +“And that by magnitude great things become great, and greater things, +greater; and by littleness less things become less?” + +“Yes.” + +114. “You would not then approve of it, if any one said that one person +is greater than another by the head, and that the less is less by the +very same thing, but you would maintain that you mean nothing else than +that every thing that is greater than another is greater by nothing else +than magnitude, and that it is greater on this account, that is on +account of magnitude, and that the less is less by nothing else than +littleness, and on this account less, that is, on account of littleness, +being afraid, I think, lest some opposite argument should meet you if +you should say that any one is greater and less by the head; as first, +that the greater is greater, and the less less, by the very same thing; +and next, that the greater is greater by the head, which is small; and +that it is monstrous to suppose that any one is great through something +small. Should you not be afraid of this?” + +To which said Cebes, smilingly, “Indeed I should.” + +“Should you not, then,” he continued, “be afraid to say that ten is more +than eight by two, and for this cause exceeds it, and not by number, and +on account of number? and that two cubits are greater than one cubit by +half, and not by magnitude? for the fear is surely the same.” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +115. “What then? when one has been added to one, would you not beware of +saying that the addition is the cause of its being two, or division when +it has been divided; and would you not loudly assert that you know no +other way in which each thing subsists, than by partaking of the +peculiar essence of each of which it partakes, and that in these cases +you can assign no other cause of its becoming two than its partaking of +duality; and that such things as are to become two must needs partake of +this, and what is to become one, of unity; but these divisions and +additions, and other such subtleties, you would dismiss, leaving them to +be given as answers by persons wiser than yourself: whereas you, +fearing, as it is said, your own shadow and inexperience, would adhere +to this safe hypothesis, and answer accordingly? But if any one should +assail this hypothesis of yours, would you not dismiss him and refrain +from answering him till you had considered the consequences resulting +from it, whether in your opinion they agree with or differ from each +other? But when it should be necessary for you to give a reason for it, +would you give one in a similar way, by again laying down another +hypothesis, which should appear the best of higher principles, until you +arrived at something satisfactory, but at the same time you would avoid +making confusion, as disputants do, in treating of the first principle +and the results arising from it, if you really desire to arrive at the +truth of things. 116. For they, perhaps, make no account at all of this, +nor pay any attention to it, for they are able, through their wisdom, to +mingle all things together, and at the same time please themselves. But +you, if you are a philosopher, would act, I think, as I now describe.” + +“You speak most truly,” said Simmias and Cebes together. + +_Echec._ By Jupiter, Phædo, they said so with good reason: for he +appears to me to have explained these things with wonderful clearness, +even to one endued with a small degree of intelligence. + +_Phæd._ Certainly, Echecrates, and so it appeared to all who were +present. + +_Echec._ And so it appears to me, who was absent, and now hear it +related. But what was said after this? + +As well as I remember, when these things had been granted him, and it +was allowed that each several idea exists of itself[37], and that other +things partaking of them receive their denomination from them, he next +asked: “If then,” he said, “you admit that these things are so, whether, +when you say that Simmias is greater than Socrates, but less than Phædo, +do you not then say that magnitude and littleness are both in Simmias?” + +----- + +Footnote 37: + + εἶναί τι, literally, “is something.” + +----- + +“I do.” + +117. “And yet,” he said, “you must confess that Simmias’s exceeding +Socrates is not actually true in the manner in which the words express +it; for Simmias does not naturally exceed Socrates, in that he is +Simmias, but in consequence of the magnitude which he happens to have; +nor, again, does he exceed Socrates, because Socrates is Socrates, but +because Socrates possesses littleness in comparison with his magnitude?” + +“True.” + +“Nor, again, is Simmias exceeded by Phædo, because Phædo is Phædo, but +because Phædo possesses magnitude in comparison with Simmias’s +littleness?” + +“It is so.” + +“Thus, then, Simmias has the appellation of being both little and great, +being between both, by exceeding the littleness of one through his own +magnitude, and to the other yielding a magnitude that exceeds his own +littleness.” And at the same time, smiling, he said, “I seem to speak +with the precision of a short-hand writer; however, it is as I say.” + +He allowed it. + +118. “But I say it for this reason, wishing you to be of the same +opinion as myself. For it appears to me, not only that magnitude itself +is never disposed to be at the same time great and little, but that +magnitude in us never admits the little, nor is disposed to be exceeded, +but one of two things, either to flee and withdraw when its contrary, +the little, approaches it, or when it has actually come, to perish; but +that it is not disposed, by sustaining and receiving littleness, to be +different from what it was. Just as I, having received and sustained +littleness, and still continuing the same person that I am, am this same +little person: but that, while it is great, never endures to be little. +And in like manner the little that is in us is not disposed at any time +to become or to be great, nor is any thing else among contraries, while +it continues what it was, at the same time disposed to become and to be +its contrary; but in this contingency it either departs or perishes.” + +119. “It appears so to me,” said Cebes, “in every respect.” + +But some one of those present, on hearing this, I do not clearly +remember who he was, said, “By the gods, was not the very contrary of +what is now asserted admitted in the former part of our discussion, that +the greater is produced from the less, and the less from the greater, +and in a word, that the very production of contraries is from +contraries? But now it appears to me to be asserted that this can never +be the case.” + +Upon this Socrates, having leant his head forward and listened, said, +“You have reminded me in a manly way; you do not, however, perceive the +difference between what is now and what was then asserted. For then it +was said, that a contrary thing is produced from a contrary; but now, +that a contrary can never become contrary to itself, neither that which +is in us, nor that which is in nature. For then, my friend, we spoke of +things that have contraries, calling them by the appellation of those +things; but now we are speaking of those very things, from the presence +of which things so called receive their appellation, and of these very +things we say that they are never disposed to admit of production from +each other.” 120. And, at the same time looking at Cebes, “Has any thing +that has been said, Cebes, disturbed you?” + +“Indeed,” said Cebes, “I am not at all so disposed; however, I by no +means say that there are not many things that disturb me.” + +“Then,” he continued, “we have quite agreed to this, that a contrary can +never be contrary to itself.” + +“Most certainly,” he replied. + +“But further,” he said, “consider whether you will agree with me in this +also. Do you call heat and cold any thing?” + +“I do.” + +“The same as snow and fire?” + +“By Jupiter, I do not.” + +“But heat is something different from fire, and cold something different +from snow?” + +“Yes.” + +“But this, I think, is apparent to you, that snow, while it is snow, can +never, when it has admitted heat, as we said before, continue to be what +it was, snow and hot, but, on the approach of heat, it must either +withdraw or perish?” + +“Certainly.” + +“And again, that fire, when cold approaches it, must either depart or +perish; but that it will never endure, when it has admitted coldness, to +continue what it was, fire and cold?” + +121. “You speak truly,” he said. + +“It happens then,” he continued, “with respect to some of such things, +that not only is the idea itself always thought worthy of the same +appellation, but likewise something else which is not indeed that idea +itself but constantly retains its form so long as it exists. What I mean +will perhaps be clearer in the following examples. The odd in number +must always possess the name by which we now call it; must it not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Must it alone of all things, for this I ask, or is there any thing +else, which is not the same as the odd, but yet which we must always +call odd, together with its own name, because it is so constituted by +nature, that it can never be without the odd? But this I say is the case +with the number three, and many others. For consider with respect to the +number three; does it not appear to you that it must always be called by +its own name, as well as by that of the odd, which is not the same as +the number three? Yet such is the nature of the number three, five, and +the entire half of number, that though they are not the same as the odd, +yet each of them is always odd. And again, two and four, and the whole +other series of number, though not the same as the even, are +nevertheless each of them always even: do you admit this or not?” + +122. “How should I not?” he replied. + +“Observe then,” said he, “what I wish to prove. It is this, that it +appears, not only that these contraries do not admit each other, but +that even such things as are not contrary to each other, and yet always +possess contraries, do not appear to admit that idea which is contrary +to the idea that exists in themselves, but, when it approaches, perish +or depart. Shall we not allow that the number three would first perish, +and suffer any thing whatever, rather than endure, while it is still +three, to become even?” + +“Most certainly,” said Cebes. + +“And yet,” said he, “the number two is not contrary to three.” + +“Surely not.” + +“Not only, then, do ideas that are contrary never allow the approach of +each other, but some other things also do not allow the approach of +contraries.” + +“You say very truly,” he replied. + +“Do you wish, then,” he said, “that, if we are able, we should define +what these things are?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Would they not then, Cebes,” he said, “be such things as whatever they +occupy, compel that thing not only to retain its own idea, but also that +of something which is always a contrary?” + +“How do you mean?” + +123. “As we just now said. For you know surely, that whatever things the +idea of three occupies must of necessity not only be three, but also +odd?” + +“Certainly.” + +“To such a thing, then, we assert, that the idea contrary to that form +which constitutes this can never come.” + +“It cannot.” + +“But did the odd make it so?” + +“Yes.” + +“And is the contrary to this the idea of the even?” + +“Yes.” + +“The idea of the even, then, will never come to the three?” + +“No surely.” + +“Three, then, has no part in the even?” + +“None whatever.” + +“The number three is uneven?” + +“Yes.” + +“What therefore I said should be defined, namely, what things they are +which, though not contrary to some particular thing, yet do not admit of +the contrary itself, as in the present instance, the number three though +not contrary to the even, does not any the more admit it, for it always +brings the contrary with it, just as the number two does to the odd, +fire to cold, and many other particulars, consider then, whether you +would thus define, not only that a contrary does not admit a contrary, +but also that that which brings with it a contrary to that to which it +approaches, will never admit the contrary of that which it brings with +it. 124. But call it to mind again, for it will not be useless to hear +it often repeated. Five will not admit the idea of the even, nor ten, +its double, that of the odd. This double then, though it is itself +contrary to something else[38], yet will not admit the idea of the odd; +nor will half as much again, nor other things of the kind, such as the +half and the third part admit the idea of the whole, if you follow me +and agree with me that it is so.” + +“I entirely agree with you,” he said, “and follow you.” + +“Tell me again, then,” he said, “from the beginning; and do not answer +me in the terms in which I put the question, but in different ones, +imitating my example. For I say this because, besides that safe mode of +answering, which I mentioned at first[39], from what has now been said, +I see another no less safe one. For if you should ask me what that is, +which if it be in the body will cause it to be hot, I should not give +you that safe but unlearned answer, that it is heat, but one more +elegant, from what we have just now said, that it is fire: nor, if you +should ask me what that is, which if it be in the body, will cause it to +be diseased, should I say that it is disease, but fever; nor, if you +should ask what that is, which if it be in number, will cause it to be +odd, should I say that it is unevenness, but unity, and so with other +things. But consider whether you sufficiently understand what I mean.” + +125. “Perfectly so,” he replied. + +“Answer me then,” he said, “what that is, which when it is in the body, +the body will be alive?” + +“Soul,” he replied. + +“Is not this, then, always the case?” + +“How should it not be?” said he. + +“Does the soul, then, always bring life to whatever it occupies?” + +“It does indeed,” he replied. + +“Whether, then, is there any thing contrary to life or not?” + +“There is,” he replied. + +----- + +Footnote 38: + + That is, to single. + +Footnote 39: + + See § 113. + +----- + +“What?” + +“Death.” + +“The soul, then, will never admit the contrary of that which it brings +with it, as has been already allowed?” + +“Most assuredly,” replied Cebes. + +“What then? how do we denominate that which does not admit the idea of +the even?” + +“Uneven,” he replied. + +“And that which does not admit the just, nor the musical?” + +“Unmusical,” he said, “and unjust.” + +“Be it so. But what do we call that which does not admit death?” + +“Immortal,” he replied. + +“Therefore does not the soul admit death?” + +“No.” + +“Is the soul, then, immortal?” + +“Immortal.” + +“Be it so,” he said. “Shall we say then, that this has been now +demonstrated? or how think you?” + +“Most completely, Socrates.” + +“What then,” said he, “Cebes, if it were necessary for the uneven to be +imperishable, would the number three be otherwise than imperishable?” + +“How should it not?” + +“If, therefore, it were also necessary that what is without heat should +be imperishable, when any one should introduce heat to snow, would not +the snow withdraw itself, safe and unmelted? For it would not perish; +nor yet would it stay and admit the heat.” + +“You say truly,” he replied. + +“In like manner, I think, if that which is insusceptible of cold were +imperishable, that when any thing cold approached the fire, it would +neither be extinguished nor perish, but would depart quite safe.” + +“Of necessity,” he said. + +“Must we not then of necessity,” he continued, “speak thus of that which +is immortal? if that which is immortal is imperishable, it is impossible +for the soul to perish, when death approaches it. For, from what has +been said already, it will not admit death, nor will ever be dead, just +as we said that three will never be even, nor again will the odd, nor +will fire be cold, nor yet the heat that is in fire. 127. But some one +may say, what hinders, though the odd can never become even by the +approach of the even, as we have allowed, yet, when the odd is +destroyed, that the even should succeed in its place? We could not +contend with him who should make this objection, that it is not +destroyed; for the uneven is not imperishable; since, if this were +granted us, we might easily have contended, that on the approach of the +even the odd and the three depart; and we might have contended in the +same way with respect to fire, heat, and the rest; might we not?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Wherefore, with respect to the immortal, if we have allowed that it is +imperishable, the soul, in addition to its being immortal, must also be +imperishable; if not, there will be need of other arguments.” + +“But there is no need,” he said, “as far as that is concerned; for +scarcely could any thing not admit of corruption, if that which is +immortal and eternal is liable to it.” + +128. “The deity, indeed, I think,” said Socrates, “and the idea itself +of life, and if any thing else is immortal, must be allowed by all +beings to be incapable of dissolution.” + +“By Jupiter,” he replied, “by all men indeed, and still more, as I +think, by the gods.” + +“Since, then, that which is immortal is also incorruptible, can the +soul, since it is immortal, be any thing else than imperishable?” + +“It must of necessity be so.” + +“When, therefore, death approaches a man, the mortal part of him, as it +appears, dies, but the immortal part departs safe and uncorrupted, +having withdrawn itself from death?” + +“It appears so.” + +“The soul, therefore,” he said, “Cebes, is most certainly immortal and +imperishable, and our souls will really exist in Hades.” + +“Therefore, Socrates,” he said, “I have nothing further to say against +this, nor any reason for doubting your arguments. But if Simmias here or +any one else has any thing to say, it were well for him not to be +silent: for I know not to what other opportunity beyond the present any +one can defer it, who wishes either to speak or hear about these +things.” + +129. “But indeed,” said Simmias, “neither have I any reason to doubt +what has been urged; yet from the magnitude f the subject discussed, and +from my low opinion of human weakness, I am compelled still to retain a +doubt within myself with respect to what has been said.” + +“Not only so, Simmias,” said Socrates, “but you say this well, and +moreover the first hypotheses, even though they are credible to you, +should nevertheless be examined more carefully; and if you should +investigate them sufficiently, I think you will follow my reasoning as +far as it is possible for man to do so; and if this very point becomes +clear, you will enquire no further.” + +“You speak truly,” he said. + +“But it is right, my friends,” he said, “that we should consider this, +that if the soul is immortal, it requires our care not only for the +present time, which we call life, but for all time; and the danger would +now appear to be dreadful, if one should neglect it. 130. For if death +were a deliverance from every thing, it would be a great gain for the +wicked, when they die, to be delivered at the same time from the body, +and from their vices together with the soul: but now, since it appears +to be immortal, it can have no other refuge from evils, nor safety, +except by becoming as good and wise as possible. For the soul goes to +Hades, possessing nothing else but its discipline and education, which +are said to be of the greatest advantage or detriment to the dead, on +the very beginning of his journey thither. For thus it is said; that +each person’s demon who was assigned to him while living, when he dies +conducts him to some place, where they that are assembled together must +receive sentence and then proceed to Hades with that guide, who has been +ordered to conduct them from hence thither. But there having received +their deserts, and having remained the appointed time, another guide +brings them back hither again, after many and long revolutions of time. +The journey, then, is not such as the Telephus of Æschylus describes it. +For he says that a simple path leads to Hades; but it appears to me to +be neither simple nor one: for there would be no need of guides, nor +could any one ever miss the way, if there were but one. But now it +appears to have many divisions and windings; and this I conjecture from +our religious and funeral rites[40]. 131. The well-ordered and wise +soul, then, both follows, and is not ignorant of its present condition; +but that which through passion clings to the body, as I said before, +having longingly fluttered about it for a long time, and about its +visible place[41], after vehement resistance and great suffering, is +forcibly and with great difficulty led away by its appointed demon. And +when it arrives at the place where the others are, impure and having +done any such thing as the committal of unrighteous murders or other +similar actions, which are kindred to these, and are the deeds of +kindred souls, every one shuns it and turns away from it, and will +neither be its fellow-traveller or guide, but it wanders about, +oppressed with every kind of helplessness until certain periods have +elapsed: and when these are completed, it is carried of necessity to an +abode suitable to it; but the soul which has passed through life with +purity and moderation, having obtained the gods for its +fellow-travellers and guides, settles each in the place suited to it. +132. There are indeed many and wonderful places in the earth, and it is +itself neither of such a kind, nor of such a magnitude, as is supposed +by those who are accustomed to speak of the earth, as I have been +persuaded by a certain person.” + +----- + +Footnote 40: + + It is difficult to express the distinction between ὅσια and νόμιμα, + the former word seems to have reference to the souls of the dead, the + latter to their bodies. + +Footnote 41: + + Its place of interment. + +----- + +Whereupon Simmias said, “How mean you, Socrates? For I too have heard +many things about the earth, not however those things which have +obtained your belief: I would therefore gladly hear them.” + +“Indeed, Simmias, the art of Glaucus[42] does not seem to me to be +required to relate what these things are; that they are true however, +appears to me more than the art of Glaucus can prove, and besides, I +should probably not be able to do it, and even if I did know how, what +remains to me of life, Simmias, seems insufficient for the length of the +subject. However, the form of the earth, such as I am persuaded it is, +and the different places in it, nothing hinders me from telling.” + +----- + +Footnote 42: + + A proverb meaning “a matter of great difficulty.” + +----- + +“But that will be enough,” said Simmias. + +“I am persuaded, then,” said he, “in the first place, that, if the earth +is in the middle of the heavens, and is of a spherical form, it has no +need of air, nor of any other similar force, to prevent it from falling, +but that the similarity of the heavens to themselves on every side, and +the equilibrium of the earth itself, are sufficient to support it; for a +thing in a state of equilibrium when placed in the middle of something +that presses it equally on all sides cannot incline more or less on any +side, but being equally affected all around remains unmoved. 133. In +first place then,” he said, “I am persuaded of this.” + +“And very properly so,” said Simmias. + +“Yet further,” said he, “that it is very large, and that we who inhabit +some small portion of it, from the river Phasis to the pillars of +Hercules, dwell about the sea, like ants or frogs about a marsh, and +that many others elsewhere dwell in many similar places, for that there +are every where about the earth many hollows of various forms and sizes +into which there is a confluence of water, mist, and air; but that the +earth itself, being pure, is situated in the pure heavens, in which are +the stars, and which most persons who are accustomed to speak about such +things call ether; of which these things are the sediment and are +continually flowing into the hollow parts of the earth. 134. That we are +ignorant, then, that we are dwelling in its hollows, and imagine that we +inhabit the upper parts of the earth, just as if any one dwelling in the +bottom of the sea, should think that he dwelt on the sea, and, beholding +the sun and the other stars through the water, should imagine that the +sea was the heavens, but through sloth and weakness should never have +reached the surface of the sea, nor, having emerged and risen up from +the sea to this region, have seen how much more pure and more beautiful +it is than the place where he is, nor has heard of it from any one else +who has seen it. This then is the very condition in which we are; for, +dwelling in some hollow of the earth, we think that we dwell on the +surface of it, and call the air heaven, as if the stars moved through +this, being heaven itself. But this is because by reason of our weakness +and sloth, we are unable to reach to the summit of the air. Since, if +any one could arrive at its summit, or, becoming winged, could fly up +thither, or emerging from hence, he would see,—just as with us, fishes +emerging from the sea, behold what is here,—so any one would behold the +things there, and if his nature were able to endure the contemplation, +he would know that that is the true heaven, and the true light, and the +true earth. 135. For this earth and these stones, and the whole region +here, are decayed and corroded, as things in the sea by the saltness; +for nothing of any value grows in the sea, nor, in a word, does it +contain any thing perfect, but there are caverns and sand, and mud in +abundance, and filth, in whatever parts of the sea there is earth, nor +are they at all worthy to be compared with the beautiful things with us. +But on the other hand, those things in the upper regions of the earth +would appear far more to excel the things with us. For, if we may tell a +beautiful fable, it is well worth hearing, Simmias, what kind the things +are on the earth beneath the heavens.” + +“Indeed, Socrates,” said Simmias, “we should be very glad to hear that +fable.” + +136. “First of all then, my friend,” he continued, “this earth, if any +one should survey it from above, is said to have the appearance of balls +covered with twelve different pieces of leather, variegated and +distinguished with colours, of which the colours found here, and which +painters use, are as it were copies. But there the whole earth is +composed of such, and far more brilliant and pure than these; for one +part of it is purple, and of wonderful beauty, part of a golden colour, +and part of white, more white than chalk or snow, and in like manner +composed of other colours, and those more in number and more beautiful +than any we have ever beheld. And those very hollow parts of the earth, +though filled with water and air, exhibit a certain species of colour, +shining among the variety of other colours, so that one continually +variegated aspect presents itself to the view. In this earth, being +such, all things that grow, grow in a manner proportioned to its nature, +trees, flowers, and fruits; and again, in like manner, its mountains and +stones possess, in the same proportion, smoothness and transparency, and +more beautiful colours; of which the well-known stones here that are so +highly prized are but fragments, such as sardin-stones, jaspers, and +emeralds, and all of that kind. But there, there is nothing subsists +that is not of this character, and even more beautiful than these. 137. +But the reason of this is, because the stones there are pure, and not +eaten up and decayed, like those here, by rottenness and saltness, which +flow down hither together, and which produce deformity and disease in +the stones and the earth, and in other things, even animals and plants. +But that earth is adorned with all these, and moreover with gold and +silver, and other things of the kind: for they are naturally +conspicuous, being numerous and large, and in all parts of the earth; so +that to behold it is a sight for the blessed. There are also many other +animals and men upon it, some dwelling in mid-earth, others about the +air, as we do about the sea, and others in islands which the air flows +round, and which are near the continent: and in one word, what water and +the sea are to us, for our necessities, the air is to them; and what air +is to us, that ether is to them. 138. But their seasons are of such a +temperament that they are free from disease, and live for a much longer +time than those here, and surpass us in sight, hearing, and smelling, +and every thing of this kind, as much as air excels water, and ether +air, in purity. Moreover, they have abodes and temples of the gods, in +which gods really dwell, and voices and oracles, and sensible visions of +the gods, and such-like intercourse with them; the sun too, and moon, +and stars, are seen by them such as they really are, and their felicity +in other respects is correspondent with these things. + +“And such indeed is the nature of the whole earth, and the parts about +the earth; but there are many places all round it throughout its +cavities, some deeper and more open than that in which we dwell: but +others that are deeper, have a less chasm than our region, and others +are shallower in depth than it is here and broader. 139. But all these +are in many places perforated one into another under the earth, some +with narrower and some with wider channels, and have passages through, +by which a great quantity of water flows from one into another, as into +basins, and there are immense bulks of ever-flowing rivers under the +earth, both of hot and cold water, and a great quantity of fire, and +mighty rivers of fire, and many of liquid mire, some purer, and some +more miry, as in Sicily there are rivers of mud that flow before the +lava, and the lava itself, and from these the several places are filled, +according as the overflow from time to time happens to come to each of +them. But all these move up and down as it were by a certain oscillation +existing in the earth. And this oscillation proceeds from such natural +cause as this: one of the chasms of the earth is exceedingly large, and +perforated through the entire earth, and is that which Homer[43] speaks +of, ‘very far off, where is the most profound abyss beneath the earth,’ +which elsewhere both he and many other poets have called Tartarus. For +into this chasm all rivers flow together, and from it flow out again: +but they severally derive their character from the earth through which +they flow. 140. And the reason why all streams flow out from thence, and +flow into it, is because this liquid has neither bottom nor base. +Therefore it oscillates and fluctuates up and down, and the air and the +wind around it do the same; for they accompany it both when it rushes to +those parts of the earth, and when to these. And as in respiration the +flowing breath is continually breathed out and drawn in, so there the +wind oscillating with the liquid, causes certain vehement and +irresistible winds both as it enters and goes out. When, therefore, the +water rushing in descends to the place which we call the lower region, +it flows through the earth into the streams there and fills them, just +as men pump up water. But when again it leaves those regions and rushes +hither, it again fills the rivers here, and these, when filled, flow +through channels and through the earth, and having severally reached the +several places to which they are journeying, they make seas, lakes, +rivers, and fountains. 141. Then sinking again from thence beneath the +earth, some of them having gone round longer and more numerous places, +and others round fewer and shorter, they again discharge themselves into +Tartarus, some much lower than they were drawn up, others only a little +so, but all of them flow in again beneath the point at which they flowed +out. And some issue out directly opposite the place by which they flow +in, others on the same side: there are also some which having gone round +altogether in a circle, folding themselves once or several times round +the earth, like serpents, when they had descended as low as possible, +discharge themselves again: and it is possible for them to descend on +either side as far as the middle, but not beyond; for in each direction +there is an acclivity to the streams both ways. + +----- + +Footnote 43: + + Iliad, lib. viii. v. 14. + +----- + +“Now there are many other large and various streams, but among this +great number there are four certain streams, of which the largest, and +that which flows most outwardly round the earth, is called Ocean, but +directly opposite this, and flowing in a contrary direction, is Acheron, +which flows through other desert places, and moreover passing under the +earth, reaches the Acherusian lake, where the souls of most who die +arrive, and having remained there for certain destined periods, some +longer and some shorter, are again sent forth into the generations of +animals. 142. A third river issues midway between these, and near its +source falls into a vast region, burning with abundance of fire, and +forms a lake larger than our sea, boiling with water and mud; from hence +it proceeds in a circle, turbulent and muddy, and folding itself round +it reaches both other places and the extremity of the Acherusian lake, +but does not mingle with its water; but folding itself oftentimes +beneath the earth, it discharges itself into the lower parts of +Tartarus. And this is the river which they call Pyriphlegethon, whose +burning streams emit dissevered fragments in whatever part of the earth +they happen to be. Opposite to this again the fourth river first falls +into a place dreadful and savage, as it is said, having its whole colour +like cyanus[44]: this they call Stygian, and the lake, which the river +forms by its discharge, Styx. This river having fallen in here, and +received awful power in the water, sinking beneath the earth, proceeds, +folding itself round, in an opposite course to Pyriphlegethon, and meets +it in the Acherusian lake from a contrary direction. Neither does the +water of this river mingle with any other, but it too, having gone round +in a circle, discharges itself into Tartarus, opposite to +Pyriphlegethon. Its name, as the poets say, is Cocytus. + +----- + +Footnote 44: + + A metallic substance of a deep blue colour, frequently mentioned by + the earliest Grecian writers, but of which the nature is unknown. + +----- + +143. “These things being thus constituted, when the dead arrive at the +place to which their demon leads them severally, first of all they are +judged, as well those who have lived well and piously, as those who have +not. And those who appear to have passed a middle kind of life, +proceeding to Acheron, and embarking in the vessels they have, on these +arrive at the lake, and there dwell, and when they are purified, and +have suffered punishment for the iniquities they may have committed, +they are set free, and each receives the reward of his good deeds, +according to his deserts: but those who appear to be incurable, through +the magnitude of their offences, either from having committed many and +great sacrileges, or many unjust and lawless murders, or other similar +crimes, these a suitable destiny hurls into Tartarus, whence they never +come forth. + +144. “But those who appear to have been guilty of curable, yet great +offences, such as those who through anger have committed any violence +against father or mother, and have lived the remainder of their life in +a state of penitence, or they who have become homicides in a similar +manner, these must of necessity fall into Tartarus, but after they have +fallen, and have been there for a year, the wave casts them forth, the +homicides into Cocytus, but the parricides and matricides into +Pyriphlegethon: but when, being borne along, they arrive at the +Acherusian lake, there they cry out to and invoke, some those whom they +slew, others those whom they injured, and invoking them, they entreat +and implore them to suffer them to go out into the lake, and to receive +them, and if they persuade them, they go out, and are freed from their +sufferings, but if not, they are borne back to Tartarus, and thence +again to the rivers, and they do not cease from suffering this until +they have persuaded those whom they have injured, for this sentence was +imposed on them by the judges. 145. But those who are found to have +lived an eminently holy life, these are they, who, being freed and set +at large from these regions in the earth, as from a prison, arrive at +the pure abode above, and dwell on the upper parts of the earth. And +among these, they who have sufficiently purified themselves by +philosophy shall live without bodies, throughout all future time, and +shall arrive at habitations yet more beautiful than these, which it is +neither easy to describe, nor at present is there sufficient time for +the purpose. + +“But for the sake of these things which we have described, we should use +every endeavour, Simmias, so as to acquire virtue and wisdom in this +life; for the reward is noble, and the hope great. + +“To affirm positively, indeed, that these things are exactly as I have +described them, does not become a man of sense; that however either +this, or something of the kind, takes place with respect to our souls +and their habitations—since our soul is certainly immortal—this appears +to me most fitting to be believed, and worthy the hazard for one who +trusts in its reality; for the hazard is noble, and it is right to +allure ourselves with such things, as with enchantments; for which +reason I have prolonged my story to such a length. 146. On account of +these things, then, a man ought to be confident about his soul, who +during this life has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the +body as foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do +more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the acquirement of +knowledge, and who having adorned his soul not with a foreign but its +own proper ornament, temperance, justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth, +thus waits for his passage to Hades, as one who is ready to depart +whenever destiny shall summon him. You then,” he continued, “Simmias and +Cebes, and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time; but +now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it is nearly +time for me to betake myself to the bath; for it appears to me to be +better to drink the poison after I have bathed myself, and not to +trouble the women with washing my dead body.” + +147. When he had thus spoken, Crito said, “So be it, Socrates, but what +commands have you to give to these or to me, either respecting your +children, or any other matter, in attending to which we can most oblige +you?” + +“What I always say, Crito,” he replied, “nothing new; that by taking +care of yourselves you will oblige both me and mine, and yourselves, +whatever you do, though you should not now promise it; but if you +neglect yourselves, and will not live as it were in the footsteps of +what has been now and formerly said, even though you should promise much +at present, and that earnestly, you will do no good at all.” + +“We will endeavour then so to do,” he said; “but how shall we bury you?” + +“Just as you please,” he said, “if only you can catch me, and I do not +escape from you.” 148. And at the same time smiling gently, and looking +round on us, he said; “I cannot persuade Crito, my friends, that I am +that Socrates who is now conversing with you, and who methodizes each +part of the discourse; but he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly +behold dead, and asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time +since argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no +longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state of the +blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though I meant at the +same time to console both you and myself. Be ye then my sureties to +Crito,” he said, “in an obligation contrary to that which he made to the +judges; for he undertook that I should remain; but do you be sureties +that, when I die, I shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may +more easily bear it, and when he sees my body either burnt or buried, +may not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered some dreadful thing, nor +say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out, or is +buried. 149. For be well assured,” he said, “most excellent Crito, that +to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the thing itself, but +likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You must have a good +courage then, and say that you bury my body, and bury it in such a +manner as is pleasing to you, and as you think is most agreeable to our +laws.” + +When he had said thus he rose, and went into a chamber to bathe, and +Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for him. We waited, +therefore, conversing among ourselves about what had been said, and +considering it again, and sometimes speaking about our calamity, how +severe it would be to us, sincerely thinking that, like those who are +deprived of a father, we should pass the rest of our life as orphans. +When he had bathed, and his children were brought to him, for he had two +little sons and one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were +come, having conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given +them such injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children +to go away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sun-set; for he +spent a considerable time within. 150. But when he came from bathing he +sat down, and did not speak much afterwards; then the officer of the +Eleven came in, and standing near him, said, “Socrates, I shall not have +to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they are angry +with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them drink +the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you have +been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek, and excellent man of +all that ever came into this place: and, therefore, I am now well +convinced that you will not be angry with me, for you know who are to +blame, but with them. Now, then, for you know what I came to announce to +you, farewell, and endeavour to bear what is inevitable as easily as +possible.” And at the same time, bursting into tears, he turned away and +withdrew. + +151. And Socrates, looking after him, said, “And thou, too, farewell, we +will do as you direct.” At the same time turning to us, he said, “How +courteous the man is; during the whole time I have been here he has +visited me, and conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of +men; and now how generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us +obey him, and let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but +if not, let the man pound it.” + +Then Crito said, “But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the +mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that others have drunk +the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and have +supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects of their +love. Do not hasten then, for there is yet time.” + +Upon this Socrates replied, “These men whom you mention, Crito, do these +things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so doing, and +I too with good reason shall not do so; for I think I shall gain nothing +by drinking a little later, except to become ridiculous to myself, in +being so fond of life, and sparing of it when none any longer remains. +Go then,” he said, “obey, and do not resist.” + +152. Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the +boy having gone out, and staid for some time, came, bringing with him +the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready pounded +in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, “Well, my good friend, +as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?” + +“Nothing else,” he replied, “than when you have drunk it walk about, +until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; thus it will do +its purpose.” And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. And +he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates, neither trembling, +nor changing at all in colour or countenance, but, as he was wont, +looking stedfastly at the man, said, “What say you of this potion, with +respect to making a libation to any one, is it lawful or not?” + +“We only pound so much, Socrates,” he said, “as we think sufficient to +drink.” + +“I understand you,” he said, “but it is certainly both lawful and right +to pray to the gods, that my departure hence thither may be happy; which +therefore I pray, and so may it be.” And as he said this he drank it off +readily and calmly. Thus far, most of us were with difficulty able to +restrain ourselves from weeping, but when we saw him drinking, and +having finished the draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of +myself the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept +for myself, for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being +deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not +restrain his tears, had risen up. 154. But Apollodorus even before this +had not ceased weeping, and then bursting into an agony of grief, +weeping and lamenting, he pierced the heart of every one present, except +Socrates himself. But he said, “What are you doing, my admirable +friends? I indeed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that +they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it +is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up.” + +When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, +having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, laid +down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same time he +who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short interval +examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot hard, he +asked if he felt it: he said that he did not. And after this he pressed +his thighs; and thus going higher, he shewed us that he was growing cold +and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said, that when the poison +reached his heart he should then depart. 155. But now the parts around +the lower belly were almost cold; when uncovering himself, for he had +been covered over, he said, and they were his last words, “Crito, we owe +a cock to Æsculapius; pay it, therefore, and do not neglect it.” + +“It shall be done,” said Crito, “but consider whether you have any thing +else to say.” + +To this question he gave no reply; but shortly after he gave a +convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed; +and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes. + +This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, the +best of all of his time that we have known, and moreover, the most wise +and just. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE GORGIAS. + + +Callicles and Polus, two friends of Gorgias, the famous orator of +Leontium in Sicily, happening to meet with Socrates and Chærephon, tell +the former that he has sustained a great loss in not having been just +now present when Gorgias was exhibiting his art. Chærephon admits that +the fault is his, but adds that as Gorgias is his friend he can easily +persuade him to exhibit to them either then, or at a future time. They +accordingly, all four, adjourn to the house of Callicles, where Gorgias +is staying. When arrived there, Chærephon, at the suggestion of +Socrates, proposes to question Gorgias as to the art he professes; but +Polus, his pupil, somewhat impertinently offers to answer for him, on +the ground that Gorgias is fatigued. Chærephon therefore asks, what is +the art in which Gorgias is skilled, and what he ought to be called? To +which Polus answers, “the finest of the arts.” Socrates, not satisfied +with this, as being no answer at all, begs Gorgias himself to answer. He +says, that rhetoric is the art he professes, and that he is a +rhetorician, and able to make others rhetoricians[45]. + +----- + +Footnote 45: + + § 1-7. + +----- + +Socrates, having got Gorgias to promise that he would answer briefly, +proceeds to ask him about what rhetoric is employed, and of what it is +the science. Gorgias says, “of words,” but Socrates shews, that other +arts, in various degrees, make use of words, and that some, such as +arithmetic and geometry, are altogether conversant with words; he +therefore requests him to distinguish between these arts and rhetoric, +and to explain about what particular thing these words are employed. +Gorgias confidently answers, about “the greatest of all human concerns +and the best.” But the physician, the teacher of gymnastics, the +money-getter, in short all men, would say that the end which their own +art aims at is the best; what then is this good which you say is the +greatest good to men? Gorgias answers, that it is the power of +persuading by words. But Socrates objects that other arts do the same, +for that every one who teaches any thing persuades what he teaches; you +must therefore say of what kind of persuasion, and on what subject +rhetoric is the art. It is that which is produced in courts of justice, +and other public assemblies, and relates to matters that are just and +unjust. But here again Socrates makes Gorgias admit, that there are two +kinds of persuasion, one that produces belief without knowledge, the +other that produces knowledge; which of these two then does rhetoric +produce? doubtless the former. But supposing the question is about the +choice of physicians or shipwrights, or the building of walls, or the +construction of ports or docks, will a rhetorician be consulted, or a +person skilled in these several matters? Here Gorgias answers that on +these and all other subjects a rhetorician will speak more persuasively +than any other artist whatever: but it is his duty to use his art +justly; though if he uses it unjustly, he and not his teacher is to +blame[46]. + +----- + +Footnote 46: + + § 8-28. + +----- + +Socrates, here, perceiving an inconsistency in Gorgias’ statement, after +deprecating his being offended at the course the discussion might take, +asks whether by saying that a rhetorician can speak more persuasively to +the multitude on any art, than a person skilled in that art, he does not +mean the ignorant by the multitude; and, that being admitted, whether it +does not follow that one who is ignorant will be more capable of +persuading the ignorant, than one who possesses knowledge? Gorgias +allows this to be the case. Is the case, then, the same with respect to +what is just and unjust, base and honourable, good and evil? Can a +rhetorician persuade the multitude on these subjects, himself being +ignorant of them, or must he know them before he learns rhetoric, or +will the teacher of rhetoric instruct him in these? Gorgias professes +that if a pupil does not know these things he would learn them from him. +But surely he who has learnt carpentering is a carpenter, music a +musician, medicine a physician; does it not follow then, that he who has +learnt justice, must be just, and wish to do just actions? Gorgias +admits this too: and yet he had just now allowed that a rhetorician +might make an unjust use of his art, and said, that in that case, the +teacher ought not to be blamed, but the person who acts unjustly ought +to be punished[47]. + +----- + +Footnote 47: + + § 29-37. + +----- + +At this point Polus takes up the discussion, and having elected to ask +questions, instead of answering them, begins by asking Socrates what +kind of art he considers rhetoric to be. Socrates answers that he does +not think it is any art at all, but a kind of skill, employed for +procuring gratification and pleasure: in other words, a species of +flattery, of which there are many divisions. Polus asks what division it +is. “Rhetoric, in my opinion,” says Socrates, “is a semblance of a +division of the political art,” and as such is base. This answer, +however, is not intelligible either to Gorgias or Polus; at the request +of the former, therefore, Socrates explains himself more clearly[48]. + +----- + +Footnote 48: + + § 38-43. + +----- + +As there are two kinds of subject matter, he says, namely, soul and +body, so there are two arts, that which relates to the soul is +political; the other, relating to the body, he is not able to describe +by one name, but there are two divisions of it, gymnastics and medicine. +In the political art legislation corresponds to gymnastics, and the +judicial art to medicine. But flattery, perceiving that these four take +the best possible care of the soul and body respectively, has divided +itself fourfold, and feigns itself to be what it pretends, not really +caring for what is best, but seducing ignorance by means of pleasure. +Thus cookery puts on the garb of medicine, and pretends that it knows +the aliment best for the body; and again, personal decoration feigns +itself to be gymnastics. Then, he adds, what personal decoration is to +gymnastics, that is sophistry to legislation, and what cookery is to +medicine, that is rhetoric to justice; and so being proximate to each +other, sophists and rhetoricians are confounded with legislators and +judges[49]. + +----- + +Footnote 49: + + § 44-47. + +----- + +Are good rhetoricians, then, asks Polus, to be esteemed as vile +flatterers in cities? Socrates replies that they appear to him to be of +no estimation at all. But have they not the greatest power in cities? +Not, if to have power is a good to him who possesses it. For what is it +to have power? is it to do what one wishes, or what appears to one to be +best? Polus admits that it is not good for a person devoid of +understanding to do what appears to him to be best. He must therefore +prove that rhetoricians possess understanding, otherwise, since to have +power is a good, they cannot do what they wish. Polus, however, is +unable to distinguish between doing what one wishes and doing what +appears to be best, and therefore agrees to change positions with +Socrates, and to answer instead of asking questions[50]. + +----- + +Footnote 50: + + § 48-50. + +----- + +Socrates, then, asks, do men wish what they do for the sake of the thing +itself, or for some other end? for instance, do men take medicine +because they wish to take it, or in order to health? Again, do men incur +the perils of the sea because they wish to be in peril, or for the sake +of riches? Clearly the latter, in both and all similar cases. Now some +things, such as wisdom, health, and riches, are good, but their +contraries evil; but whatever we do, we do for the sake of that which is +good. So that if we kill or banish a person, if it is good to do so, we +wish it, and do what we wish; but if it is really evil, though it +appears to us to be good, we do not what we wish. Polus sees the force +of Socrates’ argument, and can only object to it that Socrates himself +would like to do what he pleased, and would envy another whom he saw +slaying, or spoiling, or imprisoning whom he pleased. But Socrates +resolutely denies this, and insists that if he must necessarily either +act unjustly or suffer unjustly, he should choose the latter; for that +it is better to suffer than to commit injustice[51]. + +----- + +Footnote 51: + + § 51-57. + +----- + +Polus imagines that even a child could confute such a position as this; +and in order to do so mentions instances of men whom all have accounted +happy, though they were unjust, especially that of Archelaus, king of +Macedonia. But Socrates denies that any one who acts unjustly can be +happy; and further than this, he contends that a person who acts +unjustly, and does not suffer punishment, is more miserable than one who +meets with punishment for his injustice. To prove this he argues that it +is more base to commit injustice than to suffer it, and if more base it +must also be worse; Polus admits the premise, but denies the conclusion. +Socrates, therefore, endeavours to make his opponent admit this also by +the following arguments. Beautiful things are esteemed beautiful, either +on account of their usefulness, or the pleasure they occasion, or both; +and in like manner base things are deemed base on account of the pain or +evil they occasion, or both; so that when of two things one is more +beautiful than the other, it is so because it excels in pleasure or +utility, or both; and when of two things one is more base, it must be +because it exceeds in pain or evil. But Polus has already admitted that +it is more base to commit injustice than to suffer it; it must therefore +be so because it exceeds in pain or evil, or both. But to commit +injustice does not exceed the suffering it, in pain; it remains, +therefore, that it must exceed it in evil: consequently it must be +worse, for whatever exceeds another thing in evil must necessarily be +worse[52]. + +----- + +Footnote 52: + + § 58-69. + +----- + +Having established his point thus far he now goes on to prove that it is +the greatest of evils for one who has committed injustice not to be +punished. To suffer punishment and to be justly chastised, are one and +the same thing. But all just things are beautiful. Moreover wherever +there is an agent there must also be a patient; and the patient suffers +what the agent does; so that if the agent punishes justly the patient +also suffers justly. But it has been just admitted that all just things +are beautiful; and it was proved before that all beautiful things are +good, either because they are pleasant or useful; whence it follows that +he who is punished suffers that which is good, and is benefited in being +freed from the greatest evil, which is depravity in the soul. From all +this it is evident that rhetoric can be of no use whatever: for it is +generally employed for the purpose of excusing injustice, and screening +men from the punishment they deserve, which on the contrary they ought +rather to court than to shun[53]. + +----- + +Footnote 53: + + § 70-80 + +----- + +Polus having been thus completely silenced, Callicles takes up the +argument and begins by asking whether Socrates is really in earnest. +Finding that he is so, he blames Polus for having granted that it is +more base to commit injustice than to suffer it; for that there is a +difference between nature and law, which Socrates perceiving, confounded +that which is more base by nature with that which is so by law, and so +made that which is more base by law appear to be more so by nature: +whereas by nature it is more base to suffer injustice than to commit it. +For the weak and the many make laws with a view to their own advantage, +but nature herself avows that it is just that the better should have +more than the worse, and the more powerful than the weaker. Callicles +then proceeds to inveigh against philosophy and philosophers, and when +he has done, Socrates, after having indulged in a vein of pleasant irony +at his expense, returns to the subject, and asks what he means by the +superior, the better, and the stronger, whether they are the same or +different. Callicles says they are the same. Socrates objects, that if +that is the case the many being stronger are also the better, and so, +inasmuch as they make the laws, law and nature are not contrary to each +other. Callicles therefore is compelled to change his ground, and next +says that by the better and superior he means the more wise: and at last +he says that they are those who are skilled and courageous in +administering the affairs of a city. He adds that it is just that the +governors should have more than the governed. Socrates, hereupon, asks +whether they ought not to govern themselves also and be temperate, which +elicits from Callicles the shameless avowal that a man should have as +large desires as he can, and indulge them without restraint[54]. + +----- + +Footnote 54: + + § 81-103. + +----- + +Socrates having in vain endeavoured to persuade Callicles to change his +opinion by two similitudes of a perforated cask, and a full and an empty +one, to which he compares the soul, proceeds to combat his assertion +that a happy life consists in having and indulging as large desires as +possible. If happiness consists in being hungry and eating, thirsty and +drinking, it must follow that to be scabby and itch and scratch one’s +self is to live happily. Callicles is forced to admit that this is to +live pleasantly, and then if pleasantly, happily; and at length is +driven to assert that the pleasant and the good are the same. In order +to confute this opinion, Socrates leads him to maintain that science and +courage differ from each other and from the good; and then by a series +of most subtle questions, too minute to be abbreviated, forces him to +this absurd conclusion, that if the pleasant and the good are the same, +a bad man, inasmuch as he oftentimes receives more pleasure than a good +man, must be accounted better than a good one[55]. + +----- + +Footnote 55: + + § 104-117. + +----- + +Callicles to evade this absurdity is compelled to admit that some +pleasures are better than others. From this concession Socrates shews +that the end of all human actions is the good and not the pleasant; for +that so far is it from being the case that we do any thing merely for +the sake of pleasure, that we pursue pleasure itself for the sake of the +good[56]. + +----- + +Footnote 56: + + § 118-119. + +----- + +Having established this point, Socrates brings back the discussion to +the original subject, and proposes to enquire whether it is better to +live in such a manner as Callicles advises, namely to devote one’s self +to public business and to study rhetoric, or in such a manner as +philosophy persuades. He recurs therefore to his own former arguments, +in which he stated that as there are certain skills, not arts, employed +for the gratification of the body, so there are other corresponding ones +made use of to please the soul, such as flute-playing, harp-playing, +dithyrambic and even tragic poetry; now take from these last melody, +rhythm and measure, and what else remains but words, that is to say a +kind of flattery addressed to the multitude? And is not popular rhetoric +similar? Callicles answers that there is a difference to be observed in +this respect, for that some do, as Socrates has observed, speak only in +order to please, but that others look to the interest of the citizens. +“That is enough,” says Socrates. At all events one part of rhetoric is +flattery, and when has an instance of that which is honourable, which +strives to speak what is best, whether it be pleasant or unpleasant to +the hearers, ever been seen? Callicles instances Themistocles, Cimon, +Miltiades and Pericles, but Socrates will by no means admit that any of +these really endeavoured to make the people better. But before this, +Callicles, being hard pressed in argument, breaks off the discussion, +and Socrates, at the request of Gorgias, carries it on by himself, and +shews at length and with great force and perspicuity the advantages of a +virtuous and well regulated life; and in conclusion he describes the +future judgment when each man will give account of himself in another +world, and be rewarded or punished according as he has lived a good or a +bad life. + + + + + GORGIAS, + + OR, + + ON RHETORIC. + + CALLICLES, SOCRATES, CHÆREPHON, GORGIAS, AND POLUS. + + ------- + + +_Cal._ They say, Socrates, that we should thus take part in war and +battle[57]. + +----- + +Footnote 57: + + That is, come too late, and so take no part at all. + +----- + +_Socr._ Have we then, as the saying is, come after the feast, and are we +too late? + +_Cal._ And a very elegant feast. For Gorgias has just now exhibited many +fine things to us. + +_Socr._ Chærephon here, Callicles, is the cause of this, by having +compelled us to waste our time in the forum. + +_Chær._ It’s of no consequence, Socrates; for I will also find a remedy; +for Gorgias is my friend, so that he will exhibit to us now, if you +please, or, if you prefer it, at some future time. + +2. _Cal._ What, Chærephon? is Socrates desirous of hearing Gorgias? + +_Chær._ We are come for this very purpose. + +_Cal._ Whenever you please, then, come to my house; Gorgias lodges with +me, and will exhibit to you. + +_Socr._ You say well[58], Callicles. But would he be inclined to +converse with us? For I wish to learn from him what is the power of his +art, and what it is that he professes and teaches: the rest of the +exhibition, as you say, he may make at some other time. + +----- + +Footnote 58: + + Or, “you are very obliging.” + +----- + +_Cal._ There is nothing like asking him, Socrates: for this is one part +of his exhibition: he just now bade all that were in the house ask what +question they pleased, and promised to answer every thing. + +3. _Socr._ You say well in truth. Ask him, Chærephon. + +_Chær._ What shall I ask him? + +_Socr._ What he is. + +_Chær._ How mean you? + +_Socr._ Just as, if he happened to be a maker of shoes, he would surely +answer you, that he is a shoemaker. Do you not understand what I mean? + +_Chær._ I understand, and will ask him. Tell me, Gorgias, does Callicles +here say truly that you promised to answer whatever any one should ask +you? + +_Gorg._ Truly, Chærephon: for I just now made that very promise: and I +affirm that for many years no one has asked me any thing new. + +_Chær._ Without doubt, then, you will answer easily, Gorgias. + +_Gorg._ You may make trial of that, Chærephon. + +_Pol._ By Jupiter, Chærephon, if you please, _make trial_ of me: for +Gorgias appears to me to be fatigued; as he has just now been speaking a +great deal. + +4. _Chær._ What, Polus, do you think you can answer better than Gorgias? + +_Pol._ What matters that, if I answer well enough for you? + +_Chær._ Not at all: since you wish it then, answer. + +_Pol._ Ask. + +_Chær._ I ask then, If Gorgias happened to be skilled in the same art as +his brother Herodicus is skilled, what name should we rightly give him? +Would it not be the same as his brother? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Chær._ In calling him a physician, then, we should speak correctly? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Chær._ But if he were skilled in the same art as Aristophon, son of +Aglaophon, or his brother, what should we properly call him? + +_Pol._ Evidently, a painter. + +_Chær._ But now, since he is skilled in a certain art, what can we +properly call him? + +5. _Pol._ Chærephon, there are many arts among men by experience +experimentally discovered: for experience causes our life to proceed +according to art, but inexperience according to chance. Of each of these +different persons partake of different arts, in different manners; but +the best of the best; in the number of whom is Gorgias here, who +possesses the finest of the arts. + +_Socr._ Polus appears, Gorgias, to be very well prepared for speaking: +but he does not do what he promised Chærephon. + +_Gorg._ How so, Socrates? + +_Socr._ He does not appear to me to answer the question that was asked. + +6. _Gorg._ Do you then, if you please, ask him. + +_Socr._ No, but if yourself would be willing to answer me, I would much +rather ask you. For it is evident to me that Polus, from what he has +said, has studied more what is called rhetoric, than conversation. + +_Pol._ Why so, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Because, Polus, when Chærephon asked you in what art Gorgias was +skilled, you praised his art, as if some one had blamed it, but you did +not say what the art itself is. + +_Pol._ Did I not answer, that it was the finest of all arts? + +_Socr._ Certainly. But no one asked you what was the quality of the art +of Gorgias, but what it was, and by what name we ought to call Gorgias; +just as Chærephon proposed the former questions to you, and you answered +him well and in few words. Now, therefore, tell me in the same manner, +what art Gorgias professes, and what we ought to call him. Or rather, +Gorgias, do you tell us yourself what we ought to call you as skilled in +what art. + +_Gorg._ In rhetoric, Socrates. + +7. _Socr._ Ought we, then, to call you a rhetorician? + +_Gorg._ And a good one, Socrates, if you wish to call me, as Homer says, +what “I boast myself to be.” + +_Socr._ But I do wish. + +_Gorg._ Call me so, then. + +_Socr._ Shall we say too that you are able to make others rhetoricians? + +_Gorg._ I profess this not only here but elsewhere. + +_Socr._ Are you willing then, Gorgias, to continue, as we are now doing, +partly to ask questions and partly to answer, and to defer to some other +occasion that prolixity of speech, such as Polus just now began with? +But do not belie what you promised, but be willing to answer each +question briefly. + +_Gorg._ There are some answers, Socrates, which must necessarily be made +at length: however, I will endeavour to make them as short as possible. +For this is one of the things which I profess, that no one can say the +same things in fewer words than me. + +8. _Socr._ There is need of this now, Gorgias; give me therefore a +specimen of this very thing, conciseness of speech, and of prolixity at +some other time. + +_Gorg._ I will do so; and you will admit that you never heard any one +speak more concisely. + +_Socr._ Well then, since you say that you are skilled in the art of +rhetoric, and that you can teach another this art, tell me about what is +rhetoric employed? just as the art of weaving is employed in the making +of garments, is it not so? + +_Gorg._ It is. + +_Socr._ And is not music also employed in the composing of melodies? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ By Juno, Gorgias, I admire your answers, for you answer as +briefly as possible. + +_Gorg._ I think, Socrates, that I do this well enough. + +9. _Socr._ You say well. Come then, answer me thus respecting rhetoric, +of what is it the science? + +_Gorg._ Of words. + +_Socr._ What kind of words, Gorgias? Are they such as inform the sick by +what kind of diet they may become well? + +_Gorg._ No. + +_Socr._ Rhetoric, then, is not concerned with all kinds of words? + +_Gorg._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ Yet it makes men able to speak? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And does it not enable men to think on the same things on which +it enables them to speak? + +_Gorg._ Without doubt. + +_Socr._ Does not, then, the medicinal art, of which we just now spoke, +make men able to think and speak about the sick? + +_Gorg._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ The medicinal art, then, as it appears, is conversant with +words? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And those that concern diseases? + +_Gorg._ Just so. + +_Socr._ And is not the gymnastic art also conversant with words that +relate to the good and bad habit of bodies? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +10. _Socr._ And it is the same with other arts, Gorgias: each of them is +conversant with those words that are employed about that particular +thing of which each is the art. + +_Gorg._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Why, then, do you not call other arts rhetorical, as being +conversant with words, since you call that rhetoric which is employed +about words? + +_Gorg._ Because, Socrates, almost the whole[59] science of other arts is +conversant with manual operations and such-like actions; in rhetoric, +however, there is no such manual operation, but all its activity and +efficiency is by means of words. For this reason, I consider that the +art of rhetoric is conversant with words, herein speaking correctly, as +I affirm. + +----- + +Footnote 59: + + The expression ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν qualifies the word πᾶσα, “_almost_ the + whole,” or “the whole, so to speak.” + +----- + +_Socr._ Do I understand what kind of art you wish to call it? but I +shall soon comprehend it more clearly. However, answer me. We have arts, +have we not? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +11. _Socr._ Of all the arts, some, I think, consist principally in +workmanship, and stand in need of but few words, and others of none at +all, but their work may be accomplished in silence, as painting, +statuary, and many others. With such arts, you appear to me to say +rhetoric has nothing to do? is it not so? + +_Gorg._ You apprehend my meaning perfectly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ On the other hand, there are other arts which accomplish all by +means of words, and require no work at all, or very little, such as +theoretical[60] and practical arithmetic, geometry, the game of dice, +and many other arts; some of which require almost as many words as +actions, and most of them more, so that altogether their whole activity +and efficiency is by means of words. You appear to me to say that +rhetoric is among arts of this kind. + +----- + +Footnote 60: + + ἀριθμητική means the theory, λογιστική the practice of arithmetic. + +----- + +12. _Gorg._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ However, I do not think you mean to call any one of these +rhetoric, although in the expression you used you so said, that rhetoric +has its efficiency by means of words; and any who wished to catch at +your words might reply, Do you say then, Gorgias, that arithmetic is +rhetoric? But I do not think that you call either arithmetic or geometry +rhetoric. + +_Gorg._ You think rightly, Socrates, and apprehend my meaning correctly. + +_Socr._ Come then, complete the answer to my question. Since rhetoric is +one of those arts which make great use of words, and there are others of +the same kind, endeavour to tell me in reference to what rhetoric has +its efficiency in words. 13. Just as if any one should ask me respecting +any of the arts which I but now mentioned: Socrates, what is the +arithmetical art? I should say to him, as you did just now, That it is +one of the arts that have their efficiency in words. And if he should +further ask me, In reference to what? I should answer, In reference to +the knowledge of even and odd, how many there may be of each. But if +again he should ask me, What do you mean by the art of computation? I +should answer, that this also is one of those arts whose whole +efficiency consists in words. And if he should further ask me, In +reference to what? I should answer, as they do who draw up motions in +the assemblies of the people, That in other respects computation is the +same as arithmetic, for it has reference to the same object, that is to +say, the even and the odd; but it differs in this respect, that +computation considers what relation even and odd have to themselves and +to each other in regard to quantity. 14. And if any one should ask me +about astronomy, and after I had said that its whole efficiency consists +in words, should say, But Socrates, to what do words employed about +astronomy refer? I should answer, That they are employed about the +course of the stars, and of the sun and the moon, how they are related +to each other with respect to velocity. + +_Gorg._ And you would answer rightly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Now then do you answer, Gorgias. For rhetoric is one of those +arts which accomplish and effect every thing by means of words: is it +not so? + +_Gorg._ It is so. + +_Socr._ Tell me then in reference to what? what is the particular thing +about which these words are, which rhetoric uses? + +_Gorg._ The greatest of all human concerns, Socrates, and the best. + +_Socr._ But, Gorgias, what you say is questionable, and by no means +clear. For I think you must have heard at banquets men singing that song +in which the singers enumerate that the best thing is health, the second +beauty, and the third, as the author of the song says, riches gained +without fraud. + +_Gorg._ I have heard it; but with what object do you mention this? + +15. _Socr._ Because the artificers of those things which the author of +the song has commended, namely, the physician, the master of gymnastics, +and the money-getter, will forthwith present themselves, and the +physician will say: Socrates, Gorgias deceives you. For his art is not +employed about the greatest good to men, but mine is. If, then, I should +ask him, Who are you that say this? he would probably answer, I am a +physician. What then do you say? that the object of your art is the +greatest good? How can it be otherwise, Socrates, he would probably say, +since its object is health? and what greater good can men have than +health? And if after him again the master of gymnastics should say, I +too should wonder, Socrates, if Gorgias could shew you any greater good +from his art than I can from mine, I should again say to him, And who +are you, Sir, and what is your employment? A master of gymnastics, he +would say, and my employment is to make men beautiful and strong in +their bodies. 16. After the master of gymnastics, the money-getter would +say, as I imagine, despising all others, Consider, I beg, Socrates, +whether there is any greater good than riches, either with Gorgias, or +any one else? I should thereupon say to him, What, then, are you the +artificer of this good? He would say, I am. Who are you then? A +money-getter. What then? Do you consider riches to be the greatest good +to men? I shall say. Assuredly, he will answer. However, Gorgias here +contends that his art is the cause of greater good than yours. It is +clear then that after this he would ask, And what is this good? let +Gorgias answer. Come then, Gorgias, suppose that you are asked by them +and by me, and answer, What is this, which you say is the greatest good +to men, and of which you are the artificer? + +_Gorg._ That which is in reality, Socrates, the greatest good, and is at +the same time the cause of liberty to men, and of their being able to +rule over others in their several cities. + +_Socr._ What then do you say it is? + +_Gorg._ I say it is the power of persuading by words judges in a court +of justice, senators in the senate-house, and the hearers in a public +assembly, and in every other convention of a political nature. Moreover, +by this power you will make the physician your slave, and the master of +gymnastics your slave, and the money-getter will be found to have gained +money, not for himself, but for another, for you who are able to speak, +and persuade the multitude. + +_Socr._ At length you appear to me, Gorgias, to have shewn as nearly as +possible what kind of art you consider rhetoric to be; and if I +understand you rightly, you say that rhetoric is the artificer of +persuasion, and that its whole employment and the sum of it terminates +in this. Can you say that rhetoric has any further power than that of +producing persuasion in the minds of the hearers? + +_Gorg._ By no means, Socrates; but you appear to me to have defined it +sufficiently. For that is the sum of it. + +18. _Socr._ Listen then, Gorgias. Be assured that I, as I persuade +myself, if there is any one, who in conversing with another, wishes to +know the very thing about which the conversation is, be assured, I say, +that I am such a person; and I think that you are too. + +_Gorg._ What then, Socrates? + +_Socr._ I will now tell you. The persuasion which you speak of as +resulting from rhetoric, what it is, and with what particulars it is +conversant, be assured I do not clearly understand, not but that I have +a suspicion of what I suppose you mean, and about what it is employed: +yet I will not the less ask you what persuasion you mean results from +rhetoric, and with what particulars it is conversant. Why then do I who +have a suspicion ask you, and not rather myself speak? Not on your +account, but on account of the discussion, that it may proceed in such a +manner as to make the subject of the discussion most clear to us. 19. +For consider whether I seem to you right in putting the question to you: +just as if I should ask you what kind of a painter is Zeuxis? if you +were to tell me that he paints animals, might I not justly enquire of +you, what kind of animals he paints? is it not so[61]? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And would it not be for this reason, because there are also +other painters who paint many other animals? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But if no one else but Zeuxis painted them, you would have +answered properly. + +_Gorg._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ Come then, with respect to rhetoric, tell me, whether it appears +to you that rhetoric alone produces persuasion, or do other arts produce +it likewise? My meaning is this: Does he who teaches any thing persuade +what he teaches, or not? + +_Gorg._ He does certainly persuade, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Again, if we speak of the same arts of which we just now made +mention, does not arithmetic teach us such things as relate to number? +and does not an arithmetician the same? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +20. _Socr._ Does it not also persuade? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Arithmetic, then, is an artificer of persuasion. + +_Gorg._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ If, then, any one should ask us, What persuasion it produces, +and with respect to what? we should answer, That which teaches about the +quantity of even and odd. In like manner we may shew, that all the other +arts of which we spoke just now, produce persuasion, and what kind of +persuasion, and with respect to what: is it not so? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Rhetoric then, is not alone an artificer of persuasion. + +_Gorg._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ Since then, it does not alone produce this effect, but other +arts do the same, we may justly, as in the case of the painter, next +enquire of the speaker; of what kind of persuasion, and of persuasion on +what subject rhetoric is the art? Does it not appear to you that this +question may fairly be asked? + +----- + +Footnote 61: + + I have ventured to read ἢ οὔ for καὶ ποῦ, for which my only excuse is + that the usual reading cannot be rendered intelligibly, and that the + alteration I have ventured to import is an expression very commonly + used by Socrates on similar occasions. + +----- + +_Gorg._ It does. + +_Socr._ Answer then, Gorgias, since this appears to you to be the case. + +21. _Gorg._ I speak then, Socrates, of that persuasion which is produced +in courts of justice, and in other public assemblies, as I just now +mentioned, and with respect to matters that are just and unjust. + +_Socr._ I suspected, Gorgias, that you meant that persuasion, and on +such matters. But do not be surprised if I shortly ask you a question +that may appear to be evident, but which I shall notwithstanding repeat, +for, as I before observed, I ask it for the sake of carrying on the +discussion in an orderly manner, and not on your account, but that we +may not be in the habit of catching up each other’s words on suspicion; +but do you finish what you have to say according to your own plan, just +as you please. + +_Gorg._ You appear to me to act rightly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Come then, let us examine this too. Do you admit that to learn +is any thing? + +_Gorg._ I do admit it. + +_Socr._ Again? to believe? + +_Gorg._ I do. + +_Socr._ Whether, therefore, does it appear to you, that to learn and to +believe, and learning and belief are the same, or different? + +_Gorg._ I think, Socrates, that they are different. + +22. _Socr._ You think rightly; and you may know from this; if any one +should ask you, Is there, Gorgias, a false and true belief? I think you +would say there is. + +_Gorg._ I should. + +_Socr._ Well then, is there a false and true science? + +_Gorg._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ It is clear, therefore, that they (belief and science) are not +the same. + +_Gorg._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ Yet both those who learn are persuaded, and those who believe. + +_Gorg._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ Are you willing, therefore, that we lay down two kinds of +persuasion, one that produces belief without knowledge, but the other +science? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Which kind of persuasion, then, does rhetoric produce in courts +of justice and other public assemblies, respecting what is just and +unjust? is it that from which belief springs without knowledge, or that +from which knowledge arises? + +_Gorg._ It is evident, Socrates, that it is that from which belief +springs. + +_Socr._ Rhetoric then, as it seems, Gorgias, is the artificer of a +persuasion which produces belief, and not of that which teaches +respecting the just and unjust. + +_Gorg._ It is so. + +_Socr._ A rhetorician, therefore, does not profess to teach courts of +justice and other public assemblies, respecting things just and unjust, +but only to produce belief. For surely he could not teach so great a +multitude in a short time things of such great importance. + +_Gorg._ Certainly not. + +23. _Socr._ Come then, let us see now what we ought to say of rhetoric. +For I, indeed, am not yet able to understand what I should say. When an +assembly is held in a city, for the choice of physicians, or +shipwrights, or any other kind of artificer, is it not the case that the +rhetorician will refrain from giving his advice? for it is evident that, +in each election, the most skilful artist ought to be chosen. Nor _will +he be consulted_ when the question is respecting the building of walls, +or the construction of ports or docks, but architects only. Nor, again, +when a deliberation occurs respecting the choice of generals, or the +marshalling an army against enemies, or the occupation of posts,—but on +such occasions those who are skilled in military affairs will give +advice, and not rhetoricians. What do you say, Gorgias, on such points? +For since you say that you are a rhetorician, and are able to make +others rhetoricians, it is proper to enquire of you what are the things +about which your art is concerned. And consider that I am labouring for +your benefit. For, perhaps, some one who is now within the house may +wish to become your disciple; for I perceive some, nay several, who +probably are ashamed to question you. 24. In being questioned, +therefore, by me, consider yourself to be questioned by them, What would +be the consequence to us, Gorgias, if we should put ourselves under your +instructions? On what subjects shall we be able to give advice to the +city? Whether about the just only and the unjust; or on those subjects +of which Socrates just now made mention? Endeavour to answer them. + +_Gorg._ I will endeavour, Socrates, to develope clearly the whole power +of rhetoric: for you have admirably led the way. You doubtless know that +these docks and walls of the Athenians, and the structure of the ports, +were made partly on the advice of Themistocles, and partly on that of +Pericles, but not of artificers. + +_Socr._ This is told of Themistocles, Gorgias: and I myself heard +Pericles when he gave us his advice respecting the middle wall[62]. + +----- + +Footnote 62: + + The wall which connected the southern extremities of the long walls + and the Phaleric wall. + +----- + +_Gorg._ And when there is an election of any such persons as you +mentioned, Socrates, you see that the rhetoricians are the persons who +give advice, and whose opinion prevails in such matters. + +25. _Socr._ It is because I wonder at this, Gorgias, that I have been +for some time asking you, what is the power of rhetoric. For when I +consider it in this manner, it appears to me almost divine in its +magnitude. + +_Gorg._ If you knew all, Socrates, that it comprehends under itself +almost all powers! And I will give you a strong proof of this. For I +have often, ere now, gone with my brother and other physicians to +various sick persons, who would neither drink their medicine, nor suffer +themselves to be cut or cauterized by the physician, and when the +physician was unable to persuade them, I have done so by no other art +than rhetoric. I say too, that if a rhetorician and a physician should +go to any city you please, and it were necessary to contend by argument +in a general assembly, or any other convention, which should be chosen, +a rhetorician or a physician, the physician would be held in no account, +but he that has the power of speaking would be chosen, if he pleased. +26. And if he should contend with any other artist whatever, the +rhetorician would persuade that he himself should be chosen in +preference to any one else. For there is no subject on which a +rhetorician will not speak to the multitude more persuasively than any +other artist whatever. Such, then, and so great is the power of this +art. It is right however, Socrates, to use rhetoric in the same way as +any other exercise employed in contests: for it is not right to use +other exercises against all men alike; nor, because any one has learnt +pugilism, and the pancratium, and to fight with arms, so as to be +superior both to friends and enemies, is it therefore proper to strike, +or pierce, or slay one’s friends. 27. Nor, by Jupiter, if some one who, +by having frequented the palæstra, has made his body robust, and become +a pugilist, should afterwards strike his father or mother, or any other +of his relatives or friends, would it on that account be proper to hate, +and expel from cities, the training masters and those who teach how to +fight with arms. For they instructed their pupils in these exercises, in +order that they might make a proper use of them against enemies, and +those that do wrong, for self-defence, and not for attack; but they +contrariwise, use their strength and skill improperly. The teachers, +therefore, are not wicked, nor is their art either to be blamed, or for +this reason wicked, but they, I think, who do not use it properly. 28. +The same may be said of rhetoric. For a rhetorician is able to speak +against all men, and on every subject; so that he can best persuade the +multitude, in a word, on whatever subject he pleases: but he ought not +any the more on this account to detract from the reputation of +physicians, because he is able to do it, nor of other artificers; but he +should use rhetoric justly, as well as other exercises. In my opinion, +however, if any one having become a rhetorician abuses this power and +art, it is not proper to hate the teacher and expel him from cities, for +he imparted the knowledge of it for just purposes, but the other makes a +contrary use of it. It is just, therefore, to hate, banish, and slay him +who does not make a right use of it, but not the teacher. + +29. _Socr._ I think, Gorgias, that you as well as I, have been present +at many discussions, and that you have observed this in them, that it is +not easy for men, on whatever subject they undertake to converse, having +propounded their ideas to each other, both learning themselves and +teaching one another, then to put an end to the conference; but if they +have a controversy about any thing, and one says that the other does not +speak correctly or clearly, they are indignant, and each thinks that the +other is speaking out of envy, from a love of contention, and not +seeking what was proposed in the discussion: and some, at length[63], +depart in a most disgraceful manner, having[64] reviled each other, and +spoken and heard such things that even the bystanders are vexed at +themselves for having deigned to listen to such men. 30. But why do I +say this? Because you now appear to me to say what does not follow from, +or accord with, what you first said respecting rhetoric. I am afraid, +therefore, to proceed with my refutation, lest you should suppose that I +do not speak with zeal for the subject, that it may be made clear, but +out of opposition to you. If, then, you are of that class of men to +which I belong, I should gladly question you: but if not, I would +forbear to do so. But to what class of men do I belong? To those who are +willingly refuted, if they say any thing that is not true, and who +willingly refute if any one says any thing that is not true; and who are +not less pleased to be refuted than to refute. For I consider the former +to be the greater good, inasmuch as it is a greater good one’s-self to +be delivered from the greatest evil than to deliver another. For I think +no evil so great to man as false opinion on the subjects we are now +discussing. If, then, you say that you are such a man, let us continue +our discussion; [31.] but if you think we ought to desist, let us give +it up, and put an end to the argument. + +----- + +Footnote 63: + + Ficinus, I think, correctly translates τελευτῶντες, _tandem_. + +Footnote 64: + + Literally “being reviled.” + +----- + +_Gorg._ But indeed, Socrates, I profess myself to be such a man as you +describe. Perhaps, however, it is right to attend to the wishes of the +company who are present. For, some time since, before you came, I +explained many things to the present company: and now, perhaps, we shall +protract it too far if we continue the discussion. We must, therefore, +respect their wishes lest we detain any of them, who have something else +to do. + +_Chær._ You yourselves, Gorgias and Socrates, hear the noise these men +make, from their anxiety to hear, if you say any thing. For my part, may +I never have so much business, as to be obliged to leave such a +discussion and so conducted, from having any thing else more important +to do. + +32. _Cal._ By the gods, Chærephon, and I too, though I have been present +at many conferences, know not whether I have ever been so delighted as +now; so that you will gratify me much, should you even be willing to +continue the discussion throughout the whole day. + +_Socr._ There is no obstacle on my side, Callicles, if only Gorgias is +willing. + +_Gorg._ After this, Socrates, it would be shameful in me not to be +willing, especially as I myself announced that any one might ask what he +pleased. But, if it is agreeable to the company, continue the +discussion, and ask any question you please. + +_Socr._ Hear then, Gorgias, what I wonder at in what you said. For, +perhaps, you spoke correctly, and I did not rightly apprehend you. You +say that you can make any one a rhetorician, who is willing to be +instructed by you? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ So that he can speak persuasively on any subject to the +multitude, not teaching, but persuading? + +_Gorg._ Exactly so. + +_Socr._ You said too, that a rhetorician is able to speak more +persuasively than a physician, on the subject of health. + +_Gorg._ I did say so, at least to a multitude. + +_Socr._ Does not, then, this expression “to a multitude” mean to the +ignorant? for, surely, among the well-informed he will not be better +able to persuade than the physician. + +_Gorg._ You say truly. + +33. _Socr._ If then he shall be better able to persuade than the +physician, he is better able to persuade than one who possesses +knowledge? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Although he is not a physician? is it not so? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But he who is not a physician must, surely, be unskilled in +those things in which a physician is skilled. + +_Gorg._ Clearly so. + +_Socr._ He, therefore, who is ignorant will be more capable than one who +possesses knowledge of persuading the ignorant, since a rhetorician is +better able to persuade than a physician. Is this the result, or +something else? + +_Gorg._ That is the result in this instance. + +_Socr._ The case therefore is the same as concerns a rhetorician and +rhetoric with respect to all other arts: I mean, there is no need for it +to know the subjects themselves, how they are circumstanced, but only to +discover some means of persuasion, so as to appear to the ignorant to +know more than those who possess knowledge. + +_Gorg._ Is it not a great advantage, Socrates, without having other +arts, but this one only, to be in no respect inferior to artificers? + +34. _Socr._ Whether from this being the case, a rhetorician is inferior, +or not inferior to others, we will presently consider, if our argument +requires it. But first let us consider this: Whether a rhetorician is in +the same condition with reference to the just and the unjust, the base +and the honourable, the good and the evil, as he is with reference to +health, and other things with which other arts are concerned; I mean, +that he does not know them, what is good, or what is evil, what is +honourable or what is base, what is just, or what is unjust, but is able +to devise some means of persuasion respecting them, so that, though he +is ignorant, he appears to the ignorant to know more than one who +possesses knowledge; or is it necessary that he should know these, and +is it requisite that he who is about to learn rhetoric should have +acquired these things before he comes to you; if not, will you, who are +a teacher of rhetoric, teach him who comes to you none of these things +(for it is not your province), but make him appear to the multitude to +know these things, though he does not know them, and to seem to be a +good man when he is not so? or shall you be unable to teach him rhetoric +at all, unless he knows beforehand the truth respecting these things? +What is the case in this respect, Gorgias? And, by Jupiter, as you just +now promised, unfold the whole power of rhetoric. + +35. _Gorg._ I think, Socrates, that any one, if he did not know, would +learn these things from me. + +_Socr._ Stay; for you say well. If then you make any one a rhetorician, +it is necessary that he should know what is just and unjust, either +before, or afterwards from your instructions. + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ What then? Is he who has learnt carpentering, a carpenter, or +not? + +_Gorg._ He is. + +_Socr._ And is not he who has learnt music, a musician? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And he who has learnt medicine, a physician? And so, in the same +way, with regard to other things, is not he who has learnt any +particular art such a person as each science respectively makes its +proficient? + +_Gorg._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ By the same reason, then, does it not follow, that he who has +learnt just things is just? + +_Gorg._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ And he who is just surely performs just actions. + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Is it not, therefore, necessary[65] that the just man should +wish to do just actions? + +----- + +Footnote 65: + + Οὐκοῦν ἀνάγκη [τὸν ῥητορικὸν δίκαιον εἶναι] τὸν [δὲ] δίκαιον βούλεσθαι + δίκαια πράττειν. I concur with Ast and others in thinking that the + words inserted in brackets have been interpolated, and have therefore + omitted them in the translation. Their insertion would break the chain + of the argument. + +----- + +_Gorg._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ The just man, therefore, will never wish to act unjustly. + +_Gorg._ Necessarily. + +_Socr._ And it follows from the argument that the rhetorician should be +just? + +_Gorg._ Yes. + +_Socr._ A rhetorician, therefore, will never wish to act unjustly? + +_Gorg._ It appears not. + +36. _Socr._ Do you remember that you said a little before that we ought +not to accuse the trainers of youth, nor expel them from cities, if a +pugilist does not make a good use of the pugilistic art, and acts +unjustly? And so, likewise, if a rhetorician make an unjust use of +rhetoric, that we should not accuse the teacher, nor expel him from the +city, but the person who acts unjustly, and does not make a proper use +of rhetoric? Were these things said, or not? + +_Gorg._ They were said. + +_Socr._ But now this very same rhetorician appears incapable of ever +acting unjustly. Is it not so? + +_Gorg._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ And it was said, Gorgias, at the commencement of our discussion, +that rhetoric is conversant with words, not those respecting the even +and the odd, but those respecting the just and the unjust. Was it not +so? + +37. _Gorg._ It was. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, you spoke thus, I supposed that rhetoric could +never be an unjust thing, since it always discourses concerning justice. +But when you said shortly afterwards that a rhetorician might use +rhetoric unjustly, then, wondering, and thinking that the two statements +did not accord, I made that remark, that if you should think it a gain +to be confuted, as I do, it was worth while to continue the discussion, +but if not, to give it up. Afterwards, however, when we were +investigating the matter, you see yourself that it is again allowed to +be impossible for a rhetorician to make an unjust use of rhetoric, and +to be willing to act unjustly. How the case really stands, by the dog, +Gorgias, requires no little discussion to examine it thoroughly. + +38. _Pol._ What then, Socrates? Have you really such an opinion of +rhetoric as you now say? or do you not think that Gorgias was ashamed +not to acknowledge that the rhetorician knows what is just, beautiful, +and good, and that, if any one should come to him ignorant of these +things, he himself would teach them? Then perhaps from this admission +some inconsistency in his arguments followed; the very thing which you +love, yourself leading the way to such questions. For who do you think +will deny that he knows what is just, and can teach it to others? To +lead the discussion to such matters is a piece of great rusticity. + +_Socr._ Most excellent Polus! we get ourselves friends and sons, for +this express purpose, that when we, through being advanced in years, +fall into error, you that are younger, being with us, may correct our +life both in deeds and words. If, then, Gorgias and I have fallen into +any error in our arguments, do you who are present correct us: you ought +to do so. And I wish that if any of the things that have been granted +appear to you to have been improperly granted, you would retract +whatever you please, only I beg you beware of one thing. + +_Pol._ What is that? + +39. _Socr._ That you would restrain that prolixity of speech which at +first you attempted to employ. + +_Pol._ What? shall I not be allowed to speak as much as I please? + +_Socr._ You would indeed be very badly treated, my excellent friend, if, +having come to Athens, where of all Greece there is the greatest liberty +of speech, you alone should here be deprived of this liberty. But set +this against it: if you speak in a prolix manner, and will not answer a +question put to you, should not I be badly treated, if I am not allowed +to go away and not listen to you? But if you feel any interest in the +discussion that has taken place, and wish to correct it, as I just now +said, retract whatever you please, and questioning and being questioned +in turn, as Gorgias and I did, confute and be confuted. For you profess, +surely, to know the same things as Gorgias; is it not so? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ Will not you, then, also bid any one ask you what question he +pleases, as knowing how to answer him. + +_Pol._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ Then do whichever of these you please, ask or answer. + +40. _Pol._ I will do so; and do you answer me, Socrates. Since Gorgias +appears to you to be in doubt respecting rhetoric, what do you say it +is? + +_Socr._ Do you ask me what kind of art I say it is? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ To tell you the truth, Polus, it does not appear to me to be an +art at all. + +_Pol._ What, then, does rhetoric appear to you to be? + +_Socr._ A thing which you say produced art, in the treatise which I +lately read. + +_Pol._ What do you say this is? + +_Socr._ A certain skill. + +_Pol._ Does rhetoric, then, appear to you to be skill? + +_Socr._ To me it does, unless you say otherwise. + +_Pol._ Of what is it the skill? + +_Socr._ Of procuring a certain gratification and pleasure. + +_Pol._ Does not rhetoric, then, appear to you to be a beautiful thing, +since it is able to gratify mankind? + +_Socr._ What, Polus? Have you already heard from me what I say it is, +that you afterwards ask me, if it does not appear to me to be beautiful? + +_Pol._ Did I not hear you say that it is a certain skill? + +_Socr._ Since, then, you prize giving pleasure, are you willing to give +me a little pleasure? + +_Pol._ I am. + +41. _Socr._ Ask me, then, what kind of art cookery appears to me to be. + +_Pol._ I do ask you; what kind of an art is cookery? + +_Socr._ None at all, Polus. + +_Pol._ What is it? say. + +_Socr._ I say, then, it is a certain skill. + +_Pol._ Of what? say. + +_Socr._ I say, of procuring gratification and pleasure, Polus. + +_Pol._ Are cookery and rhetoric the same thing? + +_Socr._ By no means, but a part of the same study. + +_Pol._ Of what study are you speaking? + +_Socr._ I fear it would be too rude to speak the truth, for I hesitate +to speak on account of Gorgias, lest he should think that I ridicule his +profession. But I know not whether this is the rhetoric which Gorgias +studies: for it was not at all clear from our late discussion what his +opinion is. But what I call rhetoric is a part of a certain thing which +does not rank among things beautiful. + +_Gorg._ Of what thing, Socrates? say, without fear of offending me. + +_Socr._ It appears to me, then, Gorgias, to be a certain study, that +does not belong to art, but to a soul that is sagacious and manly, and +naturally powerful in its intercourse with men. The sum of it I call +flattery. 42. Of this study there appears to me to be many other +divisions, and one of them is that of cookery; which, indeed, appears to +be an art, but, as I maintain, is not an art, but skill and practice. I +also call rhetoric a division of this, and personal decoration, and +sophistry, these four divisions relating to four particulars. If, +therefore, Polus wishes to enquire, let him enquire, for he has not yet +heard what division of flattery I assert rhetoric to be: but he did not +observe that I had not yet finished my answer, nevertheless he asks me, +if I do not think that it is beautiful. But I shall not answer him, +whether I think rhetoric is beautiful or base, till I have first +answered what it is. For that would not be right, Polus. If then you +wish to enquire, ask me what division of flattery I assert rhetoric to +be. + +_Pol._ I ask, then, and do you answer, what division it is. + +_Socr._ Will you understand me when I answer? For rhetoric, in my +opinion, is a semblance of a division of the political art. + +_Pol._ What then? Do you say that it is beautiful, or base? + +_Socr._ Base, I say; for I call evil things base: since I must answer +you, as now knowing what I mean. + +43. _Gorg._ By Jupiter, Socrates, but I do not myself understand what +you mean. + +_Socr._ Very likely, Gorgias: for I have not yet spoken clearly. But +Polus here is young and hasty. + +_Gorg._ But leave him alone; and tell me in what way you say that +rhetoric is a semblance of a division of the political art. + +_Socr._ I will endeavour to tell you what rhetoric appears to me to be. +And if it is not such as I describe it, Polus here will confute me. Do +you not call body something, and soul something? + +_Gorg._ How not? + +_Socr._ Do you not, then, think that there is a certain good habit of +each of these? + +_Gorg._ I do. + +_Socr._ What then? an apparent good habit, which is not really so? for +instance, to explain my meaning, many appear to have a good constitution +of body, whom no one but a physician, and a teacher in gymnastics, could +easily perceive not to have a good constitution. + +_Gorg._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ I say that there is something of this kind both in the body and +in the soul, which causes the body and the soul to appear to be in a +good condition, when they are any thing but so. + +44. _Gorg._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ Come now, if I can, I will explain to you more clearly what I +mean. As there are two subject matters, I say there are two arts: and +that which relates to the soul I call political, but that which relates +to the body I am not able to describe to you off-hand by one name; but +of the culture of the body, which is one, I say there are two divisions, +one gymnastics, the other medicine. But in the political art I lay down +legislation, as corresponding to gymnastics, and the judicial to +medicine. Now these respectively communicate with each other, as being +concerned about the same subject, medicine with gymnastics, and the +judicial art with legislation; yet they in some respect differ from each +other. These then being four, and always taking the best possible care, +the former of the body, and the latter of the soul, flattery perceiving +this, I do not say knowing, but sagaciously guessing it, and having +divided itself fourfold, and having stealthily put on the garb of each +of these divisions, feigns itself to be that which it has put on; and it +is not in the least concerned for what is best; but by means of that +which is most pleasant, captivates and seduces ignorance, so as to +appear to be of great value. 45. Cookery, therefore, puts on the garb of +medicine, and pretends that it knows the aliment best for the body. So +that if a cook and a physician had to contend before boys, or before men +as foolish as boys, which of the two was acquainted with good and bad +aliments, the physician or the cook, the physician would die of hunger. +This, then, I call flattery; and I say that a thing of this kind is +base, Polus, (for I say this to you,) because it looks to what is +agreeable without regard to what is best; and I affirm that it is not an +art, but skill, because it has no knowledge of the things which it +employs, what they severally are in their nature, so that it is unable +to tell the use of each. But I do not call that an art which is a thing +without reason. If you are doubtful about these things, I am willing to +give you a reason for them. The flattery, then, pertaining to cookery, +as I have said, is concealed under medicine; and in the same manner, +under gymnastics, personal decoration, which is mischievous, deceitful, +ignoble, and illiberal, deceiving by means of gestures and colours, by +smoothness and outward appearance; so as to make men put on an +adventitious beauty, and neglect that which is their own, and is +acquired by gymnastics. 46. That I may not, then, be prolix, I wish to +tell you, after the manner of geometricians, (for perhaps you can now +follow me,) that what personal decoration is to gymnastics, that is +cookery to medicine: or rather thus, that what personal decoration is to +gymnastics, that is sophistry to legislation, and that what cookery is +to medicine, that is rhetoric to justice. As I have said, they are thus +different in their nature: but as they are proximate to each other[66], +sophists and rhetoricians are confounded with _legislators and judges_, +and are employed about the same things, and know not what to make of +themselves, nor other men of them. For, if the soul did not preside over +the body, but the body over itself, and cookery and medicine were not +examined into and distinguished by the soul, but the body itself +decided, estimating things by its own gratifications, that tenet of +Anaxagoras would prevail extensively, friend Polus, (for you surely are +acquainted with it,) that is, all things would be confounded together, +things medicinal, and healthy, and pertaining to cookery, being +undistinguished from each other. 47. You have heard, therefore, what I +consider rhetoric to be, corresponding to cookery in the soul, as that +in the body. Perhaps, however, I have acted absurdly, in that, though I +do not allow you to make a long speech, I myself have extended mine to a +great length. But I deserve to be pardoned: for when I spoke briefly you +did not understand me, nor were you able to make use of the answer that +I gave you, but required an explanation. If, therefore, when you answer, +I in my turn shall not know what to make of it, do you also prolong your +discourse: but, if I do know, suffer me to do so; for that is fair. And +now, if you can make any use of this answer, do so. + +----- + +Footnote 66: + + Bekker omits the words σοφισταὶ καὶ ῥήτορες, and Ast suggests δικασταὶ + for σοφισταὶ, in either of which cases the addition of the words in + italics would be unnecessary. + +----- + +_Pol._ What do you say, then? Does rhetoric appear to you to be +flattery? + +_Socr._ I said, indeed, that it was a division of flattery. But do not +you remember, Polus, though so young? What will you do by and by? + +_Pol._ Does it seem to you, then, that good rhetoricians are to be +esteemed as vile flatterers in cities? + +_Socr._ Do you ask this as a question, or are you beginning an argument? + +_Pol._ I ask a question. + +48. _Socr._ They appear to me to be of no estimation at all. + +_Pol._ How to be of no estimation? Have they not the greatest power in +cities? + +_Socr._ Not, if you mean that to have power is a good to him who +possesses it. + +_Pol._ But I do say so. + +_Socr._ In that case, rhetoricians appear to me to possess the least +power of all men in cities. + +_Pol._ But what? do they not, like tyrants, slay whomever they please, +and deprive of their property, and banish from cities whomever they +think fit? + +_Socr._ By the dog, Polus, I am doubtful with respect to each of the +things you say, whether you assert these things yourself, and declare +your own opinion, or ask me. + +_Pol._ I ask you. + +_Socr._ Be it so, my friend. Then you ask me two questions at once. + +_Pol._ How two? + +_Socr._ Did you not just now say, that rhetoricians, like tyrants, slay +whomever they please, and deprive them of their property, and banish +from cities whomever they think fit? + +_Pol._ I did. + +49. _Socr._ I say, then, that these are two questions, and I will give +you an answer to both. For I affirm, Polus, that rhetoricians and +tyrants have very little power in cities, as I just now said: for they +do scarcely any thing that they wish, though they do what to them +appears to be best. + +_Pol._ Is not this, then, to possess great power? + +_Socr._ It is not, at least as Polus says. + +_Pol._ I say not? On the contrary, I say it is. + +_Socr._ By Jupiter, not you. For you said that to have great power is a +good to him who possesses it. + +_Pol._ And I repeat it. + +_Socr._ Do you think, then, it is a good for any one to do what appears +to him to be best, when he is void of understanding? And do you call +this to possess great power? + +50. _Pol._ Not I. + +_Socr._ Prove, therefore, that rhetoricians are possessed of +understanding, and that rhetoric is an art, and not flattery, if you +mean to confute me. But, if you will leave me unconfuted, rhetoricians +and tyrants, who do in cities whatever they please, will derive no good +from thence. Power is, as you say, good; but to do, without +understanding, whatever one pleases, you yourself admit is an evil. Is +it not so? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ How then can rhetoricians or tyrants have great power in cities, +unless Socrates is persuaded by Polus to admit that they do what they +wish? + +_Pol._ What a strange man! + +_Socr._ I deny that they do what they wish: but confute me. + +_Pol._ Did you not just now admit that they do what appears to them to +be best? + +_Socr._ And I now admit it. + +_Pol._ They do, therefore, what they wish. + +_Socr._ I deny it. + +_Pol._ But they do what appears best to them? + +_Socr._ I grant it. + +_Pol._ You speak absurdly and monstrously, Socrates. + +[51.] _Socr._ Do not accuse me, most excellent Polus, that I may address +you in your own style; but, if you have any other question to ask me, +shew that I am deceived; if not, do you answer me. + +_Pol._ I am willing to answer, in order that I may know what you mean. + +_Socr._ Whether, then, do men appear to you to wish the thing that they +do from time to time, or that for the sake of which they do the thing +that they do? As for instance, do those who drink medicine from +physicians appear to you to wish the thing that they do, viz., to drink +the medicine, and suffer pain, or do they wish to be well, for the sake +of which they drink the medicine? + +_Pol._ It is clear they wish to be well, for the sake of which they +drink the medicine. + +_Socr._ In like manner those who sail on the sea, and those who carry on +any other commercial business, do not wish the thing that they do from +time to time: for who wishes to sail and to encounter danger, and to be +harassed with business; but the object for which they sail is to acquire +riches; for they sail for the sake of riches. + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Is it not so then in all cases? whosoever does any thing for the +sake of some thing else, does not wish the thing that he does, but that +for the sake of which he does it. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +52. _Socr._ Is there any thing in the world, then, that is not either +good or evil, or between these, neither good nor evil? + +_Pol._ It must needs be so, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Do you not admit then, that wisdom, and health, and riches, and +other things of the same kind, are good, but their contraries evil? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ By the things that are neither good nor evil do you not mean +such as sometimes partake of good, sometimes of evil, and sometimes of +neither, as to sit, to walk, to run, and to sail, and again, stones, +wood, and other things of the same kind? Are not these the things that +you mean? Or do you call certain other things neither good nor evil? + +_Pol._ No, but these. + +_Socr._ Whether, therefore, do men, when they do these intermediate +things, do them for the sake of the good, or the good for the sake of +the intermediate. + +_Pol._ The intermediate, surely, for the sake of the good. + +_Socr._ Pursuing the good, therefore, we both walk when we walk, +thinking it better, and, on the contrary, we stand when we stand, for +the sake of the same thing, viz., the good. Is it not so? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +53. _Socr._ Do we not, therefore, if we slay any one, slay, or banish, +or deprive him of his possessions, thinking that it is better for us to +do so than not? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ They, therefore, who do these things do them all for the sake of +good. + +_Pol._ I allow it. + +_Socr._ Are we not agreed, then, that we do not wish those things which +we do for the sake of something else, but that for the sake of which we +do them? + +_Pol._ By all means. + +_Socr._ We do not, then, wish simply to slay, or banish from cities, or +deprive any one of his possessions; but if these things are useful we +wish to do them, but if they are hurtful we do not wish to do them. For +we wish, as you admit, things that are good, but we do not wish such as +are neither good nor evil, nor such as are evil. Is it not so? Do I seem +to you, Polus, to speak the truth, or not? Why do you not answer? + +_Pol._ You speak the truth. + +_Socr._ Since then we are agreed on these things, if any one slays, +banishes from a city, or deprives another of his possessions, whether he +is a tyrant or a rhetorician, thinking that it is better for him so to +do, though it is really worse, he surely does what seems fit to him: is +it not so? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Does he, then, do what he wishes, if these things are really +evil? Why do you not answer? + +_Pol._ He does not appear to me to do what he wishes. + +54. _Socr._ Is it possible, then, that such a man can have great power +in the supposed city, if, according to your admission, to have great +power is a good? + +_Pol._ It is not possible. + +_Socr._ I spoke truly, then, when I said that it is possible for a man +to do what he pleases in a city, and yet not have great power, nor do +what he wishes. + +_Pol._ As if, Socrates, you yourself would not like to be allowed to do +what you please in a city, rather than not, and would not be envious +when you saw any one either slaying whom he pleased, or taking away his +possessions, or putting him in bonds. + +_Socr._ Do you mean justly or unjustly? + +_Pol._ Whichever he should do, is he not in either case to be envied? + +_Socr._ Good words, I pray you, Polus. + +_Pol._ But why? + +_Socr._ Because it is not right, either to envy those that are not to be +envied, or the wretched; but to pity them. + +_Pol._ What say you? Does such appear to you to be the case with the men +of whom I am speaking? + +55. _Socr._ How can it be otherwise? + +_Pol._ Does he, then, who slays whom he pleases, slaying him justly, +appear to you to be wretched, and an object of pity? + +_Socr._ Not at all; nor indeed is he to be envied. + +_Pol._ Did you not say just now that he was wretched? + +_Socr._ I said, my friend, that he is wretched who slays another +unjustly, and more than that, to be pitied; but that he who slays +another justly is not to be envied. + +_Pol._ He surely who dies unjustly is to be pitied, and is wretched. + +_Socr._ Less so, Polus, than he who slays him; and less than he who dies +justly? + +_Pol._ How so, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Thus; because to act unjustly is the greatest of evils. + +_Pol._ But is this really the greatest of evils? Is it not a greater +evil to suffer unjustly? + +_Socr._ By no means. + +_Pol._ Had you, then, rather suffer unjustly than act unjustly? + +_Socr._ I should wish neither of these: but if I must necessarily either +act unjustly or suffer unjustly, I should choose rather to suffer +unjustly than to act unjustly. + +_Pol._ Would you not, then, consent to be a tyrant? + +_Socr._ I would not, if by being a tyrant you mean the same that I do. + +_Pol._ I mean by it what I just now said, to have the power to do in a +city whatever one pleases; to slay and banish, and do every thing +according to one’s own pleasure. + +56. _Socr._ My excellent friend, attend to what I say, and confute me if +you can. If, when the forum is full, I should take a dagger under my +arm, and say to you, Polus, a certain wonderful power and tyranny has +just now fallen to my lot: for, if it seems fit to me that any one of +these men whom you see ought immediately to die, he shall die; and if it +seems fit to me that any one of them ought to have his head broken, he +shall immediately have it broken; or if that his garment should be torn +to pieces, it shall be torn to pieces: so great is the power I possess +in the city. And if, on your disbelieving me, I should shew you the +dagger, perhaps, on seeing it, you would say: According to this, +Socrates, all men may have great power, since any house that you please +might be burnt in this way, and even the dock-yards of the Athenians, +and the triremes, and all the shipping, as well public as private. But +surely this is not to possess great power, to do whatever one pleases: +do you think so? + +_Pol._ Certainly not in this way. + +_Socr._ Can you tell me, then, why you blame a power of this kind? + +_Pol._ I can. + +_Socr._ Why then? tell me. + +_Pol._ Because it must needs be that one who acts thus should be +punished. + +_Socr._ But is not the being punished an evil? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +57. _Socr._ Therefore, my excellent friend, to have great power appears +to you to be, when advantage attends one’s doing what one pleases, and +then it is a good; and this, as it seems, is to have great power; but if +not, it is an evil, and to have little power. Let us consider this too. +Are we not agreed that it is sometimes better to do the things which we +just now spoke of, to slay, to banish men, and deprive them of their +property, and sometimes not? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ This, then, as it seems, is agreed on both by you and me? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ When, then, do you say it is better to do these things? Tell me +what limit you establish? + +_Pol._ Do you, Socrates, answer this question. + +_Socr._ I say, then, Polus, since it is more agreeable to you to hear it +from me, when any one does these things justly, it is better, but when +unjustly, it is worse. + +_Pol._ Forsooth, it is difficult to confute you, Socrates! but could not +even a child convince you that you do not speak the truth? + +_Socr._ I should be very much obliged to the child, and equally so to +you, if you can confute me, and free me from my extravagances. But be +not weary in obliging a man who is your friend, but confute me. + +58. _Pol._ However, Socrates, there is no need to confute you by ancient +examples. For things that have recently happened are sufficient to +confute you, and to prove that many men who have acted unjustly are +happy. + +_Socr._ What are these? + +_Pol._ Do you not see, for instance, this Archelaus, son of Perdiccas, +ruler of Macedonia? + +_Socr._ If not, at all events I hear of him. + +_Pol._ Does he appear to you to be happy or miserable? + +_Socr._ I do not know, Polus: for I have never yet had any intercourse +with him. + +_Pol._ What then? if you had intercourse with him, should you know? And +do you not know otherwise, from the circumstances of the case, that he +is happy? + +_Socr._ By Jupiter, certainly not. + +_Pol._ It is evident then, Socrates, you will say, that you do not even +know whether the great king is happy? + +_Socr._ And I should say the truth. For I do not know what his state is +with regard to enlightenment and justice. + +_Pol._ What? Does all happiness consist in this? + +_Socr._ In my opinion, Polus. For I say that an honest and good man or +woman is happy; but an unjust and wicked one is miserable. + +_Pol._ This Archelaus, then, is miserable, according to your account? + +_Socr._ At least, my friend, if he is unjust. + +59. _Pol._ But how can he be otherwise than unjust, who had no right to +the empire which he now possesses, as he was born of a woman who was the +slave of Alcetas, brother of Perdiccas, and according to justice was the +slave of Alcetas, and, if he had wished to do what is just, would have +served Alcetas as a slave, and would have been happy, according to your +account? whereas now he has become wonderfully miserable, since he has +committed the greatest injustice. For, first of all, having sent for +this his master and uncle, as if he would restore the government which +Perdiccas had taken from him, and having entertained and intoxicated +both him and his son Alexander, his own cousin, and nearly his equal in +age, he forced them into a carriage, and having carried them off by +night, had their throats cut and made away with them both. And after he +had committed these wrongs, he was not aware that he had become most +miserable, and did not repent, but shortly afterwards, he did not wish +to become happy by nurturing his legitimate brother, the son of +Perdiccas, a child about seven years of age, to whom the government of +right belonged, and by restoring it to him; but having thrown him into a +well, and suffocated him, he told his mother Cleopatra that he had +fallen in in pursuing a goose, and so met with his death. 60. Wherefore +since he has committed the greatest wrongs of all in Macedonia, he is +the most miserable of all the Macedonians, and not the most happy. And +perhaps there are some among the Athenians, beginning with you, who +would rather be any other of the Macedonians than Archelaus. + +_Socr._ At the beginning of our conference, Polus, I praised you, +because you appeared to me to be well instructed in rhetoric, though you +had neglected the art of dialectics. And now, what else is this +reasoning, by which even a child could confute me, and I, as you +suppose, am now confuted by this reasoning of yours, when I said that a +man who acts unjustly is not happy? How so, my friend? For I do not +grant you any one of the things you assert. + +_Pol._ Because you are not willing to do so; though it appears to you as +I say. + +_Socr._ My excellent friend, you attempt to confute me rhetorically, +like those who think they confute their adversaries in courts of +justice. For there some fancy they confute others when they produce many +reputable witnesses in favour of what they say, whereas the adverse +party produces some one only, or none at all. 61. But this mode of +confutation is worth nothing with reference to truth. For sometimes a +man may be borne down by the false testimony of many witnesses who seem +to be somewhat. And now, with respect to what you say, almost all the +Athenians and strangers will agree with you, and if you wish to produce +witnesses against me to prove that I do not speak the truth, there will +testify for you, if you wish it, Nicias, son of Niceratus, and his +brothers with him, who gave the tripods that stand in a row in the +temple of Bacchus; or again, if you wish it, Aristocrates, son of +Scellius, who gave that beautiful offering in the temple of Pythian +Apollo; or if you wish it, the whole house of Pericles, or any other +family, that you may think proper to choose out of this city. But I, who +am but one, do not agree with you. For you do not convince me by +arguments, but producing many false witnesses against me, you endeavour +to eject me from my substance and the truth. But I, unless I shall be +able to adduce you, who are one, as a witness agreeing with what I say, +shall think that I have accomplished nothing worthy of mention with +respect to the subject of our discussion; nor shall I think that you +have done so, unless I, being one, alone testify for you, and you +dismiss all those others. 62. This, then, is one mode of refutation, as +you and many others think: but there is also another mode, which, on the +contrary, I adopt. Let us, therefore, compare them with each other, and +consider whether they differ at all from one another. For the matters +about which we differ are by no means trifling; but they are indeed such +as to know which is most honourable, and not to know most disgraceful, +for the sum of them is to know, or to be ignorant, who is happy, and who +is not. For instance, in the first place, with respect to the subject of +our present discussion, you think it possible that a man may be happy +who acts unjustly and is unjust; since you think that Archelaus, though +unjust, is happy. Must we not suppose that such is your opinion? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But I say it is impossible. On this one point, then, we differ. +Be it so. But will he who acts unjustly be happy if he meet with justice +and is punished? + +_Pol._ By no means, for in that case he would be most miserable. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, he who acts unjustly does not meet with the +punishment he deserves, according to your account he will be happy. + +_Pol._ So I say. + +63. _Socr._ But, according to my opinion, Polus, he who acts unjustly, +and is unjust, is in every way miserable; though more miserable if he +does not suffer punishment, and does not meet with chastisement for his +unjust actions; but less miserable if he suffers punishment, and meets +with his just deserts both from gods and men. + +_Pol._ You attempt, Socrates, to advance strange paradoxes. + +_Socr._ Yet I shall endeavour, my friend, to make you say the same +things as I do: for I consider you as a friend. Now, then, the things +about which we differ are these: and do you also consider. I said in a +former part of our discussion, that to commit an injustice is worse than +to suffer one. + +_Pol._ Just so. + +_Socr._ But you say it is worse to suffer an injustice. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And I said that they who act unjustly are miserable, and was +confuted by you. + +_Pol._ You were so, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ At least as you think, Polus. + +_Pol._ And I probably thought the truth. + +_Socr._ But you, on the contrary, said that they who act unjustly are +happy, if they do not suffer punishment. + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But I say that they are most miserable; and that they who suffer +punishment are less so. Do you wish to refute this also? + +64. _Pol._ But this is more difficult to refute than the former, +Socrates. + +_Socr._ By no means, Polus, but it is impossible; for truth can never be +refuted. + +_Pol._ How say you? If a man should be detected acting unjustly, as in +attempting to compass absolute power, and being detected should be put +to the torture, be mutilated, and have his eyes burnt out, and after +having himself suffered many other great and various torments, and +having moreover seen his children and wife suffer the same, should at +last be crucified, or covered with pitch and burnt, will he be more +happy, than if, having escaped punishment, he should become a tyrant, +and ruling in the city, should pass through life doing whatever he +pleases, being envied, and accounted happy, both by citizens and +strangers? Do you say that it is impossible to refute these things? + +_Socr._ You are now trying to terrify me, noble Polus, and do not refute +me; but just now you adduced witnesses. However, remind me of a trifling +circumstance; did you say, if a person should attempt unjustly to +compass absolute power? + +_Pol._ I did. + +_Socr._ In that case, neither of them will ever be happier than the +other, neither he who has unjustly acquired absolute power, nor he who +has been punished. For, of two miserable persons, one cannot be happier +than the other; but he is more miserable who escapes punishment and +acquires absolute power. 65. What is this, Polus? do you laugh? Is this +another species of refutation, when any one asserts any thing, to laugh +at him, and not refute him? + +_Pol._ Do you not think you are already refuted, Socrates, when you say +such things as no man in the world would assert? for ask any one of +these. + +_Socr._ Polus, I am not among the number of politicians: and last year, +happening to be chosen a senator, since my tribe held the presidency and +it was necessary for me to collect the votes, I occasioned laughter, +because I did not know how to collect them. Do not, then, require me to +collect the votes of those who are present. But if you have no better +mode of refutation than this, as I just now said, give the question up +to me in my turn, and make trial of that mode of refutation which I +think ought to be adopted. For I know how to procure one witness of what +I say, that is, the person with whom I am discoursing, but I let alone +the multitude; and I know how to take the vote of one person, but I do +not even discourse with the multitude. Consider, then, whether you are +willing in your turn to give me an opportunity of refuting by answering +the questions I shall put to you. For I think, that you and I, and other +men, are of opinion, that to commit injustice is worse than to suffer +it; and not to be punished, than to be punished. + +66. _Pol._ But I, on the contrary, think that neither myself nor any +other man is of this opinion. For would you rather suffer injustice than +commit it? + +_Socr._ Yes, and you, and all other men. + +_Pol._ Far from it; neither would you, nor I, nor any other man. + +_Socr._ Will you not answer, then? + +_Pol._ By all means. For I am anxious to know what you will say. + +_Socr._ Tell me then, that you may know, as if I asked you from the +beginning: whether does it appear to you, Polus, worse to commit an +injustice or to suffer one? + +_Pol._ To suffer one, in my opinion. + +_Socr._ What then? whether is it more base to commit an injustice or to +suffer one? Answer me. + +_Pol._ To commit an injustice. + +_Socr._ Is it not, therefore, worse, since it is more base? + +_Pol._ By no means. + +_Socr._ I understand. You do not think, as it seems, that the beautiful +and the good, and the evil and the base, are the same? + +_Pol._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ But what do you say to this? Beautiful things in general, such +as bodies, colours, forms, sounds, and pursuits, do you call them +severally beautiful, without reference to any thing else? As, for +instance, first of all, with respect to beautiful bodies, do you not say +that they are beautiful, on account of their usefulness, in reference to +the particular thing for which each is useful, or on account of some +pleasure, if in being seen they give delight to the beholders? Have you +any thing else besides this to say respecting beauty of body? + +_Pol._ I have not. + +67. _Socr._ Do you not, then, denominate all other things in the same +manner beautiful, such as forms and colours, either on account of some +pleasure, or utility, or both? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ And is not the case the same as to sounds, and every thing that +relates to music? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And moreover, with respect to laws and pursuits, they surely are +beautiful, for no other reason except that they are either useful, or +pleasant, or both? + +_Pol._ So it appears to me. + +_Socr._ And is it not the same with the beauty of the sciences? + +_Pol._ Certainly. And now, Socrates, you define beautifully, in defining +the beautiful by pleasure and good. + +_Socr._ Must not, therefore, the base be defined by the contrary, by +pain and evil? + +_Pol._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, of two beautiful things, one is more beautiful +than the other, it is more beautiful because it excels in one or both of +these, either in pleasure, or utility, or both. + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And when of two things one is more base than the other, it must +be more base because it exceeds in pain or evil: is not this necessarily +so? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +68. _Socr._ Come then; what did we say just now respecting committing +injustice and suffering it? Did you not say that to suffer injustice is +more evil, but to commit it, more base? + +_Pol._ I did say so. + +_Socr._ Therefore, since it is more base to commit injustice than to +suffer it, it must be more base because it is more painful and exceeds +in pain, or evil, or both. Is not this also necessary? + +_Pol._ How can it be otherwise? + +_Socr._ First, then, let us consider whether to commit injustice exceeds +in pain the suffering it; and whether they who commit injustice feel +greater pain than they who suffer it. + +_Pol._ This is by no means the case, Socrates. + +_Socr._ It does not, then, exceed in pain? + +_Pol._ By no means. + +_Socr._ Therefore, if it does not exceed in pain, it will no longer +exceed in both. + +_Pol._ It appears not. + +_Socr._ It remains, therefore, that it exceeds in the other. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ In the evil. + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +_Socr._ Since, therefore, to commit injustice exceeds in evil, it must +be more evil than to suffer injustice. + +_Pol._ Evidently so. + +69. _Socr._ Was it not admitted by men in general, and by you to me +formerly, that it is more base to commit injustice than to suffer it? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Now, however, it appears to be worse. + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +_Socr._ Would you, then, rather choose that which is worse and more +base, than that which is less so? Do not hesitate to answer, Polus, (for +you will not be injured by so doing,) but answer, giving yourself up +generously to the discussion as to a physician; and either admit or deny +the question I ask. + +_Pol._ Then I should not rather choose it, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Would any other man in the world? + +_Pol._ To me it appears not, according to what has been said. + +_Socr._ I therefore said truly, that neither you, nor I, nor any other +man in the world, would rather choose to commit injustice than to suffer +it; for it is worse to do so. + +_Pol._ So it appears. + +_Socr._ You see then, Polus, that my mode of proof when compared with +your mode of proof, does not at all resemble it; but all others agree +with you, except myself. For my part you alone are sufficient for my +purpose, agreeing with me and testifying for me; and I, having asked +your opinion only, disregard that of others. Let this then be settled +between us. 70. And next, let us proceed to consider that which we +doubted about in the second place, viz. whether it is the greatest of +evils for one who has committed injustice to be punished, as you +thought, or whether it is not a greater evil not to be punished, as I +thought. And let us consider it thus: To suffer punishment and to be +justly chastised, when one has committed injustice, do you not call the +same thing? + +_Pol._ I do. + +_Socr._ Can you say, then, that all just things are not beautiful, so +far as they are just? When you have well considered, answer me. + +_Pol._ It appears to me that they are, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Consider this also: When a man does any thing, must there not +necessarily be something which is passive to him as an agent? + +_Pol._ It appears so to me. + +_Socr._ And does not the patient suffer what the agent does, and just +such a thing as the agent does? I mean in this way: If any one strikes, +is it not necessary that something should be struck? + +_Pol._ It is necessary. + +_Socr._ And if the striker strikes hard or swiftly, must not the thing +struck be stricken accordingly? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ That which is struck, then, undergoes a passion corresponding to +that which the striker does. + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +71. _Socr._ In like manner, if any one burns, is it not necessary that +something should be burnt? + +_Pol._ How can it be otherwise? + +_Socr._ And if he burns vehemently or painfully, that which is burnt +must be burnt according as the burner burns? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ So, if any one cuts any thing, is not the reasoning the same? +for something is cut. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And if the cut is large or deep, or painful, that which is cut +is cut with such a cut as the cutter cuts. + +_Pol._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ In a word, then, see if you grant what I just now said +respecting every thing, viz., that according as the agent does, so the +patient suffers. + +_Pol._ I do grant it. + +_Socr._ These things, then, being agreed on, whether is the being +punished, to suffer, or to do something? + +_Pol._ Necessarily, Socrates, it is to suffer. + +_Socr._ Must it not, therefore, be by some agent? + +_Pol._ Undoubtedly: by him who chastises. + +_Socr._ But does not he who chastises rightly, chastise justly? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Doing what is just, or not? + +_Pol._ What is just. + +_Socr._ Then, does not he who is chastised, when he is deservedly +punished, suffer justly? + +_Pol._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ But what is just has been acknowledged to be beautiful. + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Of these, then, the one does, and the other, he that is +chastised, suffers that which is beautiful. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And if beautiful, then good; for _that which is beautiful_ is +either pleasant or useful. + +_Pol._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ He therefore who is punished suffers that which is good. + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +72. _Socr._ He is therefore benefited. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Is it with such a benefit as I suppose? Does he become better as +to his soul, since he is chastised justly? + +_Pol._ That is probable. + +_Socr._ He, therefore, who is punished is freed from a vice of the soul. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Is he not freed, then, from the greatest evil? Consider the +matter thus: in the condition of a man’s property do you perceive any +other evil than poverty? + +_Pol._ No other than poverty. + +_Socr._ Well, in the constitution of the body? would you say that +weakness, disease, deformity, and the like, are evils? + +_Pol._ I should. + +_Socr._ Do you not think, too, that there is a certain depravity in the +soul? + +_Pol._ How otherwise? + +_Socr._ Do you not then call this injustice, ignorance, cowardice, and +the like? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Have you not said, then, that of these three, property, body, +and soul, there are three corresponding evils, poverty, disease, +injustice? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Then which of these evils is the most base? Is it not injustice, +and, in a word, the depravity of the soul? + +_Pol._ By far. + +_Socr._ But, if it is most base, then is it not also the worst? + +_Pol._ How mean you, Socrates? + +73. _Socr._ Thus. In every case, that which is most base is so because, +from what has been before admitted, it occasions the greatest pain, or +harm, or both. + +_Pol._ By all means. + +_Socr._ But injustice and the whole depravity of the soul, have been +just now admitted by us to be most base. + +_Pol._ They have been so admitted. + +_Socr._ Is it not, therefore, the most troublesome and most base of +these _depravities_, because it exceeds either in troublesomeness or +hurtfulness, or both? + +_Pol._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ Is then the being unjust, intemperate, cowardly, and ignorant, +more painful than to be poor and diseased? + +_Pol._ It does not appear so to me, Socrates, from what has been said. + +_Socr._ The depravity of the soul, then, is the most base of all, +because it exceeds the others by some extraordinarily great harm and +wonderful evil, since, according to your argument, it is not exceeded in +painfulness. + +_Pol._ So it appears. + +_Socr._ But, surely, that which exceeds in the greatest harmfulness must +be the greatest evil of all? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Then injustice, intemperance, and the other depravities of the +soul, are the greatest evils of all. + +_Pol._ So it appears. + +74. _Socr._ What art, then, frees from poverty? Is it not that of +money-making? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ What, from disease? Is it not the medicinal? + +_Pol._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ What, from depravity and injustice? If in this way you cannot +readily answer, consider it thus: whither, and to whom, do we take those +that are diseased in body? + +_Pol._ To physicians, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Whether those who act unjustly, and are intemperate? + +_Pol._ Do you mean, to the judges? + +_Socr._ Is it not, then, that they may be punished? + +_Pol._ I grant it. + +_Socr._ Do not then those who chastise rightly chastise by employing a +certain justice? + +_Pol._ Clearly. + +_Socr._ The art of money-making, therefore, frees from poverty, medicine +from disease, and justice from intemperance and injustice. + +_Pol._ So it appears. + +_Socr._ Which of these, therefore, is the most beautiful? + +_Pol._ Of what are you speaking? + +_Socr._ The art of money-making, medicine, and justice. + +_Pol._ Justice, Socrates, is far superior. + +_Socr._ Does it not, then, produce the greatest pleasure, or utility, or +both, since it is the most beautiful? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +75. _Socr._ Is it, then, pleasant to be under the care of a physician? +and do they who are under such charge rejoice? + +_Pol._ It does not appear so to me. + +_Socr._ But it is useful. Is it not? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ For they are freed from a great evil; so that it is advantageous +to endure pain and be restored to health. + +_Pol._ How can it be otherwise? + +_Socr._ Would the man then, thus be most happy with respect to his body +who is under the care of a physician, or who is not diseased at all? + +_Pol._ Clearly he that is not diseased. + +_Socr._ For this is not happiness, as it seems, the being freed from +evil; but the never possessing it at all. + +_Pol._ It is so. + +_Socr._ But what? Of two men that have evil, either in body or soul, +which is the more miserable, he that is under the care of a physician, +and is freed from the evil, or he that is not under the care of a +physician, and retains the evil? + +_Pol._ It appears to me, he that is not under the care of a physician. + +_Socr._ And is not punishment the being freed from the greatest evil, +depravity? + +_Pol._ It is. + +_Socr._ For justice produces a sound mind, makes men more just, and +becomes the medicine of depravity? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +76. _Socr._ He, then, is most happy who has no vice in his soul, since +this is proved to be the greatest of evils. + +_Pol._ It is evident. + +_Socr._ The second, surely, is he who is freed from it. + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +_Socr._ But this is he who is admonished, reproved, and punished. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ He, therefore, lives worst, who is afflicted with injustice, and +is not freed from it. + +_Pol._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Is not, then, he one who, having committed the greatest +injustice, and employing the greatest injustice, contrives that he may +be neither admonished, nor chastised, nor punished, as you said was the +case with Archelaus, and other tyrants, rhetoricians, and powerful men? + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +_Socr._ For these, my excellent friend, have managed much the same as +one who being afflicted with the worst diseases should contrive not to +have his bodily maladies corrected or subjected to medical treatment, +fearing, as if he were a child, to be burnt and cut, because these +operations are painful. Does it not appear so to you? + +_Pol._ It does. + +_Socr._ Being ignorant, as it seems, of what health is, and a good habit +of the body. 77. Now from what we have just agreed on, Polus, those who +flee from punishment appear to do something of this kind; they look to +the pain attending it, but are blind to its utility, and are ignorant +how much more miserable than an unhealthy body it is to dwell with an +unhealthy soul, that is corrupt, unjust, and impious. Whence they do +every thing that they may not be punished, nor freed from the greatest +evil, procuring for themselves riches and friends, and the power of +speaking as persuasively as possible. But if we have agreed on what is +true, Polus, do you perceive what consequences result from our +discourse? do you wish that we should draw the conclusions from them? + +_Pol._ I do, unless you think otherwise. + +_Socr._ Does it not follow that injustice and to act unjustly is the +greatest evil? + +_Pol._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ And to suffer punishment was proved to be a means of freedom +from this evil. + +_Pol._ It appears to be so. + +_Socr._ But not to suffer punishment is a continuance of the evil. + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ To act unjustly, therefore, is the second of evils in magnitude; +but to act unjustly and not to suffer punishment is the greatest and +chief of all evils. + +_Pol._ So it seems. + +78. _Socr._ Was not this the point, my friend, with respect to which we +differed, you considering Archelaus happy, for that having committed the +greatest injustice he suffers no punishment; but I on the contrary +thinking, that whether Archelaus, or any other man whatever, is not +punished when he commits injustice, he must needs be far more wretched +than all other men, and that he who commits injustice is ever more +wretched than he who suffers it, and he that is not punished than he +that is. Are not these the things that I said? + +_Pol._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And has it not been demonstrated that they were said truly? + +_Pol._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Well then, if these things are true, Polus, what is the great +utility of rhetoric? For, from what has been now agreed on, every one +ought especially to beware of acting unjustly, for that, _if he does so +act_, he will sustain great evil. Is it not so? + +_Pol._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And if a man has committed injustice, either himself, or any one +else for whom he has regard, he ought of his own accord to betake +himself thither, where as soon as possible he will be punished, to a +judge as to a physician, taking every pains lest the disease of +injustice becoming inveterate should render the soul corrupt and +incurable; or what must we say, Polus, if our former admissions are to +stand? Do not these things necessarily harmonize with the former in +this, but in no other way? + +79. _Pol._ For what else can we say, Socrates? + +_Socr._ For the purpose, then, of excusing injustice, our own, or that +of our parents, or friends, or children, or country, when it acts +unjustly, rhetoric is of no use to us at all, Polus, unless on the +contrary, any one supposes that he ought especially to accuse himself, +and afterwards his relatives, and any other of his friends, who may have +acted unjustly, and not conceal the crime, but bring it to light, in +order that he may be punished, and restored to health; moreover, that he +should compel both himself and the others to lay aside fear, and with +his eyes shut, and in a manly way, deliver himself up, as to a +physician, to be cut and cauterised, pursuing the good and the +beautiful, without paying any regard to what is painful; if he has +committed a wrong worthy of stripes, delivering himself up to be beaten, +if of bonds, to be bound, if of a fine, to pay it, if of exile, to be +banished, if of death, to die, being himself the first accuser of +himself, and others his relatives, not sparing either himself or them, +but employing rhetoric for this very purpose, that, the crimes being +exposed, they may be freed from the greatest of evils, injustice. Shall +we say thus, Polus, or not? + +80. _Pol._ These things appear to me, Socrates, to be absurd; but it +must be admitted, they accord with what was before said. + +_Socr._ Must not, therefore, either our former conclusions be done away +with, or these results necessarily follow? + +_Pol._ Yes; such is the case. + +_Socr._ Contrariwise, if it is requisite to do ill to any one, whether +to an enemy, or any other person, provided only that he is not himself +injured by his enemy; for this is to be guarded against; but if an enemy +injures another, we should endeavour by all possible means, both by +actions and words, that he may not be punished, nor brought before a +judge: but, if he is brought before him, we should contrive so that our +enemy may escape, and not suffer punishment: and if he has robbed us of +a great quantity of gold, that he should not restore it, but should +retain it and spend it on himself and his associates unjustly and +impiously; and if he has committed an injustice worthy of death, we +should contrive that he may not die, if possible never, but that he may +be immortal in depravity, or if this cannot be, that he may live in this +state for as long a period as possible. 81. For such purposes, Polus, +rhetoric appears to me to be useful, since to him who does not intend to +act unjustly, its utility does not appear to me to be great, if indeed +it is of any utility at all, as in the former part of our discussion it +appeared in no respect to be. + +_Cal._ Tell me, Chærephon, does Socrates say these things seriously, or +is he jesting? + +_Chær._ He appears to me, Callicles, to speak most seriously; but there +is nothing like asking him himself. + +_Cal._ You are right, by the gods, and I desire to do it. Tell me, +Socrates, whether we must say that you are now speaking seriously, or +jesting? For, if you are speaking seriously, and if what you say is +true, is not our human life altogether subverted, and are not all our +actions, as it seems, contrary to what they ought to be? + +_Socr._ If there were not a certain passion, Callicles, common to men, +to some, one, to others, another, but each of us had a peculiar passion +different from others, it would not be easy for one to make known one’s +own affection to another. 82. I speak thus because I perceive that you +and I are now affected in the same manner; for, being two, we each of us +love two things: I, Alcibiades, son of Clinias, and philosophy, you, the +Demus[67] of the Athenians, and the son of Pyrilampes. Now I continually +perceive that you, eloquent as you are, are unable to contradict the +objects of your love, in whatever they may say, and in whatever manner +they may assert a thing takes place, but you are changed by them upwards +and downwards. For, in the assembly, if, when you say any thing, the +Athenian people say that it is not so, you, changing your opinion, say +what they wish; and you are affected in the same manner towards that +beautiful youth, the son of Pyrilampes; for you cannot bring yourself to +oppose the wishes and discourses of the objects of your love: so that, +if any one, when from time to time you say what you do to please them, +should wonder at its absurdity, perhaps you would say to him, if you +wished to speak the truth, that unless some one shall cause the objects +of your love to desist from such discourses, neither can you desist from +saying what you do. Think, therefore, that you need to hear the like +from me; and do not wonder that I speak thus, but cause philosophy, my +favourite, to desist from speaking so. For, my dear friend, she always +says what you now hear from me, and is much less fickle than my other +loves. 83. For the son of Clinias, here, says different things at +different times; but philosophy always the same. And she says the things +that you now wonder at; and you have just heard what she said. Either, +therefore, confute her, as to what I just now said, and prove that to +act unjustly, and when one has acted unjustly not to suffer punishment, +is not the worst of all evils; or, if you suffer this to remain +unconfuted, then, by the dog, the deity of the Egyptians, Callicles will +not agree with you, but will differ from you, Callicles, through the +whole of his life. However, I think, my excellent friend, that it would +be better for me that my lyre should be out of tune and discordant, and +the choir of which I might be the leader, and that most men should not +agree with me, but oppose what I say, rather than that I, being one, +should be discordant with and contradict myself. + +----- + +Footnote 67: + + That is, “the people of Athens.” It is necessary to retain the + original word because of the play on the word _Demus_, which was the + name of the son of Pyrilampes, a person distinguished for his personal + beauty. Socrates means to insinuate that while he loves the inward + beauty of Alcibiades and philosophy, Callicles loves the external + beauty of the people and Demus son of Pyrilampes. + +----- + +_Cal._ You seem to me, Socrates, to act the boaster in your discourses, +as being in truth a mob-orator: and now you thus declaim, since Polus +has met with the same treatment as he objected Gorgias met with from +you. 84. For he said that Gorgias, when asked by you, whether if one +should come to him, wishing to learn rhetoric without being acquainted +with justice, Gorgias would teach him, was ashamed, and said that he +would teach him, on account of the custom among men, because they would +be displeased if any one were to refuse: and that from this admission +Gorgias was compelled to contradict himself, and you were delighted with +this very circumstance; for which he then ridiculed you, as it appeared +to me, very properly. And now he himself has in turn been treated the +very same way; I, however, in this particular, do not commend Polus, +because he has conceded to you, that to commit injustice is more base +than to suffer it. For, from this admission, he being entangled by you +in the discussion, has been brought to a check, because he was ashamed +to say what he thought. For you in reality, Socrates, while you profess +to be in search of truth, lead to such vulgar and popular things as +these which are not beautiful by nature, but by law. For these are, for +the most part, contrary to each other, nature and law. 85. If any one, +therefore, is ashamed, and dares not say what he thinks, he is compelled +to contradict himself. And you, having perceived this subtle +distinction, deal unfairly in the discussion; for, if any one speaks of +any thing according to law, you cunningly ask him about it according to +nature, and if he speaks of things according to nature, you ask him +about them according to law; as just now in the present discussion, +respecting committing injustice and suffering it, when Polus spoke of +that which is more base according to nature, you followed up the law _as +if it were_ according to nature. For, by nature, every thing is more +base which is also worse, as to suffer injustice, but by law to commit +it. For to submit to injustice is not the condition of a man, but of a +slave, to whom it is better to die than to live, since, being injured +and disgraced, he is unable to defend himself or any one else for whom +he has regard. But I think, those who make the laws are the weak and the +many: they, therefore, make laws with a view to themselves and their own +advantage, and with the same view they bestow praise and impute blame; +and to terrify such men as are stronger, and who are able to acquire +more, that they may not acquire more than themselves, they say that it +is base and unjust to obtain a superiority, and that to endeavour to +acquire more than others is to commit injustice. 86. For they are +content, I think, if they, being weaker, have an equal portion. For this +reason, therefore, by law it is said to be unjust and base to endeavour +to possess more than the many, and they call this committing an +injustice. But nature herself, I think, evinces, on the contrary, that +it is just that the better should have more than the worse, and the more +powerful than the weaker. And it is evident in many instances that it is +so, both in other animals, and in whole cities and races of men, that +the just is so settled that the superior should rule over the inferior, +and possess more than they. For, with what justice did Xerxes make war +upon Greece, or his father on the Scythians? or ten thousand other +instances which one might adduce? But I think they do these things +according to natural justice, and, by Jupiter, according to the law of +nature; not, perhaps, according to that law which we have framed, taking +the best and strongest amongst us from their youth, like lions, we tame +them by incantations and juggleries, telling them that it is right to +preserve equality, and that this is the beautiful and the just. 87. But, +I think, if there should be a man found with sufficient natural power, +having shaken off all these trammels, and broken through, and abandoned, +and trampled under foot our written ordinances, and quackeries, and +incantations, and laws contrary to nature, he, from being our slave, +would rise up and prove himself our master; and then natural justice +would shine forth. Pindar, too, appears to me to have declared what I +now assert, in the ode in which he says that “law is the king of all, +both mortals and immortals; and,” he adds, “he with most powerful hand +makes use of might, calling it right; and this I infer from the deeds of +Hercules, since _he drove away the oxen of Geryon_ unbought.” He speaks +pretty much in this manner; for I do not remember the ode by heart. He +says, then, that Hercules drove away the oxen of Geryon, without having +either bought them, or received them as a gift, as if this were +naturally just, that both oxen, and all other possessions, when the +property of the worse and inferior, belong to the better and superior. +Such, then, is the truth; and you will know that it is so, if, +dismissing philosophy, you betake yourself to greater things. 88. For +philosophy, Socrates, is an elegant thing, if one handles it moderately +in youth; but if one dwells upon it longer then is becoming, it is the +ruin of men. For if a man should have excellent abilities, and should +study philosophy beyond the period of youth, he must necessarily become +unskilled in all things in which he ought to be skilled, who desires to +be a worthy, good, and distinguished man. For such men are unskilled in +the laws of the city, and in those arguments which any one must use, who +is conversant with the business transactions of men, both privately and +publicly: they are likewise altogether unskilled in human pleasures and +desires, and, in short, in the manners of men. When, therefore, they +engage in any private or public business, they make themselves +ridiculous, just as, I think, politicians are ridiculous when they +meddle with your disputations and arguments. For that saying of +Euripides[68] is verified: “Every one shines in this, and to this +applies himself, consuming the greater part of the day in whatever he +most excels.” But that wherein a man is weak he avoids, and abuses it, +and praises the other through self-love, thinking thereby to praise +himself: but I think the most correct way is to partake of both. 89. Of +philosophy, indeed, so far as is requisite for education, it is well to +partake, nor is it any disgrace for one who is young to study +philosophy: but when a man who has reached an advanced age, still +studies philosophy, Socrates, the thing becomes ridiculous; and I have +very much the same feeling towards those who study philosophy, as to +those who stammer and sport. For when I see a child whom it still +becomes to talk thus stammering and sporting, I am delighted, and his +conduct appears to me to be graceful and liberal, and suited to the age +of a child. But when I hear a little boy talking with precision, it +seems a disagreeable thing to me, and offends my ears, and appears to be +somewhat servile. When, however, one hears a man stammering, or sees him +sporting, it appears to be ridiculous, unmanly, and worthy of stripes. +Now I have this same feeling towards those who study philosophy. For, +when I see philosophy in a young man, I am delighted, and it appears to +me becoming, and I consider such a man to be of a liberal mind, but if +he does not study philosophy, I consider him illiberal, and one who will +never think himself worthy of any noble or generous action. When, +however, I see a man advanced in years still studying philosophy, and +not having abandoned it, such a man, Socrates, appears to me to be +deserving of stripes. 90. For, as I just now said, such a man, even +though he has excellent abilities, must needs become unmanly, by +avoiding the public places of the city, and the forum, in which, as the +poet[69] says, men acquire celebrity, and by concealing himself from the +public view, he passes the remainder of his life with three or four +boys, whispering in a corner, but never utters any thing liberal, great, +and becoming. But I, Socrates, am very friendly disposed towards you; +and I seem to have the same feeling as Zethus towards Amphion in +Euripides, whom I just now mentioned; for it occurs to me to say to you +the same that he said to his brother: that you neglect, Socrates, what +you ought to attend to, and strive to adorn the nature of a soul thus +generous by a certain juvenile form; nor in deliberations of justice are +you able to advance an argument correctly, nor lay hold of what is +probable and persuasive, nor can you suggest vigorous advice for others. +91. However, my dear Socrates, (and do not be angry with me, for I speak +out of good-will to you,) does it not appear to you to be base to be in +the state in which I think you are, and others who continually make too +great advances in philosophy? For now, if any one should arrest you, or +any other of the same character, and should take you to prison, +asserting that you had acted unjustly, when you had not, you are aware +you would not know what to do for yourself; but you would lose your head +and gape, and not have any thing to say; and when you went into a court +of justice, having met with a very vile and despicable accuser, you +would die, if he chose to charge you capitally. And indeed, Socrates, +how can this be wise, if any art meeting with a man of good natural +ability renders him worse, and neither able to assist himself, nor +preserve either himself or any one else from the greatest dangers, but +suffers him to be plundered of all his substance by enemies, and to live +in the city utterly without honour? Such a man, (if I may speak somewhat +rudely,) one may slap on the face with impunity. 92. But, my friend, be +persuaded by me, and give up confuting, cultivate harmony of conduct, +and employ yourself in what will give you a reputation for wisdom, +leaving to others these graceful subtleties, whether it is proper to +call them frivolities, or fooleries, “by which you will come to dwell in +an empty house:” and emulate, not men who are able to confute these +trifling things, but those who have wealth, renown, and many other +goods. + +----- + +Footnote 68: + + From the Antiope of Euripides. See Valckenaer Diatrib. in Eurip. + Reliquias, p. 76. + +Footnote 69: + + Homer, Iliad, ix. 441. + +----- + +_Socr._ If I happened to have a golden soul, Callicles, do you not think +I should gladly find one of the best of those stones by which they test +gold, to which applying it, if it should allow that my soul was well +cultivated, I should then know for a certainty that I was in a good +state, and that I had no further need of any other test? + +_Cal._ Why do you ask this, Socrates? + +_Socr._ I will now tell you. I think that in meeting with you, I have +met with this good fortune. + +_Cal._ Why so? + +_Socr._ I well know, that if you agree with me in those things which my +soul entertains, such things are the very truth. For I perceive that he +who intends to examine sufficiently respecting his soul whether it lives +uprightly or not, ought to possess three qualities, all which you do +possess, viz., science, benevolence, and freedom of speech. 93. For I +meet with many who are not able to test me, through not being wise as +you are; but others are wise, indeed, but are not willing to speak the +truth to me, because they are not concerned about me as you are. Thus +these two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, are indeed wise, and my friends, +but they are deficient in freedom of speech, and are more bashful than +is proper. For how should it be otherwise? since they have reached such +a pitch of bashfulness that through shamefacedness each of them dares to +contradict himself before many persons, and this on the most important +subjects. You however possess all these qualities, which the others have +not. For you are both well instructed, as many of the Athenians will +affirm, and are well-disposed towards me. What proof do I use? I know, +Callicles, that you four have studied wisdom together, you, Tisander the +Aphidnæan, Andron son of Androtion, and Nausicydes the Cholargean; and I +once heard you deliberating how far wisdom ought to be cultivated, and I +know that this opinion prevailed among you, that you should not +endeavour to study philosophy with great accuracy; but you advised each +other to be cautious, lest, by becoming more wise than is proper, you +should destroy yourselves without perceiving it. 94. Since, then, I hear +you giving me the very same advice that you gave to your most intimate +friends, it is to me a sufficient proof that you are really +well-disposed towards me. Moreover, that you are able to speak boldly +and not be ashamed, both yourself say, and the speech which you just now +made, evinces. The case is evidently this, with reference to our present +discussion; if you shall agree with me in any thing, in our argument, +that point will have been sufficiently examined by you and me, and it +will be no longer necessary to put it to another test. For you would +never have assented to it, either through deficiency of wisdom, or +excess of bashfulness. Nor, again, would you have assented in order to +deceive me: for you are my friend, as you have yourself said. In +reality, therefore, your and my assent will have reached the perfect +truth. But the most beautiful consideration of all, Callicles, with +respect to the things about which you have reproved me, is that, viz., +what kind of person a man ought to be, what he ought to study, and how +far, both when he is advanced in life and when he is young. For, with +respect to myself, if I do any thing in my life not rightly, be assured +that I do not err willingly, but through my own ignorance. 95. Do you, +therefore, as you have begun to advise me, not desist, but shew me +clearly what it is that I ought to study, and in what way I may +accomplish it. And if you find me now assenting to you, but in time to +come not doing the things to which I have assented, then consider me as +utterly stupid, and thenceforth give me no more advice, as being a man +altogether worthless. But repeat it to me again from the beginning, how +say you and Pindar is the case with natural justice? is it that the +superior should take by force from the inferior, and that the better +should rule over the worse, and that the more excellent should have more +than the depraved? Do you say that the just is any thing else than this? +or do I remember rightly? + +_Cal._ These things I said then, and I say now. + +_Socr._ But do you call the same person better and superior? For I was +not able at the time to understand you, what you meant: whether do you +call the stronger superior, and must the weaker submit to the stronger; +as you seemed to me to intimate when you said, that great cities attack +little ones by natural justice, because they are superior and stronger; +as if the superior, the stronger, and the better, were the same; or is +it possible to be better, and at the same time inferior and weaker, and +to be superior, but more depraved? or is there the same definition of +the better and the superior? Define this clearly for me, are the +superior, the better, and the stronger, the same, or different? + +_Cal._ Then I tell you clearly, that they are the same. + +96. _Socr._ Are not, then, the many by nature superior to one? since +they establish laws for the one, as you just now said? + +_Cal._ How can it be otherwise? + +_Socr._ The laws, then, of the many are those of such as are superior? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Therefore, of the better? For, according to your account, the +superior are far better. + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Are not, then, their laws by nature beautiful, since they are +superior? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ Now do not the many think thus, as you just now said, that it is +just to possess the equal, and that it is more base to injure than to be +injured? Is this so, or not? And take care that you are not detected +here in being shamefaced. Do the many think or not that to possess the +equal, but not more, is just? and that it is more base to injure than to +be injured? Do not refuse me an answer to this, Callicles, in order +that, if you agree with me, I may be confirmed in my opinion by you, +seeing that a man competent to decide has agreed with me. + +97. _Cal._ The many, then, do think thus. + +_Socr._ Not therefore by law only, but by nature also, it is more base +to injure than to be injured, and just to possess the equal. So that you +appear not to have spoken the truth before, nor to accuse me rightly, in +saying that law and nature are contrary to each other, and that I, +knowing this, deal unfairly in the discussion, if any one speaks +according to nature, by leading him to law, and if any one speaks +according to law, by leading him to nature. + +_Cal._ This man will not cease trifling. Tell me, Socrates, are you not +ashamed, at your age, to catch at words, and, if any one makes a mistake +in an expression to consider it an unexpected gain? For, do you think +that by the superior I mean any thing else than the better? Did I not +tell you long since, that I consider the better and the superior to be +the same? Do you suppose I mean, that if a crowd of slaves, and all +sorts of men of no worth, except perhaps for bodily strength, should +meet together, that what they should say[70] would be legal +institutions? + +----- + +Footnote 70: + + οὗτοι φῶσιν, αὐτὰ ταῦτα εἶναι νόμιμα; as if αὐτὰ ταῦτα preceded ἃ ἂν + φῶσιν. _See Stallbaum._ + +----- + +_Socr._ Be it so, most wise Callicles: is that your meaning? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +98. _Socr._ But I, Sir, long since suspected that you meant some such +thing by the superior; and therefore I repeat the question, desiring to +understand clearly what you do mean; for you surely do not think that +two are better than one, nor that your slaves are better than you +because they are stronger than you. Tell me then from the beginning whom +you mean by the better, since you do not mean the stronger. And, my +admirable friend, teach me in the outset in a milder manner, that I may +not leave you. + +_Cal._ You are bantering, Socrates. + +_Socr._ By Zethus, no, Callicles, in whose name you just now bantered me +a good deal. But come, tell me who do you mean are the better? + +_Cal._ I mean the more excellent. + +_Socr._ You see, then, that you yourself speak words, but explain +nothing. Will you not tell me whether by the better and superior you +mean the more wise, or some others? + +_Cal._ But, by Jupiter, I mean these, certainly. + +99. _Socr._ Often, therefore, according to your account, one wise man is +superior to ten thousand that are not wise; and it is right that he +should govern, and they be governed, and that the governor should have +more than the governed. For you appear to me to wish to say this (and I +do not catch at expressions), if one man is superior to ten thousand. + +_Cal._ That is what I mean. For I think this is just by nature, that the +better and the more wise should both govern and have more than the +worthless. + +_Socr._ Stop there. What then do you now say? If we were in the same +place, as we now are, many men together, and had, in common, abundance +of meat and drink, and were men of various descriptions, some strong, +others weak, and one of us being a physician should happen to be more +wise respecting these things, and should be (as is likely) stronger than +some, and weaker than others, will it not follow that this man who is +wiser than we are, will be better and superior with respect to these +things? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Should he, therefore, have more of these meats than we, because +he is better? Or, because he is chief, ought he not to distribute the +whole, but, in consuming and using them for his own body, not take more +than others, under pain of injury to himself, but should have more than +some, and less than others; and if he should happen to be the weakest of +all, though the best, he must have least of all, Callicles? Is it not +so, my friend? + +100. _Cal._ You speak of meats and drinks, and physicians, and such +trifles; but I do not speak of these. + +_Socr._ Whether, then, do you say that the more wise is better? Grant or +deny. + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ And do you not say that the better ought to have more? + +_Cal._ Not of meats and drinks. + +_Socr._ I understand. But perhaps of clothes, and the most skilful +weaver should have the largest garment, and go about most abundantly and +beautifully clad. + +_Cal._ What garments do you mean? + +_Socr._ And with respect to shoes, it is clear that he who is more +skilled and best, should have more than others; the shoemaker, perhaps, +ought to walk about with the largest and greatest number of shoes. + +_Cal._ What shoes? Are you still trifling? + +_Socr._ But if you do not mean such things, perhaps you do the +following: for instance, that a husbandman, wise and skilled in the +cultivation of land, should perhaps have more seeds than others, and use +as much as possible on his own land. + +101. _Cal._ How constantly you repeat the same things, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Not only so, Callicles, but on the same subject. + +_Cal._ By the gods, you never cease talking about shoemakers, fullers, +cooks, and physicians, as if our discourse were about them. + +_Socr._ Will you not tell me, then, with respect to what things a person +should be superior and more wise, who having more than others, justly +has more? Will you neither permit me to suggest, nor say yourself? + +_Cal._ But I have said some time since. First, by the superior I do not +mean shoemakers, or cooks, but those who are skilled in the affairs of a +city, in what way they can be well administered, and not only skilled, +but also brave, able to accomplish what they have conceived, and who do +not fail through effeminacy of soul. + +_Socr._ Do you see, most excellent Callicles, that you do not make the +same objection to me that I do to you? For you allege that I always say +the same things, and blame me for it; and I, on the contrary, complain +of you, that you never say the same things on the same subjects; but at +one time you defined the better and the superior to be the stronger, and +at another time the more wise: and now again you come with something +else; and certain persons that are braver are said by you to be the +superior and better. But, my friend, tell me once for all, whom you call +the better and superior, and in reference to what. + +102. _Cal._ I have already said that they are such as are wise and +brave, with respect to the affairs of a city. For it belongs to them to +govern cities, and it is just that they should have more than others, +the governors than the governed. + +_Socr._ But what? my friend, as governing themselves, or being governed? + +_Cal._ What mean you? + +_Socr._ I mean that each person governs himself. Is there no occasion +for this, that a man should govern himself, but only others? + +_Cal._ What do you mean by governing himself? + +_Socr._ Nothing uncommon; but as men frequently say, that a man is +temperate, and master of himself, controlling the pleasures and desires +that are within himself. + +_Cal._ How ridiculous you are! By the temperate you mean the foolish. + +_Socr._ How otherwise? There is no one but would know that that is my +meaning[71]. + +----- + +Footnote 71: + + I have followed Stallbaum’s reading, οὐδεὶς ὅστις οὐκ ἂν γνοίη, ὅτι + οὕτω λέγω . Socrates grants his opponent’s erroneous inference, that + so he may be led on to a still greater absurdity. + +----- + +_Cal._ Most assuredly, Socrates; since how can a man be happy who is a +slave to any one? But this it is which is beautiful, and just according +to nature, and which I now freely tell you, _namely_, that a man who +lives rightly should suffer his desires to be as great as possible, and +should not restrain them; but should be able, when they are at their +height, to minister to them by his courage and prudence, and satisfy +each desire as it springs up. 103. This, however, I think, is not +possible for the generality of men; wherefore they blame such persons +through shame, to conceal their own impotency, and say that intemperance +is base; as I said before, enslaving men of a better nature, and +themselves not being able to satisfy their own pleasures, they praise +temperance and justice, on account of their own effeminacy. For to those +whom it has befallen from the first either to be the sons of kings, or +who are able by nature to procure for themselves a government, or +tyranny, or dynasty, what can be more disgraceful and base than +temperance? who, when it is in their power to enjoy the good things of +this life, and no one hinders them, impose a master on themselves, the +law, discourse, and censure of the multitude? Or how should they be +otherwise than miserable through the beauty of justice and temperance, +while they impart no more to their friends than to their enemies, and +this though they have supreme power in their own city? Thus, then, it +stands with the truth, Socrates, which you say you are in search of: +luxury, intemperance, and liberty, if they have the proper aids, these +are virtue and felicity; but all those other fine things, those compacts +contrary to nature, are extravagancies of men, and of no value. + +104. _Socr._ Not at all ignobly, Callicles, have you expressed your +opinions, speaking freely; for you now plainly say what others think, +indeed, but are unwilling to say. I beg of you, therefore, on no account +to relax, in order that it may really become evident how we ought to +live. Come tell me: do you say that our desires ought not to be checked, +if one intends to be such as one ought, and that, suffering them to be +as great as possible, one ought to provide for their satisfaction from +every possible source, and that this constitutes virtue? + +_Cal._ I do say so. + +_Socr._ They, therefore, who need nothing, are not rightly said to be +happy. + +_Cal._ For thus stones and the dead would be most happy. + +_Socr._ But, indeed, even as you say, life is grievous. For in truth I +should not wonder if Euripides speaks the truth when he says: “Who knows +whether to live is not death, and to die, life?” And we, perhaps, are +really dead; as I have heard from one of the wise, that we are now dead, +and that the body is our sepulchre, and that the part of the soul in +which the desires are is of such a nature that it can be persuaded +different ways, and change upwards and downwards; and this, some skilful +man, perhaps a Sicilian, or Italian, turning into a fable, by a slight +change of the word[72], called a cask, from its being credulous and +easily persuaded, but the foolish he called uninitiated. He further +compared that part of the soul of the uninitiated in which the desires +are, namely, its intemperate and unclosed part, to a pierced cask, on +account of its insatiable greediness. 105. This man, too, quite contrary +to you, Callicles, shews that of those in Hades (meaning thereby the +invisible world) the most miserable must be the uninitiated, and that +they carry water to a perforated cask by a similarly perforated sieve. +The sieve, as he who spoke to me said, is the soul. But he likened the +soul of the foolish to a sieve, as being perforated and not able to +retain any thing, through incredulity and forgetfulness. This probably +is somewhat absurd, nevertheless it shews that by proof of which I wish, +if by any means I can, to persuade you to change your opinion, and to +prefer to an insatiable and intemperate life one that is well regulated, +and that is satisfied and contented with the things that are from time +to time present. But do I persuade you at all, and do you change your +opinion, and admit that the moderate are more happy than the +intemperate? or have I produced no impression, and though I tell you +many such fables, will you not be any the more disposed to change your +opinion? + +----- + +Footnote 72: + + The English language does not enable a translator to preserve the play + on the words πιθανὸν and πίθον, nor the equivoque in ἀμυήτους, which + means “leaky,” as well as “uninitiated.” + +----- + +_Cal._ In this you have spoken more truly, Socrates. + +106. _Socr._ Come, then, I will mention to you another similitude from +the same school as the preceding. For consider whether you would speak +thus of each kind of life, the temperate and the intemperate, as if two +men had each many casks; and that those of one were sound and full, one +of wine, another of honey, a third of milk, and many others of other +things; that the fountains of each were rare and difficult to be +obtained, and could only be procured by many and severe toils; the one, +then, having filled his casks, pours no more into them, nor is at all +concerned about them, but on this score is at ease; that the fountains +of the other, as of the former one, are possible to be procured, though +with difficulty, that his vessels are perforated and defective, and he +compelled, both night and day, to fill them, or suffer the most extreme +pain. When such is the life of each, do you say that of the intemperate +is more happy than that of the moderate man? Do I persuade you at all, +by relating these things, to grant that a moderate life is better than +an intemperate one, or do I not persuade you? + +_Cal._ You do not persuade me, Socrates. For he that has filled his +casks has no longer any pleasure: but this is, what I just now +mentioned, to live like a stone, when he has filled them, neither +rejoicing any more nor grieving: but a pleasant life consists in as much +flowing in as possible. + +107. _Socr._ Is it not, therefore, necessary, if much flows in, that +much also should go out, and that there should be certain large holes +for its flowing out? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ You speak now of the life of a sea-lark[73], and not of a +corpse, or a stone. But tell me, do you mean such a thing as being +hungry, and, when hungry, eating? + +----- + +Footnote 73: + + Χαραδριὸς, a bird which Aristotle tells us (Hist. Anim., l. ix. c. 11) + “appears in the night and runs off in the day.” See note to Cary’s + Birds of Aristophanes, act i. sc. 4. + +----- + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ And of being thirsty, and, when thirsty, drinking? + +_Cal._ I do mean that, and that he who has all other desires, and, +having the power to do so, satisfies them, lives a joyful and happy +life. + +_Socr._ Well done, my excellent friend! Proceed as you have begun, and +take care not to be ashamed. But it is right, too, as it seems, that +neither should I be ashamed. And first of all, tell me if, when a man, +who is scabby and itches, is able to scratch himself without stint, and +passes his life in scratching himself, this is to live happily? + +_Cal._ How absurd you are, Socrates, and a mere babbler. + +_Socr._ Hence it is, Callicles, that I have astonished Polus and +Gorgias, and made them ashamed. You, however, will not be astonished nor +ashamed, for you are courageous: but only answer me. + +108. _Cal._ I say, then, that he who scratches himself lives pleasantly. + +_Socr._ Therefore, if pleasantly, also happily? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Will this be the case if he only itches in his head, or must I +ask you still further? Consider, Callicles, what answer you would give, +if any one asks you respecting all the parts of the body in succession. +And to take that which is the chief of all, is not the life of catamites +dreadful, base, and wretched? Will you dare to call them happy, if they +have what they desire, without stint? + +_Cal._ Are you not ashamed, Socrates, to lead the discussion to such +subjects? + +_Socr._ Do I lead it hither, noble Sir, or does he who asserts thus +broadly, that such as rejoice, in whatever way they rejoice, are happy, +and does not distinguish between pleasures, what are good and what are +bad? But tell me further still, whether do you say that the pleasant and +the good are the same: or that there is something pleasant which is not +good? + +_Cal._ In order that my argument may not contradict itself, if I should +say they are different, I say that they are the same. + +109. _Socr._ You subvert your former statements, Callicles, and no +longer search for the truth with me properly, if you speak contrary to +your real opinion. + +_Cal._ And you do the same, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Neither, then, do I act rightly, if I do so, nor do you. But, +good Sir, consider whether to rejoice in any way be not good. For it is +clear that many base consequences, which were just now hinted at, will +follow, if this should be the case, and many others besides. + +_Cal._ As you think, at least, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Do you in reality, Callicles, persist in your assertion? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ Shall we then enter on the discussion, as if you were in +earnest? + +_Cal._ Most certainly. + +_Socr._ Come, then, since you are of that opinion, explain this to me. +Do you call science any thing? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ And did you not just now say, that there is a certain courage +joined with science? + +_Cal._ I did say so. + +_Socr._ Did you speak of these two, as if courage was different from +science? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But what? Are pleasure and science the same, or different? + +_Cal._ Different, surely, most wise friend. + +_Socr._ Is courage also different from pleasure? + +_Cal._ Undoubtedly. + +110. _Socr._ Come, then, let us retain these things in our memory; that +Callicles of Acharne said that the pleasant and the good are the same; +but that science and courage are different both from each other and the +good. + +_Cal._ But Socrates of Alopecia does not agree to this; does he agree? + +_Socr._ He does not agree: and I think neither will Callicles when he +has rightly examined himself. For tell me, do you not think that those +who fare well are affected in a manner quite contrary to those who fare +ill? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ If these, therefore, are contrary to each other, is it not +necessary that the case should be the same with them as it is with +health and disease? For, surely, a man is not at the same time well and +diseased, nor at the same time separated from health and disease. + +_Cal._ How say you? + +_Socr._ For instance, take any part of the body you please, and +consider. Has not a man sometimes a disease in the eyes, which is called +ophthalmia? + +_Cal._ Undoubtedly. + +_Socr._ And his eyes, surely, are not at the same time well? + +_Cal._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ But what? When he is freed from the ophthalmia, does he then +also lose the health of his eyes, and, in a word, is he at the same time +freed from both? + +_Cal._ By no means. + +_Socr._ For that, I think, would be wonderful and absurd. Would it not? + +_Cal._ Assuredly. + +111. _Socr._ But I think he, alternately, receives one, and loses the +other. + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ And will it not be the same with regard to strength and +weakness? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And swiftness and slowness? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And with respect to things good and happiness, and their +contraries, things evil and wretchedness, does he receive and part from +each of these alternately? + +_Cal._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, we should find certain things which a man at the +same time parts from and possesses, it is clear that these would not be +both good and evil. Do we agree to this? Consider well and answer me. + +_Cal._ I agree entirely. + +_Socr._ Let us then recur to what was before agreed on. Did you say that +to be hungry is pleasant, or painful? I mean the very fact of being +hungry. + +_Cal._ I said it was painful: though to eat when hungry is pleasant. + +_Socr._ I understand you: but to be hungry of itself is painful; is it +not so? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ And also to be thirsty? + +_Cal._ Assuredly. + +112. _Socr._ Whether, then, shall I ask you any more questions? Or do +you allow that all want and desire is painful? + +_Cal._ I allow it; so do not ask. + +_Socr._ Be it so. And do you not say that for a man to drink when he is +thirsty is pleasant? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ In the instance then of which you are speaking, to be thirsty +is, doubtless, painful? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But to drink is the satisfying of a want, and a pleasure? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Therefore as to drinking you say that the man rejoices? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But as to being thirsty? + +_Cal._ I say— + +_Socr._ That he suffers pain? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Do you perceive then what follows? that you say he who is in +pain at the same time rejoices, when you say that he who is thirsty +drinks. And does not this happen at the same place and time, with +respect either to the soul or body, whichever you please? For I think +there is no difference. Is this so, or not? + +_Cal._ It is. + +_Socr._ You admitted, however, that it was impossible for one who fares +well at the same time to fare ill. + +_Cal._ I allow it. + +_Socr._ But you have granted that it is possible for one who is in pain +to rejoice. + +_Cal._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ To rejoice, therefore, is not to fare well, nor to be in pain, +ill: so that the pleasant is different from the good? + +_Cal._ I know not what subtleties you are using, Socrates. + +113. _Socr._ You know, though you pretend not, Callicles. + +_Cal._ Proceed still further, trifling as you are, that you may know how +wise you are who take upon yourself to admonish me. + +_Socr._ Does not each of us at the same time cease to be thirsty, and to +receive pleasure from drinking? + +_Cal._ I do not know what you mean. + +_Gorg._ Say not so, Callicles; but answer for our sakes, that the +discussion may be brought to a conclusion. + +_Cal._ But this is always the way with Socrates, Gorgias, he asks +trifling questions, and things that are of no consequence, and then +refutes them. + +_Gorg._ But what difference does that make to you? That is no concern at +all of yours: but suffer Socrates to argue in whatever way he pleases. + +_Cal._ Ask, then, these trifling and petty questions, since Gorgias +thinks proper. + +_Socr._ You are happy, Callicles, in that you have been initiated in the +great mysteries before you were in the small: but I thought that was not +allowed. Answer me, then, from the point where you left off, does not +each of us at the same time cease to be thirsty, and to receive +pleasure? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ And does not one cease to be hungry and to feel other desires +and pleasures at the same time? + +_Cal._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ Does one not, then, at the same time cease to feel both pains +and pleasures? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +114. _Socr._ However one does not at the same time cease to experience +good and evil, as you admitted; but now do you not admit it? + +_Cal._ I do. But what then? + +_Socr._ It follows, my friend, that good things are not the same with +such as are pleasant, nor evil things with such as are painful. For, +from these one ceases at the same time, but not from those, because they +are different. How, therefore, can pleasant things be the same with such +as are good, or painful things with such as are evil? But, if you +please, consider it in this way: for I think that you are not even thus +agreed with yourself. Consider then. Do you not call the good good, from +the presence of good things, just as you call those beautiful to whom +beauty is present? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ But what? Do you call foolish men and cowards good men? For you +did not just now; but you said the brave and prudent were so. Do you not +call these good? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But what? Have you ever seen a boy without understanding, +rejoicing? + +_Cal._ I have. + +_Socr._ And have you not also seen a man without understanding, +rejoicing? + +_Cal._ I think I have. But to what purpose is this? + +_Socr._ Nothing: answer however. + +_Cal._ I have seen it. + +_Socr._ But what? have you seen a man endued with intellect grieving and +rejoicing? + +_Cal._ I have. + +115. _Socr._ But which rejoice and grieve the more; the wise, or the +foolish? + +_Cal._ I think there is not much difference. + +_Socr._ That is enough. In war have you ever seen a coward? + +_Cal._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ What then? On the departure of the enemy which appeared to you +to rejoice the more, the cowards or the brave? + +_Cal._ Both appeared to me to rejoice more: or, if not, in nearly the +same degree. + +_Socr._ It is of no consequence. Cowards, then, also rejoice? + +_Cal._ Very much so. + +_Socr._ And the foolish, as it seems? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But, when the enemy approaches, do cowards only grieve? or do +the brave also? + +_Cal._ Both. + +_Socr._ In an equal degree? + +_Cal._ Cowards perhaps more. + +_Socr._ But, when the enemy departs, do they not rejoice more? + +_Cal._ Perhaps so. + +_Socr._ Do not, therefore, as you say, the foolish and the wise, cowards +and the brave, similarly grieve and rejoice, much in the same degree, +but cowards more than the brave? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ The wise however and the brave are good, but cowards and the +foolish bad? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ The good and the bad, therefore, rejoice and grieve equally? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +116. _Socr._ Are, then, the good and the bad, good and bad in an equal +degree? or are the bad yet more good and bad? + +_Cal._ By Jupiter, I do not know what you mean. + +_Socr._ Do you not know that you said the good are good, through the +presence of good things, and the bad through the presence of evil +things? And that pleasures are good things, and pains evil? + +_Cal._ I did. + +_Socr._ Are not, therefore, good things, viz., pleasures, present with +those that rejoice, if they do rejoice? + +_Cal._ Undoubtedly. + +_Socr._ And since good things are present are not they who rejoice good? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But what? Are not evil things, viz., pains, present with those +that suffer pain? + +_Cal._ They are present. + +_Socr._ But do you not say that the bad are bad, through the presence of +evil things? Or do you say so no longer? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ Those, therefore, that rejoice, are good; but those that suffer +pain are bad? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And those that are more so, more, but those that are less so, +less? and those that are equally so, equally? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Do you not say, then, that the wise and the foolish, cowards and +the brave, rejoice and grieve in an equal degree, or cowards even more? + +_Cal._ I do. + +117. _Socr._ Now in common with me, draw the inferences that result from +these admissions. For, they say, it is beautiful to repeat and consider +beautiful things twice, and even thrice. We say, that the prudent and +brave man is good; do we not? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But that the foolish man and a coward is bad? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Again, that he who rejoices is good? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And that he who suffers pain is bad? + +_Cal._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ And that the good and the bad suffer pain and rejoice equally, +but perhaps the bad more? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Therefore, the bad man becomes equally bad and good, with the +good man, or even more good? Do not these results follow, as well as the +former ones, if one says that the pleasant and the good are the same? +Are not these consequences necessary, Callicles? + +_Cal._ I have been long listening to you, Socrates, and making +concessions, considering with myself that if any one grants you any +thing, even in jest, you seize it eagerly as boys do. And can you +suppose that I or any other person in the world does not believe that +some pleasures are better, and others worse? + +118. _Socr._ Ho, Ho! Callicles, how cunning you are! You treat me as a +child, now asserting that these things are in this manner, and now in +another manner; trying to deceive me. Though, at the outset, I did not +think that I should be purposely deceived by you, because you are my +friend. But now I have been mistaken, and as it seems, must needs, +according to the old proverb, make good use of what I have, and receive +what you give me. What you now say, as it appears, is this, that some +pleasures are good, others bad; is it not so? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And are not the profitable good, and the noxious bad? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And those which effect a certain good, are profitable, but those +which effect a certain evil, bad? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ Do you not speak then of such as the following; as for instance, +with respect to the body, those pleasures which we just now mentioned of +eating and drinking; and if some of these produce in the body health or +strength, or some other bodily excellences, are they not good, but those +that produce the contraries of these, evil? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And are not pains, in like manner, some beneficial, others +injurious? + +_Cal._ Undoubtedly. + +_Socr._ Ought we not, therefore, both to choose and to exercise +ourselves in such pleasures and pains as are beneficial? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But not such as are injurious? + +_Cal._ That is evident. + +119. _Socr._ For, if you remember, it was agreed between us, Polus and +me, that all things should be done for the sake of what is good. And do +you agree with us in thinking, that the good is the end of all actions, +and that all other things ought to be done for its sake, but not it for +the sake of other things? Do you accord with us and make up the third? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ We ought, then, to do both all other things and such as are +pleasant, for the sake of things good, but not good things for the sake +of such as are pleasant? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Is every man, therefore, able to choose among pleasant things +such as are good, and such as are evil? or is there need of a person +skilled in each case? + +_Cal._ Of a person skilled. + +_Socr._ Let us then again call to mind what I said to Polus and Gorgias. +I said, if you remember, that there are certain occupations which regard +pleasure, and are occupied in this alone, but are ignorant of the better +and the worse; but that there are others that know both what is good and +what is evil. And I have placed among those which have pleasure for +their object, cookery, as a skill relating to the body, but not an art; +and among those that have the good for their object I placed the +medicinal art. 120. And by the god of friendship, Callicles, think not +that you ought to jest with me, nor give any answer that may occur to +you contrary to your opinion, nor receive what I say as if I were in +jest. For you see that our discourse is on a subject, than which there +is none that a man endued even with the smallest understanding would +take more pains about, namely in what way we ought to live, whether in +such a way as that to which you exhort me, engaging in such employments +of a man, as speaking among the people, cultivating rhetoric, and +applying oneself to political affairs, in the manner which you now do; +or whether we should devote ourselves to a philosophic life, and in what +the latter differs from the former. Perhaps, then, it is best, as I just +now attempted, to make a distinction; and when we have distinguished and +agreed with each other, that these are two kinds of life, then to +consider in what they differ from each other, and which of them ought to +be pursued. Perhaps, however, you do not yet understand what I mean. + +121. _Cal._ I do not, indeed. + +_Socr._ I will explain it to you more clearly. Since we have agreed, you +and I, that there is something good, and something pleasant, and that +the pleasant is different from the good, and that there is a certain +study and preparation for the acquirement of each of them, one being a +search after the pleasant, and the other after the good—however, first +of all, grant me this, or not; do you grant it? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ Come then, concede to me also what I said to these men, if at +the time I appeared to you to speak the truth. I said that cookery does +not appear to me to be an art, but a skill; and that medicine is an art; +for I said that medicine considers the nature of that which it cures, +and the cause of the things that it does, and is able to give an account +of each of these: but that the other, being concerned about pleasure, to +which its whole attention is directed, proceeds to it without any art at +all, neither considering the nature nor the cause of pleasure, +altogether without reason, and in a word incapable of giving any account +of itself, a mere practice and skill, only preserving the memory of that +which usually takes place, by which also it supplies pleasures. 122. +First of all, then, consider whether these things appear to you to have +been sufficiently established, and that there are also certain other +corresponding studies relating to the soul, of which some follow rules +of art, and regard what is best for the soul; but others that neglect +this, and consider only, as in the former case, the pleasure of the +soul, in what way it may be procured; but paying no attention to which +pleasure is better or worse, nor caring for any thing else than +gratification only, whether it be better or worse. For my part, +Callicles, there appear to me to be such studies; and I say that such a +thing is flattery, as well in relation to the body as the soul, and to +any thing else the pleasure of which one sedulously attends to, without +paying any regard to the better and the worse. But do you entertain the +same opinion as we do respecting these things, or do you gainsay it? + +_Cal._ No, but I yield this point in order that our discussion may be +brought to a close, and that I may gratify Gorgias here. + +_Socr._ Does this take place with respect to one soul, but not with +respect to two and several? + +_Cal._ No; but it takes place with respect to two and several. + +_Socr._ Is it not, then, possible to gratify a number of souls collected +together, without considering at all what is best? + +123. _Cal._ I think so. + +_Socr._ Can you tell me, then, what those studies are which produce this +effect? Or rather, if you please, on my asking, whichever appears to you +to be one of these, say so, and which not, deny it. And first of all, +let us consider flute-playing. Does it not appear to you to be such a +thing, Callicles, as pursues only our pleasure, but regards nothing +else? + +_Cal._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ And is it not the case with all such studies, as for instance, +harp-playing in the public games? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And what as to the representation of choruses and dithyrambic +poetry? does it not appear to you to be of the same kind? Do you think +that Cinesias son of Meles cares at all to express himself in such a way +that his hearers may become better? or rather what will gratify the +crowd of spectators? + +_Cal._ The latter is clearly the case, Socrates, with respect to +Cinesias. + +_Socr._ But what as to his father Meles? Did he appear to you to play on +the harp, looking to that which is best? or did not he look to what was +most pleasant? For in singing he offended the audience. Consider, +however; does not all harp-playing and dithyrambic poetry appear to you +to have been invented for the sake of pleasure? + +_Cal._ It does. + +124. _Socr._ But what of that venerable and wonderful art, tragic +poetry, at what does it aim? Do its endeavour and aim appear to you to +be only to gratify the spectators? or does it strive, if any thing +should be pleasing and grateful to them, but mischievous, to avoid +saying this, but if it happens to be unpleasant and beneficial, to say +and sing this, whether it gratifies the spectators or not? In which of +these two ways do you think tragic poetry is framed? + +_Cal._ This is clear, Socrates, that it rather aims at pleasure, and the +gratification of the spectators. + +_Socr._ Did we not just now say, Callicles, that a thing of this kind is +flattery? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Come then, if any one should take from all poetry, melody, +rhythm, and measure, would any thing else than words remain? + +_Cal._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ Are not these words, then, addressed to a great multitude, and +to the people? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ Poetry, therefore, is a kind of popular speaking. + +_Cal._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Therefore it must be a rhetorical method of popular speaking: +for do not poets appear to you to employ rhetoric in the theatres? + +_Cal._ They do. + +125. _Socr._ Now, therefore, we have found a certain rhetoric among the +people, consisting at the same time of boys and women and men, slaves +and free-men, of which we do not altogether approve; for we have called +it flattery. + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Well then. But as to the rhetoric addressed to the Athenian +people, and the people in other cities consisting of free-men, what +shall we say as to that? Do the rhetoricians appear to you always to +speak with a view to what is best, aiming at this, that the citizens may +be made as good as possible by their discourses? or do they, too, +endeavour to gratify the citizens, and neglecting the public interest +for the sake of their own private advantage, do they treat the people as +children, trying only to gratify them, without being in the least +concerned whether they shall become better or worse by these means? + +_Cal._ This is not a simple question that you ask me. For there are some +who, looking to the interest of the citizens, say what they do; but +others are such as you describe. + +126. _Socr._ That is enough. For, if this also is twofold, one part of +it will be flattery, and a base popular speaking, but the other will be +honourable, namely, that which endeavours to make the souls of the +citizens as good as possible, and strives to speak what is best, whether +it be pleasant or unpleasant to the hearers. But you have never yet seen +this kind of rhetoric. Or, if you can mention any one of the +rhetoricians who is of this stamp, why do you not tell me who he is? + +_Cal._ But, by Jupiter, I cannot instance to you any of the rhetoricians +of the present day. + +_Socr._ But what? Can you instance any one of the ancients through whose +means the Athenians have become better, after he had begun to harangue +them, when previously they had been worse? For I know not who such a one +is. + +_Cal._ What? Have you not heard that Themistocles was a good man, and +Cimon and Miltiades, and Pericles, who died lately, whom you have also +heard? + +_Socr._ If that is true virtue, Callicles, which you before mentioned as +such, namely, for a man to gratify both his own desires and those of +others. But if this is not the case, but, as we were afterwards +compelled to confess, those desires which, when satisfied, make a man +better, ought to be indulged, but those which make him worse, not so, +and if there is a certain art in this, can you say that any one of these +was a man of this kind? + +_Cal._ I know not what to say. + +127. _Socr._ But if you seek well, you will find out. Let us however, +consider, and see quietly if any one of these was such. For come, is it +not true that a good man, who says what he says with a view to the best, +does not speak at random, but looking to some end? just as all other +artists, looking each to his own work, does not take at random and +employ what he employs in his work, but so that the subject he is at +work upon may have a certain form: for instance, if you will look at +painters, architects, shipwrights, and any other artists you please, you +will see that each places whatever he employs in a certain order, and +compels one thing to adapt itself to and harmonize with another, until +the whole workmanship is compacted together with order and regularity. +And moreover, those other artificers, whom we just now mentioned, who +are employed about the body, teachers of gymnastics, and physicians, +adorn the body in a way, and dispose it in an orderly manner. Do we +allow that this is so or not? + +_Cal._ Let it be so. + +128. _Socr._ A house, then, that has acquired order and regularity will +be a good house, but when disorder, a bad one. + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +_Socr._ And a ship in like manner? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And do we not say the same with respect to our bodies? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But what as to the soul? when in a state of disorder will it be +in a good condition, or when it is in a state of order and regularity? + +_Cal._ From what has been said, it is necessary to grant that the latter +must be the case. + +_Socr._ What, then, in the body, is the name of that which results from +order and regularity? + +_Cal._ You probably mean health and strength. + +_Socr._ I do. But what, again, is the name of that which subsists in the +soul from order and regularity? Endeavour to discover and mention it, as +you did the name of the former. + +_Cal._ Why do not you say what it is yourself, Socrates? + +_Socr._ If it pleases you better, I will. But do you, if I seem to you +to speak well, assent, if not, confute, and do not spare me. To me, +then, it appears that the name belonging to the orderly disposition of +the body is the healthful, from which health springs, and every other +excellence of the body. Is it so, or not? + +_Cal._ It is. + +_Socr._ But the name belonging to the orderly and regular disposition of +the soul is the legitimate and law; whence men become obedient to law +and orderly; but these are justice and temperance. Do you admit this or +not? + +_Cal._ Be it so. + +129. _Socr._ Will not, then, that good rhetorician who follows the rules +of art, looking to these things, address the arguments he uses and all +his actions to souls, and if he should bestow a gift, will he not bestow +it, and, if he should take any thing away, will he not take it away +_with the same end_, always directing his attention to this, that +justice may be produced in the souls of his fellow-citizens, and +injustice banished; that temperance may be produced in them, and +intemperance banished; and, in short, that every virtue may be planted +in them, but vice driven out. Do you grant this, or not? + +_Cal._ I do grant it. + +_Socr._ For where is the utility, Callicles, in giving a body diseased, +and ill-disposed, abundance of the most agreeable food or drink, or any +thing else, which will not be more profitable to it than the contrary, +but, according to right reason, even less? Is this so? + +_Cal._ Be it so. + +_Socr._ For I think it is of no advantage for a man to live with a +miserable state of body; for thus it would be necessary for him to live +miserably: is it not so? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And do not physicians generally allow a man in health to satisfy +his desires, as, for instance, when hungry to eat as much as he pleases, +or when thirsty to drink, but when ill, they scarcely ever allow him to +satisfy himself with what he desires? Do you grant this too? + +_Cal._ I do. + +130. _Socr._ And should not the same method, my excellent friend, be +adopted with respect to the soul? So long as it is depraved, as being +without understanding, intemperate, unjust and unholy, one ought to +restrain it from the indulgence of its desires, and not permit it to do +any thing except what will render it better? Do you admit this or not? + +_Cal._ I do. + +_Socr._ For this surely is better for the soul itself. + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And is not to restrain any one from what he desires to punish +him? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ To be punished, therefore, is better for the soul than +intemperance, as you just now thought. + +_Cal._ I don’t know what you mean, Socrates: ask some one else. + +_Socr._ This man will not submit to be benefited and to suffer the very +thing of which we are speaking, viz., punishment. + +_Cal._ I don’t at all heed what you say; I only answered you thus far +for the sake of Gorgias. + +131. _Socr._ Be it so. What shall we do then? Shall we break off the +discussion in the midst? + +_Cal._ You shall determine. + +_Socr._ But they say it is not right to leave even fables in the midst, +but a head should be placed on them, that they may not wander without a +head. Answer, therefore, to what remains, that our discussion may have a +head to it. + +_Cal._ How importunate you are, Socrates! But, if you will be persuaded +by me, you will give up this discussion, or carry it on with some one +else. + +_Socr._ Who else is willing? for we must not leave the discussion +unfinished. + +_Cal._ Cannot you go through with it yourself, either speaking by +yourself or answering yourself? + +_Socr._ That the saying of Epicharmus may be verified in me, “what two +men said before, I alone am able to say.” But it appears to be very +necessary. If, however, we shall do so, I think we ought all of us to +strive heartily that we may understand what is true and what false with +respect to the subject we are treating of: for it is for the common +interest of all that this should become clear. 132. I will, therefore, +go through the matter under discussion, as it appears to me to be: but, +if I shall seem to any of you to grant myself what is not true, he must +take me up and confute me. For I do not say what I say as knowing it, +but I am enquiring in common with you, so that, if he who disputes with +me should appear to say any thing to the purpose, I shall be the first +to give in to him. I say this, however, in case you think the discussion +ought to be finished; but if you do not wish it, let us give it up and +depart. + +_Gorg._ But it appears to me, Socrates, that we should not depart yet, +but that you should pursue the argument: and it is evident that the +others think so. And I, for my part, wish to hear you go through the +remainder of the subject. + +_Socr._ But indeed, Gorgias, I would gladly have continued to carry on +the discussion with Callicles here, until I had given him back the +saying of Amphion for that of Zethus[74]: but since you are not willing, +Callicles, to finish the discussion with me, yet listen to me at least, +and take me up if I appear to you to say any thing incorrectly. And if +you shall confute me, I shall not be angry with you, as you are with me, +but you shall be recorded by me as my greatest benefactor. + +----- + +Footnote 74: + + See before, § 90. + +----- + +_Cal._ Speak then yourself, my good friend, and finish the argument. + +133. _Socr._ Hear me then repeating the argument from the beginning. Are +the pleasant and the good the same? They are not the same, as I and +Callicles have agreed. But whether is the pleasant to be done for the +sake of the good, or the good for the sake of the pleasant? The pleasant +for the sake of the good. But is the pleasant that, with which when +present we are pleased? and the good that, by which when present we are +good? Certainly. Now we are good, both ourselves and all other things +that are good, when a certain virtue is present? To me this appears to +be necessary, Callicles. But the virtue of each thing, whether +instrument, or body, or soul, and moreover of every animal, does not +reach a high pitch of perfection by chance, but by order, and rectitude, +and the art that is attributed to each of them. Is this so? I admit it. +The virtue, then, of every thing is regulated and adorned by order? I +should say so. A certain order, then, proper to each, becoming inherent +in each, makes each thing good? It appears so to me. The soul, +therefore, that has its own order, is better than that which is without +order? Necessarily so. That, however, which has order is orderly? How +should it not? And that which is orderly is temperate? Most necessarily. +134. A temperate soul, then, is good? I am not able to say any thing +against this, my dear Callicles; but do you, if you can do so, inform +me. + +_Cal._ Proceed, my good friend. + +_Socr._ I say, then, that if a temperate soul is good, that which is +affected contrariwise to the temperate is base: and this surely is the +foolish and intemperate? Certainly. Moreover, a temperate man would act +becomingly both towards gods and towards men? for he would not be +temperate if he acted unbecomingly? It must needs be so. Moreover, by +acting becomingly towards men he would act justly, and towards the gods +piously; but it is necessary that he who acts justly and piously should +be just and pious? It must be so. It is moreover necessary that he +should be brave? for it is not the part of a temperate man either to +pursue or avoid what is not becoming, but to pursue and avoid those +things and men, pleasures and pains, which he ought, and to endure +patiently wherever he ought. 135. So that it is absolutely necessary, +Callicles, that the temperate man, as we have described him, being just, +brave, and pious, should be a perfectly good man, and that a good man +should do whatever he does well and honourably, and that he who does +well should be blessed and happy, but that the wicked, who does ill, +should be wretched: but this latter would be directly contrary to the +temperate man, namely, the intemperate, whom you praised. I, therefore, +thus lay down these things, and affirm that they are true. But if they +are true, as it seems, he who wishes to be happy must pursue and +practise temperance, and must avoid intemperance, every one of us with +all his might, and must endeavour never to stand in need of punishment, +but if he does need it, either he or any of his family, whether it be +the case of a private person, or a city, justice must be administered, +and punishment inflicted, if he is to be happy. This appears to me to be +the mark to which we ought to look for the guidance of our life, and +referring all private and public actions to this point, that justice and +temperance may be ever present with him who will be blessed, and to act +accordingly, not suffering his desires to be intemperate, nor +endeavouring to satisfy them, which is an irremediable evil, causing a +man to live like a robber. For such an one could neither be dear to any +other man, nor to God; for it is impossible there can be any communion +between them; and where there is no communion there can be no +friendship. 136. The sages[75] too, say, Callicles, that heaven and +earth, gods and men, are held together by communion, friendship, order, +temperance, and justice, and for this reason, my friend, they call this +universe, order[76], and not disorder or intemperance. You, however, +appear to me not to attend to these things, and this though you are +wise; but it has escaped your observation that geometrical equality has +great power both among gods and among men; on the contrary you think +that every one should strive to get more than others; for you neglect +geometry. Well then; either this argument of mine must be confuted, _and +it must be shewn_ that the happy are not happy from the possession of +justice and temperance, and the wretched, wretched from vice; or, if the +argument is true, we must consider what are its results. Now, Callicles, +all those things before mentioned, with respect to which you asked me if +I was speaking in earnest, result from it, to the effect that a man +should accuse himself, his son, and his friend, if he committed any +injustice, and should employ rhetoric for this purpose. And what you +thought Polus granted through shame was therefore true, that by how much +it is more base to do an injury than to be injured, by so much is it +worse: and that he who would be a good orator ought to be just and +skilled in the knowledge of things just; which, again, Polus said +Gorgias acknowledged through shame. + +----- + +Footnote 75: + + The Pythagoreans, especially Empedocles. + +Footnote 76: + + Κόσμος, “order,” signifying also “the world.” + +----- + +137. This then being the case, let us consider what it is that you find +fault with in me, and whether you are right or not in saying that I can +neither assist myself, nor any of my friends or domestics, nor save +myself from the greatest dangers, but that I am in the power of any one +who chooses, like men marked with infamy, if he pleases, according to +that petulant expression of yours, to strike me on the face, or to take +away my property, or expel me from the city, or, worst of all, to kill +me, and that to be thus circumstanced, is the most disgraceful of all +things, according to your opinion. But mine is this, it has indeed been +often mentioned, yet nothing prevents its being again repeated; I deny, +Callicles, that to be struck in the face unjustly is most disgraceful, +or for my body or purse to be cut, but that to strike unjustly and to +cut me and mine, is both more disgraceful and worse, and that to rob, +enslave, break open a house, and, in short, to injure in any respect me +and mine, is both more disgraceful and worse for him who does the injury +than for me who am injured. 138. These things, that were proved to be +thus in the former part of our discussion, as I affirm, are held and +bound (though it is somewhat rude to say so) in reasons of iron and +adamant, as would really appear to be the case, so that unless you or +some one stronger than you can break them, it is not possible that any +one who says otherwise than as I now say can speak correctly; for my +statement is always the same, that I know not how these things are, but +that of all the persons with whom I have ever conversed, as now with +you, no one, who says otherwise, can avoid being ridiculous. I therefore +again assert that these things are so. But if this is the case, and +injustice is the greatest of evils to him that commits it, and if, great +as this evil is, it is still a greater, if possible, for one who acts +unjustly not to be punished, what kind of help will that be, which, if a +man cannot procure for himself, he would be really ridiculous? will it +not be that which would avert from us the greatest harm? But there is an +absolute necessity that this should be most disgraceful, for a man not +to be able to assist either himself, or his friends and domestics, next +to that, an inability to avoid the second evil, and the third, an +inability to avoid the third evil, and so on with the rest; in +proportion to the magnitude of each evil, so is it beautiful to be able +to avoid each of them, and disgraceful not to be able. Is the case thus +or otherwise, Callicles? + +_Cal._ No otherwise. + +139. _Socr._ Of these two things then, the doing injustice and receiving +an injury, we say that to do injustice is a greater evil, but to receive +an injury a less one. By recourse to what means, then, could a man so +assist himself as to have both these advantages, that of not doing +injustice, and that of not receiving an injury? Is it by power, or will? +I mean thus: whether, if a man wishes not to be injured, will he not be +injured, or, if he has acquired the power of not being injured, will he +not be injured? + +_Cal._ It is clear that he will not, if he has acquired the power. + +_Socr._ But what with respect to doing injustice? Whether, if any one +wishes not to do injustice, is this sufficient, (for in that case he +will not do it,) or, besides this, is it requisite to acquire a certain +power and art, so that, unless he has learned and practised them, he +will do injustice? Come then, answer me this question, Callicles; +whether do Polus and I appear to you to have been compelled, rightly or +not, to make that admission in the former part of our discussion, when +we admitted that no one willingly commits injustice, but that all who do +commit it do so unwillingly? + +_Cal._ Let that point be granted, Socrates, in order that you may bring +the argument to a conclusion. + +_Socr._ For this purpose, then, as it appears, we must acquire a certain +power and art, in order that we may not commit injustice. + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +140. _Socr._ What then is the art by means of which a man will receive +no injury at all, or scarcely any? Consider, if it appears to you the +same as it does to me. For to me it appears thus; either that he ought +to govern in a city or even have absolute power, or be a friend of the +existing government. + +_Cal._ Do you observe, Socrates, how ready I am to praise you, if you +say any thing well? This you appear to me to have said remarkably well. + +_Socr._ Consider also, whether I appear to you to say this well. Each +person seems to me for the most part to be a friend to each, according +as the ancient sages say “like to like:” does it not seem so to you? + +_Cal._ It does. + +_Socr._ Wherever, therefore, a savage and uneducated tyrant governs, if +there should be any one in the city much better than him, would not the +tyrant fear him, and never be able to be cordially his friend? + +_Cal._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ Nor yet, if any one should be much worse than the tyrant, would +he become his friend; for the tyrant would despise him, nor ever feel +any affection for him as a friend. + +_Cal._ This also is true. + +141. _Socr._ It remains, therefore, that he alone would be a friend, +worthy of notice, to such a man, who, having a similar disposition, +should blame and praise the same things, and be willing to be governed +by and submit to his sway. Such a person will have great influence in +this city, and no one will injure him with impunity. Is it not so? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, any young man in this city should consider within +himself, “How could I obtain influence, and be injured by no one?” this, +as it seems, must be his method, he must from his very youth accustom +himself to rejoice and grieve at the same things as the despot, and +contrive to make himself as like him as possible. Is it not so? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Will not he, then, have managed so as not to be injured, and to +have great power in that city, according to your argument? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Will he also manage not to commit injustice? or far from it, +since he will be like the governor, who is unjust, and will have great +influence with him? I think, for my part, that quite contrariwise he +will contrive so as to be able to commit the greatest injustice and not +to be punished for it. Will he not? + +_Cal._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Will not, then, the greatest evil befal him, in consequence of +being depraved in his soul, and tainted through imitation of the despot +and his influence with him? + +142. _Cal._ I know not, Socrates, how you always turn the arguments +upside down. Do you not know, that he who imitates can kill him who does +not imitate _the despot_ if he pleases, and deprive him of his property? + +_Socr._ I do know it, good Callicles, unless I am deaf, since I have +just now heard it often both from you and Polus, and from almost every +one else in the city. But do you in your turn listen to me: he will kill +him if he pleases, but a depraved man, one who is upright and good. + +_Cal._ And is not this a thing to be indignant at? + +_Socr._ Not to a man of sense, as our argument proves. Do you think that +a man should aim at this; to live as long as possible, and should study +those arts which always preserve us from dangers, as rhetoric which you +bid me study, and which saves us in courts of justice? + +_Cal._ I do, by Jupiter, and therein I advise you well. + +143. _Socr._ What then, my excellent friend, does the science of +swimming too appear to you to be very fine? + +_Cal._ No, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ And yet this too saves men from death, when they fall into such +a danger as requires this science. But if this appears to you to be +mean, I will mention to you one more important than this, namely that of +piloting a ship, which not only saves lives, but also bodies and +property from extreme danger, just as rhetoric does. And this art is +moderate and modest, and does not brag and strut as if it accomplished +something wonderful, but when it has accomplished the same thing as the +forensic art, if it has brought us safe here from Ægina, it demands, I +think, two oboli, and if from Egypt or the Pontus, for so great a +benefit in having brought safe what I now mention, ourselves and +children, our property and wives, and in having landed them in port, it +usually demands two drachms, and the man who possesses this art, and +accomplishes these things, when he has disembarked, walks by the sea and +his ship, with a modest gait. 144. For he knows, I think, how to reason +with himself, that it is uncertain whom of his passengers he has +benefited by not allowing them to be drowned, and whom he has injured, +knowing that he has not put them ashore in any respect better than they +were when they went on board, either as to their souls or bodies. He +therefore reasons with himself, that if one who is afflicted in his body +with severe and incurable diseases should happen not to be drowned, such +a man is indeed miserable for having escaped death, and has received no +benefit from him; but if any one labours under many and incurable +diseases in that which is more precious than the body, his soul, such a +one ought[77] not to live, nor would he benefit him, if he saved him +from the sea, or from a court of justice, or from any other danger, for +he knows that it is not better for a depraved man to live, because he +must needs live badly. For this reason, it is not usual for a pilot to +boast, although he saves our lives; nor, my admirable friend, is it +usual for an engineer who is sometimes able to save, no less than a +general of an army, not to mention a pilot or any other person; for +sometimes he saves whole cities. Does it not appear to you that he is +fit to be compared with a forensic orator? though, if he chose to speak, +Callicles, as you do, extolling his own art, he would overwhelm you with +words, urging and exhorting you to the fitness of your becoming an +engineer, for that other things are of no consequence; and he would have +enough to say. 145. You, however, would nevertheless despise him and his +art, and, by way of reproach would call him an engineer, and would +neither give your daughter to his son, nor accept his daughter for your +son. Though, if from the reasons for which you praise your own art, on +what just pretext do you despise the engineer, and the others whom I +have just now mentioned? I know that you would say you are better, and +of a better family. But if that which is better is not what I say it is, +but if excellence consists in this, for a man to save himself and his +property, whatever kind of man he may be, then your contempt for the +engineer and the physician, and for whatever other arts are pursued for +the purpose of preservation, is ridiculous. + +----- + +Footnote 77: + + The negative particle here expressed, is in the original at the + beginning of the paragraph, λογίζεται οὖν, ὅτι οὐκ. See Stallbaum’s + lucid note. + +----- + +But, my good friend, consider whether that which is noble and good is +not something else than to save and be saved; and whether that +principle, that one should live as long as one can, is not to be given +up by one who is truly a man, and life not too fondly loved, but that +leaving these things to the care of the deity, and believing the women, +_who say_ that no man can avoid his fate, one should consider this, by +what means one may pass the remainder of one’s life in the best possible +manner, whether by conforming one’s-self to the government under which +one dwells. 146. And in that case whether it is right that you should +resemble as much as possible the Athenian people, if you wish to be dear +to them, and to have great influence in their city? Consider whether +this is advantageous to you and to me, lest, my admirable friend, we +should suffer what they say the Thessalian[78] witches did, who drew +down the moon, and our choice of this power in the city should be +attended with the loss of what is dearest to us. If, however, you think +that any man in the world can teach you any such art, as will cause you +to have great power in this city, while you are unlike the character of +the people, whether for the better or the worse, as appears to me, +Callicles, you are not rightly advised. For you must not only be an +imitator of, but like them in your natural disposition, if you mean to +do any thing effectual towards gaining the friendship of the Athenian +people, and, by Jupiter, you must towards that of the son of Pyrilampes. +Whoever, therefore, shall make you most like them, will make you a +politician and an orator, such as you desire to be. For all men are +delighted with arguments suited to their own dispositions, but are angry +with such as are strange to them; unless you, my dear friend, have any +thing to say to the contrary. 147. Have we any objection to make to +this, Callicles? + +----- + +Footnote 78: + + They are said to have lost the use of their eyes and feet. + +----- + +_Cal._ I do not know how it is, Socrates, you appear to me to speak +well. Yet that which happens to most happens to me; I am not quite +persuaded by you. + +_Socr._ For the love of the people, Callicles, dwelling in your soul, +resists me; but perhaps, if we should often and more fully examine into +these same matters, you would be persuaded. Remember, then, that we said +there were two methods for the cultivation of each, both the body and +the soul, and that one had reference to pleasure, but the other to that +which is best, not by gratifying, but opposing the inclinations. Is not +this what we before settled? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ The one, then, that looks to pleasure is ignoble, and nothing +else than flattery; is it not? + +_Cal._ Be it so, if you please. + +_Socr._ But the other endeavours that that which we cultivate may be +made as excellent as possible, whether it be the body or the soul? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Must we then so endeavour to cultivate the city and the +citizens, that we may make the citizens themselves as good as possible? +For without this, as we discovered before, it is of no advantage to +confer any other benefit upon them, unless the mind of those who are +about to receive either great riches, or dominion or any other power, be +upright and good. Shall we lay this down, as being so? + +_Cal._ Certainly, if it is more agreeable to you. + +148. _Socr._ If, therefore, Callicles, when setting about some public +works, we were to exhort one another to works of architecture, as to +very large buildings of walls, or docks or temples, would it be +necessary that we should consider and examine ourselves, first, whether +we are skilled or not in the art of architecture, and from whom we +learnt it? Would this be necessary or not? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Then, secondly, we should consider this, whether we have ever +constructed any private building, either for any one of our friends, or +for ourselves, and whether this building is beautiful or ugly. And if on +examination we found that our masters had been good and famous, and that +we have constructed, in conjunction with our masters, many and beautiful +buildings, and many privately by ourselves, after we had left our +masters, in that case it would become men of sense to undertake public +works: but if we were not able to shew that we had a master, nor any +building at all, or many and those of no account, it would surely in +that case be foolish to attempt public works, and to exhort one another +to undertake them. Shall we admit that this is well said, or not? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +149. _Socr._ And is not this the case with all other things, and if, +attempting to serve the public in the capacity of physicians, we should +exhort each other, as if we were skilful physicians, should not you and +I examine each other thus: By the gods, in what state is Socrates with +respect to bodily health? Has any other person, whether slave or +freeman, been cured by Socrates of any disease? And I too, I think, +should make similar enquiries about you. And if we did not find that any +one, whether stranger or citizen, man or woman, had been improved in +health by our means, by Jupiter, Callicles, would it not be truly +ridiculous, that men should come to such a pitch of folly, as before +they had practised much in private, as best they could, and had +succeeded in many cases, and thoroughly exercised the art, to attempt to +learn the potter’s art in making a pitcher, as the proverb goes, and +attempt to serve the public in the capacity of physician, and exhort +others to do the same? Does it not appear to you that it would be +foolish to act thus? + +_Cal._ It does. + +150. _Socr._ But now, O best of men, since you have yourself just now +begun to busy yourself in affairs of state, and you exhort and reprove +me because I do not busy myself about them, should we not examine each +other; Come then, whom of the citizens has Callicles yet made better? Is +there any one who, being before depraved, unjust, intemperate, and +foolish, has become upright and good through Callicles, whether stranger +or citizen, slave or free-man? Tell me, Callicles, if any one should ask +you these questions, what will you say? Who will you say has been made +better by associating with you? Are you ashamed to answer, whether you +have done any such work while you were in a private capacity, before you +attempted to interfere in public affairs? + +_Cal._ You are cavilling, Socrates. + +_Socr._ I do not ask you from a desire to cavil, but really wishing to +know in what way you think public affairs ought to be conducted by us; +whether on undertaking the management of affairs of state we ought to +attend to any thing else than how we may become as good citizens as +possible. Have we not already often admitted that a politician ought to +do this? Have we admitted it or not? Answer. We have admitted it; I will +answer for you. 151. If, then, a good man ought to endeavour to procure +this for his city, now call to mind and say with respect to those men +whom you a little before mentioned, whether they still appear to you to +have been good citizens, Pericles, Cimon, Miltiades and Themistocles. + +_Cal._ To me they do. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, they were good citizens, it is evident that each +of them made their fellow-citizens better instead of worse. Did they so, +or not? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ When Pericles, therefore, began to speak in public, were the +Athenians worse than when he addressed them for the last time? + +_Cal._ Perhaps so. + +_Socr._ There is no ‘perhaps’ in the case, my good friend, but this is a +necessary consequence from what has been admitted, if he really was a +good citizen. + +_Cal._ But what then? + +_Socr._ Nothing. But tell me this moreover, whether the Athenians are +supposed to have become better through Pericles, or quite the contrary, +to have been corrupted by him. For so I hear, that Pericles made the +Athenians idle, cowardly, talkative and avaricious, having been the +first to give them pay. + +_Cal._ You hear this, Socrates, from those whose ears have been +bruised[79]. + +----- + +Footnote 79: + + The Spartans; see the Protagoras, § 80. + +----- + +152. _Socr._ However, I no longer hear this, but I know well and so do +you, that Pericles at first bore a high character, and that the +Athenians passed no ignominious sentence upon him, when they were worse, +but when by his means they had become upright and good, towards the +close of the life of Pericles, they condemned him for peculation, and +were on the point of sentencing him to death, clearly as being a bad +citizen. + +_Cal._ What then? Was Pericles on this account a bad man? + +_Socr._ Such an one, indeed, would be thought a bad manager of asses, +horses, and oxen, if having received them, neither kicking, nor butting, +nor biting, he should make them do all these things through vice. Does +not every trainer of any animal whatever appear to you to be a bad one, +who, having received it gentle, has made it more vicious than he +received it? Does he appear so, or not? + +_Cal._ Certainly, that I may gratify you. + +_Socr._ Gratify me, then, by answering this too, whether man is of the +class of animals, or not? + +_Cal._ How should he not be? + +_Socr._ Had not Pericles, then, the care of men? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +153. _Socr._ What then? Ought they not, as we just now admitted, to have +become more just, instead of more unjust, under his management, if he +who took charge of them was a good politician? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And are not the just gentle, as Homer[80] says? What say you? Is +it not so? + +----- + +Footnote 80: + + Odyss. vii. 120. + +----- + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ However, he made them more savage than he received them, and +this against himself, which he would least of all have wished. + +_Cal._ Do you wish that I should agree with you? + +_Socr._ If I seem to you to speak the truth. + +_Cal._ Be it so, then. + +_Socr._ If, then, he made them more savage, he must have made them more +unjust, and worse? + +_Cal._ Be it so. + +_Socr._ According to this reasoning, then, Pericles was not a good +politician? + +_Cal._ Not, as you say. + +_Socr._ By Jupiter, nor as you say either, from what you have admitted. +But, again, tell me with respect to Cimon. Did not they whom he took +care of pass a sentence of ostracism upon him, in order that they might +not hear his voice for ten years? And did they not do the very same to +Themistocles, and beside punish him with exile? And did they not +sentence Miltiades, the conqueror at Marathon, to be thrown into the +Barathrum, and but for the Prytanis, would he not have been thrown into +it? These, however, if they had been good men, as you say, would never +have suffered these things. 154. Good drivers, surely, do not at first +keep themselves from falling from their cars, but, when they have +trained their horses, and have themselves become better drivers, then +fall off. This is never the case, either in driving, or in any other +employment. Does it appear so to you? + +_Cal._ To me it does not. + +_Socr._ Our former statements, then, as it appears, are true, that we do +not know any man who has been a good politician in this city. You admit +that you know of none at present, but you say that formerly there were +some, and you have selected these men: but these have appeared to be +much the same as those of the present day, so that, if they were +orators, they did not make use of the true rhetoric, for in that case +they would not have fallen, nor yet did they employ flattery. + +_Cal._ However, Socrates, it is far from being the case, that any one of +the present day will ever do such deeds as were done by any one of +those. + +_Socr._ Neither, my excellent friend, do I blame these men, as servants +of the city, but they appear to me to have been more efficient than +those of the present day, and better able to procure for the city what +it desired. But in changing and repressing their desires, by persuading +and compelling them to such a course as would make the citizens become +better, they scarcely differed at all from those of the present day; yet +that is the only duty of a good citizen. But, with respect to providing +ships, walls, and docks, and many other such things, I agree with you, +that they were more able than the men of our day. 155. You and I, +however, act ridiculously in our discussion. For during the whole time +that we have been conversing we have not ceased to go round and round +the same subject, and to misunderstand each what the other says. I think +that you have often admitted and acknowledged that there is a twofold +method of treatment, both with respect to the body and with respect to +the soul: and that the one is ministerial, by which we are enabled to +procure food, if our bodies are hungry, drink, if they are thirsty, and +if they are cold, garments, coverlids, shoes, and all other things which +the body stands in need of. And I purposely speak to you through these +images, in order that you may understand me more easily. For when any +one supplies these things, being either a retail tradesman or a +merchant, or a manufacturer of any of them, a baker, a cook, a weaver, a +shoemaker, or tanner, it is not at all surprising that such a person +should appear, both to himself and others, to be concerned in the care +of the body, that is, to all who are ignorant that, besides all these, +there is a gymnastic and medicinal art, to which the care of the body +really belongs, and whose duty it is to rule over all these arts, and to +use their respective productions, through knowing what meats or drinks +are good and bad for the health of the body, whereas all those others +are ignorant of this; for which reason all those other arts are servile, +ministerial, and base, as regards the management of the body, but the +gymnastic art and medicine are justly the mistresses of these. 156. That +the case is the same with respect to the soul, you, at one time, +appeared to me to have understood, and admitted it as if you knew what I +meant; but shortly afterwards you went on to say that there have been +good and upright men in this city, and when I asked you who they were, +you appeared to me to adduce men very similar with respect to politics, +as if, on my asking with respect to gymnastics, who have been or are +good managers of the body, you had very seriously said to me, Thearion +the baker, Mithæcus, who wrote on Sicilian cookery, and Sarambus the +tavern-keeper, and that they take wonderful care of the body, the first +making admirable bread, the second, made-dishes, and the third, wine. +Perhaps, then, you would be angry if I said to you, My friend, you know +nothing about gymnastics; you tell me of men who are ministers and +purveyors to desires, but who do not understand any thing great and good +respecting them, and who, it may so happen, having filled men’s bodies, +and made them gross, and having been praised by them, end by ruining +their old flesh. These men, on the other hand, through their ignorance, +will not blame those who have pampered their appetites, as being the +causes of their diseases, and of the loss of their old flesh, but they +who may happen to have been with them, and to have given them some +advice, when, after a long time, repletion, having been indulged in +without any regard to health, comes bringing disease with it, these they +will accuse and blame, and do them some mischief if they can, but those +others, who are the causes of their maladies, they will extol. 157. And +now you, Callicles, act in very much the same way; you extol men who +have pampered the Athenians by satiating their desires, and who they say +have made the city great; and they do not perceive that it is swollen, +and unsound through means of those ancient politicians: for, without +considering temperance and justice, they have filled the city with +harbours and docks, and walls and tributes, and such trifles. When, +therefore, the crisis of their weakness comes, they will blame the +advisers who are then present, but will extol Themistocles, Cimon, and +Pericles, who were the causes of the mischief: and you perhaps, unless +you are on your guard, and my friend Alcibiades, they will seize, when +they have lost what they had before in addition to what they have +acquired, although you are not the causes of the mischief, but perhaps +accomplices. 158. Moreover, I both now see a very foolish thing +happening, and I hear of it with respect to men of former times. For I +perceive that when a city punishes any of its politicians as guilty of +wrong, they are angry, and complain bitterly that they are treated +shamefully; and having done the city many good services, they are then +unjustly ruined by it, as they allege. But the whole is a falsehood. For +no president of a city can ever be unjustly ruined by the very city over +which he presides. For the case seems to be the same with such as +profess themselves to be politicians, as it is with the sophists. For +the sophists, though wise in other things, commit this absurdity; +whereas they affirm that they are teachers of virtue, they often accuse +their disciples of acting unjustly towards them, by defrauding them of +their wages, and not making other requitals for the benefits they have +received from them. But what can be more unreasonable than such language +as this, that men who have become good and just, who have been freed +from injustice by their teacher, and have acquired justice, should yet +act unjustly from that very quality which they have not? Does not this, +my friend, appear to you to be absurd? Of a truth, Callicles, you have +compelled me to make a speech by your unwillingness to answer me. + +159. _Cal._ But should you not be able to speak unless some one answered +you? + +_Socr._ It seems as if I could: for now I have carried my discourse to a +great length, seeing that you will not answer me. But my good friend, +tell me, by Jupiter, the guardian of friendship, does it not appear to +you unreasonable, that a man who says he has made another person good, +should blame that person, because having been made good through his +means, and being so, he has afterwards become bad? + +_Cal._ To me it appears so. + +_Socr._ Do you not, then, hear those speak in this manner who profess to +instruct men in virtue? + +_Cal._ I do. But what can you say of men of no worth? + +_Socr._ What then can you say of those, who, while they profess to +preside over the city, and to take care that it shall be as good as +possible, then accuse it, when it so happens, as being very bad? Do you +think that these differ at all from the former? My good man, a sophist +and an orator are the same thing, or nearly so, and very like, as I said +to Polus[81]. But you, through ignorance, think that rhetoric is +something exceedingly beautiful, and despise the other. But, in truth, +the sophist’s art is as much more beautiful than rhetoric, as the +legislative is than the judicial, and the gymnastic art than medicine. +160. But I for my part think that public speakers and sophists alone +ought not to complain of the very thing that they teach, as being +mischievous to themselves, or that in the very same charge they should +at the same time accuse themselves for not having at all benefited those +whom they profess to have benefited. Is it not so? + +----- + +Footnote 81: + + See § 46. + +----- + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And surely to impart a benefit without a stipulated reward, as +is probable, is proper for these men only, if they assert what is true. +For one who has received any other kind of benefit, as, for instance, +who has acquired swiftness of foot through the instructions of a teacher +of gymnastics, perhaps might deprive him of his gratuity, if the teacher +of gymnastics had left it to him, without having made an agreement for a +fixed price, that he should be paid the money as nearly as possible at +the same time that he imparted his skill to him. For men, I think, do +not act unjustly through slowness, but through injustice. Do they not? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, any one should take away this, I mean injustice, +there would be no danger of his ever being treated unjustly, but he +alone might safely impart this benefit, if in truth he is able to make +men good. Is it not so? + +_Cal._ I admit it. + +161. _Socr._ For this reason then, as it appears, it is not at all +disgraceful to take money for giving advice about other things, as, for +instance, about architecture, or other arts. + +_Cal._ So it appears. + +_Socr._ But with respect to this study, by what means a man may become +as good as possible, and may best govern his own family or a city, it is +reckoned disgraceful to withhold advice, except one should give him +money. Is it not so? + +_Cal._ Yes. + +_Socr._ For it is evident that this is the reason that this alone of all +benefits makes the person who has received it desirous of requiting it; +so that it appears to be a good sign, if he who has imparted this +benefit shall be recompensed in return; but otherwise not. Is this so? + +_Cal._ It is. + +_Socr._ To which method, then, of taking care of the city do you advise +me? explain to me; whether to that of thwarting the Athenians, in order +that they may become as good as possible, as if I were a physician, or +to that by which I should serve them, and curry favour with them. Tell +me the truth, Callicles. For, as you begun to speak freely to me, it is +right you should continue to say what you think. And now speak well and +nobly. + +_Cal._ I say, then, that I advise you to serve them. + +162. _Socr._ You advise me, therefore, most noble Sir, to employ +flattery. + +_Cal._ Unless you prefer calling him a Mysian[82], Socrates; for if you +will do so— + +----- + +Footnote 82: + + A name of the utmost contempt. + +----- + +_Socr._ Do not repeat what you have often said, that any one who pleases +will kill me, lest I too should say again, that a bad man would slay a +good one; nor that he will take away my property, if I have any, lest I +too should say again, that after he has taken it away he will not be +able to make any use of it, but as he has unjustly taken it from me, so +having got it, he will make an unjust use of it; and if unjustly, +basely; and if basely, wickedly. + +_Cal._ How confident you seem to me to be, Socrates, that you will never +suffer any of these things, as being one who lives out of harm’s way, +and who can never be brought before a court of justice by a man, +perhaps, utterly depraved and vile! + +_Socr._ I should indeed be foolish, Callicles, if I did not think that +any one in this city might suffer any thing that might happen. This +however I well know, that if I should go before a court of justice, and +be exposed to any of the dangers you mention, he who takes me thither +will be a bad man. For no good man would accuse one who has not +committed injustice. And it would not be at all wonderful, if I should +be condemned to death. Do you wish I should tell you why I expect this? + +_Cal._ By all means. + +163. _Socr._ I think that I, in conjunction with a few Athenians, (that +I may not say alone,) apply myself to the true political art, and alone +of those of the present day perform the duties of a citizen. Since, +then, in the conversations which I enter into from time to time, I do +not speak for the purpose of conciliating popular favour, but with a +view to that which is best, and not to that which is most agreeable, and +as I am not willing to do those fine things that you advise, I shall not +have any thing to say in a court of justice. And the same illustration +occurs to me that I mentioned to Polus. For I should be judged as a +physician would be judged by children, with a cook for his accuser. For +consider what defence such a man would make when taken before them, if +one should accuse him as follows: ‘O boys, this man has done you a great +deal of mischief, and destroys both you and even the youngest of you, +for, by cutting, cauterizing, weakening and choking you, he reduces you +to great straits, giving you the bitterest draughts, and compelling you +to hunger and thirst; not as I do who feed you with many sweet and +various dainties.’ What do you think a physician when brought to such an +extremity would have to say? If he should say the truth, ‘I did all +these things, boys, for your health,’ what a clamour do you think such +judges would raise against him? Would it not be loud? + +_Cal._ Probably; one must think so, at least. + +164. _Socr._ Do you not think, then, that he would be altogether at a +loss what to say? + +_Cal._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And I know that I should be treated just in the same way, if I +came before a court of justice. For I should not be able to mention any +pleasures which I had procured for them, which they consider as benefits +and advantages; but I neither envy those who procure them, nor those for +whom they are procured. And if any one should say that I corrupt younger +men, by causing them to doubt, or that I revile the elder men, by +speaking bitter words, either privately or publicly, I should not be +able to say the truth, that “I say and do all these things justly, and +for your advantage, judges, and nothing else.” So that I should probably +suffer whatever might happen. + +_Cal._ Does a man, then, appear to you, Socrates, to be well off in a +city who is thus circumstanced, and is unable to help himself? + +165. _Socr._ If there is that in him, Callicles, which you have often +allowed, namely, if he can assist himself, by neither having said or +done any thing unjust towards men or towards gods. For this aid has +often been acknowledged by us to be the best that a man can have for +himself. If, therefore, any one could convict me of being unable to +afford this assistance either to myself or another, I should be ashamed, +whether convicted before many or few, or alone by myself, and if I +should be put to death for this inability I should be deeply grieved: +but if I should die through want of flattering rhetoric, I well know +that you would behold me meeting death cheerfully. For death itself no +one fears, who is not altogether irrational and cowardly, but he does +fear to commit injustice; for to go to Hades with a soul full of crimes +is the worst of all evils. But, if you please, I will tell you a story +to shew that such is the case. + +_Cal._ Since you have brought the rest to a conclusion, bring this to a +conclusion also. + +166. _Socr._ Hear then, as they say, a very beautiful tale, which you +will consider a fable, as I think, but I a tale; for what I am about to +tell you, I tell you as being true. As Homer says[83], then, Jupiter, +Neptune, and Pluto, divided the government among themselves, after they +had received it from their father. This law, then, respecting men was in +existence in the time of Saturn, and always was, and still is, +established among the gods, that a man who has passed through life +justly and piously when he dies should go to the isles of the blessed, +and dwell in all perfect happiness free from evil, but that he who has +lived unjustly and impiously should go to a prison of punishment and +justice, which they call Tartarus. During the reign of Saturn, and even +recently when Jupiter held the government, there were living judges of +the living, who passed sentence on the very day on which any one was +about to die. In consequence of this sentences were awarded badly. +Pluto, therefore, and the guardians of the blessed isles, went to +Jupiter, and informed him that men came to them who did not deserve +either sentence. 167. Jupiter, therefore, said, I will prevent this in +future. For now sentences are badly awarded, because those that are +judged are judged clothed, for they are judged while living. Many, +therefore, he continued, whose souls are depraved are invested with +beautiful bodies, nobility of birth, and riches, and when the judgment +takes place, many witnesses come in their behalf, to testify that they +have lived justly. Hence the judges are awed by these things, and +moreover, they too pass sentence when clothed, for their minds are +veiled with eyes and ears, and the whole body. All these things, then, +are obstacles to them, as well their own clothing as that of those that +are judged. First of all, then, they must no longer be allowed to know +beforehand the time of their death: for at present they do know it +beforehand. Prometheus, therefore, has orders to deprive them of this +power: next they must be judged divested of all these things; for they +must be judged after they are dead: the judge too must be naked and +dead, and examine with his soul the soul of each immediately after +death, destitute of all his kindred, and leaving all that ornament on +the earth, in order that the judgment may be just. 168. Now I had +observed these things before you, and accordingly have appointed my sons +as judges, two from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe, +Æacus. These, then, when they are dead, shall judge in the meadow, at +the three roads, of which two lead one to the isles of the blessed, the +other to Tartarus. And Rhadamanthus shall judge those from Asia, and +Æacus those from Europe. But to Minos I will give the prerogative of +deciding in case any doubt occurs to the two others, in order that the +judgment respecting the path men are to take may be as just as possible. + +----- + +Footnote 83: + + Iliad, xv. 187. + +----- + +These are the things, Callicles, which I have heard, and believe to be +true: and from these statements I infer the following results. Death, as +it appears to me, is nothing else than the separation of two things, the +soul and the body, from each other. But when they are separated from +each other, each of them possesses pretty much the same habit that the +man had when alive, the body its own nature, culture and affections, all +distinct. 169. So that if any one’s body, while living, was large by +nature, or food, or both, his corpse when he is dead is also large; and +if corpulent, his corpse is corpulent when he is dead; and so with +respect to other things. And if again he took pains to make his hair +grow long, his corpse also has long hair. Again, if any one has been +well whipped, and while living had scars in his body, the vestiges of +blows, either from scourges or other wounds, his dead body also is seen +to retain the same marks. And if the limbs of any one were broken or +distorted while he lived, these same defects are distinct when he is +dead. In a word, of whatever character any one has made his body to be +while living, such will it distinctly be, entirely or for the most part, +for a certain time after he is dead. The same thing too, Callicles, +appears to me to happen with respect to the soul; all things are +distinctly manifest in the soul after it is divested of body, as well +its natural disposition, as the affections which the man has acquired in +his soul, from his various pursuits. 170. When, therefore, they come to +the judge, those from Asia to Rhadamanthus, Rhadamanthus, having made +them stand before him, examines the soul of each, not knowing whose it +is, but often meeting with the soul of the great king, or of some other +king or potentate, he sees nothing sound in the soul, but finds it +thoroughly marked with scourges and full of scars, through perjuries and +injustice, which the actions of each has imprinted on his soul, and _he +finds_ all things distorted through falsehood and arrogance, and nothing +upright, in consequence of its having been nurtured without truth; he +also sees the soul full of disproportion and baseness through power, +luxury, wantonness and intemperate conduct. On seeing it he forthwith +sends it ignominiously to prison, where on its arrival it will undergo +the punishment it deserves. But it is proper that every one who is +punished, if he is rightly punished by another, should either become +better, and be benefited by it, or should be an example to others, that +they, beholding his sufferings, may be made better through fear. 171. +But those that are benefited, at the same time that they suffer +punishment both from gods and men, are such as have been guilty of +curable offences; their benefit however both here and in Hades, accrues +to them through means of pain and torments; for it is not possible to be +freed from injustice in any other way. But those who have committed the +most extreme injustice, and have become incurable through such crimes, +serve as examples to others, and these are not benefited at all, as +being incurable, but others are benefited by beholding them suffering +for ever the greatest, most bitter, and most dreadful punishments for +their sins, being suspended in the prison of Hades altogether as +examples, a spectacle and warning to the unjust men who are constantly +arriving. Of these, I say, Archelaus will be one, if Polus says true, +and every other tyrant that resembles him. I think too, that the most of +these examples will consist of tyrants, kings, and potentates, and such +as have governed the affairs of cities; for these through their power +commit the greatest and most impious crimes. 172. Homer[84] also bears +witness to this; for he makes those to be kings and potentates, who are +punished for ever in Hades, Tantalus, Sisyphus and Tityus; but +Thersites, or any other private man who was depraved, no one has +represented as suffering great punishments as if incurable; for I think +it was not in his power to commit them; on which account he was more +happy than those who had the power. But, Callicles, the most wicked men +are amongst the powerful; nothing however hinders but that good men may +be found amongst them; and when they are found they deserve the highest +admiration: for it is a difficult thing, Callicles, and deserves high +praise, when one who has great power of acting unjustly, passes through +life justly. There are however a few men of this kind; for they have +existed both here and elsewhere, and I think there will be hereafter +good and upright men, endued with the virtue of administering justly +whatever is committed to their charge. There has been one who is very +celebrated among all the Greeks, Aristides, son of Lysimachus. But, my +excellent friend, the generality of potentates prove wicked. 173. As I +said, then, when Rhadamanthus has got any such person in his power, he +knows nothing else about him, neither who he is, nor who are his +parents, but only that he is wicked; and on discerning this, he sends +him away to Tartarus, signifying at the same time whether he appears to +be curable or incurable; but he arriving thither suffers according to +his deserts. Sometimes, Rhadamanthus beholding another soul that has +passed through life piously and with truth, whether it be of some +private man, or any other, but I say, Callicles, especially of a +philosopher, who has attended to his own affairs, and has not made +himself very busy during life, he is delighted, and sends it to the +isles of the blessed. Æacus too, does the very same things. And each of +them passes sentence, holding a rod in his hand. But Minos sits apart +looking on, and is the only one that has a golden sceptre, as the +Ulysses of Homer[85] says he saw him; “bearing a golden sceptre, and +administering justice to the dead.” I therefore, Callicles, am persuaded +by these accounts, and consider how I may exhibit my soul before the +judge in the most healthy condition. Wherefore, disregarding the honours +that most men value, and looking to the truth, I shall endeavour in +reality to live as virtuously as I can, and when I die, to die so. 174. +And I invite all other men, to the utmost of my power, and you too I in +turn invite to this life and this contest, which I affirm surpasses all +contests here, and I upbraid you because you will not be able to assist +yourself, when you will have to undergo the sentence and judgment which +I have just now mentioned; but when you shall come before the judge, the +son of Ægina, and when he shall seize you and bring you before his +tribunal, you will there gape and become dizzy, no less than I should +here, and perhaps some one will strike you ignominiously on the face, +and treat you with every species of contumely. + +----- + +Footnote 84: + + Odyss. xi. 575, &c. + +Footnote 85: + + Odyss. xi. 568. + +----- + +Perhaps, however, these things appear to you to be like an old woman’s +fable, and you accordingly despise them. And it would not be at all +wonderful that we should despise them, if on investigation we could find +any thing better and more true than them. But now you see that you +three, who are the wisest of the Greeks of this day, you, Polus, and +Gorgias, are unable to prove that we ought to live any other life than +such as appears to be advantageous hereafter, but among so many +arguments, while others have been refuted, this alone remains unshaken, +that we ought to beware of committing injustice rather than of being +injured, and that above all a man ought to study not to appear good, but +to be so, both privately and publicly: and that if any one is in any +respect wicked, he should be punished, and that this is the next good to +the being just, to become so[86], and to submit to the punishment one +deserves; and that all flattery, whether of one’s-self or others, +whether of few or many, must be avoided; and that rhetoric, and every +other action, is always to be employed with a view to what is just. + +175. Be persuaded by me then, and follow me to that place, by going to +which you will be happy, both living and after you are dead, as your own +argument proves. And suffer any one to despise you as senseless, and to +treat you with contumely, if he pleases, and by Jupiter, do you +cheerfully let him strike that ignominious blow; for you will suffer +nothing dreadful, if you are in reality upright and good, and devoted to +the practice of virtue. And when we have thus exercised ourselves in +common, we will then, if it should appear desirable, apply ourselves to +politics, or we will deliberate on whatever we shall think desirable, +being better qualified to deliberate than we now are. For it is +disgraceful, being in the condition in which we appear to be at present, +to pride ourselves, like youths, as if we were something, who yet never +retain the same opinion on the same subjects, and these of the greatest +moment; to such a pitch of ignorance have we reached! Let us use as our +guide, then, the reasoning that has now been made clear to us, which +teaches us, that this is the best mode of life, to live and to die in +the exercise of justice and the other virtues. This, then, let us +follow, and invite others to do the same, not that, to which you +confidently invited me: for it is of no value, Callicles. + +----- + +Footnote 86: + + Τὸ γίγνεσθαι καὶ κολαζόμενον διδόναι δίκην, Stallbaum translates “to + become just by undergoing the punishment one deserves;” I cannot + extract this meaning from the passage. + +----- + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PROTAGORAS. + + +In this dialogue Socrates relates to a friend, whose name is not given, +a discussion which he had just had with Protagoras the sophist, of +Abdera. + +Hippocrates, a young Athenian, had roused Socrates very early in the +morning and entreated him to accompany him on a visit to Protagoras, who +was then at Athens staying at the house of Callias, and whose pupil he +was anxious to become. On arriving there, they find the sophist attended +by a crowd of admirers, and moreover Hippias of Elis and Prodicus of +Ceos, surrounded by their respective followers[87]. + +----- + +Footnote 87: + + § 1-18. + +----- + +After Socrates had made known the object of his visit to Protagoras, +Callias proposes that the whole party should sit down and listen to the +conversation. When all are seated, Socrates repeats to Protagoras, that +Hippocrates is desirous of becoming his pupil, and wishes to know what +advantage he may expect to derive from associating with him. Protagoras +tells him that from the very first day of their intercourse he will +become a better man than he was before, and will daily make further +progress. But, asks Socrates, in what will he become better, and in what +make further progress? In the management of his domestic and public +affairs, that is to say, in the political art. To this Socrates objects +that the general opinion is that political virtue cannot be taught, and +that, whereas with respect to arts and sciences it was usual only to +consult persons who had made them their study and were skilled in them, +in affairs of state every one, of whatever condition, was at liberty to +give his opinion; he therefore begs Protagoras to prove that virtue can +be taught[88]. To this end Protagoras relates a fable in which he +explains how the capacity of becoming virtuous was imparted by Jupiter +to mankind; and then argues that as men are punished for injustice, +impiety, and the like, it follows that they must think that these +virtues ought to be possessed and may be acquired by all men, for that +they would not punish them for a mere defect of mind any more than of +body, if it were natural and not attributable to the fault of the +individual[89]. + +----- + +Footnote 88: + + § 19-29. + +----- + +Socrates having complimented him on his eloquence, according to his +usual method, begs that he will answer his questions briefly; and then +expresses his surprise at having heard Protagoras speak of justice, +temperance, holiness, and the like, as if they were collectively virtue. +He therefore wishes to know whether virtue is one thing, and justice, +temperance and holiness, parts of it, or whether they are all names of +one and the same thing. Protagoras answers that virtue is one thing, and +these several qualities parts of it. Are they then parts like the parts +of a face, the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, or like the parts of gold, +which do not differ from each other? Like the former. In that case +holiness and justice must be different from each other, which, as +Protagoras is at length compelled, though unwillingly, to admit, is +absurd[90]. + +Again, each several thing has only one contrary; for instance, strength +is contrary to weakness, swiftness to slowness, ugliness to beauty, evil +to good; in the same way each virtue must have its contrary. This being +granted, Protagoras is led to admit that folly is contrary to +temperance, and also to wisdom; but in that case wisdom and temperance +cannot be different from each other, as was before stated, but must be +one and the same thing. A similar course of enquiry is instituted by +Socrates, in order to shew that justice and prudence likewise are one +and the same, but the impatience of Protagoras at finding himself driven +to repeated admissions which contradict the theory with which he set +out, interrupts the discussion; at length, however, the breach is +repaired by the interference of the company, and it is agreed that each +shall question the other in turn. Protagoras begins by getting Socrates +to allow that an ode of Simonides is beautiful, but that it cannot be +beautiful if the poet contradicts himself. He then shews that in one +part of the ode it is said “that to become a good man is difficult,” and +in another part, “that he is not pleased with the saying of Pittacus, +where he says that it is difficult to continue to be good.” Socrates, +however, justifies the opinion he had expressed by a minute and subtle +examination of the object the poet had in view in composing the ode[91]. + +----- + +Footnote 89: + + § 30-39. + +Footnote 90: + + § 40-56 + +Footnote 91: + + § 57-90. + +----- + +Having concluded his criticism of the ode, Socrates is anxious to bring +back the discussion to the original subject, and having with difficulty +prevailed on Protagoras to consent to this, repeats the question with +which they set out, which was to this effect: whether wisdom, +temperance, courage, justice, and holiness are five parts of virtue, +differing from each other as the parts of the face do? Protagoras +answers that they all are parts of virtue, four of them very like each +other, but the fifth, courage, very different from all the rest. But +this distinction Socrates overthrows as follows: you admit that the +courageous are daring; but they who, like divers, are bold in a matter +in which they are skilled are commended as courageous, whereas they who +are unskilled and yet bold are not courageous but mad; so that according +to this reasoning wisdom and courage are the same. Protagoras, however, +tries to avoid this conclusion by saying that Socrates has mis-stated +his former admission, for that he allowed only that the courageous are +bold, not that the bold are courageous. But Socrates, with a view more +certainly to convict his opponent of error, changes his ground, and asks +whether all pleasant things are good, and all painful things evil? +Protagoras is in doubt what answer to give; Socrates, therefore, shews +that pleasure is in itself a good, but that men mistake as to what +things are pleasant; for knowledge alone ought to govern man, and if a +man knows good and evil he will never be overcome by any thing so as to +do any thing else but what knowledge bids him. Yet there are some who +say that they are overcome by pleasure or pain; but what is it to be +overcome by pleasure? nothing else than to choose present pleasure which +will result in greater evil; in other words, to embrace a greater evil +rather than a greater good; they, therefore, who are overcome by +pleasure are so from ignorance[92]. + +Having established this, Socrates recurs to the statement of Protagoras, +that courage differs from the other parts of virtue, because the most +unholy, most unjust, most intemperate, and most ignorant men, are +sometimes most courageous. It is admitted that no one willingly exposes +himself to things that he believes to be evil; a brave man, therefore, +incurs dangers which he knows to be honourable and good, and therefore +pleasant, and is influenced by no base fear, nor inspired with base +confidence; but the coward, on the contrary, is influenced by base fear +and inspired by base confidence; he errs, therefore, through ignorance +and want of knowledge, whence it follows that courage is contained in +knowledge. The result of the whole is that virtue, since it consists in +knowledge, can be taught, and so it turns out that Socrates, who began +by maintaining that it could not be taught, has been arguing all along +that it can, and Protagoras, who asserted that it could be taught, has +been arguing that it cannot. + +----- + +Footnote 92: + + § 91-118. + +----- + + + + + PROTAGORAS, + + OR + + THE SOPHISTS. + + A FRIEND, SOCRATES, HIPPOCRATES, PROTAGORAS, ALCIBIADES, + CALLIAS, CRITIAS, PRODICUS, AND HIPPIAS. + + ------- + + +_Fr._ Whence come you, Socrates? can there be any doubt but that it is +from a chase after the beauty of Alcibiades? and to me, indeed, when I +saw him lately, the man appeared still beautiful, though between +ourselves, Socrates, he is a man and is now getting a pretty thick +beard. + +_Socr._ But what of that? Do you not approve of Homer[93], then, who +says, that the most graceful age is that of a youth with his first +beard, which is now the age of Alcibiades? + +----- + +Footnote 93: + + Odyss. x. 279. + +----- + +_Fr._ What have we to do with that now? Do you come from him? And how is +the youth disposed towards you? + +_Socr._ Very well, I think, and not least so to-day; for he has said +many things in my favour, assisting me, and indeed I have just now come +from him. However, I have something strange to tell you: for though he +was present I paid no attention to him, and even frequently forgot him. + +2. _Fr._ But what great affair can have happened between you and him? +for surely you have not met with any one else more beautiful, in this +city at least? + +_Socr._ By far. + +_Fr._ What say you? A citizen, or a stranger? + +_Socr._ A stranger. + +_Fr._ From whence? + +_Socr._ From Abdera. + +_Fr._ And did this stranger appear to you so beautiful that you thought +him more beautiful than the son of Clinias? + +_Socr._ But how, my dear friend, can the wisest be thought otherwise +than more beautiful? + +_Fr._ Have you come then, Socrates, from meeting one of our wise men? + +_Socr._ Yes, and from the wisest of the present day, if you think +Protagoras is the wisest. + +_Fr._ Ha! What say you? Is Protagoras here? + +_Socr._ And has been, these three days. + +_Fr._ And are you just now come from his company? + +_Socr._ I have, and from a very long conversation with him. + +3. _Fr._ Why then should you not relate this conversation to us, unless +something hinders you, having made this boy rise up, and seating +yourself in his place? + +_Socr._ Certainly; and I shall be obliged to you if you will listen to +me. + +_Fr._ And we to you, if you will tell us. + +_Socr._ The obligation will be mutual. Listen then. This morning, while +it was yet dark, Hippocrates, son of Apollodorus and brother of Phason, +knocked very hard at my gate with his stick, and as soon as it was +opened to him he came in, in great haste, and calling out with a loud +voice, said, “Socrates, are you awake or asleep?” And I, knowing his +voice, said, “Hippocrates is here: do you bring any news?” + +“None,” he replied, “but what is good.” + +“You say well,” said I, “but what is it? and why have you come so +early?” + +“Protagoras is come,” said he, standing by my side. + +4. “He came the day before yesterday,” said I, “and have you only just +heard of it?” + +“By the gods,” he replied, “only yesterday evening,” and at the same +time feeling about my bed, he sat down at my feet, and said, “Yesterday +evening, very late, on my return from the village of Œnoe, for my slave +Satyrus ran away, and I was purposing to tell you that I was going in +pursuit of him, but something else put it out of my head; but when I had +returned, and we had supped, and were going to bed, then my brother told +me that Protagoras was arrived, and my first thought was to come +immediately to you, but afterwards it appeared to me too late at night. +As soon, however, as sleep had refreshed me after my fatigue, I +immediately arose and came here.” + +5. And I, knowing his earnestness and excitability, said, “What is this +to you? Does Protagoras do you any harm?” + +And he, laughing, said, “By the gods, Socrates, he does, because he +alone is wise, and does not make me so.” + +“But, by Jupiter,” said I, “if you give him money and persuade him, he +will make you wise too.” + +“Would that, O Jupiter and ye gods,” he said, “it depended on that, for +I would spare nothing of my own or of my friend’s property either, and I +have now come to you for this very purpose, that you may speak to him in +my behalf. For besides that I am too young, I have never yet seen +Protagoras or heard him speak, for I was but a boy when he came here +before. However, Socrates, all men praise him, and say that he is the +wisest man to speak. But why do we not go to him that we may find him +within? He is staying, as I have heard, with Callias son of Hipponicus. +Let us go then.” + +6. I said to him: “We will not go there yet my friend, it is too early; +but let us rise up and go into our court, and spend the time there +walking about, until it is light; then we will go. For Protagoras stays +mostly within; therefore cheer up, we shall probably find him at home.” + +After this we rose and walked about the court, and I in order to try the +strength of Hippocrates, examined and questioned him; “Tell me,” said I, +“Hippocrates, you are now purposing to go to Protagoras, and to pay him +money as a fee for teaching you something; to what kind of person do you +think you are going, and what do you expect to become? Just as if you +thought of going to your own namesake, Hippocrates of Cos, one of the +Asclepiads, and were to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if any +one asked you, ‘Tell me, Hippocrates, you are about to pay a fee to +Hippocrates, in what capacity?’ what should you answer?” + +“I should say,” he replied, “in that of a physician.” + +“And what do you expect to become?” “A physician,” said he. + +“But if you thought of going to Polycletus the Argive, or Phidias the +Athenian, and were to pay them a fee for teaching you, if any one asked +you, ‘In what capacity do you intend to pay this money to Polycletus and +Phidias?’ what should you answer?” + +“I should say, in that of statuaries.” + +“And what do you expect to become yourself?” + +“Clearly, a statuary.” + +“Be it so,” said I. “But we are now going, you and I, to Protagoras, and +we are prepared to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if our money +is sufficient for the purpose, and we can persuade him by it; but if +not, we mean to borrow from our friends. If, then, some one seeing us +thus earnestly bent on this, should ask; ‘Tell me, Socrates and +Hippocrates, in what capacity do you intend to pay money to Protagoras?’ +what answer should we give him? What other name do we hear given to +Protagoras, as that of statuary is given to Phidias, and that of poet to +Homer? What name of this kind do we hear given to Protagoras?” + +“They call him a sophist, Socrates,” he replied. + +“As to a sophist, then, we are going to pay him money?” + +“Assuredly.” + +8. “If, then, any one should ask you this further question, ‘What do you +expect to become yourself by going to Protagoras?’” + +Upon which he said, blushing, (for the day was now beginning to dawn, so +that I could see him,) “If this case is at all like the former, it is +evident that I expect to become a sophist.” + +“But, by the gods,” said I, “should you not be ashamed to shew yourself +as a sophist before the Greeks?” + +“By Jupiter, I should, Socrates, if I must say what I think.” + +“Do you suppose, then, Hippocrates, that the instruction of Protagoras +will not be of this kind, but such as you received from a grammarian, a +musician, or a teacher of gymnastics? for you were not instructed in +each of these for the sake of the art, meaning to become a professor +yourself, but by way of accomplishment, as is proper for a private +person and a freeman.” + +“Just so,” he said, “such rather appears to me to be the instruction +given by Protagoras.” + +“Do you know, then,” said I, “what you are about to do, or does it +escape you?” + +“About what?” + +“That you are about to entrust your soul to the care of a man, who, as +you admit, is a sophist; and yet I should wonder if you know what a +sophist is. Though, if you are ignorant of this, neither do you know to +what you are confiding your soul, whether to a good or a bad thing.” + +“But I think I know,” he said. + +“Tell me, then, what you think a sophist is.” + +“I think,” said he, “as the name imports, that he is one learned in +wisdom.” + +“This, however,” I replied, “may be said of painters and architects, +that they too are learned in wisdom. And if any one should ask us in +what wisdom painters are learned, we should surely say to him, in that +which relates to the production of pictures, and so on with respect to +the rest. But if any one should ask this question, ‘In what wisdom is a +sophist learned?’ what answer should we give him? of what production is +he a master?” + +“What else should we say he is, Socrates, but a master of the art that +makes men able speakers?” + +10. “Perhaps,” said I, “we should say truly, yet not sufficiently. For +this answer requires from us another question, about what a sophist +makes men able speakers; just as the musician, surely, makes a man speak +ably on the subject in which he is learned, on music. Is it not so?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well; on what subject, then, does a sophist make a man an able speaker? +clearly on that in which he is learned?” + +“Apparently.” + +“What then is that in which the sophist is both learned himself and +makes his pupil learned?” + +“By Jupiter,” he replied, “I am unable to tell you.” + +11. After this I said, “What then? are you aware to what danger you are +going to expose your soul? if you had occasion to entrust your body to +some one, on the risk of its becoming healthy or diseased, should you +not consider very carefully whether you ought to entrust it or not, and +would you not summon your friends and relations to a consultation, and +deliberate many days? But that which you esteem far more than the body, +your soul, and on which your all depends, either to fare well or ill, +according as it becomes healthy or diseased, concerning this do you +neither communicate with your father nor your brother, nor with any of +us your friends, whether or not you should commit your soul to this +stranger who has arrived here, but having heard of his arrival yesterday +evening, as you say, do you come before daybreak, and take no thought or +advice on the matter, whether it is proper or not to entrust yourself to +him, but are ready to spend both your own and your friends’ property, as +having already resolved that you must in any event associate with +Protagoras, whom you neither know, as you admit, nor have ever spoken +to; but you call him a sophist, though what a sophist is, to whom you +are about to entrust yourself, you are evidently ignorant?” + +12. And he having heard me, replied, “It seems so, Socrates, from what +you say.” + +“Is not a sophist, then, Hippocrates, a kind of merchant or retailer of +commodities by which the soul is nourished? To me, at least, he appears +to be so.” + +“But by what is the soul nourished, Socrates?” + +“By learning,” I replied. “But we must take care, my friend, that the +sophist does not deceive us by praising what he sells, as those others +do with respect to nutriment for the body, the merchant and the +retailer. For neither do they themselves know which of the commodities +in which they traffic are good or bad for the body, though they praise +all that they sell, nor do those who buy from them, unless one happens +to be a professor of gymnastics or a physician. In like manner, those +who hawk about learning through cities, and who sell and retail it to +every one that desires it, praise all that they sell, though perhaps +some of these too, my excellent friend, may be ignorant which of the +things they sell is good or bad for the soul; and this also may be the +case with those that buy from them, unless some one happen to be skilled +in the medicine of the soul. 13. If then you happen to know which of +these is good or bad, you may safely buy learning from Protagoras or any +one else; but if not, beware my good friend, that you do not hazard and +imperil that which is most precious. For there is much greater danger in +the purchase of learning than in that of food. For when one has +purchased meat and drink from a retailer or merchant one may take them +away in different vessels, and, before receiving them into one’s body by +eating or drinking, one may set them down at home, and calling in some +person who understands the matter, consult him as to what may be eaten +and drunk, and what not, and how much and when; so that in this purchase +there is no great danger. But it is not possible to carry away learning +in a different vessel; but it is necessary, when one has paid the price, +having received instruction in the soul itself and learnt it, to depart +either injured or benefited. 14. Let us therefore consider these things +with persons older than we are: for we are too young to decide on a +matter of such importance. Now however, since we have made up our minds, +let us go and hear the man, and after we have heard him, let us +communicate with others. For not only is Protagoras there, but Hippias +of Elis, and I think also Prodicus of Ceos, and many other wise men.” + +This resolution taken, we set out. When we arrived at the front door, we +stopped and discussed a question that had fallen out between us on the +way; in order therefore that it might not be left unfinished, but that +we might bring it to a conclusion and then enter the house, we stood at +the front door talking together until we had agreed with each other. 15. +Now it appears to me that the porter, who was a eunuch, overheard us, +and he seems from the number of sophists to be out of humour with all +who come to the house. For when we had knocked at the door, he having +opened it and seeing us, said, “Ha, more sophists: he is not at +leisure.” And at the same time with both his hands, he slammed to the +door with all his might. Thereupon we knocked again, and he answering +with the door shut, said, “Sirs, did not you hear me say that he is not +at leisure?” “But, my good friend,” said I, “we are not come to Callias, +nor are we sophists; cheer up then: for we are come wanting to see +Protagoras: so announce us.” At length, with difficulty the fellow +opened the door to us. 16. When we entered, we found Protagoras walking +up and down in the portico, and in a line with him, there walked on one +side Callias son of Hipponicus, and his brother by the mother’s side, +Paralus son of Pericles, and Charmides son of Glaucon, and on the other +side Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, and Philippides son of +Philomelus, and Antimœrus of Mende, who is the most famous of all the +pupils of Protagoras, and who is learning professionally, meaning to +become a sophist himself. Behind these there followed others who +listened to what was said, the greater part appeared to be strangers, +whom Protagoras brings with him from the several cities through which he +passes, bewitching them by his voice like Orpheus, and they follow his +voice, bewitched. Some of our countrymen also were in the band. 17. I +was particularly pleased in observing this band, how well they took care +never to be in the way of Protagoras by getting before him, but whenever +he and those with him turned round, these listeners, in a good and +regular manner, opened to the right and left, and wheeling round, always +ranged themselves behind him in admirable order. + +“After him I perceived,” as Homer[94] says, Hippias of Elis sitting on a +high seat in the opposite side of the portico, and round him on benches +sat Eryximachus, son of Acumenus, Phædrus of Myrrhine, Andron son of +Androtion, and some strangers partly his fellow citizens and others. +They appeared to be asking Hippias questions on physics and astronomy; +but he, sitting on a high seat, gave answers to each of them and +resolved their questions. 18. “Moreover I saw Tantalus[95];” for +Prodicus of Ceos had lately arrived, but he was in a building which +Hipponicus had before used as a store-room, but now, owing to the +multitude of guests, Callias had emptied it and turned it into a lodging +for strangers. Now Prodicus was still in bed wrapt up in a great number +of skins and bed-clothes, as it appeared; and there were seated near him +on sofas Pausanias of Ceramis, and with Pausanias a youth, quite a lad, +as I thought of an excellent disposition, and of a very beautiful form. +I thought I heard them call him Agathon, and I should not wonder if he +was Pausanias’s favourite. This lad then was there, and the two +Adimantuses, the one the son of Cepis, and the other of Leucolophides, +and some others. But I was not able to learn from the outside what they +were talking about, although I was exceedingly anxious to hear Prodicus; +for he appears to me to be a very wise, nay a divine man, but owing to +the harshness of his voice a kind of humming in the room made what he +said indistinct. + +----- + +Footnote 94: + + Odyss. xi. 601. + +Footnote 95: + + Homer Odyss. xi. 582. + +----- + +19. We had just entered, and immediately after us there came in +Alcibiades, the beautiful as you say, and as I am persuaded he is, and +Critias, son of Callæschrus. + +After we had entered, then, and waited a little while and observed what +was going on, we went up to Protagoras, and I said, “Protagoras, I and +Hippocrates here have come to see you.” + +“Do you wish to speak with me alone,” he said, “or in the presence of +the rest?” + +“To us,” I replied, “it makes no difference, but when you have heard on +what account we have come, you can determine yourself.” + +“What is it then,” said he, “that you are come for?” + +“Hippocrates here is a native of this country, son of Apollodorus, of a +great and wealthy family; in natural ability he seems to be a match for +the youth of his age; and he appears to me to be desirous of becoming a +person of note in the city; and he thinks that he shall most readily +become so, if he associates with you. Do you then determine, whether we +ought to converse apart with you on this subject, or in the presence of +others.” + +20. “You very properly take precautions on my behalf, Socrates,” he +replied. “For a stranger who visits powerful cities, and persuades the +most distinguished of the youth in them to quit the society of others, +both kindred and not kindred, both old and young, and associate with +him, in the expectation of being improved by his society, ought in doing +this to be very cautious, for things of this kind are attended with no +slight jealousies and enmities, and even plots. For my part, I say that +the art of a sophist is ancient, but the men who professed it in ancient +times, fearing the odium attached to it, sought to conceal it, and +veiled it over, some under the garb of poetry, as Homer, Hesiod, and +Simonides, and others under that of the mysteries and prophecies, such +as Orpheus and Musæus, and their followers, and some I perceive have +veiled it under the gymnastic art, as Iccus of Tarentum, and one of the +present day who is a sophist, inferior to none, Herodicus of Selymbria, +who was originally of Megara. But your own Agathocles, who was a great +sophist, concealed it under the garb of music, as did Pythoclides of +Ceos, and many others. 21. All these, as I say, through fear of +jealousies, employed these arts as veils. I, however, in this respect, +do not agree with any of them; for I think that they did not by any +means effect the object they wished; for they did not escape the +observation of men of authority in the cities, on whose account they had +recourse to these disguises, for the multitude perceive scarcely any +thing at all, but whatever the former give out, that they sing. Now to +try to escape and not to be able to do so, but to be detected, both +shews great folly in the attempt, and necessarily makes men much more +hostile: for they think that such a man is moreover an impostor. 22. I +therefore have taken a path quite contrary to them, and I acknowledge +that I am a sophist and teach men, and I think that this precaution is +better than the other, to confess rather than to deny: I have also +planned other precautions besides this; so that by God’s help I have +suffered no harm through confessing that I am a sophist; though I have +exercised this art now many years; for my age is very great, and there +is not one amongst you all whose father I am not old enough to be. So +that it will be by far the most agreeable to me, if you are willing, to +discuss this matter in the presence of all who are in the house.” + +I then, for I suspected that he wished to shew and make a display of +himself before Prodicus and Hippias, that we had come as his admirers— +23. “Why then,” said I, “do we not summon Prodicus and Hippias, and +their party, to listen to us?” + +“By all means,” said Protagoras. + +Callias therefore said, “Would you wish us to prepare seats, that you +may sit down and converse?” It was agreed that this should be done. And +we all of us, in great delight, as being about to listen to wise men, +laid hold of the stools, and benches, and couches, and placed them in +order near Hippias; for the stools were there already; meanwhile Callias +and Alcibiades brought Prodicus and his party with them, having made him +get out of bed. + +When, therefore, we were all seated, “Now Socrates,” said Protagoras, +“since they are all here, you may repeat what you just now mentioned to +me respecting this youth.” + +24. And I said, “My commencement, Protagoras, is the same as it was just +now, namely, with what design we came to you. Hippocrates here is very +desirous of your society, and says he shall be glad to hear what +advantage he may expect to derive from associating with you. Such is our +errand.” + +Thereupon Protagoras said in reply, “Young man, the advantage which you +will derive from associating with me is this, that on the very day of +your being with me you will go home a better man than you were before, +and the same on the second day, and on each succeeding day you will make +some further progress.” + +25. And I, on hearing this, said, “Protagoras, this is nothing wonderful +that you say, but very natural, since you too, old and wise as you are, +would become better, if any one should teach you what you do not happen +to know. But that is not what we require, but just as if Hippocrates +here should on the instant change his mind, and desire to associate with +the youth who has lately arrived, Zeuxippus of Heraclea, and coming to +him as he now does to you, should be told by him the very same things +that he has been by you, that by associating with him he would every day +become better, and make further progress; if he should further ask him, +‘In what do you mean I shall become better, and in what make further +progress?’ Zeuxippus would answer him, ‘In the art of painting.’ And if +he were to attach himself to Orthagoras of Thebes, and being told by him +the very same things that he has been by you, should further ask him in +what he would daily become better by associating with him, he would +reply, ‘In flute-playing.’ In like manner do you also reply to the +youth, and to me who ask for him: Hippocrates here, by associating with +Protagoras, on the very day in which he associates will go home a better +man, and on each succeeding day will in like manner make further +progress; in what Protagoras, and with respect to what?” + +26. Protagoras, on hearing me thus speak, said, “You put the question +fairly, Socrates, and I delight in answering those who put their +questions well. For Hippocrates, if he comes to me, will not be treated +as he would be treated if he were to attach himself to any other of the +sophists. For others injure youth; for when they have shewn an aversion +to the arts they drag them back again and force them to study the arts +by teaching them arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music; and at the +same time he looked aside at Hippias: but if he comes to me, he will not +learn anything else than that for which he came. The instruction that he +will receive is this, the method of consulting well about his domestic +affairs, in what way he may best govern his own house, and with respect +to public affairs, how he may be best able to act and speak on affairs +of state.” + +27. “Do I follow your meaning?” I replied, “for you appear to me to mean +the political art, and to promise to make men good citizens.” + +“That,” said he, “Socrates, is the very profession that I do make.” + +“What an admirable skill you possess,” said I, “if you really do possess +it; for I will say nothing else to you but what I think. For I imagined, +Protagoras, that this could not be taught, yet since you say so, I know +not how to disbelieve you. It is right, however, that I should tell you +why I think it cannot be taught, nor acquired by men from men. For I, as +well as the other Greeks, say that the Athenians are wise. I see, then, +when we are met in the assembly, and when it is necessary for the city +to settle any thing respecting architecture, that the architects are +sent for and consulted about the buildings, and when respecting +ship-building, ship-builders; and so with all other things which they +think can be taught and learnt. But should any one else, whom they think +is not an artist, attempt to give them advice, even though he may be +very honourable, and rich and noble, they pay no more attention to him +on this account, but laugh at him and make an uproar, until either he of +his own accord desists from speaking, through being hooted down, or the +archers drag him away or remove him by order of the prytanes. 28. Thus +they proceed with respect to matters which they think pertain to art. +But when it is necessary to consult on any matter which relates to the +government of the city, any one rises up and gives his advice on such +subjects, whether he be a builder, a brazier, a shoemaker, a merchant, a +ship’s captain, rich, poor, noble or ignoble, and no one objects to +them, as to the others, that without having received any instruction, or +had any preceptor, they yet attempt to give advice; for it is clear that +they think this cannot be taught. And not only are the public in general +of this opinion, but privately, the wisest and best of our citizens are +unable to impart to others the excellence which they possess: for +Pericles, the father of these youths, as far as depended on masters, had +them educated liberally and well; but in those things in which he is +wise, he neither instructs them himself, nor entrusts them to any one +else to be instructed; but they, roaming about, feed as it were without +restraint, if by chance they may of themselves light on virtue. 29. If +you will too, this very same Pericles, being guardian to Clinias the +younger brother of this Alcibiades, and fearing lest he might be +corrupted by Alcibiades, separated him from him and sent him to be +educated by Ariphron; however, before six months had elapsed, Ariphron, +being unable to do any thing with him, returned him to Pericles. I could +also mention very many others to you, who being good themselves, have +never made any one else better, either of their own kindred or others. I +therefore, Protagoras, looking to these things, think that virtue cannot +be taught. When, however, I hear you saying what you do, I waver, and am +of opinion that there is something in what you say, because I think that +you are a man of great experience, and that you have learnt many things +and discovered some yourself. If, therefore, you can prove to us, more +clearly, that virtue can be taught, do not grudge doing so, but prove +it.” + +“Indeed, Socrates,” he said, “I shall not grudge it. But whether shall I +prove it by relating a fable to you, as an older to younger men, or +shall I discuss it by way of argument?” + +Thereupon many of those who sat with him, answered, that he might +explain it in any way he pleased. “It appears to me, then,” said he, +“more agreeable to relate a fable to you. + +30. “There was once a time, when gods were, but mortal races were not. +But when also their destined time of creation came, the gods fashioned +them within the earth, composing them of earth and fire, and such things +as are mingled with fire and earth. And when they were about to bring +them into light, they commanded Prometheus and Epimetheus to adorn them +and to distribute to each such faculties as were proper for them. But +Epimetheus besought Prometheus that he might make this distribution. +‘And,’ he said, ‘when I have made it, do you examine it.’ Having thus +persuaded him, he made the distribution. But in his distribution, to +some he assigned strength without swiftness, and the weaker he adorned +with swiftness; some he armed, but giving to others an unarmed nature, +he devised some other faculty for their security: for to such of them as +he clad with littleness, he assigned wings to fly with, or a +subterranean abode; but such as he increased in magnitude he preserved +by this very means; and thus he made the distribution, equalizing all +things; he adapted these contrivances taking care that no race should be +destroyed. + +31. “When he had supplied them with the means of avoiding mutual +destruction, he contrived means to defend them against the seasons, by +clothing them with thick hairs and solid skins, sufficient to keep off +cold and capable of averting heat, and so that, when they went to rest, +these very things might serve each of them as his proper and natural +bed; and under their feet he furnished some with hoofs, and some with +hairs and solid and bloodless skins. After that he provided different +food for different animals, for some, herbs from the earth, for others, +the fruit of trees, for others, roots; and to some he gave the flesh of +other animals as food: and to these he attached the property of +producing few offspring, but to those that are consumed by them, +fecundity, providing for the preservation of the race. However, as +Epimetheus was not very wise, he ignorantly exhausted all the faculties +at his disposal on irrational animals. 32. The human race, therefore, +still remained to him unadorned, and he was in doubt what to do. While +he is doubting, Prometheus comes to examine the distribution, and sees +other animals provided with every thing suitable for them, but man naked +and unshod, unbedded and unarmed. But now the destined day was at hand, +on which it was necessary that man should go forth from earth to light. +Prometheus, therefore, being in doubt what safety he can find for man, +steals the artificial wisdom of Vulcan and Minerva, together with fire, +for it was impossible that it could be acquired or used by any one +without fire, and accordingly he presents it to man. 33. Thus, then, man +became possessed of the wisdom pertaining to life, he had not, however, +political wisdom; for that was with Jupiter; and Prometheus was no +longer permitted to enter the citadel, the habitation of Jupiter; +moreover the guards of Jupiter were terrible; but he secretly enters the +common abode of Minerva and Vulcan, in which they practised their arts, +and having stolen the fiery art of Vulcan, and the other that belonged +to Minerva, he gives them to man, and from this man derives the means of +sustenance, but afterwards, as it is said, through Epimetheus, +punishment for the theft overtook Prometheus. + +34. “When, therefore, man had become partaker of a divine condition, +first of all through this relationship to deity, he alone of all animals +acknowledged gods, and set about building altars and statues of gods: +next, by art, he soon articulated sounds and words, and devised houses +and garments, and shoes and beds, and food from the earth. Thus provided +however, at first men lived dispersed; for cities were not: wherefore +they were destroyed by wild beasts, through being every where weaker +than them; and the mechanical art was indeed sufficient aid for their +support, but was inadequate to the war with wild beasts; for they did +not yet possess the political art, of which the military is a part. They +sought therefore to collect themselves together, and to preserve +themselves by building cities. When, however, they were thus collected, +they injured one another, from not possessing the political art; so +that, being again dispersed, they were destroyed. 35. Jupiter, +therefore, fearing for our race, lest it should entirely perish, sends +Hermes to carry shame and justice to men, that they might be ornaments +of cities, and bonds to cement friendship. Hermes, therefore, asked +Jupiter in what manner he was to give shame and justice to men. +‘Whether, as the arts have been distributed, so shall I distribute these +also? for they have been distributed thus: one man who possesses the +medicinal art is sufficient for many not skilled in it, and so with +other craftsmen. Shall I thus dispense shame and justice among men, or +distribute them to all?’ ‘To all,’ said Jupiter, ‘and let all partake of +them: for there would be no cities, if a few only were to partake of +them, as of other arts. Moreover enact a law in my name, that whosoever +is unable to partake of shame and justice shall be put to death as a +pest of a city.’ + +36. “Thus, then, Socrates, and for these reasons, as well others as the +Athenians, when a question arises about excellence in building, or any +other mechanical art, think that few only should give their advice; and +if any one, who is not of the number of the few, should offer to give +advice, they do not allow him, as you say; and properly, as I say: but +when they proceed to a consultation respecting political excellence, +which ought to depend entirely on justice and temperance, they very +properly allow every man to speak, because it is the duty of every one +to partake of this excellence, otherwise there can be no cities. This, +Socrates, is the cause of this fact. + +37. “And that you may not think that you are deceived, _when you are +told_ that in reality all men are of opinion that every one partakes of +justice, and of the other political excellences, take this additional +proof. For in other kinds of excellence, as you say, if any one asserts +that he is a good flute-player, or skilled in any other art, of which he +is ignorant, they either ridicule him, or are indignant, and his friends +go to him and admonish him as a madman; but in justice and other +political virtues, even though they know of any man that he is unjust, +yet if he himself tells the truth of himself in the presence of many +persons, what in the other case they considered prudence, to speak the +truth, in this case _they consider_ madness; and they say that all men +ought to say they are just, whether they are so or not, or that he is +mad who does not lay claim to justice, because it is necessary that +every one should, in some respect, partake of it, or no longer be a man. + +38. “I say these things to shew that they very properly permit every man +to give advice concerning this virtue, because they think that every one +partakes of it. But that men think that it exists not naturally or +spontaneously, but that it is taught and acquired by study, by +whomsoever it is acquired, this I will in the next place endeavour to +shew. For whatever evils men think others respectively have by nature or +fortune no one is angry with, nor admonishes, or teaches, or punishes +the possessors of them, in order to make them otherwise than they are, +but pity them. For instance, who would be so foolish as to attempt to do +any of these things to the deformed, or the little, or the weak? For +they know, I think, that these things, such as are beautiful and the +contraries, happen to men by nature and fortune: but such advantages as +they think result to men from study, practice, and instruction, if any +one does not possess them but their contrary evils, for these things +anger, and punishment, and admonition, are had recourse to: of these one +is injustice, and so is impiety, and in short, every thing that is +contrary to political virtue. Here, then, every man is angry with and +admonishes every other, clearly because he thinks it may be acquired by +study and instruction. 39. For if you will consider, Socrates, of what +avail it is to punish those who act unjustly, this very thing will teach +you that men think virtue is to be acquired. For no one punishes those +who act unjustly, merely attending to this and for this reason, that any +one has so acted, unless it be one who like a brute avenges himself +irrationally; but he who endeavours to punish with reason, does not +exact vengeance for the sake of past offence, (for what has been done he +cannot make undone,) but for the sake of the future, that neither this +man himself, nor any other who sees him punished, may again act +unjustly. And he who entertains such a thought must think that virtue +may be taught; he punishes certainly for the sake of deterring from +wickedness. 40. All, therefore, have this opinion who inflict +punishment, either privately or publicly. Now all other men, and +especially the Athenians, your fellow-citizens, inflict punishment on +and correct those who they think act unjustly; so that, according to +this reasoning, the Athenians also are among the number of those who +think that virtue may be acquired and taught. That your fellow-citizens, +therefore, very properly allow a brazier and a shoemaker to give advice +in political affairs, and that they think that virtue may be taught and +acquired, has been sufficiently demonstrated to you, Socrates, at least +as it appears to me. + +41. “There still, however, remains a doubt which you entertain +respecting those good men, why, in the world they have their sons +instructed in such things as depend on masters, and make them wise, but +in the virtue which they themselves possess do not make them better than +others. With respect to this, then, Socrates, I shall no longer speak to +you in fable, but argument. For consider the matter thus. Whether is +there some one thing or not, of which it is necessary all the citizens +should partake, if a city is to be? for in this or in no other way, the +doubt which you entertain is solved. For if there is, and if this one +thing is neither the art of a builder, nor of a brazier, nor of a +potter, but is justice, and temperance, and holiness, and in a word I +call it by one name, the virtue of a man; if this be the thing, of which +all must partake, and with which every man if he wishes to learn or do +any thing else, must _learn or_ do it, but not without this, or if one +who does not partake of it must be taught and punished, whether boy, or +man, or woman, till through being punished he becomes better, and he who +is not obedient, when punished or taught, is to be banished from cities, +or put to death as incurable; if this is the case, and if, +notwithstanding this, good men teach their children other things, but +not this, consider what strange people those good men are: 42. for we +have shewn that they think it may be taught, both privately and +publicly. But since it may be taught, and acquired by study, do they +teach their children other things, for which death is not imposed as a +penalty, if they do not know them; but where the penalty of death or +exile is imposed on their children, if they are not instructed or +exercised in virtue, and besides death, the confiscation of their +property, and in short the ruin of their families, _do you think that_ +they do not teach them these things nor bestow their whole care upon +them? We must think they do, Socrates. + +“Beginning from childhood they both teach and admonish them as long as +they live. For as soon as any one understands what is said, nurse, +mother, pedagogue, and the father himself, vie with each other in this, +how the boy may become as good as possible; in every word and deed +teaching and pointing out to him that this is just, and that unjust, +this is honourable and that base, this is holy and that unholy, and this +you must do and that you must not do. And if the boy obeys willingly, it +is well; but if not, like a tree twisted and bent they make him straight +by threats and blows. 43. After this they send him to masters, and give +them much more strict injunctions to attend to the children’s morals +than to their reading and music: and the masters do attend to this, and +when the boys have learnt their letters, and are able to understand what +is written, as before words spoken, they place before them on their +benches to read, and compel them to learn by heart the compositions of +good poets, in which there are many admonitions, and many details, and +praises, and encomiums, of good men of former times, in order that the +boy may imitate them through emulation, and strive to become such +himself. Again, the music-masters, in the same way, pay attention to +sobriety of behaviour, and take care that the boys commit no evil: +besides this, when they have learnt to play on the harp, they teach them +the compositions of other good poets, and those lyric, setting them to +music, and they compel rhythm and harmony to become familiar to the +boys’ souls, in order that they may become more gentle, and being +themselves more rhythmical and harmonious, they may be able both to +speak and act; for the whole life of man requires rhythm and harmony. +44. Moreover, besides this, they send them to a teacher of gymnastics, +that having their bodies in a better state, they may be subservient to +their well-regulated mind, and not be compelled to cowardice, through +bodily infirmity, either in war or other actions. And these things they +do who are most able; but the richest are the most able, and their sons +beginning to frequent masters at the earliest time of life leave them +the latest. And when they are set free from masters, the state still +further compels them to learn the laws, and to live by them as a +pattern, that they may not act at random after their own inclinations, +but exactly as writing masters having ruled lines with a pen for those +boys who have not yet learnt to write well, so give them the copy-book, +and compel them to write according to the direction of the lines, so the +state having prescribed laws which were the inventions of good and +ancient legislators, compels them both to govern and be governed +according to these, but whoso transgresses them, it punishes; and the +name given to this chastisement, both among you, and in many other +places, is correction, since punishment corrects. 45. So great therefore +being the attention paid to virtue, privately and publicly, do you +wonder and doubt, Socrates, whether virtue may be taught? There is no +need, however, to wonder, but much more if it could not be taught. + +“Why then are there many bad sons of good fathers? Learn again the +reason of this; for it is not at all wonderful, if what I have before +said is true, that, if a state is to subsist, no one must be unskilled +in this thing, virtue. For if what I say is the case, (and it assuredly +is), consider the matter by selecting any other study and subject of +instruction whatever. 46. For instance, suppose that a city could not +subsist unless we were all of us flute-players, each according to his +capacity, and suppose every one should teach his neighbour, both +privately and publicly, and should chide any one who did not play well, +and should not grudge doing this, as now no one grudges _a knowledge of_ +what is just and legal, or conceals it, as is the case in other arts, +for mutual justice and virtue are, I think, advantageous to us; and for +this reason every one most willingly tells and teaches others what is +just and legal. If then in the same way, in flute-playing, we had a +perfectly willing and ungrudging disposition to teach each other, do you +think, Socrates,” said he, “that the sons of good flute-players would +become good players, rather than the sons of bad ones? I indeed think +not; but the man’s son who happened to have the best natural talent for +flute-playing, would rise to distinction; and the man’s son who had no +such natural talent, would be undistinguished; and the son of a good +flute-player would often turn out a bad one, and the son of a bad one +would often turn out a good one. However, all would be sufficiently good +flute-players, compared with those who are untaught, and who know +nothing of flute-playing. 47. In like manner think that the man who +appears to you to be the most unjust of those who are trained in the +laws, and among civilized men, is just and a proficient in justice, when +compared with men, who have neither instruction nor courts of justice, +nor laws, nor any necessity that constantly compels them to attend to +virtue, but may be considered as savages, such as those whom the poet +Pherecrates represented last year, at the Lenæan festival. Assuredly, if +you should chance to be thrown among such men as the misanthropes in +that play, you would rejoice if you met with a Eurybates and a +Phrynondas[96], and you would deplore with regret the depravity of the +men here. But now you are fastidious, Socrates, because all are teachers +of virtue as far as they are severally able, though no one appears to +you to be so. Again, if you were to enquire for a teacher of the Greek +language, not one would be found: nor, I think, if you were to enquire +for one who could instruct the sons of our artificers in the very art +which they have learnt from their father, so far as the father and the +father’s friends who follow the same art are able to teach it, _if, I +say, you were to enquire_ for one who could instruct them, I think, +Socrates, that a teacher would not easily be found for them, but for +those who are utterly unskilled, a teacher would easily be found, and so +with respect to virtue and every thing else. 48. But if there is any one +who excels us even but a little in advancing others in the road to +virtue, we ought to be content. Of these, then, I think I am one, and +that far above other men I know certain things by which a man will be +made upright and good, and that worth the remuneration which I demand, +and even more, as also my pupils think. Therefore I adopt the following +method in my demand for remuneration; when any one has learnt from me, +if he is willing, he pays the sum that I demand; but if not, having gone +to a temple and sworn how much my instructions are worth, he pays that +sum. + +----- + +Footnote 96: + + Two men whose profligacy made their names proverbial. + +----- + +“Thus much, Socrates,” he continued, “I have said by way of fable and +argument, to prove that virtue may be taught, and that the Athenians are +of that opinion, and that it is not at all wonderful that the sons of +good fathers should turn out bad, or of bad fathers, good, since even +the sons of Polycletus, who are of the same age with Paralus and +Xanthippus here, are nothing compared with their father, and so with +respect to the sons of other artists; these youths, however, do not yet +deserve to be blamed in this respect; for we have still hopes in them, +as they are young.” + +49. Protagoras having made such and so long a display, ceased speaking; +and I, having continued for a long time enchanted, still looked at him, +expecting that he would say something more, and desiring to hear him. +But when I perceived that he had in reality ceased, I with difficulty +collected myself, and looking towards Hippocrates, said, “O son of +Apollodorus, how thankful I am to you for having urged me to come +hither; for I esteem it a great privilege to have heard what I have +heard from Protagoras; for before this, I thought it was no human care +by which good men become good, but now I am persuaded that it is. +However, I feel a slight difficulty, which, doubtless, Protagoras will +easily explain, since he has explained so much. For if any one should +converse with any one of the popular orators on these subjects, he would +perhaps hear similar arguments, as from Pericles, for instance, or some +other able speaker; but if he should ask them any further questions, +like books they are unable either to give an answer or to ask any +question themselves. And if one should put any trifling question to them +respecting what has been said, as brass when struck sounds for a long +time, and prolongs its sound, unless some one lays hold of it, so these +orators, when asked some trifling question, answer in a speech drawn out +to a great length. 50. But Protagoras here is able to make long and +beautiful speeches, as the fact proves, and is also able, when asked a +question, to answer briefly, and when questioning, to wait and receive +the answer, which are qualities possessed but by a few. Now then, +Protagoras, I need a trifle only, so that I shall have all I want if you +will answer me this. You say that virtue may be taught; and I, if I +could be persuaded by any man, should be persuaded by you. But, what I +wondered at your saying, satisfy my mind as to that. For you said that +Jupiter sent justice and shame to men; and afterwards, in many parts of +your discourse, justice, temperance, holiness, and all qualities of that +kind, were spoken of by you, as if they were collectively one thing, +virtue. Therefore explain this accurately to me, whether virtue is one +thing, and justice, temperance, and holiness, parts of it; or whether +these that I have now mentioned are all names of one and the same thing. +This is what I still want to know.” + +51. “But it is easy,” said he, “Socrates, to answer this question, that +the qualities about which you ask are parts of virtue, which is one +thing.” + +“Whether,” said I, “are they parts like the parts of a face, the mouth, +nose, eyes, and ears; or like the parts of gold, which in no respect +differ from each other and from the whole, except in magnitude and +littleness?” + +“Like the former, it appears to me Socrates, as the parts of the face +are to the whole face.” + +“Whether, then,” said I, “do men possess these parts of virtue, some one +and others another part? or is it necessary that he who has received one +should have all?” + +“By no means,” he replied, “since many men are brave, but unjust, and +again just, but not wise.” + +“Are these, then, parts of virtue,” said I, “wisdom and courage?” + +“Most assuredly,” he replied, “and wisdom is chief of all the parts.” + +“And is every one of them,” said I, “different from every other?” + +“Yes.” + +“And has each of them its proper function, like the parts of the face? +For instance, an eye is not like the ears, nor is its function the same; +nor is any one of the others like any other, either as to its function, +or in any other respect. Thus, then, with the parts of virtue, is not +any one like any other, either in itself, or in its function? Is it not +clear that such is the case, since it resembles our example?” + +“Such is the case, Socrates,” he replied. + +52. Then I said, “Therefore none of the other parts of virtue are like +science, or like justice, or like courage, or like temperance, or like +holiness.” + +“No,” he said. + +“Come then,” said I, “let us examine together what the character of each +of them is. And first of all, thus; is justice a thing, or not a thing? +to me it appears to be a thing; but what does it appear to you to be?” + +“To me also it appears to be a thing,” he replied. + +“What then? If some one were to ask you and me, ‘Protagoras and +Socrates, tell me with respect to this very thing which you have just +now named, justice, whether is it in itself just or unjust?’ I should +answer him that it is just: but what decision would you give? the same +as mine, or different?” + +“The same,” he replied. + +“‘Justice, then, is precisely similar to being just,’ I should say in +answer to one who asked the question. And would not you, too?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +“If, then, after this, he should ask us, ‘Do you not also say that +holiness is something?’ we should reply, I think that we do?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +“‘Do you not say that this too is a thing?’ should we say it is, or +not?” + +He allowed that we should say it is. + +“‘But whether do you say that this very thing is of such a nature as to +be unholy, or holy?’ I for my part,” I said, “should be indignant at the +question, and should say, ‘Speak properly, my good sir, for scarcely +could any thing else be holy, if holiness itself be not holy.’ But what +should you say? should not you give the same answer?” + +“Certainly,” he said. + +“If, then, after this, he should ask us, and say, ‘What then did you +mean a little while ago? Or did I not hear you aright? For you appeared +to me to say that the parts of virtue are so disposed to each other, +that no one of them resembles any other;’ I, for my part should reply, +‘In other respects you heard aright, but in thinking that I too said +this, you were mistaken; for Protagoras gave this answer, and I put the +question.’ If then he should say, ‘Does he speak the truth, Protagoras; +do you say that no one part of virtue is like any other of its parts? Is +this your assertion?’ what answer would you give him?” + +“I must needs admit it, Socrates,” he replied. + +“After admitting this, Protagoras, what answer should we give him, if he +further asked us, ‘Is not holiness then of such a nature as to be a just +thing, nor justice such as to be a holy thing, but such as to be not +holy; and holiness such as to be not just, but unjust, and the former +unholy? What answer should we give him? I, for myself, should say both +that justice is holy, and holiness just. And for you, if you would +permit me, I should make the very same answer, that justice is the same +with holiness, or very like it, and that justice bears the nearest +possible resemblance to holiness, and holiness to justice. But consider +whether you would forbid me to give this answer, or does it seem so to +you also?” + +“It does not altogether appear to me, Socrates,” he said, “to be so +absolutely true, that I can grant that justice is holy, and holiness +just; but there appears to me to be a difference between them. However +what matters that?” he continued: “if you wish it, let it be admitted +between us that justice is holy, and holiness just.” + +55. “Not so,” I replied, “for I do not require to examine into an ‘If +you wish it,’ and ‘If you think so,’ but into what I think and what you +think; but in saying ‘what I think and what you think,’ I mean this, I +am of opinion that our argument will be best discussed if we put it out +of the question altogether.” + +“Well then,” he said, “justice has some resemblance to holiness, for +every thing resembles every other thing in some respect, for white in +some sort resembles black, and hard, soft, and so with respect to other +things which appear to be most contrary to each other; and the things +which we just now said have different functions, and are not the one +like the other, as the parts of the face do in a certain respect +resemble each other; so that in this way you could prove this, if you +pleased, that all things are similar to each other; yet it is not right +to call things that have a certain similarity, similar, nor things that +have a certain dissimilarity, dissimilar, though the similarity is very +trifling.” + +56. And I, wondering, said to him, “Do you think then that the just and +the holy are so related to each other, that they have but a trifling +similarity to one another?” + +“Not quite so,” he said, “nor on the other hand do I consider them in +the same way as you appear to me to do.” + +“However,” said I, “since you appear to me to be vexed at this, we will +dismiss it, and consider this of the other things that you said. Do you +call folly any thing?” + +He admitted he did. + +“And is not wisdom the direct contrary to this thing?” + +“It appears so to me,” he replied. + +“But when men act rightly and profitably, do they then appear to you to +act temperately[97], in so acting, or the contrary[98]?” + +----- + +Footnote 97: + + Cousin has well remarked that σωφροσύνη, which Socrates opposes to + ἀφροσύνη, means both _temperance_ and _prudence_. We, as well as the + French, have no single word that expresses both ideas at once. I have + therefore, in imitation of Cousin, adopted the word _temperance_ + throughout this part of the dialogue, for otherwise the dilemma to + which Socrates brings his antagonist would be lost sight of, for he + now compels him to admit that _temperance_ and _wisdom_ which he + before distinguished from each other, are identical. Mr. Wright, in + his scholar-like version of this dialogue, has used the word + _discretion_ throughout, but it appears to me scarce worthy to be + exalted into a virtue that is the twin-sister of wisdom. Further on, + as will be noticed, I have also followed Cousin in translating + σωφροσύνη prudence. + +Footnote 98: + + I have followed Stallbaum’s reading, who omits εἰ and ἔπραττον. + +----- + +“To act temperately,” he replied. + +“And are they not temperate by temperance?” + +“Necessarily so.” + +“Do not they, then, who act wrongly, act foolishly, and are they not +intemperate in so acting?” + +“I agree with you,” he said. + +“Acting foolishly, then, is the contrary to acting temperately.” + +He said it was. + +“Are not, therefore, things which are done foolishly, done through +folly, and things done temperately through temperance?” + +He agreed. + +“If then any thing is done through strength, is it not done strongly, +and if through weakness, weakly?” + +“It appears so.” + +“And if any thing is done with swiftness, swiftly, and if with slowness, +slowly?” + +He said it was. + +“And if any thing is done in the same manner, is it not done by the same +means, and if in a contrary manner by the contrary means?” + +He granted it. + +57. “Come then,” I said, “is there any thing beautiful?” + +He admitted there was. + +“Is any thing contrary to this except the ugly?” + +“There is not.” + +“But what? Is there any thing good?” + +“There is.” + +“And is any thing contrary to this except evil?” + +“There is not.” + +“What? is there any thing high in voice?” + +He said there is. + +“And is any thing contrary to this except the low?” + +“There is not,” he said. + +“Therefore,” said I, “to each several contrary there is only one +contrary, and not many.” + +He granted it. + +“Come then,” said I, “let us reckon up our admissions. We have admitted +that one thing only is contrary to one, but not more?” + +“We have.” + +“And that what is done contrariwise, is done by contraries?” + +He assented. + +“We admitted also that what is done foolishly is done contrariwise to +that which is done temperately?” + +He assented. + +“And that what is done temperately is done by temperance, and what +foolishly, by folly?” + +He agreed. + +“If therefore it is done contrariwise, must it not be done by a +contrary?” + +“Yes.” + +“And the one is done by temperance, and the other by folly?” + +“Yes.” + +“Contrariwise?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Through contraries therefore?” + +“It appears so.” + +“Folly therefore is contrary to temperance?” + +“So it appears.” + +“Do you remember, however, that we before admitted that folly is +contrary to wisdom?” + +He allowed it. + +“And that one thing only is contrary to one?” + +“I grant it.” + +58. “Which, then, of these positions must we retract, Protagoras? That +which says, that one thing only is contrary to one, or that in which it +was asserted, that wisdom is different from temperance, but that each is +a part of virtue, and that besides being different, both they and their +functions are dissimilar, in the same manner as the parts of the face? +Which of these, then, must we retract? for these two positions taken +together are not set down in a very musical manner; for they neither +accord, nor harmonize with each other. For how can they accord, since it +is necessary that one thing only should be contrary to one, but not to +more, but wisdom and temperance are found to be contrary to folly, which +is one. Is it so, Protagoras,” I asked, “or otherwise?” + +He admitted that it was so, though very unwillingly. + +“Must not, then, temperance and wisdom be one and the same thing? +Before, moreover, justice and holiness were found to be nearly the same. +59. Come, however,” said I, “Protagoras, let us not be disheartened, but +examine the rest. Does a man who acts unjustly, appear to you to be +prudent[99], because he acts unjustly?” + +----- + +Footnote 99: + + As was before observed, it is now necessary for the thread of the + argument to use the word _prudent_ instead of _temperate_, but the + reader must bear in mind that in the original the two ideas are + expressed by one word. + +----- + +“I should be ashamed, Socrates,” he said, “to acknowledge this, though +many men do say so.” + +“Whether, then, shall I address my argument to them,” I asked, “or to +you?” + +“If you please,” said he, “discuss this statement first, the statement +of the many.” + +“But it makes no difference to me, if only you will answer, whether +these things appear so to you or not: for I am most anxious to sift the +statement itself, though it may possibly happen, that both I who +question, and you who answer, may ourselves be sifted.” + +At first, then, Protagoras began to give himself airs, for he objected +that the subject was difficult; afterwards however, he agreed to answer. + +60. “Come then,” said I, “answer me from the beginning. Do persons who +act unjustly, appear to you to be prudent?” + +“Be it so,” he replied. + +“And by being prudent, do you mean thinking rightly?” He assented. + +“And by thinking rightly that they are well advised when they act +unjustly?” + +“Be it so,” said he. + +“Is this the case,” I asked, “if they fare well in acting unjustly, or +if they fare ill?” + +“If they fare well.” + +“Do you say then that certain things are good?” + +“I do.” + +“Are those things good, then,” I asked, “which are advantageous to men?” + +“By Jupiter,” said he, “and some things though they are not advantageous +to men I call good.” + +61. Protagoras now appeared to me to be ruffled and annoyed, and to be +set against answering any more: when, therefore, I saw him in this +state, I was cautious, and asked him gently: “Whether,” said I, +“Protagoras, do you mean things that are advantageous to no man, or +things that are advantageous in no respect whatever? and do you call +such things good?” + +“By no means,” said he; “but I know many things which are useless to +men, meats and drinks, and drugs, and ten thousand other things, and +some things that are advantageous; and some things that are neither the +one nor the other to men, but are to horses, and some to oxen only, and +others to dogs, others again to neither of these, but to trees, and +others that are good for the roots of trees, but pernicious to their +buds, for instance, dung is good when applied to the roots of all +plants, but if you were to put it on their branches and young shoots, it +destroys the whole. Oil too is very injurious to all plants, and is most +destructive to the hairs of all animals except man, but it is of service +to the hairs of man, and to the rest of his body. 62. So various and +diversified a thing is good, that this very thing is good for the +external parts of the human body, but most pernicious to the inward +parts. And on this account all physicians forbid the sick to use oil, +except only a very small quantity in what they are going to eat, just +sufficient to overcome the disagreeable smell of the food and +seasoning.” + +Protagoras having said this, those that were present loudly applauded +him, for that he spoke well. And I said, “Protagoras, I happen to be a +forgetful sort of man, and if any one makes me a long speech, I forget +what the discussion is about. As, therefore, if I happened to be deaf, +you would have thought it necessary, if you were about to converse with +me, to speak louder than you do to others, so now, since you have met +with a forgetful person, curtail your answers for me, and make them +briefer, if I am to follow you.” + +“How do you bid me answer briefly? Must I answer you,” said he, “more +briefly than is requisite?” + +“By no means,” I replied. + +“But at such length as is requisite?” he asked. + +“Yes,” said I. + +“Whether, then, must I answer at such length as I think requisite, or as +you?” + +63. “I have heard,” I replied, “that you are both yourself able, and can +teach others to make a long speech on the same subject if you please, so +as never to be in want of words, and again to speak so briefly, that no +one can express himself in fewer words than you. If, therefore, you mean +to converse with me, use the other method with me, that of brevity.” + +“Socrates,” said he, “I have ere this entered into discussion with many +men, and if I had done what you bid me, that is, had conversed as my +antagonist bade me converse, I should not have appeared to excel any +one, nor would the name of Protagoras have been celebrated in Greece.” + +64. Then I (for I perceived that he was not pleased with his former +answers, and that he would not willingly carry on the conversation by +answering my questions) thinking that I had no longer any business to be +present at the conference, said, “Protagoras, I am not anxious to +continue our conference contrary to your wish; but whenever you are +willing to converse in such a manner that I can follow you, I will then +converse with you. For you, as is reported of you, and as you admit +yourself, are able to carry on a conference both with prolixity and +brevity; for you are wise; but I am unable to follow these long +speeches; though I wish that I could. But it was fitting, that you, who +are capable of doing both, should yield to me, in order that the +conference might continue: now however, since you are not willing and I +have business to attend to, and am unable to stay while you are +extending your speeches to a great length (for I have somewhere to go +to), I will take my departure; though otherwise perhaps I might have +listened to these things with pleasure.” + +65. And as I spoke thus, I rose to depart. And as I was rising, Callias +takes hold of me with his right hand, and with his left seized my cloak, +and said, “We shall not let you go, Socrates; for if you go away, our +conversation will no longer be the same. I beseech you, therefore, stay +with us; for there is no one I would more gladly hear than you and +Protagoras conversing together; therefore oblige us all.” + +To this I said—I already stood up ready to go—“Son of Hipponicus, I +always admire your love of wisdom; but I now both praise and love it; so +that I should wish to gratify you, if you asked me what was possible. +But now it is as if you should ask me to keep up with Crison of Himera, +a runner in his prime, or to run a race and keep up with one of the +long-distance runners or day-couriers; I should say to you, that I wish +much more than you do that I could keep pace with these runners, but I +cannot, but if you wish to see me and Crison running together, you must +request him to slacken his pace; for I am not able to run swiftly, but +he is able to run slowly. So if you desire to hear me and Protagoras, +you must request him to continue to answer as he did at first, briefly +and to the question. But if not, what kind of conversation will arise? I +for my part thought that it is one thing to converse together, and +another to harangue.” + +66. “But you see, Socrates,” said he, “Protagoras appears to ask what is +just, in requiring that he may be allowed to converse as he pleases, and +you as you please.” + +Alcibiades, thereupon, taking up the discourse, said, “You do not speak +fairly, Callias; for Socrates here admits that he has not the faculty of +making long speeches, and yields to Protagoras, but in the power of +conversing, and knowing how to give and receive a reason, I should +wonder if he yielded to any man. If then, Protagoras confesses that he +is inferior to Socrates in conversing, that is enough for Socrates; but +if he pretends to rival him, let him carry on the conversation by +question and answer, not making a long speech in answer to each +question, evading the argument and not choosing to give a reason, but +prolonging his speech until most of the hearers forget what the question +was about. For as for Socrates, I will be his surety that he will not +forget, notwithstanding he jests and says he is forgetful. To me, +therefore, Socrates appears to make the fairer proposition; for it is +right that every one should declare his own opinion.” + +67. After Alcibiades, it was Critias, I think, who said, “Prodicus and +Hippias, Callias appears to me to be very much on the side of +Protagoras; but Alcibiades is always fond of contention, to whatever he +applies himself. We, however, ought not to contend with each other, +either for Socrates or Protagoras, but we should join in requesting them +both not to break up the conference in the middle.” + +When he had spoken thus, Prodicus[100] said, “You seem to me to say +well, Critias: for it is right that those who are present at discussions +of this kind should be common, but not equal hearers of both speakers. +For it is not the same thing: for it is requisite to hear both in +common, but not to give equal attention to each of them, but to the +wiser more, and to the less learned less. 68. I too, Protagoras and +Socrates, beg of you to make concessions to each other, and to argue +with one another, but not to wrangle; for friends argue with friends out +of good will, but adversaries and enemies wrangle with one another. And +thus the conference will be most admirably conducted. For you, the +speakers, will thus be highly approved, not praised, by us the hearers; +for approbation is felt in the mind of the hearers, and is without +deception; but praise is bestowed in words, by persons often who speak +untruly, contrary to their real opinion; again, we, the hearers, shall +thus be highly delighted, not pleased, for delight takes place when one +learns something and acquires wisdom in one’s mind, but pleasure when +one eats something, or experiences some other agreeable sensation in +one’s body.” + +----- + +Footnote 100: + + It will be observed that Prodicus’s method, of drawing nice + distinctions between words nearly resembling each other in meaning, is + here ridiculed. + +----- + +69. When Prodicus had thus spoken, many of those that were present +approved of what he said. But after Prodicus, Hippias the wise spoke: +“My friends who are here present,” said he, “I regard you all as +kinsmen, relatives, and fellow-citizens by nature, though not by law; +for like is by nature akin to like, but law being a tyrant over men, +compels many things to be done contrary to nature. It were disgraceful, +then, for us to know the nature of things, to be the wisest of the +Greeks, and in this very character to have met together in the city of +Greece, which is the very prytaneum of wisdom, and in the noblest and +wealthiest house in this city, and then to exhibit nothing worthy of +this high rank, but like the lowest of men to disagree with each other. +70. I therefore both entreat and advise you, Protagoras and Socrates, to +come to terms under our authority, who as arbitrators will bring you to +an agreement; and neither do you, Socrates, require that exact form of +dialogue, which is so very concise, unless it is agreeable to +Protagoras, but relax somewhat and give the reins to your discourse, +that it may appear to us with more majesty and grace; nor on the other +hand, do you, Protagoras, stretching every rope, and carrying all sail, +scud to an ocean of words out of sight of land, but both of you keep a +middle course. Do thus then, and be persuaded by me to choose a +moderator, president, and prytanis, who will oblige you to keep within +moderate bounds on either side.” + +This pleased those that were present, and all approved, and Callias said +that he would not let me go, and they urged me to choose a president. +71. I said therefore, “that it would be a shame to choose an umpire for +our arguments; for if the person chosen should be our inferior, it would +not be right that the inferior should preside over his superiors, nor if +he should be equal, would this be right; for one that is equal will act +the same as we do, so that the choice will be superfluous. But you will +choose some one better than we are; in reality I think it impossible for +you to choose any one wiser than Protagoras here: but if you should +choose one in no respect superior, though you shall affirm that he is, +this also will be a disgrace to him, to have a president chosen for him, +as if he were a common person: for as to myself it makes no difference. +I am willing, then, to act as follows, that our conference and +conversation may continue, which you so earnestly desire: if Protagoras +is not willing to answer, let him ask questions, and I will answer; and +at the same time I will endeavour to shew him, how I say one who answers +ought to answer. But when I have answered all the questions that he +chooses to ask, let him in his turn, in like manner, reply to me. If, +however, he should not appear disposed to answer the exact question put +to him, both you and I will join in intreating of him, as you now do of +me, not to destroy the conversation. And for this purpose there is no +occasion for one president to be appointed, but you will all be +presidents in common.” + +72. It appeared to all that this was what ought to be done. And though +Protagoras was not very willing to comply, yet he was compelled to +consent to ask questions, and when he had asked enough in his turn to +reply to my questions with brevity. He began therefore pretty nearly as +follows: + +“I think,” said he, “Socrates, that the most important part of a man’s +education consists in being skilled in poetical composition; that is, to +be able to understand what has been said by the poets, both what has +been correctly composed and what incorrectly, and to know how to +distinguish and to give a reason when asked about them. And now the +question shall be on the very subject about which you and I have been +conversing, virtue, but it shall be transferred to poetry. For Simonides +somewhere says to Scopas, son of Creon the Thessalian, ‘That to become a +good man is truly difficult, square as to his hands and feet and mind, +fashioned without fault.’ Do you know the ode, or shall I repeat the +whole to you?” + +73. I said, “There is no necessity, for I know it, and have studied the +ode with great attention.” + +“You say well,” he then observed, “Whether, does it appear to you to +have been composed beautifully and correctly or not?” + +“Certainly,” said I, “both beautifully and correctly.” + +“But does it appear to you to have been composed beautifully if the poet +contradicts himself?” + +“Not beautifully,” I replied. + +“Consider it, then, more attentively,” said he. + +“But my good friend, I have examined it sufficiently.” + +“You know, then,” said he, “that in the course of the ode he says +somewhere, ‘That saying of Pittacus does not please me, though uttered +by a wise man, wherein he says, it is difficult to continue to be good.’ +Do you observe, that the same person makes both this and the former +remark?” + +“I know it,” I replied. + +“Does it appear to you then,” said he, “that the one agrees with the +other?” + +“It appears so to me.” And at the same time I was afraid lest there +should be something in what he said. “But,” said I, “does not it appear +so to you?” + +“How can he who made both these assertions agree with himself, who first +of all laid it down in his own person, that it is truly difficult to +become a good man, and a little further on this person forgets himself +and blames Pittacus for saying the same thing that he had said himself, +‘that it is difficult to be good,’ and asserts that he cannot approve of +his saying the very same thing as himself. Surely in blaming a man who +says the same things as himself, it is clear that he blames himself, so +that in the former or the latter place he does not speak correctly.” + +74. In saying this he elicited applause and praise from many of the +hearers. And I, at first, as if I had been hit by a skilful boxer, was +blinded, and made giddy, by his saying this, and by the applause of the +others; but afterwards, to tell you the truth, that I might have time to +consider what the poet meant, I turned to Prodicus, and calling out to +him, said, “Prodicus, Simonides was your fellow-citizen; you are bound +to assist the man. I seem then, to call upon you, in the same manner as +Homer[101] says Scamander, when assailed by Achilles, called upon +Simois, saying, ‘Dear brother, let us unite to repel the prowess of this +man.’ So I call upon you, let not Protagoras overthrow Simonides. For +the defence of Simonides requires that exquisite skill of yours, by +which you distinguish between to will and to desire, as not being the +same, and by which you just now established many and beautiful +distinctions. And now consider, whether your opinion agrees with mine: +for Simonides does not appear to me to contradict himself. But do you, +Prodicus, first declare your opinion. Does it appear to you that to +become and to be are the same or different?” + +----- + +Footnote 101: + + Iliad xxi. 308. + +----- + +“Different by Jupiter,” said Prodicus. + +75. “Has not Simonides himself then,” said I, “in the first passage, +declared his own opinion, that it is in truth difficult to become a good +man?” + +“You say truly,” replied Prodicus. + +“But he blames Pittacus,” I continued, “not as Protagoras thinks, for +saying the same thing that he had said, but something different. For +Pittacus does not say that this is the difficulty, to become a good man, +as Simonides does, but this, to be so; but Protagoras, as Prodicus here +says, to be and to become are not the same; and if to be and to become +are not the same, Simonides does not contradict himself. And perhaps +Prodicus here, and many others, may say with Hesiod,[102] ‘that it is +difficult to become good; for that the gods have placed sweat before +virtue; but when any one has reached its summit, it is then easy to +acquire, though before it was difficult.’” + +----- + +Footnote 102: + + Opp. et Dier. v. 287 &c. + +----- + +76. Prodicus, on hearing this, commended me; but Protagoras said, “Your +defence, Socrates, is more erroneous than the passage which you defend.” + +And I said, “Then I have done ill, as it seems, Protagoras, and I am an +absurd physician; in attempting to cure, I make the disease worse.” + +“So it is however,” he said. + +“But how?” I asked. + +“Great must have been the poet’s ignorance,” he replied, “if he asserts +that virtue is so easy a thing to be acquired, whereas it is the most +difficult of all, as all men think.” + +77. And I said, “By Jupiter, Prodicus here is very opportunely present +at our discussion. For the wisdom of Prodicus appears, O Protagoras, to +have been of old divine, whether it began with Simonides, or is even +still more ancient. But you, who are skilled in many other things, +appear to be unskilled in this, and not skilled in it as I am, from +being the disciple of this Prodicus. And now you appear to me not to be +aware that Simonides probably did not understand this word ‘difficult,’ +in the same sense as you understand it; but as with the word δεινὸς, +(terrible and clever,) Prodicus here is continually taking me to task, +when in praising you, or any one else, I say, that Protagoras is a wise +and terrible man, he asks if I am not ashamed of calling good things +terrible, for what is terrible, he says, is evil; hence no one ever +speaks of terrible riches, or terrible peace, or terrible health, but +every one says terrible disease, and terrible war, and terrible poverty, +since whatever is terrible is evil. Perhaps, therefore, the Ceans and +Simonides understand by the word difficult either that which is bad, or +something else that you are not aware of. 78. Let us then ask Prodicus; +for it is right to enquire of him the meaning of words used by +Simonides; what, Prodicus, does Simonides mean by the word difficult?” + +“Evil,” he replied. + +“For this reason, then,” I continued, “Prodicus, he blames Pittacus for +saying that it is difficult to be good, as if he had heard him say that +it is evil to be good.” + +“But what else but this, Socrates,” he asked, “do you think Simonides +meant and found fault with in Pittacus, that he did not know how to +distinguish terms rightly, as being a Lesbian, and educated in a +barbarous dialect?” + +“Do you hear Prodicus,” said I, “Protagoras? And have you any objection +to make to this?” + +Thereupon Protagoras said, 79. “This is far from being the case, +Prodicus; for I am very sure that Simonides meant by the word difficult +the same that we all do, not what is evil, but that which is not easy, +but is accomplished by much toil.” + +“And I too think, Protagoras,” I said, “that Simonides meant this, and +that Prodicus here knows he did, but he is jesting, and is willing to +try whether you are able to maintain your own assertion. For that +Simonides does not by the word difficult mean evil, is strongly +confirmed by the expression immediately after this; for he says, that +‘God alone possesses this privilege,’ not surely meaning that it is evil +to be good; then he adds that God alone possesses this, and he +attributes this privilege to God alone; for in that case Prodicus would +call Simonides a profligate, and by no means a Cean. But I am willing to +tell you what appears to me to have been the design of Simonides in this +ode, if you think proper to make trial of my poetical skill, as you call +it; or if you prefer it, I will listen to you.” + +80. Protagoras, therefore, hearing me speak thus, said, “If you please, +Socrates;” but Prodicus, Hippias, and the rest, urged me very much. + +“I will endeavour, then,” said I, “to explain to you what I think of +this ode. Philosophy is most ancient and most prevalent in Crete and +Lacedæmon of all Greece, and sophists are more numerous there than any +where else. They deny it, however, and pretend to be ignorant, in order +that they may not be discovered to surpass the rest of the Greeks in +wisdom, like those sophists whom Protagoras mentioned, but that they may +appear to excel in fighting and courage, thinking that, if it were known +in what they excel, all men would engage in the same pursuit. But now, +concealing this, they deceive those who affect Spartan manners in other +cities, for some, in imitation of them, have their ears bruised, and +bind their arms with the thongs of the cestus, and devote themselves to +gymnastic exercises, and wear short garments, as if in these things the +Lacedæmonians excelled the other Greeks. But the Lacedæmonians, now that +they wish to converse without restraint with the sophists among them, +and are wearied with conversing with them in secret, expelling these +imitators of Spartan manners, and any other stranger that is living in +their country, converse with the sophists unknown to all strangers; and +they do not suffer any of their young men to go out to other cities, as +neither do the Cretans, lest they should unlearn what they have taught +them. 81. And in these cities there are not only men that pride +themselves on their learning, but women also. And you may know, that in +this I speak truly, and that the Lacedæmonians are admirably instructed +in philosophy and the art of speaking, from the following circumstance: +for if any one wishes to converse with the meanest of the Lacedæmonians, +he will find him, for the most part, apparently an ordinary person in +conversation, but afterwards, when a proper opportunity presents itself, +he sends forth, like a skilful lancer, a notable saying, brief and +pointed, so that he who converses with him will appear to be nothing +better than a boy. Accordingly some persons, both of the present day and +of former times, have observed this very thing, that to imitate Spartan +manners consists much more in studying philosophy, than devoting +one’s-self to gymnastic exercises, since they know that to be able to +utter such sayings is a proof of a highly educated man. 82. Among these +were Thales of Miletus, Pittacus of Mitylene, Bias of Priene, our own +Solon, Cleobulus of Lindus, Myson of Chene, and the seventh among them +was reckoned the Lacedæmonian Chilo. These all were emulators, lovers, +and disciples of the Lacedæmonian education, and any one may discover +that their wisdom was of this kind, brief and memorable sayings uttered +by each of them. These men also, having met together, consecrated the +first-fruits of their wisdom to Apollo in the temple at Delphi, +inscribing those sentences which all men have in their mouths: ‘Know +thyself,’ and ‘Nothing in extremes.’ + +“But why do I mention these things? To shew that this was the mode of +philosophy among the ancients, a certain laconic brevity of diction. +Amongst the rest this particular saying of Pittacus was noised abroad, +being extolled by the wise men: ‘It is difficult to be good.’ Simonides, +therefore, as being ambitious of a reputation for wisdom, knew that if +he could overthrow this saying, as if it were a famous wrestler, and +could master it, he himself would become famous amongst the men of his +own time. In opposition to this sentence, therefore, and with this +object, designing to put it down, he composed the whole of this ode, as +it appears to me. + +83. “Let all of us, however, examine it together, to see whether what I +say is true. For the very commencement of the ode would appear to be +insane, if, wishing to say that it is difficult to become a good man, he +had afterwards inserted the particle ‘indeed.’ For this appears to have +been inserted for no purpose whatever, unless we suppose that Simonides +is speaking as if he were quarrelling with the saying of Pittacus; and +that when Pittacus says, that ‘it is difficult to be good,’ he, +disputing this, says, ‘Not so,’ but it is indeed difficult, Pittacus, to +become good in very truth; not ‘truly good.’ For he does not use the +word truly in this way, as if some men were truly good, and others good +indeed, but not truly so, for this would have been silly, and not worthy +of Simonides; but it is necessary to transpose the word ‘truly’ in the +ode, understanding the saying of Pittacus somewhat as follows, as if we +were to make Pittacus himself speak, and Simonides answer, saying, ‘O +men, it is difficult to be good,’ but the latter answers, ‘Pittacus, +your assertion is not true: for not to be, but to become indeed a good +man, square as to one’s hands and feet, and mind, fashioned without +blame, is truly difficult.’ Thus it appears that the particle ‘indeed’ +is inserted with good reason, and that the word ‘truly’ is rightly +placed at the end. And all that follows bears witness to this, that such +is the meaning. 84. Many things might be said to prove with respect to +each several passage in this ode, that it is well composed; for it is +very elegant and elaborate; but it would be too long to go through the +whole of it in this way. Let us then consider its whole outline and +design, which is nothing else than a refutation of the saying of +Pittacus throughout the ode. For he says shortly after this, proceeding +as if he would say, to become a good man is truly difficult, it is +possible however for a certain time: but having become to continue in +this condition, and to be a good man, as you say, Pittacus, is +impossible and more than human, but God alone possesses this privilege; +‘but it cannot be that a man should be otherwise than evil, whomsoever +irresistible calamity prostrates.’ 85. Whom, then, does irresistible +calamity prostrate in the command of a ship? Clearly not a private +person, for the private person is always prostrate; as therefore no one +can throw down a man who is lying on the ground, but sometimes one may +throw down one who is standing upright, so as to make him lie on the +ground, but not one already lying there, so an irresistible calamity may +sometimes prostrate a skilful man, but never one who is always +unskilful; and a violent storm bursting on a pilot may make his skill of +no avail, and a bad season befalling a farmer may make his skill of no +avail, and the same with a physician: for it befals a good man to become +evil, as is also testified by another poet, who says, ‘A good man is +sometimes evil, and sometimes good:’ but it does not befal the evil to +become so, but he must needs always be so. So that when an irresistible +calamity prostrates a skilful, wise, and good man, it is not possible +for him not to be evil; but you say, Pittacus, that it is difficult to +be good; but the difficulty is to become good, though it is possible, +but impossible to be so. 86. ‘For every man who fares well is good, but +evil if he fares ill.’ What then is faring well with respect to +literature? and what makes a man good in literature? Clearly the being +instructed in it. What faring well makes a good physician? Clearly the +being instructed in the art of curing the sick. ‘And evil if he fares +ill.’ Who then would become an evil physician? Clearly he to whom it +happens first to be a physician, and then a good physician; for he may +become an evil physician. But we who are ignorant of the medical art, +can never by faring ill become either physicians, or builders, or any +thing else of the kind; but whoever cannot become a physician by faring +ill, clearly cannot become an evil physician. Thus also a good man may +sometime or other become evil, either from length of time, or labour, or +disease, or some other accident, for this alone is a faring ill, to be +deprived of knowledge, but the evil man can never become evil, for he is +always so; but if he is to become evil, it is necessary for him first to +become good. So that this part of the ode tends to this, that it is not +possible to be a good man, so as to continue good; but that it is +possible to become good, and for the same person to become evil: ‘and +they are for the longest time best whom the gods love.’ + +87. “All these things therefore are said against Pittacus, and the +following parts of the ode shew this still more clearly. For he says, +‘Wherefore I shall never, searching for that which cannot be, throw away +a portion of my life on an empty impracticable hope, searching for an +all-blameless man among us who feed on the fruits of the wide earth. +When I have found one, I will inform you;’ he adds. So vehemently, and +through the whole of the ode, does he attack the saying of Pittacus. +‘But I praise and willingly love all who do nothing base; but with +necessity not even gods contend.’ And this is spoken against that same +saying. For Simonides was not so ill informed as to say that he praised +those who did no evil willingly, as if there were some who did evil +willingly. For I am pretty much of this opinion, that no wise man thinks +that any man errs willingly, nor willingly commits base and evil +actions, but they well know that all those who do base and evil things, +do them unwillingly. 88. Moreover Simonides does not say, that he +praises those who do not willingly do evil, but he uses this word +‘willingly’ of himself. For he thought that a good and upright man is +frequently compelled to love and praise a certain person; for instance, +it often happens to a man to have a perverse mother or father, or +country, or something else of the kind. Now depraved men, when any such +thing happens to them, are as it were glad to see it, and blaming make +known and divulge the depravity of their parents or country, that when +they neglect them, men may not accuse or reproach them for their +neglect, so that they blame them still more _than they deserve_, and add +voluntary to necessary enmity. But the good conceal the faults and +compel themselves to praise, and if they are angry with their parents or +country from having been injured by them, they pacify themselves and +become reconciled, compelling themselves to love and praise their own +connections. And I think Simonides also himself frequently considered it +right to praise and extol a tyrant, or some one else of the kind, not +willingly, but by compulsion. 89. This, too, he says to Pittacus; I, +Pittacus, do not blame you on this account, because I am fond of +blaming; for ‘it is enough for me if a man is not evil or too helpless, +a sane man, acquainted with justice that benefits the state; I will not +censure him, for I am not a lover of censure; for the race of fools is +infinite;’ so that he who delights in blaming may satiate himself in +censuring them. ‘All things are beautiful with which base things are not +mingled.’ His meaning in this, is not as if he had said, all things are +white with which black is not mingled, for this would be in many ways +ridiculous, but that he himself admits of a mean, so as not to blame it. +‘And I do not seek,’ he adds, ‘an all-blameless man, among us who feed +on the fruits of the wide earth; when I have found him, I will inform +you.’ For this reason, therefore, I shall praise no one, but it is +enough for me if a man be moderate, and does no evil, for I ‘love and +praise all.’ Here too he uses the language of the Mitylenæans, as +speaking to Pittacus, ‘I praise and love all willingly,’ (here it is +necessary after ‘willingly’ to distinguish in the pronunciation,) ‘who +do nothing base,’ but there are some whom I praise and love unwillingly. +Thee therefore, Pittacus, if thou hadst spoken with moderate reason and +truth, I should never have blamed, but now, since you lie excessively +and in matters of the greatest moment, while you think you are speaking +the truth, for this reason I blame you. 90. Such appears to me, Prodicus +and Protagoras,” said I, “to have been the design of Simonides in the +composition of this ode.” + +Upon this Hippias said, “You seem to me, Socrates, to have given a good +explanation of this ode, and I too,” he added, “have some pretty good +remarks to make on it, which I will communicate to you, if you please.” + +“Do so, Hippias,” said Alcibiades, “but at another time; but now it is +right to carry out the agreement which Protagoras and Socrates made with +each other, and, if Protagoras wishes to ask any more questions, for +Socrates to answer, but if he wishes to answer Socrates, then for the +latter to ask questions.” + +91. Then I said, “I leave it to Protagoras to choose whichever is more +agreeable to him; but if he is willing, let us have done with odes and +poems, but I would gladly, Protagoras, examine with you and come to a +conclusion on the subject about which I first questioned you. For a +discussion about poetry appears to me very like the festivities of mean +and uneducated men; for they, through not being able to converse with +one another over their cups, with their own voices and their own words, +in consequence of deficiency of education, enhance the pay of female +flute-players, and hiring at a great price the foreign voices of flutes, +converse with each other through their voices. But when worthy, good, +and well-educated men meet together at a banquet you will see neither +flute-playing women, nor dancing-girls, nor harpists, but you will find +that they are able to converse with themselves, without these trifles +and pastimes, by means of their own voices, both speaking and listening +to each other in turn, in good order, even though they have drunk a +great deal of wine. 92. In like manner, such meetings as the present, +when they are composed of such men as most of us profess ourselves to +be, have no need of foreign voices, or of poets, of whom it is not +possible to ask the meaning of what they say, and most of those who +introduce them in their arguments say that the poet means some one thing +and some another, disputing about a matter which they can never +determine. But they dismiss such topics of conversation as these, and +converse with each other through their own resources, and in their +discussions receive and give proof of each other’s capacity. It appears +to me, that you and I ought rather to imitate such persons as these, and +setting aside the poets should discourse with each other, from our own +resources, and receive proof of the truth and of ourselves. And if you +still wish to question me, I am ready to offer myself to answer you; but +if you do not wish it, do you offer yourself to me, so that we may bring +to a conclusion the subject that we broke off in the middle.” + +93. On my saying these and other things of the same kind, Protagoras did +not distinctly declare which of the two he would do. Alcibiades, +therefore, looking to Callias, said, “Callias, does Protagoras appear to +you to act rightly now, in not being willing to declare whether he will +answer or not? For to me he does not. But let him either continue the +conversation, or say that he is not willing to continue it, that we may +know this from him, and that Socrates may converse with some one else, +or whoever else wishes to do so with some other.” + +And Protagoras, being ashamed, as it seemed to me, when Alcibiades spoke +thus and Callias and nearly all who were present entreated him, was with +great difficulty prevailed on to renew the conversation and bade me +question him, for that he would answer. + +94. I then said to him, “Protagoras, think not that I converse with you +with any other design, than to examine thoroughly into things about +which I am continually in doubt. For I think that Homer[103] speaks very +much to the purpose, when he says, ‘When two come together, one +apprehends before the other.’ For all of us men are thus more prompt in +every deed, and word, and thought, but when any one apprehends +alone[104], he immediately goes about and searches for some one to whom +he may communicate it, and with whom he may establish it, until he finds +him. So I too, for this reason, am better pleased to converse with you +than with any one else, thinking that you are best able to investigate +both other subjects which a good man is likely to examine into, and +especially virtue. For who else can do it but you? Since you not only +think yourself to be a good and worthy man, as some others also are +virtuous, but are not able to make others so; you however are both good +yourself, and are able to make others good, and you have such confidence +in yourself, that while others conceal this art, you openly proclaim +yourself to all the Greeks designating yourself a sophist, publishing +yourself as a professor of erudition and virtue, and you are the first +that has thought fit to receive pay for this. 95. How then, is it not +right to call upon you to the examination of these matters, and to +question and communicate with you respecting them? It cannot be +otherwise. Now therefore I am desirous that the questions which I first +asked you on these subjects, should, from the commencement, be partly +called to mind by you, and partly to consider them with you. The +question, I think, was this; whether these, wisdom, temperance, courage, +justice, and holiness, which are five names, belong to one thing, or +whether a certain peculiar essence is attached to each of these names, +and each thing has its own function, and no one of them is the same as +any other? You said, then, that these were not names belonging to one +thing, but that each of these names was applied to a distinct thing, and +that all these are parts of virtue, not in the same manner as the parts +of gold are similar to each other, and to the whole of which they are +parts, but just as the parts of the face are dissimilar to the whole of +which they are parts, and to each other, each possessing its peculiar +function. If these things still appear to you as they did then, say so; +if otherwise, explain the difference, since I shall not think you in any +way accountable, if you happen to speak differently; for I should not +wonder if you said these things before for the purpose of trying me.” + +----- + +Footnote 103: + + Iliad x. 224. + +Footnote 104: + + Iliad x. 225. + +----- + +96. “But I,” he said, “tell you, Socrates, that all these are parts of +virtue, and four of them are very like each other, but courage is very +different from all these. And thus you will know that I speak the truth; +for you will find many men who are most unjust, most unholy, most +intemperate, and most ignorant, yet eminently courageous.” + +“Hold,” said I, “for what you say is worth examining. Do you mean that +courageous men are daring, or some thing else?” + +“I do,” he replied, “and bold to rush headlong on dangers which most men +are afraid to encounter.” + +“Come then; do you say, that virtue is something beautiful? and as being +a beautiful thing do you offer to teach it?” + +“Most beautiful,” he replied, “unless I am out of my senses.” + +97. “Whether then,” said I, “is one part of it base, and another +beautiful, or, is it all beautiful?” + +“All beautiful, surely, in the highest degree.” + +“Do you know, then, who boldly dive into wells?” + +“I do, divers.” + +“Whether because they know how to do it, or for some other reason?” + +“Because they know how to do it.” + +“But who are they that fight boldly on horseback? whether good riders or +bad?” + +“Good riders.” + +“And who with targets? those that are targeteers, or those that are +not?” + +“Those that are targeteers. And in every thing else,” said he, “if this +is what you are enquiring about, you will find that those who are +skilled, are bolder than the unskilled, and the same men, after they +have learnt are bolder than they were before they learnt.” + +98. “But did you ever see any,” said I, “who, though unskilled in all +these things, were yet bold with respect to each of them?” + +“I have,” he replied, “and very bold.” + +“Are those bold persons, then, courageous also?” + +“If they were,” he replied, “courage would be a base thing; for these +men are mad.” + +“How then,” I asked, “do you describe the courageous? did you not say +that they are the bold?” + +“And I say so now,” he replied. + +“Do not those then,” I said, “who are thus bold appear to be not +courageous, but mad? And again, in the former instances, the wise are +the boldest, and being the boldest, are most courageous? And according +to this reasoning, will not wisdom be courage?” + +99. “You do not rightly remember, Socrates,” said he, “what I said, and +what answer I gave you? For when asked by you if the courageous were +bold, I admitted that they were; but I was not asked, whether the bold +also were courageous; for if you had asked me this, I should have said +not all. But that the courageous are bold, which was my admission, you +have no where shewn that I made that admission improperly. In the next +place, you shew that men, who have skill, surpass themselves in +boldness, and others who are unskilled, and from this, you conclude that +courage and wisdom are the same. By proceeding in this way, you might +also come to the conclusion that strength is wisdom. For, first of all, +if proceeding thus you should ask me, whether the strong are powerful, I +should say they are; and in the next place, whether those who are +skilled in wrestling are more powerful than those who are unskilled, and +they than themselves, after they have learnt, than before they learnt, I +should say they are; 100. and on my admitting this, by using the same +argument, you might allege, that according to my own admission, wisdom +is strength; I however, do not here or any where admit that the powerful +are strong, but I do that the strong are powerful, for power and +strength are not the same; but the one arises from skill, and from +madness too, and passion, but strength from nature, and good nurture of +the body. In like manner, boldness and courage are not the same; so that +it happens that the courageous are bold, but the bold are not all +courageous. For boldness, like power, arises in men from skill, and from +passion too and madness, but courage arises from nature, and the good +culture of the soul.” + +101. “Do you allow, Protagoras,” said I, “that some men live well, and +others ill?” + +He said he did. + +“Does a man, then, appear to you to live well, if he lives in grief and +pain?” + +He said not. + +“But what, if he should die after having passed his life pleasantly, +would he not in that case appear to you to have lived well?” + +“To me he would,” said he. + +“To live pleasantly, then, is a good, but unpleasantly an evil thing.” + +“Yes,” he said, “if he has lived taking pleasure in honest things.” + +“What then, Protagoras, do you, like the multitude, call some pleasant +things evil, and some painful things good? I mean, as far as they are +pleasant are they not so far good, unless something else results from +them? And again, in the same way with regard to things painful; are they +not evil so far as they are painful?” + +“I know not, Socrates,” he replied, “whether I should answer you as +absolutely as you ask me, that pleasant things are all good, and painful +things all evil; but it appears to me, not only with reference to the +present answer, but also with reference to all the rest of my life, to +be more safe to answer, that there are some pleasant things which are +not good, and again, that there are some painful things which are not +evil, and there are some which are a third sort, and which are neither +the one nor the other, neither good or evil.” + +102. “But do you not call those things pleasant,” I said, “which partake +of pleasure, or occasion pleasure?” + +“Certainly,” said he. + +“I ask this, then, whether they are not good, so far as they are +pleasant, meaning to ask whether pleasure itself is not a good thing.” + +“As you frequently say, Socrates,” he replied, “we must examine this, +and if the examination shall appear to be connected with our subject, +and the same thing shall appear to be both pleasant and good, we must +grant it; but if not, we must controvert it.” + +“Whether, then,” said I, “do you wish to take the lead in the +examination, or shall I?” + +“You ought to take the lead,” he replied, “for you began the +discussion.” + +103. “Do you think, then,” said I, “that it will become clear to us in +the following manner? just as if any one, examining a man from his form +either with reference to his health, or any other operations of his +body, on beholding his face and hands, should say, Come, strip, and shew +me your breast and back, that I may examine you more closely; so I +require something of the kind in reference to the present enquiry; +perceiving that you are so affected as you say you are, with reference +to the good and the pleasant, I have need to say some such thing as +this, Come, Protagoras, lay your mind open to me on this point, how are +you affected with respect to knowledge? Does it appear to you as it does +to most men, or otherwise? Most men think of knowledge in some such way +as this; that it is not a strong, nor a guiding, nor a governing thing; +nor do they conceive of it as being any thing of the kind; but though +knowledge is often found in a man, they do not think that knowledge +governs him, but something else, at one time passion, at another +pleasure, at another pain, sometimes love, and frequently fear, +absolutely forming their conceptions of knowledge, as of a slave dragged +about by all the rest. Is such your opinion of it, or do you think that +knowledge is a noble thing, and able to govern man, and that if a man +knows good and evil he can never be overcome by any thing, so as to do +any thing else than what knowledge bids him, and that wisdom is +sufficient to protect mankind?” + +104. “It appears to me,” he replied, “as you say, Socrates: and +moreover, if for any man, it would be disgraceful for me not to assert +that wisdom and knowledge are the most powerful of all human things.” + +“You say well and with truth,” I replied. “You are aware, however, that +most men do not believe you and me, but say that many who know what is +best are unwilling to do it, when it is in their power, but do other +things. And all of whom I have asked what is the cause of this, have +replied, that being overcome by pleasure, or mastered by pain, or some +one of the things which I have just now mentioned, those who do these +things are led to do them.” + +“I think, Socrates,” he remarked, “that men say many other things +incorrectly.” + +“Come then, join me in endeavouring to persuade men, and to teach them +what that affection of theirs is which they call being overcome by +pleasures, and on that account not doing what is best, though they know +it. For, perhaps, on our saying, ‘You do not speak correctly, my +friends, but are deceived,’ they would ask us, ‘Protagoras and Socrates, +if this affection is not the being overcome by pleasure, what is it +then, and what do you say it is, tell us?’” + +“But why, Socrates, need we consider the opinion of the generality of +men, who say any thing that occurs to them?” + +105. “I think,” said I, “that this will be of some service to us towards +discovering with respect to courage how it is related to the other parts +of virtue. If, therefore, you are willing to abide by what we just now +agreed on, that I should take the lead, follow me where I think the +matter will become exceedingly clear; but if you had rather not, I will +dismiss it, if you please.” + +“You say rightly,” he replied; “finish then, as you have begun.” + +“Again, then,” said I, “if they were to ask us, ‘What do you say this +is, which we call being overcome by pleasures?’ I, for my part, should +answer them as follows: ‘Hear then, for Protagoras and I will endeavour +to tell you. Do you not say, friends, that this happens to you under the +following circumstances? for instance, being often mastered by meats and +drinks, and the delights of love, which are pleasant things, though you +know that they are baneful, yet do you not indulge in them?’ They would +say that such is the case. 106. You and I should then ask them again, +‘In what respect do you say that they are baneful? Is it because they +afford pleasure, and each of them is pleasant, for the moment? or +because they occasion diseases for the future, and make way for poverty, +and many other things of the kind? or if they make way for none of these +things for the future, but only occasion a man to rejoice, are they +nevertheless evil, because they make a man rejoice in any way whatever?’ +Can we suppose, Protagoras, that they will give any other answer than +that they are not evil from the momentary pleasure which they produce, +but on account of the after results, diseases and other things?” + +“I think,” said Protagoras, “that the many would answer thus.” + +“‘Do they not, then, by occasioning diseases, occasion pain, and by +occasioning poverty, occasion pain?’ They would admit this, I think.” + +Protagoras assented. + +107. “‘Does it not appear to you then, my friends, as Protagoras and I +say, that these things are evil, for no other reason than because they +end in pain, and deprive you of other pleasures?’ Would they admit +this?” + +We both assented. + +“If, again, we should reverse the question, ‘In saying, friends, that +good things are painful, do you not mean such things as gymnastic +exercises, military service, and treatment of diseases by physicians, by +cautery, the knife, physic, and starving, that these things are good, +but painful?’ They would say they did.” + +He assented. + +“‘Whether, then, do you call them good, because, at the moment, they +give extreme pain and torture; or because afterwards health results from +them, and a good habit of body, and the safety of cities, and dominion +over others, and wealth?’ They would say, I think, because of the +latter.” + +He assented. + +108. “‘But are these things good for any other reason than because they +end in pleasures, and deliverance from and prevention of pains? or can +you mention any other end, to which you look when you call them good, +except pleasures and pains?’ They would say not, I think.” + +“I think so too,” said Protagoras. + +“‘Do you not, then, pursue pleasure as being good, and avoid pain as +evil?’” + +He assented. + +“‘This, then, you esteem to be evil, pain, and pleasure, good, since you +say that enjoyment itself is then evil when it deprives of greater +pleasures than those it brings with it, or when it makes way for pains +greater than the pleasures contained in it: for if you call enjoyment +itself evil on any other account, and looking to any other end, you +would be able to tell us; but you cannot.’” + +“Nor do I think they can,” said Protagoras. + +109. “Again, is not the case precisely the same with respect to pain +itself? do you not then call pain itself a good, when it delivers from +greater pains than those contained in it, or makes way for pleasures +greater than the pains? for if you look to any other end than to that +which I mention, when you call pain itself a good, you can tell us; but +you cannot.” + +“You speak truly,” said Protagoras. + +“Again, therefore,” said I, “if you should ask me, my friends, ‘Why in +the world do you speak so much and so frequently about this,’ ‘Pardon +me,’ I should say. For, in the first place, it is not easy to prove what +this is which you call being overcome by pleasures; and, in the next +place, the whole proof depends on this. But even now you are at liberty +to retract, if you are able to say that good is any thing else than +pleasure, or evil any thing else than pain; or is it enough for you to +pass your life pleasantly without pain? If it is enough, and you cannot +mention any thing else that is good or evil, which does not end in +these, hear what follows: 110. for I say to you, that if this be the +case, the assertion is ridiculous, when you say that frequently, a man +who knows that evil things are evil, nevertheless does them, when it is +in his power not to do them, in consequence of being led away and +overpowered by pleasures; and again, when you say that a man who knows +what is good, is not willing to do it in consequence of immediate +pleasures, by which he is overcome. For it will be manifest that these +things are ridiculous, if we do not make use of many names, such as +pleasant and painful, good and evil, but, since these things appear to +be two, call them also by two names, first, good and evil, next, +pleasant and painful. Having settled this, let us say, that a man +knowing evil to be evil, nevertheless does it. If, then, any one should +ask us, ‘why?’ we shall answer, ‘because he is overcome.’ ‘By what?’ he +will ask us. But we are no longer at liberty to say, ‘by pleasure;’ for +it has assumed another name instead of pleasure, namely, good. We must, +however, answer him, and say, ‘because he is overcome.’ ‘By what?’ he +will ask. ‘By good,’ we shall answer, by Jupiter. 111. Now if he who +questions should happen to be somewhat insolent, he will laugh at us and +say, ‘A ridiculous thing is this you mention, if a man does evil, +knowing that it is evil, when he ought not to do it, because he is +overcome by good.’ ‘Is it,’ he will ask, ‘because the good is not worthy +to overcome the evil in you, or because it is worthy?’ We shall clearly +say in answer, that it is because it is not worthy; for otherwise he +would not err whom we say is overcome by pleasures. But perhaps he will +ask, ‘in what respect are good things unworthy to overcome the evil, or +evil to overcome the good? Is it in any other respect than that the one +is greater and the other less? or that the one is more, and the other +fewer in number?’ We shall not be able to say any thing else than this. +‘It is clear then,’ he will say, ‘that by being overcome you mean to +receive greater evil instead of less good.’ And thus much for this part +of the question. + +“Let us now change the names, and again apply the words pleasant and +painful to these same things, and let us say, that a man does things, we +before called them evil, but let us now call them painful, knowing that +they are painful, being overcome by pleasant things, clearly such as are +unworthy to prevail. And what other value is there of pleasure in +comparison with pain, except that of excess or defect in one or the +other? that is, of their being greater or less, more or fewer in number, +stronger or weaker than one another. 112. For if any one should say, +‘But Socrates, immediate pleasure is very different from future pleasure +or pain,’ ‘Is it,’ I should ask, ‘in any thing else than in pleasure and +pain?’ for it cannot differ in any thing else. But like a man expert at +weighing, having put together the pleasant things, and having put +together the painful, and having placed those which are near, and those +which are remote, in the scales, say which are the more numerous. For if +you weigh pleasures with pleasures, the greater and more numerous are +always to be chosen, and if pains with pains, the less and the fewer in +number. But if you weigh pleasures with pains, if the pains are exceeded +by the pleasures, whether those that are near by those that are remote, +or those that are remote by those that are near, the same course must be +pursued, in whichever the excess is; but if the pleasures are exceeded +by the pains, it must not be pursued. ‘Can these things be settled in +any other way, my friends,’ I should ask? 113. I know that they could +not mention any other.” + +It seemed so to him likewise. + +“Since then, this is the case, I shall say ‘Answer me this, do the same +magnitudes appear to your sight greater when near, and less when at a +distance, or not?’ They will say they do. ‘And things bulky, and things +numerous, in like manner? and are not equal sounds greater when near, +but less when at a distance?’ They would say they are. If then, our +well-being consisted in this, in making and choosing great masses, but +in avoiding and not making little ones, what means of safety should we +seem to have in life? Would it be the art of mensuration, or the faculty +of judging by appearances? or would the latter lead us into error, and +often cause us to vary in our choice of the same thing, now choosing one +and now another, and to repent both in our actions and our selections of +things great and little, but would the art of mensuration do away with +this outward show, and making manifest the truth, cause the soul to be +at ease, abiding in the truth, and preserve our life?’ Would the men +upon this admit that the art of mensuration preserves us, or some other +art?” + +114. “The art of mensuration,” he admitted. + +“‘But what, if the safety of our life consisted in the choice of even +and odd, when more ought properly to be chosen, and when less, each with +reference to itself, or one with reference to the other, whether they +might be near or distant, what, in this case, would preserve our life? +Would it not be a science? and would it not be one of mensuration, since +it is an art of excess and defect? But since it has relation to even and +odd, can it be any other than arithmetic?’ Would the men grant us this, +or not?” + +It appeared also to Protagoras that they would. + +“‘Be it so, my friends; but since the safety of our life has appeared to +consist in the right choice of pleasure and pain, and of more and fewer, +greater and smaller, more distant and nearer; does it not first of all +appear to be an art of mensuration, since it is a consideration of +excess and defect and equality of these with respect to each other?’ +‘Necessarily so.’ ‘But since it has to do with mensuration, it must of +necessity be an art and a science.’ 115. They will assent to this. What +then this art and science may be, we will consider hereafter; but that +it is a science is sufficient for the proof of that which Protagoras and +I had to make good in answer to the question you asked us. You asked, if +you remember, when we agreed with each other that nothing is more +powerful than knowledge, but that it always gets the mastery, wherever +it may be, both of pleasure and every thing else; but you said that +pleasure often gets the mastery, even of a man possessed of knowledge, +and when we did not agree with you, you thereupon asked us, ‘Protagoras +and Socrates, if this affection is not the being overcome by pleasure, +what is it then, and what do you say it is? tell us.’ 116. If, then, we +had immediately said to you, that it is ignorance, you would have +laughed at us. But now if you laugh at us, you will also laugh at +yourselves. For you have admitted that they err through want of +knowledge, who err in the choice of pleasures and pains; but these are +things good and evil; and not only through want of knowledge, but as you +afterwards further admitted, a knowledge of mensuration. Now an +erroneous action done without knowledge, as you must yourselves know, is +done through ignorance: so that to be overcome by pleasure is the +greatest ignorance; of which Protagoras here says he is a physician, and +so do Prodicus and Hippias. But you, because you think it is something +else than ignorance, neither go yourselves, nor send your children to +the teachers of these things, the sophists, as if this knowledge could +not be taught, but by saving your money, and not giving it to these men, +you fare badly, both in private and public. 117. Such is the answer we +should give to the many. But I ask you, Hippias and Prodicus, as well as +Protagoras, for let the conversation be common to you all, whether I +appear to you to speak the truth, or to speak falsely?” + +What had been said appeared to all to be eminently true. + +“You admit, then,” said I, “that the pleasant is good, but the painful +evil. But I deprecate Prodicus’s verbal distinctions: for whether you +call it pleasant, or delightful, or enjoyable, or from whatever +derivation or in whatever way you please to denominate such things, most +excellent Prodicus, use your own word and answer what I wish.” + +118. Prodicus, therefore, laughing, agreed with me, as did the others. + +“But what, my friends,” I continued, “do you say to this? All actions +that tend to this, that we may live without pain and pleasantly, are +they not beautiful? and is not a beautiful action good and profitable?”. + +They agreed. + +“If then,” I said, “the pleasant is good, no one who either knows or +thinks that other things are better than what he is doing, and that they +are possible, still continues to do the same, when it is in his power to +do the better; nor is to be overcome by one’s-self any thing else than +ignorance, nor to be master of one’s-self any thing else than wisdom.” + +All agreed to this. + +“What then? Do you say that ignorance is a thing of this kind, to have a +false opinion, and to be deceived about matters of great importance?” + +To this, likewise, all agreed. + +“Is it not the case then,” I said, “that no one willingly sets about +things evil, or things which he thinks are evil, nor is this, as it +seems, in the nature of man willingly to engage in things which he +thinks are evil, instead of such as are good; and when of two evils he +is compelled to choose one, no one will choose the greater, when it is +in his power to choose the less.” + +119. All these things were assented to by us all. + +“What then,” said I, “do you call dread and fear something? and the same +that I do, (I address myself to you, Prodicus,) I mean by it a certain +expectation of evil, whether you call it fear or dread.” + +It appeared to Protagoras and Hippias that dread and fear were of this +nature, but to Prodicus that dread was, but fear not. + +“But,” said I, “it is of no consequence, Prodicus; but this is; if what +we before said is true, will any man deliberately engage in things which +he dreads, when it is in his power to engage in things which he does not +dread? or is not this impossible from our former admissions? for it has +been admitted that what he dreads he considers to be evil; and what he +considers to be evil, no one either engages in or willingly receives.” + +These things, likewise, were agreed to by all. + +120. “These points, then, being established,” I said, “Prodicus and +Hippias, let Protagoras here defend himself and shew us how his first +answer is correct, no, not quite the first, for he then said, that there +being five parts of virtue, no one of them was like any other, but that +each had a peculiar function of its own. I do not however mean this, but +what he said afterwards. For afterwards he said, that four of them very +much resembled each other, but that one was altogether different from +the rest, namely courage. And he said I should know it by the following +proof. ‘You will find men, Socrates, who are most unholy, most unjust, +most intemperate, and most ignorant, who are yet most courageous; by +which you will know that courage differs much from the other parts of +virtue.’ And I indeed, at the moment, was very much astonished at the +answer, and I have been still more so since I have discussed these +things with you. I therefore asked him if he meant that courageous men +are bold? He said he did, and ready to rush headlong. 121. Do you +remember, Protagoras,” said I, “that you gave this answer?” + +He admitted it. + +“Come then,” said I, “tell us on what you say the courageous are ready +to rush headlong? Is it on the same things as cowards?” + +He said not. + +“On different things, therefore.” + +“Yes,” he replied. + +“But whether do cowards attempt things which they can venture on with +confidence, but the courageous on such as are dreadful?” + +“It is said so, Socrates, by the generality of men.” + +“You say truly,” I replied. “I do not, however, ask this: but on what do +you say courageous men are ready to rush headlong, on dreadful things, +thinking that they are dreadful, or on such as are not dreadful?” + +“But this,” he said, “in the arguments which you just now used, was +shewn to be impossible.” + +“And in this,” I replied, “you say truly. So that if this point was +proved correctly, no one attempts things which he considers to be +dreadful, since to be overcome by one’s-self was found to be ignorance.” + +He admitted it. + +“All men, however, attempt things in which they have confidence, both +the cowardly and the courageous, and thus both the cowardly and the +courageous attempt the same things.” + +122. “But indeed, Socrates,” said he, “the things which the cowardly and +the courageous attempt are quite contrary to each other; for instance, +the latter are willing to engage in war, but the former are unwilling.” + +“Whether,” said I, “is it honourable to engage in it, or base?” + +“Honourable,” he replied. + +“If, therefore, it is honourable, have we not already admitted that it +is good, for we have admitted that all honourable actions are good.” + +“You say truly, and I am always of this opinion.” + +“Right,” said I. “But which of the two do you say are unwilling to +engage in war, though it is honourable and good?” + +“Cowards,” he replied. + +“If therefore,” said I, “it be honourable and good, is it not also +pleasant?” + +“That has been granted,” he said. + +“Are the cowardly, then, unwilling to attempt what they know to be more +honourable and better, and more pleasant?” + +“But,” said he, “if we admitted this, we should destroy our former +admissions.” + +123. “But what with respect to the brave man? Does he not engage in what +is more honourable, better, and more pleasant?” + +“It is necessary,” said he, “to admit that he does.” + +“On the whole, then, is it not the case, that the courageous, when they +are afraid, have no base fear, nor are they inspired with base +confidence.” + +“True,” said he. + +“But if not base, are they not honourable?” + +He assented. + +“And if honourable, also good?” + +“Yes.” + +“And are not the cowardly, and the bold, and the mad, on the contrary, +influenced by base fears, and inspired with base confidence?” + +He admitted that they are. + +“And are they bold in what is base and evil, through any thing else than +ignorance and want of knowledge?” + +“So it is,” he replied. + +“What then? Do you call this, through which cowards are cowardly, +cowardice or courage?” + +“Cowardice,” said he. + +“But have not cowards appeared to be what they are, through not knowing +what is dreadful?” + +“Certainly,” said he. + +“They are cowardly then, through this want of knowledge?” + +He admitted it. + +“But that through which they are cowardly, you have admitted is +cowardice?” + +He assented. + +“Must not, then, the not knowing what is dreadful, and not dreadful, be +cowardice?” + +He nodded assent. + +“However,” said I, “courage is contrary to cowardice.” + +He said it was. + +“Is not then the knowledge of what is dreadful, and not dreadful, +contrary to a want of knowledge of these things?” + +And here he still nodded assent. + +“But is not the want of knowing these things cowardice?” + +He, here, with great difficulty, nodded assent. + +“Is not the knowledge therefore, of what is dreadful, and not dreadful, +courage, being contrary to a want of knowledge of these things?” + +124. Here he would no longer nod assent, but was silent. + +So I said, “Why, Protagoras, do you neither admit nor deny what I ask?” + +“Do you conclude the subject,” he said. + +“I have only one more question to ask you,” said I, “whether some men +still appear to you as at first, to be most ignorant, and yet most +courageous.” + +“You seem to be very anxious, Socrates, that I should be the person to +answer. I will therefore indulge you, and I say, that from what has been +granted, it appears to me to be impossible.” + +“I ask all these questions,” said I, “on no other account, than because +I wish to examine how the case stands with respect to things pertaining +to virtue, and what virtue itself is. For I know that when this is +discovered, that other will be clearly ascertained, about which you and +I have both of us held so long a discussion, I maintaining that virtue +cannot be taught, but you that it can. 125. And the present issue of our +discussion appears to me, as if it were a man, to accuse and laugh at +us, and if it had a voice, it would say, Absurd men ye are, Socrates and +Protagoras; you, who at the outset maintained that virtue cannot be +taught, are now contending in opposition to yourself, and endeavouring +to shew that all things are knowledge, as justice, temperance, and +courage, according to which method of proceeding it will certainly +appear that virtue may be taught. For if virtue were any thing else than +knowledge, as Protagoras endeavours to maintain, it clearly could not be +taught; but now, if it shall appear to be altogether knowledge, as you +contend, Socrates, it will be wonderful if it cannot be taught. +Protagoras on the other hand, who at first insisted that it could be +taught, now seems to contend for the contrary, that it may appear to be +almost any thing else rather than knowledge; and so can on no account be +taught. 126. I therefore, Protagoras, seeing all these things terribly +confused, this way and that, am exceedingly anxious that they should be +made clear, and should wish, now we have discussed these things, to +proceed to enquire what virtue is, and to examine again respecting it, +whether it can be taught, or not, lest by chance that Epimetheus of +yours should treacherously deceive us in our enquiry, just as he +neglected us in the distribution which he made, as you say. Now in the +fable, Prometheus pleased me more than Epimetheus, and making use of +him, and looking forward with forethought to my whole life, I diligently +attend to all these matters; and if you are willing, as I said at the +beginning, I would most gladly join with you in examining them +thoroughly.” + +To this Protagoras said, “I, Socrates, praise your zeal, and your method +of unfolding arguments. For I am not in other respects, I think, a bad +man, and least of all men envious: indeed I have often said of you to +many, that I admire you more than all whom I am in the habit of meeting, +and far above those of your own age: and I add, that I should not wonder +if you were to rank among men renowned for wisdom. And these matters we +will further discuss hereafter, when you please; but it is now time for +me to attend to other business.” + +“It is right so to do,” I replied, “if you think fit. For I too ought +long since to have gone where I had to go, but I staid to oblige the +beautiful Callias.” + +Having said and heard these things, we departed. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE PHÆDRUS. + + +Phædrus, whom we have already[105] met with among the followers of the +sophist Hippias, happening to meet with Socrates, tells him that he has +just left the orator Lysias, who had written and recited a speech on the +subject of love, in which he argued that a youth ought rather to shew +favour to one who is not in love than to one who is. Socrates, who +pretends to be very anxious to hear the speech, begs Phædrus to repeat +it from memory as well as he is able, for he cannot doubt but that he +has learnt it by heart, so great is his admiration for its author. +Phædrus affects shyness, though in reality desirous of practising +himself on Socrates: at length, however, Socrates discovers that he has +a copy of it under his cloak, so they proceed on their walk, talking by +the way, till they reach a plane-tree on the banks of the Ilissus, +outside the walls of Athens, under whose ample shade they lie down[106]. + +----- + +Footnote 105: + + See the Protagoras, § 17. + +Footnote 106: + + § 1-10. + +----- + +Phædrus reads the speech, which in addition to the faults of obscurity, +inconclusiveness, and tautology, takes a very low and sensual view of +the passion of love[107]. When it is ended, Phædrus asks Socrates what +he thinks of it, and whether it is not a wonderful composition, +especially as to the language. Socrates at first praises it ironically, +but on being pressed by Phædrus points out some of its faults, and says +that even Lysias himself could not be satisfied with it, and that many +others have both spoken and written finer things on the same subject, +with which at that very instant his breast is full. Phædrus catches at +this, and insists on Socrates repeating these fine things, promising +that if he says any thing that excels the speech of Lysias he will erect +his statue in gold in Olympia[108]. + +----- + +Footnote 107: + + § 11-21. + +Footnote 108: + + § 22-27. + +----- + +As it is the present design of Socrates to take the same low view of +love that Lysias had done, he determines to speak with his face covered, +that he may not falter through shame. He begins by a definition of love, +which he represents to be desire hurried on to the pleasure derived from +personal beauty; and then he goes on to shew, with great perspicuity, +how a person under the influence of such a passion must needs be anxious +that the beloved object should not excel himself or be admired by +others. Then with regard to the body, he will wish to make it +effeminate, and be anxious that his beloved should be as much as +possible dependent on him; and at length he will become unfaithful, +forget all his former vows and promises, and leave his favourite +despised and destitute, who will suffer most of all in this, that he has +been debarred from cultivating his soul, than which, he adds, there +neither is nor ever will be any thing more precious in the sight of gods +and men[109]. + +----- + +Footnote 109: + + § 28-40. + +----- + +Phædrus expects that Socrates will not only shew the disadvantages of +granting favours to a lover, but also go on to point out the advantages +of granting them to one who is not in love. This, however, he refuses to +do; and then, conscience-stricken for that he has been guilty of an +offence against the deity of Love in speaking of him in so impious a +manner, he determines on making his recantation, by uttering a speech +which shall describe that deity in his true character. He begins by +condemning his former assertion that favour ought rather to be shewn to +one who is not in love than to a lover, because the latter is mad and +the former in his sober senses. For, he argues, it is not universally +true that madness is an evil, so far from it, that the greatest +blessings spring from madness, for even prophetic inspiration is a +species of madness and derives its very name from it. And love is one of +many kinds of madness, and as such the source of the greatest happiness +to man. To prove this, he says, it is necessary to examine into the +nature of the soul, both human and divine. The soul, then, is immortal, +because it contains the principle of motion within itself (a subtle +argument which it may be observed was not adduced in the Phædo, where +the soul’s immortality was the immediate point under discussion.) Still, +to explain what the soul is would require a divine and lengthened +exposition; he must therefore content himself with saying what it is +like. He therefore compares the soul to a pair of winged steeds and a +charioteer. The horses and charioteers of the gods are all good, but all +others are mixed. While the soul is perfect and winged it soars aloft, +but when it loses its wings it is borne downward and becomes united with +a body in which it takes up its abode, and the two united are called +mortal. He then describes how Jupiter goes first, driving a winged +chariot, and is followed by a host of gods and demons distributed into +eleven divisions: in their flight they reach the external regions of +heaven, and behold truth, justice, temperance, science, in their +essences. Other inferior souls endeavour to follow and imitate them; +few, however, can do so: those that get a glimpse of any of the true +essences are free from harm till the next revolution, but those that are +unable to do so are weighed down and lose their wings, and become +implanted in earthly natures of various orders, and then, according to +their conduct in this condition, are either restored to their former +state or still further degraded. The mind of the philosopher, however, +is alone furnished with wings, because his memory dwells on that which +is divine[110]. + +----- + +Footnote 110: + + § 40-62. + +----- + +This then is the madness above spoken of, when one, beholding beauty in +this lower world, is reminded of the true, and looking upwards to it +despises things below and is deemed to be affected with madness. But he +who has become corrupted is not easily carried hence to beauty itself, +nor does he reverence it when he beholds it, but looks upon it with +carnal sensuality; whereas he, who has not been so far corrupted, when +he beholds the imitation of beauty here, reverences it as a god, and, +but for the imputation of madness, would sacrifice to it. Then his wings +begin to swell again and endeavour to burst forth anew; but when +separated from the beautiful object the soul becomes parched and the +passages through which the wings shoot forth become closed. Thus +alternately tormented with agony and joy, it becomes frantic and runs +about trying to see the possessor of the beauty. This affection men call +love. Now when a follower of Jupiter is thus seized, he is better able +to bear the burden of the winged god: for such a one seeks one who +resembles Jupiter to be the object of his love; and when he has found +him, he endeavours to make him like his own god[111]. + +----- + +Footnote 111: + + § 68-73. + +----- + +As each soul was before divided into three parts, two having the form of +horses, and the third that of a charioteer, so that division must still +be maintained. When therefore the charioteer beholds the love-inspiring +sight, the obedient horse is easily restrained, but the other compels +them to hurry to the favourite, and longs to indulge in the delights of +love. But the charioteer, on approaching him, is carried back to +absolute beauty, and being awe-struck falls backward and throws the +horses on their haunches. When by being repeatedly checked in this way +the vicious horse has laid aside his insolence, he becomes humbled and +the soul of the lover follows his favourite with reverence and awe. And +the beloved being worshipped by one who does not feign the passion but +who really feels it, requites the affection of his worshipper, and in +turn longs for the lover in the same manner that he is longed for, +possessing love’s image, love returned. If then the better parts of +their mind prevail so as to lead to a well-regulated life and +philosophy, they pass their life in bliss and concord, and when they +depart this life, they become winged and win one of the three truly +Olympic contests, a greater good than which neither human prudence nor +divine madness can bestow on man. If however, they have adopted a +coarser and less philosophic mode of life, but still honourable, in the +end they find the body without wings indeed, yet making an effort to +become winged and so carry off no trifling prize of impassioned +madness[112]. + +----- + +Footnote 112: + + § 73-84. + +----- + +When Socrates had ended his recantation to Love, Phædrus expresses great +admiration of his speech; and adds that he doubts whether Lysias will +ever venture to write speeches again. But Socrates shews him that such +an expectation is altogether groundless; and after a charming little +episode on the origin of grasshoppers, proposes to consider in what a +correct mode of speaking and writing consists[113]. + +----- + +Footnote 113: + + § 85-91. + +----- + +The first essential is that the speaker should know the truth of the +subject on which he is about to speak. And though it is commonly said +that an orator need not know what is really just, but only what will +appear so to the multitude, yet Socrates with great force destroys this +fallacy, and shews that such rhetoric is not an art but an inartistic +trick; for a genuine art of speaking neither does nor can exist without +laying hold of truth. Rhetoric must be an art that leads the soul by +means of argument. Now in courts of justice and popular assemblies men +succeed by making things appear similar to each other so far as they are +capable of being made appear so; and deception will more frequently +occur in things that nearly resemble each other, so that a person who +means to persuade or deceive another must be able to distinguish +accurately the similarity and dissimilarity of things, and so lead his +hearer by means of resemblances. Taking this as his principle, Socrates +proceeds to shew that the speech of Lysias is altogether inartistic, for +that he ought first of all to have defined Love and divided it into its +different species and shewn of which class he was going to speak, +whereas he begins where he should have ended, and throughout speaks at +random without any definite design. He then proceeds to comment on his +own two speeches. In one he argued that favour ought to be shewn to one +that is in love, in the other to a person that is not in love. In one he +said that love was a kind of divine madness, and then dividing this +madness into four parts he shewed that the madness of Love is the best. +In these speeches, then, are seen the two methods of arguing correctly, +definition and division, the former of which contemplates many things +under one aspect and brings them together under one general idea, the +latter separates that general idea into species[114]. + +----- + +Footnote 114: + + § 92-111. + +----- + +Socrates then ridicules the rules of rhetoric laid down by many of the +sophists, and having passed a high eulogium on Pericles, shews that a +perfect orator must know the real nature of the things to which he will +have to apply his speeches, and that is the soul; for as the power of +speech consists in leading the soul, he must know how many kinds of soul +there are, and by what arguments each kind is most easily +persuaded[115]. + +----- + +Footnote 115: + + § 112-132. + +----- + +From speaking he proceeds to writing, and tells a pleasant story of the +invention of letters, and remarks that the evil of writing is, that, +like painting, if you ask it a question it cannot answer; and when once +written it is tossed from hand to hand, as well among those who +understand it as those who do not. But there is another kind of +discourse far more excellent, which is written in the learner’s mind, +and knows when to speak and when to be silent. The conclusion of the +whole is that a speaker should be acquainted with the true nature of +each subject on which he speaks or writes, be able to define, and divide +things into their species until he reaches the indivisible, and to +investigate the nature of the soul and apply his discourses to each soul +according to its capacity. + +Then, with a message, in accordance with these principles, to Lysias, +and a high encomium on Isocrates, who promised to be led by a diviner +impulse to holier and higher things, he concludes by praying that Pan +would grant him to be beautiful in the inner man, and that all outward +things might be at peace with those within. That he may deem the wise +man rich: and may have such a portion of gold as none but a prudent man +can bear or employ. + + + + + PHÆDRUS. + + SOCRATES. PHÆDRUS. + + ------- + + +_Socr._ My dear Phædrus, whither are you going, and from whence come +you? + +_Phæ._ From Lysias, son of Cephalus, Socrates; but I am going for a walk +outside the walls; for I have spent a long time there, sitting from very +early in the morning; but in obedience to your and my friend Acumenus, I +take my walks in the open roads; for he says that they are more +refreshing than those in the course. + +_Socr._ He says rightly, my friend: Lysias then, as it seems, was in the +city? + +_Phæ._ Yes, with Epicrates in the Morychian house here, near the +Olympium. + +_Socr._ What was your employment there? Without doubt Lysias feasted you +with speeches? + +_Phæ._ You shall hear, if you have leisure to go on with me and listen. + +_Socr._ What then? do you not think that, according to Pindar[116], I +should consider it a matter above all want and leisure, to listen to the +conversation between you and Lysias? + +----- + +Footnote 116: + + Isthm. i. 2. + +----- + +_Phæ._ Proceed then. + +_Socr._ Do you begin your story. + +2. _Phæ._ And indeed, Socrates, the subject is suited to you. For the +question, in which we spent our time, I know not how, was amatory. For +Lysias had written a speech in which he described a beautiful youth as +being courted, but not by a lover; and on this very point he argued with +great subtilty; for he maintains that favour ought to be shewn to one +who is not in love, rather than to one who is in love. + +_Socr._ Generous man! I wish he had written that favour should be shewn +to a poor man rather than a rich one, and to an old than a young, and so +on with respect to such things as happen to me and the most of us; for +then his discourses would be charming and of general usefulness. I, for +my part, am so very desirous to hear his speech, that even if you +prolong your walk to Megara, and, after Herodicus, when you have reached +the wall, turn back again, I shall on no account lag behind you. + +3. _Phæ._ How say you, most excellent Socrates? Do you think, that what +Lysias, the most able writer of the day, composed at his leisure in a +long space of time, I who am but a novice could repeat from memory in a +manner worthy of him? Far from it; though I would rather be able to do +so than be the possessor of a large sum of gold. + +_Socr._ Phædrus, if I know not Phædrus, I have also forgotten myself; +but neither of these is the case; for I know well that on hearing +Lysias’s speech he not only heard it once, but urged him to read it +repeatedly, and he readily complied; neither was this sufficient for +Phædrus, but at length having got hold of the book, he examined the +parts he liked best; and having done this, sitting from very early in +the morning, he was fatigued and went out for a walk, as I believe, by +the dog, having learnt the whole speech by heart, if it is not a very +long one. And he was going outside the walls, that he might con it over, +and, [4.] meeting with one who has a desire for hearing speeches, was +delighted at seeing him approach, because he would have one to share his +enthusiasm, and bade him accompany him in his walk. But when that lover +of speeches begged him to recite it, he affected shyness, as if he did +not wish to repeat it, though at length he would have compelled one to +listen to it even though one was not willing to do so. Do you then, +Phædrus, entreat him to do now what he will soon do at all events. + +_Phæ._ It is, in truth, far best for me to repeat it as well as I can; +for I see you are determined not to let me go, until I have delivered it +some how or another. + +_Socr._ You think perfectly right. + +_Phæ._ I will do it then; but in truth, Socrates, I have by no means +learnt the words of this oration by heart, though the general outline of +all the several parts, in which he said the claims of one who is in love +and one who is not differ from each other, I can go through summarily +and in order, beginning from the first. + +5. _Socr._ But shew me first, my dear friend, what you have got there in +your left hand, under your cloak; for I suspect that you have got the +speech itself: and if this is the case, think thus of me, that I love +you very much, but that, when Lysias is present, I have by no means made +up my mind to lend myself to you to practise upon. Come then, shew it +me. + +_Phæ._ Stop, you have dashed down the hope I had, Socrates, of +practising upon you. But where do you wish we should sit down and read? + +_Socr._ Let us turn down here, and go near the Ilissus, then we will sit +down quietly, wherever you please. + +_Phæ._ Very seasonably, as it appears, I happen to be without shoes, for +you are always so. It will be easiest for us then to walk by the shallow +stream, wetting our feet, and it will not be unpleasant, especially at +this season of the year, and this time of the day. + +_Socr._ Lead on then, and at the same time look out for a place where we +may sit down. + +6. _Phæ._ Do you see that lofty plane-tree? + +_Socr._ How should I not. + +_Phæ._ There, there is both shade and a gentle breeze, and grass to sit +down upon, or, if we prefer it, to lie down on. + +_Socr._ Lead on, then. + +_Phæ._ But tell me, Socrates, is not Boreas reported to have carried off +Orithya from somewhere about this part of the Ilissus? + +_Socr._ So it is said. + +_Phæ._ Must it not have been from this spot? for the water hereabouts +appears beautiful, clear and transparent, and well suited for damsels to +sport about. + +_Socr._ No, but lower down, as much as two or three stadia, where we +cross over to the temple of the Huntress, and where there is, on the +very spot, a kind of altar sacred to Boreas. + +_Phæ._ I never noticed it. But tell me, by Jupiter, Socrates, do you +believe that this fabulous account is true? + +7. _Socr._ If I disbelieved it, as the wise do, I should not be guilty +of any absurdity: then having recourse to subtleties, I should say that +a blast of Boreas threw her down from the neighbouring cliffs, as she +was sporting with Pharmacea, and that having thus met her death she was +said to have been carried off by Boreas, or from Mars’ hill; for there +is also another report that she was carried off from thence and not from +this spot. But I, for my part, Phædrus, consider such things as pretty +enough, but as the province of a very curious, painstaking, and not very +happy man, and for no other reason than this, that after this he must +set us right as to the form of the Hippocentaurs, and then as to that of +the Chimæra; besides there pours in upon him a crowd of similar +monsters, Gorgons and Pegasuses, and other monstrous creatures, +incredible in number and absurdity, which if any one were to disbelieve +and endeavour to reconcile each with probability, employing for this +purpose a kind of vulgar cleverness, he will stand in need of abundant +leisure. 8. But I have not leisure at all for such matters; and the +cause of it, my friend, is this; I am not yet able, according to the +Delphic precept, to know myself. But it appears to me to be ridiculous, +while I am still ignorant of this to busy myself about matters that do +not concern me. Wherefore dismissing these matters, and receiving the +popular opinion respecting them, as I just now said, I do not enquire +about them, but about myself, whether I happen to be a beast, with more +folds and more furious than Typhon, or whether I am a more mild and +simple animal, naturally partaking of a certain divine and modest +condition. But, my friend, to interrupt our conversation, is not this +the tree to which you were leading me? + +_Phæ._ This is the very one. + +9. _Socr._ By Juno, a beautiful retreat. For this plane-tree is very +wide-spreading and lofty, and the height and shadiness of this agnus +castus are very beautiful, and as it is now at the perfection of its +flowering, it makes the spot as fragrant as possible. Moreover, a most +agreeable fountain flows under the plane-tree, of very cold water, to +judge from its effect on the foot. It appears from these images and +statues to be sacred to certain nymphs, and to Achelous. Observe again +the freshness of the spot how charming and very delightful it is, and +how summer-like and shrill it sounds from the choir of grasshoppers. But +the most delightful of all is the grass, which with its gentle slope is +naturally adapted to give an easy support to the head, as one reclines. +So that, my dear Phædrus, you make an admirable stranger’s guide. + +10. _Phæ._ And you, my wonderful friend, appear to be a most surprising +being: for as you say, you are just like a stranger who is being shewn +the sights, and not a native of the place. This comes from your never +quitting the city, or going beyond the boundaries, nor do you seem to me +ever to go outside the walls. + +_Socr._ Pardon me, my excellent friend; for I am a lover of learning: +now the fields and trees will not teach me any thing, but men in the +city do. You, however, appear to me to have discovered a charm to entice +me out. For as those, who, by shaking leaves or some fruit before them, +lead their hungry flocks, so do you, by holding out written speeches +before me, seem as if you could lead me about all Attica, and wherever +else you please. But now, for the present, since I am come here, I am +resolved to lay me down, and do you in whatever posture you think you +can read most conveniently, take this and read. + +_Phæ._ Listen then. 11. “You are well acquainted with the state of my +affairs, and I think you have heard that it would be for our advantage +if this took place. And I claim, not for this reason to fail in my +request, because I do not happen to be one of your lovers: for they +repent of the benefits they have conferred, as soon as their desires +cease; but the others have no time at which it is convenient for them to +repent; since not from necessity, but voluntarily, they confer benefits +according to their ability, so as but to consult their own interests. +Besides, lovers consider what of their affairs they have managed badly +by reason of their love, and what benefits they have conferred, and +adding thereto what labour they have undergone, they think that they +have long since conferred sufficient favours on the objects of their +love. But those who do not love have no pretence to make of the neglect +of their own affairs on this score, nor can they take into account the +labours they have undergone, nor make differences with their friends a +pretext: so that, all such evils being removed, nothing remains for them +but to do cheerfully whatever they think they will gratify them by +doing. 12. Besides, if for this reason it is right to make much of those +who love, because they say they are most devotedly attached to those +whom they love, and are always ready, both in words and deeds, to incur +the enmity of others, so that they can but gratify the objects of their +love, it is easy to discover whether they speak the truth, because those +whom they afterwards fall in love with they will prize more highly than +the former, and it is evident that if the latter require it, they will +behave ill to the former. And how is it reasonable to lavish such a +treasure[117] on one afflicted with such a calamity, as no experienced +person would ever attempt to avert? for they themselves confess that +they are rather diseased than in their right minds, and that they know +that they are out of their senses, but are unable to control themselves. +How therefore, when they recover their senses, can they think that those +things were right about which they were so anxious when in that state of +mind? 13. Moreover, if you should choose the best from among your +lovers, your choice must be made from a few; but if from among all +others the one most suited to you, from many: so that there is much more +hope that among the many there is one worthy of your affection. If, +therefore, you respect the established usages of mankind, and are afraid +lest, when men discover it, it should be a disgrace to you, it is +probable that lovers, thinking that they are envied by others in the +same way that they envy each other, should be so elated as to talk, and, +out of ambition, publish to the world that they have not bestowed their +labour in vain; but that such as are not in love, having a control over +themselves, should prefer what is best to celebrity amongst men. 14. +Besides, it must needs happen that many should hear of and see lovers +following the objects of their affection, and doing this sedulously, so +that when they are seen conversing with one another men think that they +are together on account of desire already indulged or about to be so: +but they do not attempt to blame those who do not love, on account of +their familiarity, being aware that it is necessary to converse with +some one, either on account of friendship or some other pleasure. 15. +Moreover, if you have experienced uneasiness from the consideration that +it is difficult for friendship to last, but that when a difference takes +place under other circumstances a common calamity happens to both; but +that when you have lavished what you prize most highly great injury +would befal you, you would with good reason be more afraid of those who +love. For there are many things that grieve them, and they think that +every thing is done to their detriment. Wherefore they prohibit the +objects of their love from associating with others, fearing those who +possess wealth, lest they should get the better of them by means of +their riches, and the well-educated, lest they should surpass them in +intelligence; and they are apprehensive of the influence of every one +who possesses any other advantage. By persuading you, then, to keep +aloof from such as these, they cause you to be destitute of friends. If, +therefore, regarding your own interest, you pursue a wiser course than +they recommend, you are sure to quarrel with them. 16. But such as are +not in love, but have obtained the accomplishment of their wishes +through merit, will not envy your associating with others, but will +rather hate those who will not associate with you, thinking that you are +despised by them, and are benefited by those who associate with you. So +that there is much more reason to hope that friendship will be produced +between these by this means, than enmity. Moreover, most lovers conceive +a desire for the person before they know their habits or are acquainted +with their own qualities, so that it is uncertain whether they will +still wish to be their friends when their desire has ceased; but with +those who are not in love, and who have done this, having been friends +with each other before, it is not probable that acts of kindness will +make their friendship less, but that they will be left as monuments of +future services. 17. Besides, it will tend to your improvement if you +are persuaded by me rather than by a lover. For they, contrary to your +best interests, praise all that you say and do, partly fearing lest they +should offend you, partly being themselves depraved in their judgment, +through desire, for love shews itself in such things: it makes the +unsuccessful consider as distressing things which occasion no pain to +others, and compels the successful to praise things which are not worthy +the name of pleasures; so that it is much more proper to pity than envy +those that are loved. 18. But if you will be persuaded by me, first of +all I will associate with you, not attending to present pleasure, but +future advantage, not overcome by love, but controlling myself, not +conceiving violent enmities for trifling offences, but slowly indulging +slight anger for great offences, pardoning involuntary faults, and +endeavouring to divert you from such as are voluntary; for these are the +marks of a friendship that will endure for along time. If, however, it +has occurred to you that it is not possible for affection to be strong +unless one is in love, you should consider that in that case we should +not be very fond of our children or our fathers and mothers, nor acquire +faithful friends, who have become such not from desire of this kind, but +from other useful qualities. 19. Moreover, if it is right to gratify +those most who most need it, it is right also with respect to others to +benefit, not the best men, but the most needy; for, being delivered from +the greatest evils, they will feel the deepest gratitude towards us. And +besides this, in private entertainments it will not be proper to invite +our friends, but mendicants and those who are in need of a hearty meal; +for these will greet and follow us, and will come to our doors, and be +highly delighted, and feel the utmost gratitude, and pray for many +blessings upon us. 20. But surely it is right to gratify those not who +are exceedingly needy, but who are best able to repay a kindness, nor +those who love only, but those who deserve this favour; nor such as will +enjoy the bloom of your youth, but who, when you are old, will share +their own fortune with you; nor those who, when they have effected their +object, will boast of it to others, but who, out of modesty, will be +silent towards all men; nor those who are devoted to you for a short +time, but who will be greatly attached to you throughout life; nor who, +when their desire has ceased, will seek a pretext for quarrelling, but +who, when your bloom is gone, will then exhibit their own excellence. +21. Do you, then, remember what I have said, and consider this, that +friends admonish lovers that their course of life is a bad one, but no +one ever yet found fault with those who are not in love, as if, on that +account, they consulted ill for their own interests. Perhaps, however, +you may ask me whether I advise you to gratify all who are not in love. +But I think that not even a lover would exhort you to be thus affected +towards all your lovers: for neither if one considers the matter +reasonably is such a course deserving of equal gratitude, nor if you +wished it, is it equally possible to keep it secret from others; but it +is requisite that no harm should result from the business; on the +contrary, advantage to both. I, for my part, think that enough has been +said, but if you require any thing more, under the impression that it +has been omitted, question me.” + +----- + +Footnote 117: + + Youth. + +----- + +22. What do you think of the speech, Socrates? Does it not appear to you +to be wonderfully composed in other respects, and especially as to the +language? + +_Socr._ Divinely indeed, my friend, so much so that I am amazed. And I +had this feeling through you, Phædrus, by looking at you, for you +appeared to me to be enraptured with the speech while you were reading +it. For supposing you to understand such matters better than I do, I +followed you, and, in following you, I felt the same enthusiasm with +you, my inspired friend. + +_Phæ._ Well; do you think proper to jest in this manner? + +_Socr._ Do I appear to you to jest, and not to be in earnest? + +_Phæ._ Don’t, Socrates! But tell me truly, by Jupiter the god of +friendship, do you think that any other man in Greece could speak more +ably and fully than this on the same subject? + +23. _Socr._ But what? ought the speech to be praised by you and me for +this reason, that its composer has said what he ought, and not only +because every word is clear, and rounded, and accurately polished off? +For, if it ought, it may be granted for your sake, since it escaped me +by reason of my nothingness: for I attended only to its rhetoric, but +this I did not think that even Lysias himself would think sufficient. +And to me, indeed, it seemed, Phædrus, unless you say otherwise, that he +has repeated the same things twice and thrice, as if he had not the +faculty of saying much on the same subject, or perhaps he did not care +about this. Moreover he appeared to me to make a wanton display of his +ability to express these things in different ways, and both ways most +elegantly. + +24. _Phæ._ You say nothing to the purpose, Socrates: for the speech has +this very merit in the highest degree. For he has omitted nothing +belonging to his subject, which was worthy to be mentioned: so that, +beyond what has been said by him, no one could ever say more things or +of greater weight. + +_Socr._ On this point I am no longer able to agree with you; for the +ancient and wise, both men and women, who have spoken and written on +this subject, would confute me, if I were to admit this out of +compliment to you. + +_Phæ._ Who are they? and where have you heard better things than these? + +_Socr._ I am unable to say on the moment; but I am sure that I have +heard them from some one or other, either from the beautiful Sappho, or +the wise Anacreon, or some other writer. Whence do I form this +conjecture? some how or other, my divine friend, my breast is full, and +I feel that I could say other things in addition to those and not +inferior to them. That I understand none of them of myself, I am well +aware, being conscious of my ignorance. It remains then, I think, that I +must have filled myself, like a vessel, by means of hearing, from some +foreign source; but owing to my stupidity I have forgotten even this, +both how and from whom I heard it. + +25. _Phæ._ You have told me excellent news, my noble friend. For though +you cannot tell me from whom and how you heard it, even if I bid you, +yet do the very thing that you say; promise that you will say other +things better and not less in quality than those contained in the book, +without making use of any thing in it. And I promise you, after the +manner of the nine Archons, that I will dedicate at Delphi, a golden +statue as large as life, not only of myself, but also of you. + +_Socr._ You are very kind, Phædrus, and really worth your weight in +gold, if you suppose I mean that Lysias was entirely wrong, and that it +is possible to say something altogether different from what he has said; +for I do not think that this could happen even to the poorest writer. +26. For instance with respect to the subject in hand; do you think that +any one who was maintaining that favours ought to be shewn to one who is +not in love rather than to one who is, if he neglected to extol the +prudence of the former and to blame the folly of the latter, these being +obvious points, could have any thing else to say? But I think that such +points are to be allowed and granted to a speaker, and that of such +things not the invention but the method of handling is to be praised, +but of things which are obvious, and which are not difficult to +discover, the invention as well as the method of handling. + +_Phæ._ I grant what you say; for you appear to me to have spoken fairly. +I will therefore do thus; I will allow you to suppose that one who is in +love is more diseased than one who is not, but for the rest if you say +other things more fully and of greater weight than Lysias, you shall +stand in Olympia, of solid gold, near the offering of the Cypselidæ. + +27. _Socr._ You are quite serious, Phædrus, because in teasing you I +have attacked your favourite, and you think that I shall really attempt +to say something more skilfully wrought than his wisdom has produced. + +_Phæ._ For that matter, my friend, you have given me as good a hold on +you; for you must speak, at all events, as well as you are able. And +take care that we are not compelled to have recourse to that troublesome +method of comedians, of retorting upon one another, and do not compel me +to say[118], “If I, Socrates! know not Socrates, I have also forgotten +myself,” and, “he longed to speak, but affected shyness.” But make up +your mind that we shall not leave this spot before you have given +utterance to what you said you have in your breast. For we two are by +ourselves, in a lonely place, and I am both stronger and younger; from +all this understand what I mean, and on no account prefer speaking by +compulsion rather than willingly. + +----- + +Footnote 118: + + See before, § 3 and 4. + +----- + +28. _Socr._ But, my excellent Phædrus, it would be ridiculous in me, who +am but a novice in comparison with an experienced author, to attempt to +speak extempore on the same subject. + +_Phæ._ Do you know how the case stands? Let me have no more of your +airs; for I have that to say which will force you to speak. + +_Socr._ On no account say it then. + +_Phæ._ Nay, but I will say it. And what I have to say is an oath. For I +swear to you, by whom, by what god? shall it be by this plane-tree? that +unless you make a speech to me before this very tree, I will never again +either shew or repeat to you another speech by any one whomsoever. + +_Socr._ Ah, wicked one! how well have you found out how to compel a +lover of speeches to do whatever you bid him. + +_Phæ._ Why then do you hesitate? + +_Socr._ I shall not any longer, since you have sworn this oath. For how +should I ever be able to debar myself of such a feast? + +_Phæ._ Begin then. + +_Socr._ Do you know then, what I mean to do? + +_Phæ._ About what? + +_Socr._ I shall speak with my face covered, that I may run through my +speech as quickly as possible, and that I may not, by looking at you, be +put out through shame. + +_Phæ._ Do but speak; and as to the rest, do as you please. + +29. _Socr._ Come then, ye Muses, whether from the character of your +song, ye are called tuneful[119], or whether ye derive this appellation +from the musical race of the Ligyans, assist me in the tale which this +best of men compels me to relate, that so his friend, who heretofore +appeared to him to be wise, may now appear still more so. + +----- + +Footnote 119: + + There is here a play on the words λίγειαι “tuneful,” and Λιγύων + “Ligyans,” which cannot be retained in an English version. + +----- + +There was once a boy, or rather a youth, of exceeding beauty; and he had +very many lovers. One of them was a cunning fellow; who though he was no +less in love than the rest, persuaded the boy that he was not in love. +And once, as he was courting him, he endeavoured to persuade him that +favour ought to be shewn to one who was not in love, in preference to +one who was. And he spoke as follows. + +On every subject, my boy, there is one method of beginning, for those +who mean to deliberate well; they must know what the thing is about +which the deliberation is to be, or else of necessity go altogether +astray. But it has escaped the notice of most men that they do not know +the essence of each several thing. As if they did know, then, they do +not agree with each other at the outset of the enquiry, and as they +proceed they pay the probable penalty, for they agree neither with +themselves nor with each other. Let not you and I, then, fall into the +error which we condemn in others, but since the question proposed to us +is, whether we ought rather to enter into a friendship with one who is +in love or not, having by mutual agreement settled on a definition of +love, what it is, and what power it has, and looking back and referring +to this, let us prosecute our enquiry whether it occasions advantage or +detriment. 30. That love, then, is a kind of desire, is clear to every +one; and we know that they who are not in love, desire beautiful things. +How then shall we distinguish a lover from one who is not in love? Here +it is necessary to observe, that in each of us there are two ruling and +leading principles, which we follow wherever they lead, one being an +innate desire of pleasures, the other an acquired opinion, which aims at +what is most excellent. These sometimes agree in us, and sometimes are +at variance; and sometimes one gets the upper hand, at other times the +other. When opinion therefore with the aid of reason leads to that which +is best, and gets the upper hand, we give the name of temperance to this +power; but when desire drags us irrationally to pleasures and rules +within us, this ruling power takes the name of excess. But excess has +many names; for it has many limbs and many forms. 31. And of these +principles whichever happens to get the predominance gives its own +designation to the person who possesses it, and that neither honourable +nor worth acquiring. For instance with respect to food, desire that gets +the better of the highest reason, and of the other desires, will be +called gluttony, and will cause the person who possesses it to be called +by the same name; again with respect to drinking, when it has usurped +dominion, by leading its possessor in this direction, it is clear what +designation it will acquire: and with respect to other things akin to +these, and the names of kindred desires, it is manifest how they ought +to be called, according as each for the time being happens to be +dominant. Why all this has been said is already pretty evident, but +every thing becomes in a manner more clear by being mentioned than if +not mentioned. 32. For desire without reason having got the upper hand +of opinion that tends to what is right, and being driven towards the +pleasure derived from beauty, and being strongly impelled by its kindred +desires to corporeal beauty, receives its name from this very strength +and is called love[120]. But, my dear Phædrus, do I appear to you, as I +do to myself, to be moved by some divine influence? + +----- + +Footnote 120: + + I have followed Stallbaum in omitting the words ἐῤῥωμένως and + νικήσασα, but still fear that I have failed to convey the full meaning + of this difficult and corrupt passage. + +----- + +_Phæ._ Assuredly, Socrates, an unusual fluency has got possession of +you. + +_Socr._ Listen to me then in silence. For in truth the place appears to +be divine. If, therefore, in the progress of my speech I should be +frequently entranced by the genius of the spot, you must not be +surprized. For what I utter now is not very far removed from +dithyrambics. + +_Phæ._ You say most truly. + +33. _Socr._ Of this, however, you are the cause. But hear the rest; for +perhaps the attack of the trance may be averted: though this will be the +care of the deity, but let us again direct our discourse to the boy. + +Well then, my excellent boy, what that is, about which we are to +deliberate, has been declared and defined. Keeping this in view, then, +let us proceed to consider what advantage or detriment will probably +accrue from one who is in love and one who is not, to him that shews +favour to them. + +He that is ruled by desire and is a slave to pleasure, must necessarily, +I think, endeavour to make the object of his love as agreeable to +himself as possible. But to one diseased every thing is pleasant that +does not oppose his wishes; but that which is superior and equal is +hateful to him. A lover therefore will never willingly allow his +favourite to be either superior to or on an equality with himself, but +is always endeavouring to make him inferior and more deficient. An +ignorant person is inferior to a wise one, a coward to a brave one, one +who is unable to speak to a rhetorician, a dull to a clever one. 34. +Since so many evils, and even more than these, are engendered or +naturally exist in the mind of the beloved object, the lover must of +necessity rejoice at the existence of the one sort and endeavour to +introduce the others, or be deprived of immediate pleasure. He must +therefore needs be envious, and by debarring his favourite from much +other and that profitable society, whence he might become most manly, he +is the occasion of great harm, and of the greatest by debarring him of +that by means of which he would become most wise; and this is divine +philosophy, from which a lover must needs keep his favourite at a +distance, through the fear of being despised; and must so manage every +thing else, that he may be ignorant of every thing, and look to the +lover for every thing, thus being most agreeable to him, but most +detrimental to himself. As concerns the mind, then, a man that is in +love is in no respect a profitable guardian and companion. + +But as to the habit and care of the body, what it will be and how he +will attend to it, of which a man has become the lord, who is compelled +to pursue the pleasant in preference to the good, is next to be +considered. 35. He will be seen pursuing some delicate and not hardy +youth, not reared in the open air but under the shade of mingled trees, +a stranger to manly toil, and dry sweats, but no stranger to a delicate +and effeminate mode of life, adorned with foreign colours and ornaments, +through want of such as are natural, and studious of all such other +things as accompany these: what they are, is clear, and it is not worth +while to enter into further detail; but having summed them up under one +head, we will proceed to another part of our subject. Such a body both +in battle and other great emergencies, enemies will look upon with +confidence, but friends and lovers themselves will fear for. This, +however, as sufficiently evident, may be dismissed. 36. In the next +place we must declare what advantage or what detriment, with respect to +our possessions, the society and guardianship of one in love will +occasion. But this indeed is manifest to every one, and especially to a +lover, that he would desire above all things that the object of his love +should be bereft of his dearest, fondest, and holiest treasures: for he +would have him gladly deprived of father and mother, kindred and +friends, thinking that they are an hindrance to, and blamers of the +sweetest intercourse with him. Moreover if he has abundance of gold, or +any other property, he will think that he cannot be so easily caught, +nor when caught easily managed. Wherefore it must of necessity happen +that a lover should grudge his favourite possession of abundance, and +should rejoice at its loss. Further still, a lover will wish his +favourite to continue as long as possible without a wife, without child, +and without home, from a desire to enjoy his own delights for as long a +time as possible. 37. There are, indeed, other evils besides these, but +some deity has mingled present pleasure with most of them: with a +flatterer, for instance, a dreadful beast and great bane, nature has +nevertheless mingled a kind of pleasure that is by no means inelegant. +And some one perhaps may blame a mistress as detrimental, and many other +similar creatures and pursuits, which for the day, however, afford the +greatest enjoyment; but to a favourite, a lover besides being +detrimental, is the most disagreeable of all for daily intercourse. For +the ancient proverb says, that equal delights in equal; I suppose, +because an equality of age leading to equal pleasures produces +friendship by similarity of tastes. But still the intercourse even of +these brings satiety: and moreover, necessity is said to be irksome to +every one in every thing; and this in addition to their dissimilarity is +especially the case with a lover towards his favourite. 38. For an old +man who associates with a young one, does not willingly leave him, +either by day or night, but is driven on by necessity and frenzy, which +leads him on by constantly giving him pleasure, through seeing, hearing, +touching, and by every sense feeling the presence of the beloved object, +so that he would with pleasure cling constantly to him: but by giving +what solace or what pleasures to the object of his love, can he prevent +him during an intercourse of equal duration, from feeling the utmost +disgust, while he sees a face old and no longer in its bloom, with the +other things that accompany it, which are unpleasant even to hear spoken +of, much more so to have actually to do with from an ever-pressing +necessity; when he has too to keep a suspicious watch over himself at +all times and in all company, and has to listen to unreasonable and +extravagant praises, and reproaches as well, which when the lover is +sober are intolerable, and when he is drunk, are not only intolerable +but disgraceful from the loathsome and undisguised freedom of his +language. 39. Thus he that is in love is detrimental and disgusting, but +when he ceases to love, he is thenceforth unfaithful towards him who by +many promises and with many oaths and entreaties he could hardly prevail +on at that time to endure his troublesome familiarity in the hope of +advantage. But now, when payment ought to be made, having received +within himself another ruler and master, reason and prudence, instead of +love and madness, he has become another man unknown to his favourite. He +then demands a return for former favours, reminding him of what was done +and said, as if he was talking to the same person; but the other through +shame, dares neither say that he has become another man, nor is he able +to adhere to the oaths and promises of the former insensate reign, now +that he has got possession of his senses and has become prudent, fearing +lest, by doing the same things as before, he should become like what he +was, and the same thing again. 40. Hence he becomes a runaway, and of +necessity a defrauder, who was before a lover, and the shell being +turned[121], he changes from pursuit to flight; but the other is forced +to pursue him with indignation and curses, having been ignorant from the +very beginning that he ought never to have granted favours to one that +is in love and of necessity out of his senses, but much rather to one +who is not in love, and in his right mind; otherwise he must necessarily +give himself up to one that is unfaithful, morose, envious, disgusting, +detrimental to his property, detrimental to his bodily habit, but far +more detrimental to the cultivation of his soul, than which in truth +there neither is nor ever will be any thing more precious in the sight +of gods and men. It is right, therefore, my boy, to reflect on these +things, and to know that the attachment of a lover is not united with +good will, but like food for the sake of repletion, “as wolves love a +lamb, so lovers love a boy.” + +----- + +Footnote 121: + + In allusion to a game among children, in which a shell, white on one + side and black on the other, was thrown up into the air, and according + as either side fell uppermost, one set of playmates ran off and the + other pursued, or vice versa. + +----- + +This is it, Phædrus; you must not expect to hear me say another word, +but must let my speech end here. + +41. _Phæ._ But I thought it was only in the middle, and that it would +say as much about one who is not in love, that he ought rather to be +favoured, mentioning in turn what advantages he has. Why then, Socrates, +do you stop short now? + +_Socr._ Did you not observe, my excellent friend, that I was now +uttering epics, and no longer dithyrambics, and this while giving +expression to blame? If then I should begin to praise the other, what do +you think would become of me? Do you not know that I shall be thrown +into an exstacy by the Nymphs, to whom you have purposely exposed me? I +say then, in one word, that whatever vices I have attributed to the one, +to the other the contrary advantages belong. What need then is there for +a long speech? for enough has been said about both. Thus the story will +be treated as it ought to be treated: I will, therefore, cross over the +river and go home, before I am compelled by you to do something more +difficult. + +42. _Phæ._ Not yet, Socrates, before the heat has passed away. Do you +not see that it is now nearly high-noon, as it is called? Let us, then, +remain here, and converse together about what has been said, and as soon +as it grows cool, we will go home. + +_Socr._ You are a strange man for speeches, Phædrus, and really +wonderful. For I think that of all the speeches made during your +life-time no one has been the occasion of more being made than yourself, +whether by speaking them yourself, or in some way or other compelling +others. I except Simmias of Thebes; but you far surpass all the rest. +And now again you appear to me to be the occasion of another speech +being made. + +_Phæ._ You do not announce war indeed. But how and what speech is this? + +43. _Socr._ When I was about to cross the river, my good friend, the +divine and wonted signal was given me, (it always deters me from what I +am about to do,) and I seemed to hear a voice from this very spot, which +would not suffer me to depart before I had purified myself, as if I had +committed some offence against the deity. Now I am a prophet, though not +a very good one, but like bad writers, am good enough for my own +purposes. Accordingly, I clearly perceive my offence: for, my friend, +the soul is in some measure prophetic; and mine troubled me some time +since as I was delivering the speech, and some how I was cast down, as +Ibycus says, for fear I should offend the gods, and gain honour from men +in exchange. But now I perceive my offence. + +_Phæ._ What do you say it is? + +_Socr._ A dreadful, dreadful speech, Phædrus, you both brought here +yourself, and compelled me to utter. + +_Phæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ Foolish, and in some sort impious: and can any thing be more +dreadful than this? + +44. _Phæ._ Nothing, if you say truly. + +_Socr._ What then? Do you not think that Love is son of Venus, and a +god? + +_Phæ._ So it is said. + +_Socr._ Yet not by Lysias, nor by that speech of yours which was uttered +through my mouth when bewitched by you. But if Love be, as indeed he is, +a god, or something divine, he cannot be in any respect evil; yet both +our late speeches spoke of him as such. In this therefore they committed +an offence against Love, besides their silliness was very amusing, in +that they said nothing sound or true, yet they prided themselves as if +they were something, because they might perhaps impose on some +simpletons and gain their approbation. It is necessary, therefore, my +friend, that I should purify myself. But there is an ancient +purification for those who offend in matters relating to mythology, +which Homer was not acquainted with, but Stesichorus was. For, being +deprived of sight for defaming Helen, he was not ignorant like Homer, +but as a friend of the Muses, knew the cause, and immediately composed +the following lines: “This tale is not true, thou didst not go on board +the well-benched ships, nor reach the towers of Troy.” Thus having +composed this entire recantation as it is called, he immediately +recovered his sight. I however, will be wiser than them in this respect; +for before I suffer any harm for defaming Love, I will endeavour to +present him my recantation, with my head bare, and not, as before, +covered through shame. + +45. _Phæ._ There is nothing, Socrates, that you could say to me more +agreeable than this. + +_Socr._ For, my good Phædrus, you must be sensible how shamelessly both +our speeches were composed, as well mine as that which was read from the +book. For, if any generous man, and of mild disposition, who is either +now in love with, or has formerly been enamoured of another like +himself, had happened to hear us say that lovers contract violent +enmities for trifling causes, and are envious of, and detrimental to, +their favourites, can you suppose that he would do otherwise than think +he was listening to men brought up among sailors, and who had never +witnessed an ingenuous love, and would be far from assenting to the +censures we cast upon Love? + +_Phæ._ Probably he would, by Jupiter, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Out of respect to him, then, and fear of Love himself, I am +anxious to wash out as it were the brackish taste by a sweet speech. And +I advise Lysias, too, to write as soon as possible, that it is proper, +under similar circumstances, to favour a lover rather than one who is +not in love. + +46. _Phæ._ You may be well assured that this will be done; for, when you +have spoken in praise of the lover, Lysias must needs be compelled by me +to write another speech on the same subject. + +_Socr._ This I believe, while you continue the man you are. + +_Phæ._ Speak then with confidence. + +_Socr._ But where is my boy, to whom I spoke? that he may hear this too, +and may not, from not hearing it, hastily grant favours to one who is +not in love. + +_Phæ._ Here he is always very near to you, whenever you want him. + +_Socr._ Understand then, my beautiful boy, that the former speech was +that of Phædrus, son of Pythocles, a man of Myrrhinus; but that which I +am now about to deliver is the speech of Stesichorus, son of Euphemus, +of Himera. It must begin thus: + +“The assertion is not true which declares that when a lover is present +favour ought rather to be shewn to one who is not in love, because the +one is mad and the other in his sober senses. 47. For if it were +universally true that madness is evil, the assertion would be correct. +But now the greatest blessings we have spring from madness, when granted +by divine bounty. For the prophetess at Delphi, and the priestesses at +Dodona, have, when mad, done many and noble services for Greece, both +privately and publicly, but in their sober senses, little or nothing. +And if we were to speak of the Sybil and others, who, employing +prophetic inspiration, have correctly predicted many things to many +persons respecting the future, we should be too prolix in relating what +is known to every one. 48. This, however, deserves to be adduced by way +of testimony, that such of the ancients as gave names to things did not +consider madness as disgraceful or a cause of reproach: for they would +not have attached this very name to that most noble art by which the +future is discerned, and have called it a mad art; but considering it +noble when it happens by the divine decree, they gave it this name; but +the men of the present day, by ignorantly inserting the letter τ, have +called it the prophetic art[122]. Since also with respect to the +investigation of the future by people in their senses, which is made by +means of birds and other signs, inasmuch as men by means of reflection, +furnished themselves by human thought with intelligence and information, +they gave it the name of prognostication[123], which the moderns, by +using the emphatic long õ, now call augury. But how much more perfect +and valuable, then, prophecy is than augury, one name than the other, +and one effect than the other, by so much did the ancients testify that +madness is more noble than sound sense, that which comes from God than +that which proceeds from men. 49. Moreover, for those dire diseases and +afflictions, which continued in some families in consequence of ancient +crimes committed by some or other of them, madness springing up and +prophesying to those to whom it was proper, discovered a remedy, fleeing +for refuge to prayers and services of the gods, whence obtaining +purifications and atoning rites, it made him who possessed it sound, +both for the present and the future, by discovering to him, who was +rightly mad and possessed, a release from present evils. There is a +third possession and madness proceeding from the Muses, which seizing +upon a tender and chaste soul, and rousing and inspiring it to the +composition of odes and other species of poetry, by adorning the +countless deeds of antiquity, instructs posterity. But he who without +the madness of the Muses approaches the gates of poesy under the +persuasion that by means of art he can become an efficient poet, both +himself fails in his purpose, and his poetry, being that of a sane man, +is thrown into the shade by the poetry of such as are mad. + +----- + +Footnote 122: + + It is impossible, in an English version, to retain Plato’s explanation + of the progressive application of kindred words; if the unlearned + reader can decypher the following Greek letters he may possibly + understand our author’s meaning; μανία is _madness_, μανική, _the mad + art_, μαντική, the _prophetic art_. + +Footnote 123: + + οἰονιστική, _prognostication_, οἰωνιστική, _augury_. + +----- + +50. So great and even more noble effects of madness proceeding from the +gods I am able to mention to you. Let us not, therefore, be afraid of +this, nor let any argument disturb and frighten us so as to persuade us +that we ought to prefer a sane man as our friend in preference to one +who is under the influence of a divine impulse; but let him carry all +the victory when he was shewn this in addition, that love is sent by the +gods for no benefit to the lover and the beloved. But we, on the other +hand, must prove that such madness is given by the gods, for the purpose +of producing the highest happiness. Now the proof will be incredible to +the subtle, but credible to the wise. It is necessary, therefore, first +of all to understand the truth with respect to the nature of the soul +both divine and human, by observing its affections and operations. 51. +This then is the beginning of the demonstration. + +Every soul is immortal: for whatever is continually moved is immortal; +but that which moves another and is moved by another, when it ceases to +move, ceases to live. Therefore that only which moves itself, since it +does not quit itself, never ceases to be moved, but is also the source +and beginning of motion to all other things that are moved. But a +beginning is uncreate: for every thing that is created must necessarily +be created from a beginning, but a beginning itself from nothing +whatever; for if a beginning were created from any thing, it would not +be a beginning. 52. Since then it is uncreate it must also of necessity +be indestructible; for should a beginning perish, it could neither +itself be ever created from any thing, nor any thing else from it, since +all things must be created from a beginning. Thus then the beginning of +motion is that which moves itself: and this can neither perish nor be +created, or all heaven and all creation must collapse and come to a +stand-still, and never again have any means whereby it may be moved and +created. 53. Since then it appears that that which is moved by itself is +immortal, no one will be ashamed to say that this is the very essence +and true notion of soul. For every body which is moved from without, is +soulless, but that which is moved from within of itself, possesses a +soul, since this is the very nature of soul. But if this be the case, +that there is nothing else which moves itself except soul, soul must +necessarily be both uncreate and immortal. This then may suffice for its +immortality. + +But respecting its idea we must speak as follows: what it is, would in +every way require a divine and lengthened exposition to tell, but what +it is like, a human and a shorter one: in this way then we will describe +it. 54. Let it then be likened to the combined power of a pair of winged +steeds and a charioteer. Now the horses and charioteers of the gods are +all both good themselves and of good extraction, but all others are +mixed. In the first place, then, our ruling power drives a pair of +steeds, in the next place, of these horses it has one that is beautiful +and noble, and of similar extraction, but the other is of opposite +extraction, and opposite character; our driving therefore is necessarily +difficult and troublesome. But we must endeavour to explain in what +respect an animal is called mortal or immortal. All soul takes care of +all that is without soul, and goes about all heaven, appearing at +different times in different forms. 55. While it is perfect, then, and +winged, it soars aloft and governs the universe: but when it has lost +its wings it is borne downward, until it meets with something solid, in +which having taken up its abode, by assuming an earthly body, which +appears to move itself by means of its own power, the whole together is +called an animal, soul and body compounded, and takes the appellation of +mortal. But the immortal derives its name from no deduction of +reasoning, but as we neither see, nor sufficiently understand God, we +represent him as an immortal animal possessed of soul, and possessed of +body, and these united together throughout all time. Let these things, +however, so be and be described as God pleases. But let us now discover +the cause of the loss of the wings, why they fall off from the soul. It +is something of the following kind: + +56. The natural power of a wing, is to carry up heavy substances by +raising them aloft to the regions where the race of the gods dwells; and +of the parts connected with the body, it probably partakes most largely +of that which is divine. But that which is divine is beautiful, wise, +good, and every thing of that kind. By these then the wings of the soul +are chiefly nourished and increased, but by what is base and vile, and +other similar contraries, it falls to decay and perishes. Now the mighty +chief in heaven, Jupiter, goes first, driving a winged chariot, ordering +and taking care of all things; and there follows him a host of gods and +demons, distributed into eleven divisions, for Vesta remains alone in +the dwelling of the gods: but of the others all that have been assigned +a station as chief gods in the number of the twelve, lead in the order +to which they have been severally appointed. 57. But there are many +delightful sights and paths within heaven among which the race of the +blessed gods move, each performing his own proper work; and whoso has +both will and power accompanies them; for envy stands aloof from the +heavenly choir. But when they proceed to a banquet and feast, they now +ascend by an up-hill path to the highest arch of heaven: and the +chariots of the gods, which from being equally poised are obedient to +the rein, move easily, but all others with difficulty; for the horse +that partakes of vice weighs them down, leaning and pressing heavily +towards the earth, if he happens not to have been well trained by his +charioteer. Here then the severest toil and trial is laid upon the soul. +For those that are called immortal, when they reach the summit, +proceeding outside, stand on the back of heaven, and while they are +stationed here, its revolution carries them round, and they behold the +external regions of heaven. 58. But the region above heaven no poet here +has ever yet sung of, nor ever will sing of, as it deserves. It is, +however, as follows: for surely I may venture to speak the truth, +especially as my subject is truth. For essence, that really exists, +colourless, formless and intangible, is visible only to intelligence +that guides the soul, and around it the family of true science have this +for their abode. As then the mind of deity is nourished by intelligence +and pure science, so the mind of every soul that is about to receive +what properly belongs to it, when it sees after a long time that which +is, is delighted, and by contemplating the truth, is nourished and +thrives, until the revolution of heaven brings it round again to the +same point. And during this circuit it beholds justice herself, it +beholds temperance, it beholds science, not that to which creation is +annexed, nor that which is different in different things of those which +we call real, but that which is science in what really is. And in like +manner, having beheld all other things that really are, and having +feasted on them, it again enters into the interior of heaven, and +returns home. 59. And on its return, the charioteer having taken his +horses to the manger, sets ambrosia before them, and afterwards gives +them nectar to drink. And this is the life of the gods. + +But, with respect to other souls, that which best follows and imitates a +god, raises the head of its charioteer to the outer region, and is +carried round with the rest in the revolution, yet is confused by its +horses, and scarcely able to behold real existences; but another at one +time rises, at another sinks, and owing to the violence of the horses, +partly sees, and partly not. The rest follow, all eager for the upper +region, but being unable to reach it they are carried round sunk beneath +the surface, trampling on and striking against each other, in +endeavouring to get one before another. Hence the tumult, and +struggling, and sweating is extreme; and here through the fault of the +charioteers many are maimed, and many break many of their feathers; and +all of them having undergone much toil depart without having succeeded +in getting a view of that which is, and after their departure they make +use of the food of mere opinion. 60. And this is the reason for the +great anxiety to behold the field of truth, where it is; the proper +pasture for the best part of the soul happens to be in the meadow there, +and it is the nature of the wing by which the soul is borne aloft, to be +nourished by it; and this is a law of Adrastia[124], that whatever soul, +in accompanying a deity, has beheld any of the true essences, it shall +be free from harm until the next revolution, and if it can always +accomplish this, it shall be always free from harm: but whenever from +inability to keep up it has not seen any of them, and from meeting with +some misfortune, has been filled with oblivion and vice, and so weighed +down, and from being weighed down has lost its wings, and fallen to the +earth, then there is a law that this soul should not be implanted in any +brutal nature in its first generation, but that the soul which has seen +most, should enter into the germ of a man who will become a philosopher +or a lover of the beautiful, or a votary of the Muses and Love; but that +the second should enter into the form of a constitutional king, or a +warrior and commander, the third into that of a statesman, or economist, +or merchant, the fourth into one who loves the toil of gymnastic +exercises, or who will be employed in healing the body, the fifth will +have a prophetic life or one connected with the mysteries, to the sixth +the poetic life or some other of those employed in imitation will be +best adapted, to the seventh a mechanical or agricultural life, to the +eighth the life of a sophist or mob-courtier, to the ninth that of a +tyrant. 61. But among all these, whosoever passes his life justly +afterwards obtains a better lot, but who unjustly, a worse one. For to +the same place, whence each soul comes, it does not return till the +expiration of ten thousand years; for it does not recover its wings for +so long a period, except it is the soul of a sincere lover of wisdom, or +of one who has made philosophy his favourite[125]. But these in the +third period of a thousand years, if they have chosen this life thrice +in succession, thereupon depart, with their wings restored in the three +thousandth year. But the others, when they have ended their first life, +are brought to trial; and being sentenced, some go to places of +punishment beneath the earth and there suffer for their sins, but +others, being borne upwards by their sentence to some region in heaven, +pass their time in a manner worthy of the life they have lived in human +form. But in the thousandth year, both kinds coming back again for the +allotment and choice of their second life, choose that which they +severally please. And here a human soul passes into the life of a beast, +and from a beast he who was once a man passes again into a man. 62. For +the soul which has never seen the truth, cannot come into this form: for +it is necessary that a man should understand according to a generic +form, as it is called, which proceeding from many perceptions is by +reasoning combined into one. And this is a recollection of those things +which our soul formerly saw when journeying with deity, despising the +things which we now say are, and looking up to that which really is. +Wherefore, with justice, the mind of the philosopher is alone furnished +with wings; for, to the best of his power, his memory dwells on those +things, by the contemplation of which even deity is divine. But a man +who makes a right use of such memorials as these, by constantly +perfecting himself in perfect mysteries, alone becomes truly perfect. +And by keeping aloof from human pursuits, and dwelling on that which is +divine, he is found fault with by the multitude as out of his senses, +but it escapes the notice of the multitude that he is inspired. + +----- + +Footnote 124: + + That is, “an inevitable law.” + +Footnote 125: + + παιδεραστήσαντος μετὰ φιλοσοφίας. So in the Gorgias (§ 82) Socrates + calls “philosophy his favourite,” τὴν φιλοσοφίαν, τὰ ἐμὰ παιδικά. + +----- + +63. To this then comes our whole argument respecting the fourth kind of +madness, on account of which any one, who, on seeing beauty in this +lower world, being reminded of the true, begins to recover his wings, +and, having recovered them, longs to soar aloft, but being unable to do +it, looks upwards like a bird, and despising things below, is deemed to +be affected with madness. Our argument comes to this then, that this is +the best of all enthusiasms, and of the best origin, both for him who +possesses and for him who partakes of it, and that he who loves +beautiful objects, by having a share of this madness, is called a lover. +For, as we have mentioned, every soul of man has, from its very nature, +beheld real existences, or it would not have entered into this human +form; for it is not easy for every one to call to mind former things +from the present, neither for those who then had but a brief view of the +things there, nor for those who after their fall hither, were so +unfortunate as to be turned aside by evil associations to injustice, and +so to have forgotten the sacred things they formerly beheld. Few +therefore are left who have sufficient memory. But these, when they see +any resemblance of the things there, are amazed and no longer masters of +themselves, and they know not what this affection is, because they do +not thoroughly perceive it. 64. Now of justice and temperance and +whatever else souls deem precious, there is no brightness in the +resemblances here, but by means of dull instruments with difficulty a +few only, on approaching the images, are able to discern the character +of that which is represented. But beauty was then splendid to look on, +when with that happy choir, we in company with Jupiter, and others with +some other of the gods, beheld that blissful sight and spectacle, and +were initiated into that which may be rightly called the most blessed of +all mysteries, which we celebrated when we were whole and unaffected by +the evils that awaited us in time to come, and moreover when we were +initiated in, and beheld in the pure light, perfect, simple, calm, and +blessed visions, being ourselves pure, and as yet unmasked with this +which we now carry about with us and call the body, fettered to it like +an oyster to its shell. + +65. Let this much be said out of regard to memory, on account of which, +from a longing for former things, I have now spoken at greater length +than I ought. But with respect to beauty, as we observed, she both shone +among things there, and on our coming hither we found her, through the +clearest of our senses, shining most clearly. For sight is the keenest +of our bodily senses, though wisdom is not seen by it. For vehement +would be the love she would inspire, if she came before our sight and +shewed us any such clear image of herself, and so would all other +loveable things; but now beauty only has this privilege of being most +manifest and most lovely. 66. He, then, who has not been recently +initiated, or who has become corrupted, is not speedily carried hence +thither to beauty itself, by beholding here that which takes its name +from it. So that he does not reverence it when he beholds it, but, +giving himself up to pleasure, like a beast he attempts to mount it and +to have intercourse with it, and in his wanton advances he is neither +afraid nor ashamed of this unnatural pursuit of pleasure. But he who has +been recently initiated, and who formerly beheld many things, when he +sees a god-like countenance, or some bodily form that presents a good +imitation of beauty, at first shudders and some of the former terrors +come over him, then as he looks stedfastly at it, he reverences it as a +god, and if he did not dread the imputation of excessive madness, he +would sacrifice to his favourite, as to a statue or a god. 67. But after +he has beheld it, as commonly happens, after shuddering, a change, a +sweating and unusual heat comes over him. For having received the +emanation of beauty through his eyes, he has become heated, so that the +wings that are natural to him are refreshed; and by his being heated, +the parts where they grow are softened, which having been long closed up +through hardness prevented them from shooting out. But when this +nutriment flows in, the quill of the wing begins to swell, and makes an +effort to burst from the root, beneath the whole form of the soul; for +of old it was all winged. In this state, then, the whole boils and +throbs violently, and as is the case with infants cutting their teeth, +when they are just growing out there is a pricking and soreness of the +gums, in the same way the soul is affected of one who is beginning to +put forth his wings, it boils and is sore, and itches as it puts them +forth. 68. When, therefore, by beholding the beauty of a boy, and +receiving particles that proceed and flow from thence, which are for +that reason called desire, it becomes refreshed and heated; it is +relieved from pain and filled with joy: but when it is separated and +becomes parched, the orifices of the passages through which the wing +shoots forth, become closed through drought and shut up the germ of the +wing. But it being shut in together with desire, leaping like throbbing +veins, strikes against each passage that is shut against it, so that the +whole soul, being pricked all round, is frantic and in agony; but again +retaining the memory of the beautiful one, it is filled with joy. 69. +And from both these mingled together, it is tormented by the strangeness +of the affection, and not knowing what to do becomes frenzied, and being +in this frantic state it can neither sleep at night, nor remain quiet by +day, but runs about with longing wherever it may hope to see the +possessor of the beauty. And on beholding him and drawing in fresh +supplies of desire, it loosens the parts that were closed up, and +recovering breath has a respite from stings and throes, and again for +the present enjoys this most exquisite pleasure. Wherefore, it never +willingly leaves him, nor values any one more than the beautiful one, +but forgets mothers and brothers and friends all alike, and if its +substance is wasting through neglect, it reckons that as of no +consequence, and despising all customs and decorums in which it formerly +prided itself, it is ready to be a slave and to lie down wherever any +one will allow it as near as possible to the object of its longing. For +in addition to its reverence for the possessor of beauty, it has found +that he is the only physician for its severest troubles. + +70. Now this affection, my beautiful boy, you I mean to whom I am +speaking, men call love, but when you hear what the gods designate it, +you will probably laugh, on account of your youth. Some Homerics, I +think, adduce out of their secret poems two verses on love, of which the +second is very insolent, and not altogether delicate: they sing as +follows: “Him mortals indeed call winged Eros, but immortals Pteros +(Flyer) for his flighty nature[126].” + +----- + +Footnote 126: + + I must own myself indebted to Mr. Wright’s version of this dialogue + for this happy translation of these two lines. + +----- + +These verses then, you are at liberty to believe, or not; however, this +assuredly is the cause and the condition of lovers. 71. Now when one of +the attendants upon Jupiter is seized, he is able to bear with greater +firmness the burden of the wing-named god; but such as are in the +service of Mars and went round heaven with him, when they are caught by +Love, and think that they are at all injured by the object of their +love, are blood-thirsty, and ready to immolate both themselves and their +favourite. And so with respect to each several god, whose choir each +followed, he spends his life in honouring and imitating him to the best +of his power, so long as he remains free from corruption, and is living +here his first generation; and in this way he associates with and +behaves to his beloved and all others. 72. Every one, therefore, chooses +his love out of the objects of beauty according to his own taste, and, +as if he were a god to him, he fashions and adorns him like a statue, as +if for the purpose of reverencing him and celebrating orgies in his +honour. They then that are followers of Jupiter seek for some one who +resembles Jupiter in his soul, to be the object of his love. They +therefore consider whether he is by nature a lover of wisdom, and fitted +to command; and when, on finding one, they have become enamoured of him, +they do every thing in their power to make him such. If, then, they have +not already entered upon this study, they now set about it, and learn it +from whatever source they can, and themselves pursue it; and by +endeavouring to discover of themselves the nature of their own deity, +they succeed by being compelled to look stedfastly on their god, and +when they grasp him with their memory, being inspired by him, they +receive from him their manners and pursuits, as far it is possible for +man to participate of deity. 73. And considering the object of their +love as the cause of all this, they love him still more, and if they +have drawn their inspiration from Jupiter, like the Bacchanals, they +pour it into the soul of their beloved, and make him as much as possible +resemble their own god. But such as attended Juno seek after a royal +favourite, and when they have found one, they act towards him in +precisely the same manner. And such as attended Apollo, and each of the +other gods, following the example of their several deities, desire that +their favourite may have a corresponding character, and when they have +gained such an one, both by imitation on their own part, and by +persuading and alluring their favourite, they lead him to the peculiar +pursuit and character of that god; not, indeed, by employing envy or +illiberal severity towards their favourite, but endeavouring by every +means in their power to lead him to a perfect resemblance of themselves +and their god, they act accordingly. 74. A zeal, then, on the part of +those who truly love, and an initiation, as I call it, if they succeed +in what they desire, so beautiful and blessed, falls to the lot of the +beloved one at the hands of him that is maddened by love, if only he be +won. But he that is won, is won in the following manner. + +As in the beginning of this account I divided each soul into three +parts, two of them having the form of horses, and the third that of a +charioteer, so let us still maintain that division: but of the horses, +one, we said, was good and the other not: what however is the virtue of +the good one, or the vice of the bad one, we have not yet explained, but +must now declare. That one of them, then, which is in the nobler +condition, is in form erect, finely-moulded, high-necked, hook-nosed, +white-coloured, black-eyed, a lover of honour, with temperance and +modesty, and a companion of true glory, without the whip is driven by +word of command and voice only: the other, on the other hand, is +crooked, thick set, clumsily put together, strong-necked, +short-throated, flat-faced, black-coloured, gray-eyed, hot-blooded, a +companion of insolence and swaggering, shaggy about the ears, deaf, +scarcely obedient to whip and spur together. 75. When, therefore, the +charioteer beholds the love-inspiring sight, his whole soul becoming +heated by sensation, he is filled with irritation and the stings of +desire, the horse that is obedient to the charioteer, then as ever, +overpowered by shame restrains himself from leaping on the beloved +object: but the other, no longer heeds either the whip or the spurs of +the charioteer, but bounding forward is carried violently along, and +giving every kind of trouble to his yoke-fellow and the charioteer, +compels them to hurry to the favourite, and to indulge in the delights +of love. They at first resist from indignation at being compelled to +such a dreadful and lawless course: but at length, when there is no end +to the evil, they go on as they are led, having submitted and consented +to do what they are ordered; and now they come up to him and behold the +gleaming countenance of the favourite. 76. But the memory of the +charioteer when he beholds him is carried back to the nature of absolute +beauty, and again sees her together with temperance standing on a chaste +pedestal. And, on beholding, it[127] shudders, and awe-struck falls down +backward, and at the same time is compelled to draw back the reins so +violently, as to throw both the horses on their haunches, the one indeed +willingly, from his not resisting, but the insolent one very much +against his will. When they have withdrawn to some distance, the former +through shame and amazement drenches the whole soul with sweat, but the +other, having got rid of the pain which he suffered from the bit and the +fall, when he has scarcely recovered his breath, bursts out into +passionate revilings, vehemently reproaches the charioteer and his +yoke-fellow, for having abandoned their station and compact from +cowardice and effeminacy. And again compelling them against their wills +to approach, he with difficulty yields to their entreaties to defer it +to a future time. 77. But when the time agreed on comes, reminding them +who pretend to forget it, plunging, neighing, and dragging forward, he +compels them again to approach the favourite for the same purpose. And +when they are near, bending down his head and extending his spear, he +champs the bit and drags them on with wantonness. But the charioteer +being affected as before, though more strongly, as if he were falling +back from the starting rope, pulls back the bit with still greater +violence from the teeth of the insolent horse, and covers his railing +tongue and jaws with blood, and forcing his legs and haunches to the +ground, tortures him with pain. 78. But when by being often treated in +the same way, the vicious horse has laid aside his insolence, being +humbled he henceforth follows the directions of the charioteer, and when +he beholds the beautiful object, he swoons through fear. So that it +comes to pass, that thenceforth the soul of the lover follows its +favourite with reverence and awe. Since then he is worshipped with all +observance as if he were a god, not by a lover who feigns the passion, +but who really feels it, and since he is by nature inclined to +friendship, he directs his affection to accord with that of his +worshipper, even though in past times he may have been misled by his +associates or some others, who told him that it was disgraceful to allow +a lover to approach him, and he may for this reason have rejected his +lover, yet in process of time his age and destiny induce him to admit +his lover to familiarity. 79. For surely it was never decreed by fate, +that the evil should be a friend to the evil, or the good not a friend +to the good. When, therefore, he has admitted him and accepted his +conversation and society, the benevolence of the lover being brought +into close contact astonishes the beloved, when he perceives that all +his other friends and relatives together exhibited no friendship at all +towards him in comparison with his inspired friend. But when he has +spent some time in doing this, and has approached so near as to come in +contact in the gymnastic schools and other places of social intercourse, +then the fountain of that stream to which Jupiter, when in love with +Ganymede, gave the name of desire, streaming in great abundance upon the +lover, partly sinks into him, and partly flows out from him when he is +full. And as a wind or any sound rebounding from smooth and hard +substances, is borne back again to the place from whence it proceeded, +so this stream of beauty, flowing back again to the beautiful one +through the eyes, by which way it naturally enters the soul, and having +returned thither and fledged itself anew, refreshes the outlets of the +feathers, and moves him to put forth wings, and in turn fills the soul +of the beloved one with love. 80. Accordingly he is in love, but with +whom he knows not; neither is he aware nor is he able to tell what has +happened to him, but like a person who has caught a disease in the eyes +from another, he is unable to assign the cause, and is not aware that he +beholds himself in his lover, as in a mirror. And when the lover is +present, he is freed from pain in the same way as the lover is; but, +when he is absent, he in turn longs for him in the same manner that he +is longed for, possessing love’s image, love returned; but he calls it +and considers it to be not love but friendship. And he desires, in the +same way as the lover, though more feebly, to see, to touch, to kiss, to +lie down with him; and, as is probable, he soon afterwards does all +this. 81. In this lying down together, then, the unbridled horse of the +lover has something to say to its charioteer, and begs to be allowed +some small enjoyment in recompence for his many toils, but the same +horse of the favourite has nothing to say, but swelling with love and in +doubt, embraces the lover, and kisses him as he would kiss a very dear +friend, and when they are laid down together, he is unable to refuse, as +far as in his power, to gratify his lover in whatever he requires. But +his yoke-fellow, together with the charioteer, resists this familiarity +with shame and reason. If, then, the better parts of their mind have +prevailed so as to lead them to a well-regulated mode of living and +philosophy, they pass their life here in bliss and concord, having +obtained the mastery over themselves, and being orderly, through having +brought into subjection that part of the soul in which vice was +engendered, and having set free that in which was virtue: and when they +depart this life, becoming winged and light, they have been victorious +in one of the three truly Olympic contests, a greater good than which +neither human prudence nor divine madness can possibly bestow on man. +82. If, however, they have adopted a coarser and less philosophic mode +of living, yet still honourable, but perhaps in a fit of drunkenness or +some other thoughtless moment, their two unbridled beasts finding their +souls unguarded, and bringing them together to one place, have made and +consummated that choice which most men deem blissful; and having once +consummated it they continue to practise it for the future, though +rarely, in that they are doing what is not approved by their whole mind. +These too, then, pass their life dear to each other, but less so than +the others, both during the period of love and after it, thinking that +they have both given to and received from each other the strongest +pledges, which it were impious to violate, and so at any time become +alienated. 83. But in the end, without wings indeed, yet making an +effort to become winged, they quit the body, so as to carry off no +trifling prize of impassioned madness: for there is a law that those who +have already set out in the heavenward path should never again enter on +darkness and the paths beneath the earth, but that, passing a splendid +life, they should be happy walking with each other, and that, for their +love’s sake, whenever they become winged, they should be winged +together. + +----- + +Footnote 127: + + “It,” memory. + +----- + +These so great and divine things, my boy, will the affection of a lover +confer on you. But the familiarity of one who is not in love, being +mingled with mortal prudence, and dispensing mortal and niggardly gifts, +generating in the beloved soul an illiberality which is praised by the +multitude as virtue, will cause it to be tossed about the earth and +beneath the earth for nine thousand years, devoid of intelligence. 84. +To thee, beloved Love, this recantation, the most beautiful and the +best, according to my ability, is presented and duly paid, both in other +respects and by certain poetical phrases, of necessity, adorned for the +sake of Phædrus. But do thou, pardoning my former speech, and graciously +accepting this, propitiously and benignly, neither take from me the art +of love which thou hast given me, nor maim it in thy wrath, but grant +that even more than now I may be honoured by the beautiful. And if, in +our former speech, Phædrus and I have said any thing offensive to thee, +blaming Lysias as the author of the speech, make him desist from such +speeches in future, and convert him to philosophy, as his brother +Polemarchus has been converted, so that this lover of his may no longer +remain neutral as now, but may wholly devote his life to love, in +conjunction with philosophic discourses. + +_Phæ._ I join with you in praying, Socrates, that if this is better for +us, so it may be. 85. But I have been long wondering at your speech, how +much more beautiful you have made it than the former one; so that I am +afraid that Lysias will appear to me but poor, even if he should be +willing to produce another in opposition to it. For only the other day, +my admirable friend, one of our public men, as he was attacking him, +upbraided him with this very thing, and throughout the whole of his +attack called him a writer of speeches. Perhaps, therefore, for +ambition’s sake he will refrain from writing any more. + +_Socr._ The opinion you express, my youth, is ridiculous; and you very +much mistake your friend, if you imagine him to be so easily frightened. +Perhaps, too, you think that his assailant really meant what he said. + +86. _Phæ._ He seemed to do so, Socrates; and you are doubtless yourself +aware, that the most powerful and considerable men in a city are ashamed +to write speeches, and to leave their own compositions behind them, +through fear of the opinion of posterity, lest they should be called +sophists. + +_Socr._ It has escaped your notice, Phædrus, that the proverb “a sweet +bend” is derived from that long bend in the Nile: and as well as the +bend, it escapes your notice, that these public men who think most +highly of themselves are most fond of writing speeches, and of leaving +their compositions behind them; and moreover, whenever they write a +speech, they so love its supporters, that they prefix their names who on +each occasion commend them. + +87. _Phæ._ How do you mean? for I don’t understand you. + +_Socr._ Don’t you understand, that at the beginning of a statesman’s +writing, the name of its supporter is written first. + +_Phæ._ How? + +_Socr._ “Approved,” I think the writing itself says, “by the council, or +the people, or both,” and he who proposed it, speaking very pompously of +and extolling himself, namely the composer, after this makes a speech so +as to display his own wisdom to his supporters, sometimes making a very +long composition. Does this appear to you to be any thing else than a +written speech? + +_Phæ._ It does not to me. + +88. _Socr._ If, then, it happens to be approved, the composer goes home +from the theatre delighted. But if it should be rubbed out, and he +debarred from writing speeches, and from the dignity of an author, both +he and his friends take it greatly to heart. + +_Phæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ It is clear, then, that they do not despise this practice, but +admire it exceedingly. + +_Phæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ What then, when an orator or a king has proved himself competent +to assume the power of a Lycurgus, or a Solon, or a Darius, and to +become immortal as a speech-writer in a state, does he not deem himself +godlike, while he is yet alive, and do not posterity think the very same +of his writings? + +_Phæ._ Just so. + +89. _Socr._ Do you think then that any person of this sort, however +ill-disposed he may be towards Lysias, would upbraid him merely because +he is a writer? + +_Phæ._ It does not seem probable from what you say; for in that case, as +it appears, he would upbraid his own passion. + +_Socr._ This, then, must be clear to every one, that the mere writing of +speeches is not disgraceful. + +_Phæ._ Why should it be? + +_Socr._ But this I think now is disgraceful, not to express and write +them well, but shamefully and ill. + +_Phæ._ Clearly so. + +_Socr._ What then is the method of writing well or ill? Have we not +occasion, Phædrus, to enquire about this from Lysias or some one else, +who has at some time or other written or means to write, either a +political or private composition, in metre as a poet, or without metre +as a prose-writer? + +_Phæ._ Do you ask, if we have occasion? For what purpose in the world +should any one live, but for the sake of pleasures of this kind? Not, +surely, for those which cannot even be enjoyed unless they are preceded +by pain, which is the case with nearly all the pleasures connected with +the body; on which account they are justly called servile. + +90. _Socr._ We have leisure, however, as it seems: and moreover the +grasshoppers, while, as is their wont in the heat of the day, they are +singing over our heads and talking with one another, appear to me to be +looking down upon us. If, then, they should see us too, like most men, +not conversing at mid-day, but falling asleep and lulled by them, +through indolence of mind, they would justly laugh us to scorn, thinking +that some slaves or other had come to them in this retreat, in order +like sheep to take a mid-day sleep by the side of the fountain. But if +they see us conversing, and sailing by them, as if they were Syrens +unenchanted, the boon which they have from the gods to confer upon men, +they will perhaps out of admiration bestow upon us. + +_Phæ._ But what is this that they have? For I happen not to have heard +of it, as it seems. + +_Socr._ Yet it is not proper that a lover of the Muses should not have +heard of things of this kind. It is said, then, that these grasshoppers +were men before the Muses were born; but that when the Muses were born, +and song appeared, some of the men of that time were so overcome by +pleasure, that through singing they neglected to eat and drink, until +they died unawares. 91. From these the race of grasshoppers afterwards +sprung, having received this boon from the Muses, that they should need +no nourishment from the time of their birth, but should continue singing +without food and without drink till they died, and that after that they +should go to the Muses and inform them who of those here honoured each +of them. Therefore by informing Terpsichore of those who honour her in +the dance they make them dearer to her; and Erato they inform of her +votaries in love; and so all the rest in a similar manner, according to +the kind of honour belonging to each. But the eldest, Calliope, and next +to her Urania, they tell of those who pass their lives in philosophy, +and honour their music; and these most of all the Muses, being +conversant with heaven, and discourse both divine and human, pour forth +the most beautiful strains. For many reasons, therefore, we should +converse and not sleep at mid-day. + +_Phæ._ We should converse, indeed. + +_Socr._ Therefore, as we lately proposed to consider, we should enquire +in what consists a correct method of speaking and writing, and in what +not. + +_Phæ._ Evidently. + +92. _Socr._ Is it not, then, essential, in order to a good and beautiful +speech being made, that the mind of the speaker should know the truth of +the subject on which he is about to speak? + +_Phæ._ I have heard say on this subject, my dear Socrates, that it is +not necessary for one who purposes to be an orator to learn what is +really just, but what would appear so to the multitude, who will have to +judge; nor what is really good or beautiful, but what will appear so: +for that persuasion proceeds from these, and not from truth. + +_Socr._ We ought not to reject a saying[128], which wise men utter, but +should consider whether they say any thing worth attending to. Wherefore +we must not pass by what you have now said. + +----- + +Footnote 128: + + An expression taken from Homer, Iliad, iii. 65. + +----- + +93. _Phæ._ You are right. + +_Socr._ Let us then consider it as follows. + +_Phæ._ How? + +_Socr._ Suppose I should persuade you to purchase a horse for the +purpose of repelling enemies, but both of us should be ignorant what a +horse is, suppose, however, I did happen to know this much, that Phædrus +believes a horse to be that tame animal which has the longest ears. + +_Phæ._ That would be ridiculous indeed, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Wait a moment: if I should earnestly persuade you, by composing +a speech in praise of the ass, calling him a horse, and asserting that +it is well worth while to purchase this beast both for domestic purposes +and for military service, that he is useful to fight from, and able to +carry baggage, and serviceable in many other respects. + +_Phæ._ This, now, would be perfectly ridiculous. + +_Socr._ But is it not better that a friend should be ridiculous, than +dangerous and mischievous? + +_Phæ._ Clearly so. + +94. _Socr._ When an orator, therefore, who is ignorant of good and evil, +having found a city that is likewise so, endeavours to persuade it, not +by celebrating the praises of an ass’s shadow[129], as if it were a +horse, but of evil, as if it were good, and having studied the opinions +of the multitude should persuade them to do evil instead of good, what +kind of fruit do you suppose rhetoric will afterwards reap from such a +sowing? + +----- + +Footnote 129: + + A proverb meaning “a thing of no value.” See Suidas ὄνου σκιά. + +----- + +_Phæ._ By no means a good one. + +_Socr._ But have we not, my good friend, reviled the art of speaking +more roughly than is proper? for she may, perhaps, say: “Why, sirs, do +you talk so foolishly? For I compel no one who is ignorant of the truth +to learn how to speak: but if my advice is worth any thing, when he has +acquired that, he then has recourse to me. This, then, I insist on, that +without me one who knows the truth will not for all that be able to +persuade by art.” + +_Phæ._ Will she not speak justly, in asserting this? + +95. _Socr._ I admit it, at least if the arguments that assail her +testify that she is an art. For I think I have heard some arguments +coming up and insisting that she lies and is not an art, but an +inartistic trick. But a genuine art of speaking, says the Spartan, +without laying hold of truth, neither exists, nor ever can exist +hereafter. + +_Phæ._ We must have these arguments, Socrates; so bring them forward and +examine what they say, and in what manner. + +_Socr._ Come hither then, ye noble creatures, and persuade Phædrus with +the beautiful children, that, unless he has sufficiently studied +philosophy, he will never be competent to speak on any subject whatever. +Let Phædrus answer then. + +_Phæ._ Put your questions. + +_Socr._ Must not then rhetoric in general be an art that leads the soul +by means of argument, not only in courts of justice, and other public +assemblies, but also in private, equally with respect to trivial and +important matters? and is its right use at all more valued when employed +about grave than about trifling things? What have you heard said about +this? + +96. _Phæ._ By Jupiter, nothing at all of this kind; but it is for the +most part spoken and written according to art in judicial trials, and it +is spoken also in popular assemblies; but I have never heard any thing +further. + +_Socr._ What, have you heard only of the rhetorical arts of Nestor and +Ulysses, which they composed during their leisure in Ilium, and have you +never heard of those by Palamedes? + +_Phæ._ And, by Jupiter, I have not even heard of those by Nestor, unless +you make Gorgias a Nestor, or Thrasymachus and Theodorus a Ulysses. + +_Socr._ Perhaps I do. But let us pass over these; do you say however; in +courts of justice what do adversaries do? do they not contradict each +other? or what shall we say? + +_Phæ._ That very thing. + +_Socr._ And respecting the just and unjust? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Will not he, then, who accomplishes this by art, make the same +thing appear to the same persons, at one time just, and, when he +pleases, unjust? + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ And in a popular assembly the same things seem to the state at +one time good, and at another the contrary? + +_Phæ._ Just so. + +97. _Socr._ And do we not know that the Eleatic Palamedes[130] spoke by +art in such a manner that the same things appeared to his hearers +similar and dissimilar, one and many, at rest and in motion? + +----- + +Footnote 130: + + By Palamedes, as the Scholiast observes, he means Zeno of Elea, the + friend of Parmenides. + +----- + +_Phæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ The art, then, of arguing on both sides has not only to do with +courts of justice and popular assemblies, but as it seems, it must be +one and the same art, if it is an art, with respect to all subjects of +discourse, by which a man is able to make all things appear similar to +each other so far as they are capable of being made appear so, and to +drag them to light, when another attempts to make them appear similar +and conceals his attempt. + +_Phæ._ What mean you by this? + +_Socr._ I think it will be evident if we enquire as follows: Does +deception more frequently occur in things that differ much or little? + +_Phæ._ In things that differ little. + +_Socr._ But by changing your position gradually, you will more easily +escape detection in going to the opposite side, than by doing so +rapidly. + +98. _Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ It is necessary, then, that he who means to deceive another, but +not be deceived himself, should be able to distinguish with accuracy the +similarity and dissimilarity of things. + +_Phæ._ It is indeed necessary. + +_Socr._ Will he be able, then, if ignorant of the truth of each +particular thing, to discern the smaller or greater similarity of the +thing of which he is ignorant, in other things? + +_Phæ._ Impossible. + +_Socr._ It is clear, therefore, that in the case of those who have +formed opinions contrary to the truth and are deceived, this error has +found its way in by means of certain resemblances. + +99. _Phæ._ It doubtlessly does happen so. + +_Socr._ Is it possible, then, that one, who is ignorant of what is the +nature of each particular thing, should have sufficient art to bring +over any one by degrees by leading him through means of resemblances, +from each several truth to its opposite, or himself to escape from being +so led? + +_Phæ._ Never. + +_Socr._ He therefore, my friend, who does not know the truth, but hunts +after opinions, will, as it appears, produce but a ridiculous and +inartistic art of speaking. + +_Phæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Are you willing, then, in the speech of Lysias, which you have +with you, and in those which I delivered, to look for instances of what +I assert is inartistic and artistic? + +_Phæ._ I should like it of all things; for now we are speaking in a bald +sort of way, for want of sufficient examples. + +100. _Socr._ And, indeed, by some lucky chance, as it seems, two +speeches have been made which furnish examples, of how one who is +acquainted with the truth, while he is jesting in his arguments, can +lead his hearers astray. And for my part, Phædrus, I attribute that to +the deities of the spot. Perhaps, also, the interpreters of the Muses, +the songsters over head, have inspired us with this gift; for I at least +have no part in any art of speaking. + +_Phæ._ Be it as you say, only make your meaning clear. + +_Socr._ Come then, read out to me the beginning of Lysias’s speech. + +100. _Phæ._ “You are well acquainted with the state of my affairs, and I +think you have heard that it would be for our advantage if this took +place. And I claim, not for this reason to fail in my request, because I +do not happen to be one of your lovers: for they repent”— + +_Socr._ Stop. We are to say, then, in what he errs, and acts +inartistically: are we not? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Now is it not plain to every one, that in some things of this +kind we are agreed, on others at variance? + +_Phæ._ I think I understand what you mean; but explain yourself still +more clearly. + +_Socr._ When any one pronounces the word iron or silver, do we not all +understand the same thing? + +_Phæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ But what when any one pronounces the word just, or good? are we +not carried different ways, and do we not differ both with one another +and with ourselves? + +_Phæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ In some things, therefore, we agree, in others not. + +_Phæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ In which class of things, then, are we more easily deceived? and +in which of the two has rhetoric greater power? + +_Phæ._ Clearly in that in which we are easily led astray. + +102. _Socr._ He, therefore, who means to pursue the art of rhetoric, +ought first of all to have distinguished these methodically, and to have +discovered a certain character of each species, both of that in which +the generality of men must necessarily be led astray, and of that in +which that is not the case. + +_Phæ._ He who has attained to this, Socrates, will have devised a noble +classification of species. + +_Socr._ Then, I think, when he comes to each particular case, he ought +not to be at a loss, but should perceive quickly to which of the two +classes the subject, on which he is going to speak, belongs. + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ What then with respect to Love? shall we say that he belongs to +things doubtful, or to such as are not so? + +_Phæ._ To things doubtful, surely; otherwise do you think he would have +allowed you to say what you just now said about him, that he is both a +mischief to the beloved and the lover, and again, that he is the +greatest of blessings? + +_Socr._ You speak admirably. But tell me this too, for from being +carried away by enthusiasm, I do not quite remember whether I defined +love at the beginning of my speech. + +_Phæ._ By Jupiter you did, and with wonderful accuracy. + +103. _Socr._ Alas; how much more artistic in speech-making do you say +the nymphs of Acheloüs and Pan son of Mercury are than Lysias son of +Cephalus! Or am I wrong, and did Lysias too, in the beginning of his +love-speech, compel us to conceive of Love, as some one particular +thing, which he wished it to be, and then complete all the rest of his +speech in accordance with this? Are you willing that we should read over +again the beginning of his speech? + +_Phæ._ If you wish it; though what you seek is not there. + +_Socr._ Read, however, that I may hear him in person. + +104. _Phæ._ “You are well acquainted with the state of my affairs, and I +think you have heard, that it would be for our advantage if this took +place. And I claim, not for this reason to fail in my request, because I +do not happen to be one of your lovers: for they repent of the benefits +they have conferred, as soon as their desires cease.” + +_Socr._ He seems to be far indeed from doing what we are seeking for, +since in making his speech he attempts to swim backwards, with his face +uppermost, not setting out from the beginning, but from the end, and he +begins with what the lover would say to his favourite at the close of +his speech. Have I said nothing to the purpose, Phædrus, my dear friend? + +_Phæ._ It is indeed, Socrates, the end of the subject about which he is +speaking. + +105. _Socr._ But what as to the rest? do not the other parts of the +speech appear to have been put together at random? or does it appear +that what is said in the second place ought from any necessity to have +been placed second, or any thing else that he said? For it seems to me, +who however know nothing about the matter, that the writer has without +any scruple said whatever came uppermost, But do you know of any rule in +speech-writing, in conformity to which he disposed his sentences in the +order he has done one after another? + +_Phæ._ You are pleasant, in supposing that I am able to see through his +compositions so accurately. + +_Socr._ But this at least I think you will allow, that every speech +ought to be put together like a living creature, with a body of its own, +so as to be neither without head, nor without feet, but to have both a +middle and extremities, described proportionately to each other and to +the whole. + +106. _Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Consider, then, your friend’s speech, whether it is so or +otherwise; and you will find that it is in no respect different from the +epigram which some say is inscribed on the tomb of Midas the Phrygian. + +_Phæ._ What is it, and what is there remarkable in it? + +_Socr._ It is as follows; + + “I am a maiden of brass and I lie on Midas’s sepulchre, + So long as water flows and tall trees flourish, + Remaining here on the tomb of Midas, + I will tell all passers by, that Midas is buried here.” + +That it makes no difference which line is put first or last, you must +perceive, I think. + +_Phæ._ You are jesting at our speech, Socrates. + +107. _Socr._ That you may not be angry, then, we will have done with +this; (though it appears to me to contain very many examples, which any +one might examine with advantage, so long as he does not at all attempt +to imitate them;) and let us proceed to the two other speeches; for +there was something in them, I think, fit to be looked into by those who +wish to examine into the subject of speeches. + +_Phæ._ What do you mean? + +_Socr._ They were in a manner opposed to each other. For one said that +favour ought to be shewn to a person that is in love, the other to a +person that is not in love. + +_Phæ._ And this, most strenuously. + +_Socr._ I thought you were going to say, with truth, madly. However, +this is the very thing I was seeking for. For we said that love was a +kind of madness, did we not? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But there are two kinds of madness, one arising from human +diseases, the other from an inspired deviation from established customs. + +_Phæ._ Certainly. + +108. _Socr._ But dividing the divine mania of the four deities into four +parts, and assigning prophetic inspiration to Apollo, mystic to Bacchus, +poetic to the Muses, and the fourth to Venus and Love, we said that the +madness of Love is the best, and I know not how representing the passion +of love, probably lighting on some truth and perhaps carried off +elsewhere, we compounded a speech not altogether improbable, and sang a +kind of mythical hymn, in a seemly and devotional manner, in honour of +my lord and thine, Phædrus, Love, the guardian of beautiful boys. + +_Phæ._ And one by no means unpleasant to me to hear. + +_Socr._ Let us endeavour to find out, then, from the speech itself, how +it was able to pass from censure to praise. + +_Phæ._ What mean you by this? + +109. _Socr._ To me it appears that in all other respects we have really +been jesting; but as regards the two methods[131] that are seen in these +casually uttered speeches, if any one could apprehend their power by +art, it would be by no means an unwelcome circumstance. + +----- + +Footnote 131: + + The two methods are “definition” and “division,” afterwards explained. + +----- + +_Phæ._ What methods are these? + +_Socr._ The one is to see under one aspect and to bring together under +one general idea, many things scattered in various places, that, by +defining each, a person may make it clear what the subject is that he +wishes to discuss, as just now with respect to love, its nature being +defined, whether it was well or ill described; at all events for that +reason my speech was able to attain perspicuity and consistency. + +_Phæ._ And what is the other method you speak of, Socrates? + +110. _Socr._ The being able, on the other hand, to separate that general +idea into species, by joints, as nature points out, and not to attempt +to break any part, after the manner of an unskilful cook; but as, just +now, my two speeches comprehended mental derangement under one common +class. But as from one body there spring two sets of members bearing the +same name, one called the left the other the right, so my speeches +having considered mental derangement as naturally one class in us, then +the speech that had to divide the left part, did not leave off dividing +this again until having found in its members a kind of left-handed love, +it reviled it deservedly: but the other taking us to the right hand side +of madness, and having found a kind of love bearing the same name as the +former, but divine, brought it to light and commended it as the cause of +the greatest blessings to us. + +111. _Phæ._ You speak most truly. + +_Socr._ For my part, Phædrus, I am not only myself a lover of these +divisions and generalisations, in order that I may be able both to speak +and think; but if I perceive any one else able to comprehend the one and +the many, as they are in nature, him “I follow behind as in the +footsteps of a god[132].” But whether I designate those who are able to +do this, rightly or not, God knows, however I have hitherto called them +dialecticians. But now, tell me by what name ought we to call those who +take lessons from you and Lysias? is this that art of speaking, by the +use of which Thrasymachus and others have become able speakers +themselves, and make others so who are willing to bring presents to +them, as to kings? + +----- + +Footnote 132: + + See Homer’s Odyssey, v. 193. + +----- + +_Phæ._ They are indeed royal men, yet not skilled in the particulars +about which you enquire. However you appear to me to call this method +rightly, in calling it dialectical; but the rhetorical appears to me +still to escape us. + +112. _Socr._ How say you? A fine thing indeed that must be, which is +destitute of this and yet can be apprehended by art. It must on no +account be neglected by you and me; but we must consider what is the +remaining part of rhetoric. + +_Phæ._ There are indeed very many things, Socrates, which you will find +in the books written on the art of speaking. + +_Socr._ You have reminded me very opportunely. The exordium, I think, +must first be spoken at the beginning of the speech. You mean these, do +you not? the refinements of the art? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And secondly a kind of narration, and evidence to support it; +thirdly, proofs; fourthly, probabilities; and I think that a famous +Byzantian tricker-out of speeches mentions confirmation and +after-confirmation. + +_Phæ._ Do you mean the excellent Theodorus? + +_Socr._ I do. He says, too, that refutation and after-refutation must be +employed both in accusation and defence. And must we not adduce the most +illustrious Parian, Evenus, who first discovered subordinate intimations +and bye-praises? and some say that he put into metre bye-censures, to +assist the memory: for he is a wise man. 113. But shall we suffer Tisias +and Gorgias to sleep, who found out that probabilities were more to be +valued than truths, and who by force of words make small things appear +great, and great things small, and new things old, and the contrary new, +and who discovered a concise method of speaking and an infinite +prolixity on all subjects? When Prodicus once heard me tell this, he +laughed, and said that he alone had discovered what speeches are +required by art; that we require them neither long nor short, but of a +moderate length. + +_Phæ._ Most wisely, Prodicus. + +_Socr._ But do we not mention Hippias? for I think our Elean friend was +of the same opinion with him. + +_Phæ._ Why not? + +114. _Socr._ But how shall we describe Polus’s new-fangled method of +speaking, as his reduplication of words, his sentences, his similitudes, +and the words which Licymnius made him a present of, in order to produce +a graceful diction. + +_Phæ._ But was not the system of Protagoras, Socrates, something of this +kind? + +_Socr._ His was a correctness of diction, my boy, and many other fine +things besides, but in the art of dragging in speeches to excite +commiseration for old age and poverty, the Chalcedonian hero appears to +me to have carried off the palm. He was moreover a powerful man to rouse +the anger of the multitude, and again, when enraged, to soothe them by +enchantment, as he used to say; he was most skilful in raising and +removing calumnies, on any ground whatever. But all seem to agree in the +same opinion with respect to the conclusion of speeches, to which some +have given the name of recapitulation, others a different name. + +_Phæ._ You mean the summarily reminding the hearers, at the conclusion, +of the several things that have been said. + +115. _Socr._ I mean that, and now consider if you have any thing else to +say about the art of speaking. + +_Phæ._ Only some trifling things, and not worth mentioning. + +_Socr._ Let us pass over trifles; and rather examine these things in the +clear light, and see what influence they have in art, and on what +occasion. + +_Phæ._ A very powerful influence, Socrates, at least in assemblies of +the people. + +_Socr._ They have indeed. But, my admirable friend, do you also observe +whether their web does not appear to you to be very wide as it does to +me. + +_Phæ._ Explain what you mean. + +_Socr._ Tell me then: If any one should go to your friend Eryximachus, +or his father Acumenus, and should say, “I know how to apply such things +to the body, as will make it warm or cold, as I please, and if I think +proper, I can produce vomitings, and again purgings, and many other +things of the kind, and as I know these things I consider myself a +physician, and that I can make any one else so, to whom I impart the +knowledge of these particulars:” what do you think they would say on +hearing this? + +_Phæ._ What else, but ask him if he knew besides to what persons, and +when, and how far, he ought to do each of these things? + +116. _Socr._ If then, he should say, “Not in the least; but I expect +that he who should learn these things from me, would be able to do what +you ask?” + +_Phæ._ He would say, I think, that the man is mad; and that, having +heard from some book or other, or having met with certain drugs, he +fancies that he has become a physician, though he knows nothing at all +about the art. + +_Socr._ But what if any one were to go to Sophocles and Euripides, and +tell them, that he knew how to make very long speeches on a trifling +subject, and very short ones on a great subject, and whenever he +pleased, piteous and contrariwise, terrible and threatening speeches, +and other things of the kind, and that by teaching these he thought he +could impart the power of writing tragedy? + +117. _Phæ._ They too, I think, Socrates, would laugh, if any one should +suppose that tragedy was any thing else than the composition of all +these, so disposed as to be consistent with each other and the whole. + +_Socr._ But, I think, they would not upbraid him rudely, but as a +musician, who happened to meet with a man who believes himself to be +skilled in harmony, because he knows how to make the highest and lowest +note, would not harshly say to him, “Miserable fellow, you are stark +mad;” but, being a musician, he would speak more mildly; “My excellent +man, it is indeed necessary for one who means to be skilled in harmony, +to know these things, but at the same time there is nothing to hinder a +person from possessing the knowledge you have without his understanding +harmony in the least; for you know what is necessary to be learnt before +harmony, but not harmony itself.” + +_Phæ._ Most correctly. + +118. _Socr._ In like manner, Sophocles might reply to the person who +displayed his learning to them, that he knew the things before tragedy, +but not tragedy itself; and Acumenus, that the medical pretender knew +things before medicine, but not medicine itself. + +_Phæ._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ But what must we think the sweet-voiced Adrastus, or even +Pericles would do, if they were to hear of the beautiful contrivances +which we have just now enumerated, the short sentences and similitudes, +and all the rest, which when we went through them, we said must be +examined by the clear light, whether they, as you and I did, would +rudely make some ill-mannered remark against those who had written and +who teach such things as if they constituted the art of rhetoric, or, as +being wiser than we are, would they not reprove us, saying, 119. +“Phædrus and Socrates, you ought not to be angry with, but rather to +excuse those who, through being ignorant of dialectics, are unable to +define what rhetoric is, and who, in consequence of this ignorance, +possessing the things necessary to be learnt preparatory to the art, +think that they have discovered rhetoric itself, and, suppose that by +teaching these things to others, they can teach them rhetoric in +perfection; but how each of them is to be used persuasively, and the +whole combined together, this, as being of no consequence in the world, +they think their pupils ought to acquire for themselves in composing +their speeches.” + +_Phæ._ Such indeed, Socrates, appears to be the case with the art which +these men teach and write about as rhetoric; and you seem to me to have +spoken the truth: but how and from whence can one acquire the art of +true rhetoric and persuasion? + +120. _Socr._ The ability, Phædrus, to become a perfect proficient, +probably, or rather necessarily, depends on the same things as in other +cases: for, if you naturally possess rhetorical abilities, you will be a +distinguished orator by adding science and practice; but in whichever of +these you are deficient, in that respect you will be imperfect. But so +far as it is an art, its method, I think, will not be found in the way +that Lysias and Thrasymachus are proceeding. + +_Phæ._ In what way then? + +_Socr._ Pericles, my excellent friend, appears, with good reason, to +have been the most perfect of all men in rhetoric. + +_Phæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ All the great arts require a subtle and speculative research +into the law of nature: for that loftiness of thought and perfect +mastery over every subject seems to be derived from some such source as +this; which Pericles possessed in addition to a great natural genius. +For meeting, I think, with Anaxagoras, who was a person of this kind, +and being filled with speculative research, and having arrived at the +nature of intelligence and want of intelligence, about which Anaxagoras +made that long discourse, he drew from thence to the art of speaking +whatever could contribute to its advantage. + +121. _Phæ._ What mean you by this? + +_Socr._ The method of the art of rhetoric is, in a manner, the same as +that of medicine. + +_Phæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ In both it is requisite that nature should be thoroughly +investigated, the nature of the body in the one, and the soul in the +other, if you mean not only by practice and experience, but by art, to +give health and strength to the former by applying medicine and diet, +and to impart such persuasion as you please and virtue to the latter, by +means of speeches and legitimate employments. + +_Phæ._ This indeed seems probable, Socrates. + +_Socr._ But do you think it possible rightly to understand the nature of +the soul, without understanding the nature of the universe? + +_Phæ._ If we are to believe Hippocrates, of the family of Æsculapius, we +cannot understand even the nature of body without this method. + +_Socr._ For he says well, my friend. But it is necessary, in addition to +the authority of Hippocrates, to examine our argument, and consider +whether it is consistent. + +_Phæ._ I agree. + +122. _Socr._ Consider, then, with respect to nature, what Hippocrates +and true reason say. Is it not thus necessary to examine into the nature +of any thing? In the first place, whether that is simple or manifold +about which we are desirous, both ourselves to be skilled, and to be +able to make others so; and, in the next place, if it be simple, to +examine the power it naturally possesses of acting on each particular +thing, or of being acted upon by each particular thing? And if it +possesses several species, having enumerated these, as in the case of +the one, ought we not to consider this in each of them, what active and +passive power they naturally have? + +_Phæ._ It seems so, Socrates. + +123. _Socr._ The method, then, that neglected these, would resemble the +walk of a blind man. He however who proceeds by art, ought on no account +to be compared either to a blind or a deaf man; but it is clear that +whosoever teaches another speaking by art, should accurately shew the +real nature of the things to which he will have to apply his speeches; +and this surely is the soul. + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ His whole endeavour, therefore, must be directed to this; for in +this he attempts to produce persuasion. Is it not so? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ It is clear, therefore, that Thrasymachus, and any one else who +seriously endeavours to teach the art of rhetoric, will in the first +place describe with all possible accuracy, and make it be seen whether +the soul is naturally one and similar, or, like the form of the body, +composed of different elements; for this we say is to make known nature. + +_Phæ._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ And, in the second place, in what respect it naturally acts or +is acted upon by any thing. + +124. _Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ In the third place, having set in order the different kinds of +speech and of soul, and the different manners in which these are +affected, he will go through the several causes, adapting each to each, +and teaching what kind of soul is necessarily persuaded, and what not +persuaded, by particular kinds of speech, and for what reason. + +_Phæ._ It will assuredly be best done in this way, as it seems. + +_Socr._ Never then, my dear friend, will any thing that is otherwise +explained or spoken, be spoken or written by art, either in any other +case or in this. But the modern writers on the art of speech-making, +whom you yourself have heard, are dissemblers, and conceal the very +admirable knowledge they have of the soul. Until, then, they both speak +and write according to this method, let us never be persuaded that they +write artistically. + +_Phæ._ What method is this? + +_Socr._ It is not easy to mention the very words themselves; but how it +is proper to write, if a man means to be as artistic as he possibly can, +I am willing to tell you. + +_Phæ._ Tell me then. + +125. _Socr._ Since the power of speech is that of leading the soul, it +is necessary that he who means to be an orator should know how many +kinds of soul there are: but they are so many, and of such and such +kinds; whence some men are of this character and some of that character. +These then being thus divided, there are again so many kinds of speech, +each of a certain character. Now men of such a character are for this +particular reason easily persuaded by certain speeches, and persons of a +different character are for these reasons with difficulty persuaded. It +is necessary, therefore, that he, after having sufficiently understood +all this, when he afterwards perceives these very things taking place in +actions, and being done, should be able to follow them rapidly by +perception, otherwise he will know nothing more than the very things +which he formerly heard from his preceptor. 126. But when he is +sufficiently competent to say, what kind of person is persuaded by what +kind of speeches, and is able, when he sees him before him, to point out +to himself that this is the person and this the nature for which those +speeches were formerly made now actually present before me, and to which +these particular speeches are to be addressed, in order to persuade him +to these particular things,—when he has acquired all this, and has +learnt moreover the proper seasons for speaking and being silent, and +again has made himself master of the seasonable and unseasonable +occasions for brevity, plaintiveness, and vehemence, and all the other +several kinds of speech which he has learnt, then his art will be +beautifully and perfectly accomplished, but not before. But whoever is +deficient in any of these particulars, either in speaking, or teaching, +or writing, and yet asserts that he speaks by art, is overcome by the +person who will not be persuaded. 127. “What then,” perhaps the writer +on rhetoric will say, “does it appear to you, Phædrus and Socrates, that +the art of speaking, as it is called, must be obtained in this or some +other way?” + +_Phæ._ It is impossible, Socrates, that it should be obtained in any +other way; though it seems to be a work of no small labour. + +_Socr._ You say truly. And on this account we ought to turn over all +speeches again and again, and consider whether any easier and shorter +way to it can be found, in order that we may not in vain go by a long +and rough one, when we might have taken a short and smooth one. If, +therefore, you have heard of any thing that will assist us, from Lysias +or any one else, endeavour to call it to mind, and tell it me. + +_Phæ._ If the endeavour were enough I should be able to do so, but just +at present I cannot. + +128. _Socr._ Are you willing, then, that I should repeat to you a +statement which I heard from persons who take an interest in such +matters? + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ It is said, however, Phædrus, to be right to state even the +wolf’s case. + +_Phæ._ And do you do so. + +_Socr._ They say, then, that there is no occasion to treat these matters +so solemnly, nor to carry them back so far, by such long windings. For +as we said in the beginning of our discussion, there is no need at all +for one who wishes to become a competent orator to have any thing to do +with the truth respecting actions just or good, or men who are such, +either by nature or education. For that in courts of justice no +attention whatever is paid to the truth of these things, but only to +what is plausible, and that it is probability to which one who wishes to +speak by art ought to apply himself. And that sometimes even facts that +have actually happened must not be stated, unless they are probable, but +probabilities both in accusation and defence: and, in short, that a +speaker should pursue the probable, and pay no regard at all to truth. +For that when this method is observed throughout the whole speech, it +constitutes the perfection of the art. + +129. _Phæ._ You have described the very things, Socrates, which they say +who profess to be skilled in speech-making; and I remember that we +touched briefly upon this in a former part of our discussion; but this +appears to be matter of the utmost consequence to those who study these +things. + +_Socr._ However you have thoroughly fumbled Tisias himself. Let Tisias +then tell us this, whether he means any thing else by the probable than +that which accords with the opinion of the multitude. + +_Phæ._ What else can it be? + +_Socr._ Having made, then, as it seems, this wise and artistic +discovery, he has written, that if a weak but brave man should be +brought to trial for having knocked down a strong and cowardly one, and +for having robbed him of his clothes or any thing else, then that +neither of them ought to speak the truth, but the coward should say that +he was not knocked down by the brave man alone, and the latter should +prove this, that they were alone, and then urge this; “How could a man +like me ever attack a man like him?” But the other will not admit his +own cowardice, but, in attempting to tell some other falsehood, will +perhaps supply his adversary with the means of refuting him. And in +other cases, such things as these are said according to art. Is it not +so, Phædrus? + +130. _Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Wonderfully clever seems to have been the inventor of this +abstruse art, whether Tisias or whoever else he was, and by whatever +name he delights to be called. But, my friend, shall we say to him or +not? + +_Phæ._ What? + +_Socr._ Tisias, long since before your arrival, we happened to say, that +this probability of yours derives its influence with the multitude from +its resemblance to truth; and we just now concluded that in all cases he +knows best how to discover resemblances who is best acquainted with the +truth. So that, if you have any thing else to say about the art of +speaking, we will listen to you; but if not, we shall hold to the +conclusions we have lately come to, that unless a man has reckoned up +the different natures of those who will have to hear him, and is able to +divide things themselves into species, and to comprehend the several +particulars under one general idea, he will never be skilled in the art +of speaking so far as it is possible for a man to be so. 131. But this +he can never acquire without great labour, which a wise man ought not to +bestow for the purpose of speaking and acting amongst men, but that he +may be able to speak such things as are acceptable to the gods, and act +acceptably to them, to the utmost of his power. For, as wiser men than +we say, Tisias, a man of understanding ought not to make it his +principal study to gratify his fellow-servants, except by the way, but +good masters and of good extraction. If therefore the circuit be long, +wonder not; 132. for it is to be undertaken for the sake of great ends, +not such as you think. And even these, as our argument proves, if any +one is willing, will be best attained by those means. + +_Phæ._ This appears to me, Socrates, to be very finely said, if only a +man could attain to it. + +_Socr._ But when one is attempting noble things, it is surely noble also +to suffer whatever it may befal us to suffer. + +_Phæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ As regards, then, the art and want of art in speaking, let this +suffice. + +133. _Phæ._ How should it not? + +_Socr._ But as regards elegance and inelegance in writing, in what way +it may be done well, and in what way inelegantly, remains to be +considered. Does it not? + +_Phæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Do you know, then, how you may best please God with regard to +speeches, both acting and speaking? + +_Phæ._ Not at all. Do you? + +_Socr._ I can tell a story I have heard of the ancients, its truth they +know. But if we ourselves could discover this, do you think we should +any longer pay any regard to the opinions of men? + +_Phæ._ Your question is ridiculous; but relate what you say you have +heard. + +134. _Socr._ I have heard then, that at Naucratis, in Egypt, there was +one of the ancient gods of that country, to whom was consecrated the +bird, which they call Ibis; but the name of the deity himself was +Theuth. That he was the first to invent numbers and arithmetic, and +geometry and astronomy, and moreover draughts and dice, and especially +letters, at the time when Thamus was king of all Egypt, and dwelt in the +great city of the upper region which the Greeks call Egyptian Thebes, +but the god they call Ammon; to him Theuth went and shewed him his arts, +and told him that they ought to be distributed amongst the rest of the +Egyptians. Thamus asked him what was the use of each, and as he +explained it, according as he appeared to say well or ill, he either +blamed or praised them. 135. Now Thamus is reported to have said many +things to Theuth respecting each art, both for and against it, which it +would be tedious to relate. But when they came to the letters, “This +knowledge, O king,” said Theuth, “will make the Egyptians wiser, and +better able to remember; for it has been invented as a medicine for +memory and wisdom.” But he replied, “Most ingenious Theuth, one person +is able to give birth to art, another to judge of what amount of +detriment or advantage it will be to those who are to use it, and now +you, as being the father of letters, out of fondness have attributed to +them just the contrary effect to that which they will have. For this +invention will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn it +through the neglect of memory, for that through trusting to writing, +they will remember outwardly by means of foreign marks, and not inwardly +by means of their own faculties. So that you have not discovered a +medicine for memory, but for recollection. And you are providing for +your disciples the appearance and not the reality of wisdom. For hearing +many things through your means without instruction, they will appear to +know a great deal, although they are for the most part ignorant, and +will become troublesome associates, through thinking themselves wise +instead of being so.” + +136. _Phæ._ Socrates, you easily make Egyptian and any other country’s +tales you please. + +_Socr._ But, my friend, those who dwell in the temple of Dodonæan +Jupiter said that the first prophetic words issued from an oak. It was +sufficient for the men of those days, seeing they were not wise like you +moderns, in their simplicity, to listen to an oak and a stone, if only +they spoke the truth: and does it make any difference to you, forsooth, +who the speaker is, and to what country he belongs? For you do not +consider that only, whether the case is so or otherwise. + +_Phæ._ You have very properly reproved me; and the case with regard to +letters appears to me just as the Theban says. + +137. _Socr._ He therefore, who thinks to leave an art in writing, and +again, he who receives it, as if something clear and solid would result +from the writing, must be full of simplicity, and in reality ignorant of +the prophecy of Ammon, since he thinks that written words are of further +value than to remind one who already knows the subject of which the +writings treat. + +_Phæ._ Most correct. + +_Socr._ For writing, indeed, Phædrus, has this inconvenience, and truly +resembles painting. For its productions stand out as if they were alive, +but, if you ask them any question, they observe a solemn silence. And so +it is with written discourses; you would think that they spoke as though +they possessed some wisdom, but if you ask them about any thing they +say, from a desire to understand it, they give only one and the +self-same answer. And when it is once written, every discourse is tossed +about every where, equally among those who understand it, and among +those whom it in no wise concerns, and it knows not to whom it ought to +speak, and to whom not. And when it is ill-treated and unjustly reviled, +it always needs its father to help it; for, of itself, it can neither +defend nor help itself. + +138. _Phæ._ This, too, you have said most correctly. + +_Socr._ But what? shall we consider another discourse, this one’s +legitimate brother, in what manner it is produced, and how far better +and more powerful it naturally is than this? + +_Phæ._ What is that, and how do you say it is produced? + +_Socr._ That which is written with science in the learner’s soul, which +is able to defend itself, and knows before whom it ought to speak and be +silent. + +_Phæ._ You mean the discourse of a man endued with knowledge that has +life and soul, of which the written may be justly called an image. + +_Socr._ Assuredly. But tell me this. Would an intelligent husbandman, +who has seeds that he cares for and which he wishes to be fruitful, +seriously sow them in summer-time in the gardens of Adonis, and rejoice +at seeing them growing up beautifully within eight days, or would he do +this, if he did it at all, for the sake of sport or pastime; but the +seed which he treats seriously, availing himself of the husbandman’s +skill and sowing it in its proper soil, would he be content that what he +has sown shall come to maturity in the eighth month? + +139. _Phæ._ Just so, Socrates, he would do the one seriously, and the +other, as you say, for amusement. + +_Socr._ But shall we say that he who possesses a knowledge of what is +just, beautiful and good, shews less intelligence than a husbandman in +the management of his own seeds? + +_Phæ._ By no means. + +_Socr._ He will not, then, seriously write them in water, sowing them +with ink by means of a pen, with words that are unable to defend +themselves by speech, and unable adequately to teach the truth. + +_Phæ._ In all probability he will not. + +_Socr._ Surely not. But, as it seems, he will sow and write, when he +does write, in the gardens of letters for the sake of diversion, +treasuring up memoranda for himself, when he comes to the forgetfulness +of old age, and for all who are going on the same track, and he will be +delighted at seeing them in their tender growth, and while other men +pursue other diversions, refreshing themselves with banquets, and other +pleasures akin to these, he, as it appears, instead of these, will pass +his time in the diversions I have mentioned. + +140. _Phæ._ You speak of a very noble in comparison of a mean diversion, +Socrates, when a man is able to divert himself with discourses, telling +stories about justice and the other things you mention. + +_Socr._ It is so indeed, my dear Phædrus. But, in my opinion, a far more +noble employment results from this, when a man availing himself of +dialectic art, on meeting with a congenial soul, plants and sows +scientific discourses which are able to aid both themselves and him that +planted them, and are not unfruitful but contain seed within themselves, +from whence others springing up in other minds are able to make this +seed immortal, and make their possessor happy as far as it is possible +for man to be so. + +_Phæ._ This that you mention is far more noble. + +_Socr._ Now then, Phædrus, since this is agreed on, we are able to +determine our former questions. + +_Phæ._ What are they? + +_Socr._ Those which, in our desire to consider them, led us to the +present point: namely, that we might examine into the reproach cast on +Lysias for writing speeches, and then speeches themselves, which are +written by art or without art. Now that which is artistic and that which +is not appears to me to have been tolerably well explained. + +141. _Phæ._ It appears so. But remind me of it again, in what way. + +_Socr._ Before a man knows the truth of each subject on which he speaks +or writes, and is able to define the whole of a thing, and when he has +defined it again knows how to divide it into species until he comes to +the indivisible; and in like manner, having distinguished the nature of +the soul, and having found out what kind of speech is adapted to the +nature of each, he so disposes and adorns his speech, applying to a soul +of varied powers speeches that are various and all-harmonious, and +simple ones to a simple soul, before this is done, he will not be able +to manage speech with art, as far as it might be done, either for the +purpose of teaching or persuading, as the whole of our former argument +has proved. + +_Phæ._ This is exactly how it appeared. + +142. _Socr._ But what as to its being honourable or disgraceful to speak +and write speeches, and under what circumstances it may be called a +reproach or not, has not what we have said a little before sufficed to +prove? + +_Phæ._ What was that? + +_Socr._ That if either Lysias, or any one else, has ever written, or +shall hereafter write, privately or publicly, writing a state document +in proposing a law, and thinks that there is in it great stability and +clearness, this is a reproach to the writer, whether any one says so or +not. For to be utterly ignorant of what is just and unjust, evil and +good, cannot be otherwise than truly disgraceful, though the whole mass +of mankind should unite in its praise. + +143. _Phæ._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ But he who thinks that in a written discourse, on whatever +subject, there must necessarily be much that is sportive, and that no +discourse, in prose or verse, deserving of much study, has ever been +written or spoken, as those declamations used to be spoken without +discrimination and instructive method, for the sake of persuasion, but +that in truth the best of them were for the purpose of reminding those +who already know, but that only in discourses taught and spoken for the +sake of instruction, and really written in the soul about things just, +and beautiful, and good, there is found what is clear and perfect and +worthy of study; and that such discourses ought to be called as it were +their author’s legitimate offspring; first of all that which is in +himself, if it is there by his own invention, then any children or +brothers of the former that have at the same time worthily sprung up in +the souls of others; whoever thinks thus and dismisses all others, that +man, Phædrus, appears to be such a one as you and I should pray that we +might become. + +144. _Phæ._ I, for my part, entirely wish and pray for what you mention. + +_Socr._ Be we then content with having thus far amused ourselves with +the subject of speeches; and do you go and tell Lysias that we, having +descended to the fountain of the nymphs, have heard words which charged +us to tell Lysias and any one else who composes speeches, and Homer and +any one else who is in the habit of composing poetry, epic or +lyric[133], and thirdly, Solon and whosoever commits political +discourses to writing under the name of laws, if they composed their +works knowing how the truth stands, and able to defend them when brought +to account for what they have written, and being themselves capable by +speaking to shew that their writings are poor, then they ought not to be +named from these works, but from those to which they have seriously +applied themselves. + +----- + +Footnote 133: + + Ψιλὴν ἢ ἐν ᾠδῇ, without music or with. + +----- + +145. _Phæ._ What name, then, do you assign them? + +_Socr._ To call them wise, Phædrus, appears to me to be a great matter, +and proper for God alone; but lovers of wisdom, or some such name, would +suit them better, and be in better taste. + +_Phæ._ And it would be nothing out of the way. + +_Socr._ Him, therefore, who has nothing more valuable than what he has +written, by turning it upwards and downwards for a long time, patching +and clipping it bit by bit, may you not justly designate a poet, or a +compiler of speeches, or a writer of laws? + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Tell this, then, to your friend. + +_Phæ._ But you? what will you do? For we must not pass over your friend. + +_Socr._ Whom do you mean? + +146. _Phæ._ The beautiful Isocrates. What news will you take him, +Socrates? what shall we say he is? + +_Socr._ Isocrates is still young, Phædrus; but what I prophesy of him I +am willing to say. + +_Phæ._ What? + +_Socr._ He appears to me to have better natural endowments than to be +compared with the speeches of Lysias, and moreover to be endued with a +nobler disposition, so that it would not be at all wonderful if, as he +advances in age, he should in this very pursuit of speech-making, to +which he is now applying himself, surpass all who have ever attempted +speeches, as if they were boys, and besides, if he should not be content +with this, that a more divine impulse may lead him to greater things; +for, my friend, there is a natural love of wisdom in the mind of the +man. This message, then, I will take from the gods of this spot to +Isocrates my favourite, and do you take the other to Lysias as yours. + +147. _Phæ._ This shall be done. But let us depart, since the heat has +become less oppressive. + +_Socr._ Ought we not to go after we have prayed to these gods? + +_Phæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ O beloved Pan, and all ye other gods of this place, grant me to +become beautiful in the inner man, and that whatever outward things I +have may be at peace with those within. May I deem the wise man rich, +and may I have such a portion of gold as none but a prudent man can +either bear or employ. + +Do we need any thing else, Phædrus? for myself I have prayed enough. + +_Phæ._ Make the same prayer for me, too; for the possessions of friends +are common. + +_Socr._ Let us depart. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE THEÆTETUS. + + +Theodorus, a famous geometrician of Cyrene and a follower of Protagoras, +is represented to have met Socrates at Athens, and to have been asked by +him whether among his pupils there were any who promised to become +eminent. Theodorus particularizes one above all the rest, who, while he +is speaking, is seen approaching. His name is Theætetus. Socrates, +having heard him so highly spoken of by Theodorus, at once opens upon +the subject which he wishes to discuss, and asks What science is. +Theætetus, in answer, enumerates several particular sciences, but is +soon led to understand that the question is not, how many sciences there +are, but what science itself is; and by an instance in point shews that +he does so. Still he doubts his own ability to answer the question +proposed, but is at length induced to make the attempt by Socrates +pleasantly describing himself as inheriting his own mother’s skill in +midwifery, by which he is able to bring to the birth and deliver the +mental conceptions of those whose souls are pregnant with ideas[134]. + +----- + +Footnote 134: + + § 1-22. + +----- + +Theætetus, then, first of all says that science is nothing else than +perception. This, Socrates observes, is the opinion of Protagoras, +differently expressed; for he said, that man is the measure of all +things, in other words that all things are such as they appear to each +person. In order to examine the truth of this doctrine Socrates begins +by stating it more fully. Protagoras asserts that nothing exists of +itself, nor can any thing be designated by any quality, for what we call +great will, in reference to something else, be also small, and what we +call heavy, light, and so on, so that nothing ever exists but is always +becoming. Consequently all things spring from motion, and the relation +that they bear to each other. Thus, with respect to colour, it does not +actually exist, it is neither in the object seen nor in the eye itself, +but results from the application of the eye to the object, and so is the +intermediate production of both. Again if you compare six with four they +appear to be half as many again, but if with twelve, only the half, +whence it appears that the same number is at one time great, at another +small, which would not be the case if numbers had a fixed and determined +magnitude. The principle then on which all things depend is this, That +the universe is nothing but motion, of which there are two species, the +one active, the other passive, by the union of which that which is +perceivable and perception itself consist. Thus when the eye and a +corresponding object, meeting together, produce whiteness and its +connate perception, the eye sees, and becomes not vision, but a seeing +eye, and the object itself becomes not whiteness but white: so that +nothing is essentially one, but is always being produced by something +else, and therefore the word “being” must be entirely done away with. +But here it may be objected that the perceptions produced in persons who +dream, or are diseased or mad, are utterly false, and so far are the +things that appear to them from existing, that none of them have any +real existence at all; how then can it be said that perception is +science, and that things which appear to every one are to that person +what they appear to be? The answer is, that the things which appear are +most certainly true to the percipient; just as if wine appears bitter to +a sick person, to him it is certainly bitter; and again with regard to +dreams, there is no certain way of distinguishing a state of being awake +from dreaming; and as the object perceived and the percipient exist or +are produced by relation to each other, neither exists or is produced of +itself, but the object perceived does exist in relation to the +percipient and to him is true, so that he has a scientific knowledge of +what he perceives[135]. + +----- + +Footnote 135: + + § 23-46. + +----- + +Socrates then proposes to examine the correctness of Protagoras’s +theory. If what he says is true, a pig or any other creature that +possesses perception will be the measure of all things, as well as a +man, and man himself will be equal in wisdom to the gods. To which +Protagoras is supposed to answer, that the gods are not to be brought +into the question at all, for that it does not appear whether they exist +or not; and as to brute creatures, it would be strange if every man did +not excel them in wisdom, and besides no argument deduced from them can +be conclusive but rests only on probability, which cannot be allowed in +a discussion respecting science. Well then, when we hear barbarians +speak, whose language we have not learnt, are we to say that we both +hear and know what they say? to which the answer is, that we both hear +and know the sounds, but not the meaning of the words. Again it is +objected, if perception is science, a person may remember a thing and +not know it, for instance he may obtain a knowledge of a thing by seeing +it, and then shut his eyes, in that case he remembers it, but does not +see it, but inasmuch as sight is perception and perception knowledge, he +cannot know it, because he does not see it, and yet he remembers it; +which is absurd. But Protagoras will not admit this conclusion, but will +say that memory is very different from perception, and that the things +which we appear to remember are not the same as those that we formerly +perceived. Still, though all things are as they appear to each person, +it must be admitted that there is such a thing as wisdom and a wise man, +and he is wise who changes the aspect of objects to another, and causes +things that appear and are evil to any one, to appear and be good; just +as a physician by means of medicine changes the habit of the body from +bad to good[136]. + +----- + +Footnote 136: + + § 47-65. + +----- + +Thus far Socrates had carried on the discussion with Theætetus, adducing +the answers which Protagoras himself would have given to the objections +brought against his theory, but expressing no opinion of his own. He now +persuades Theodorus to advocate the cause of Protagoras, and himself +undertakes to refute it. Protagoras, then, maintains that what appears +to each person exists to him to whom it appears; now all men think +themselves in some respects wiser than others, and others wiser than +themselves, so that all admit that there is wisdom and ignorance among +themselves. Now is not wisdom true opinion, and ignorance false opinion? +If so, some men form false opinions, and yet that could not be if man is +the measure of all things. Again, according to his doctrine, the same +thing will be both true and false; for instance, Protagoras’s own theory +will be true to himself, but false to all who do not agree with him, and +by how many more they are to whom it does not appear to be true than +those to whom it does so appear, by so much the more it is not than it +is: and so in admitting that the opinion of those who differ from him is +true he admits that his own opinion is false. Moreover, in political +matters Protagoras will admit that things honourable and base, just and +unjust, are such to each city as each city considers them; but he will +allow that one counsellor excels another, and that all laws are not +equally expedient, though the city that enacts them thinks them so[137]. + +----- + +Footnote 137: + + § 66-75. + +----- + +The mention of political matters leads Socrates to interrupt the course +of the argument, and to contrast the life of a politician with that of a +philosopher, in which he shews how far more exalted are the views of the +latter than of the former. The digression, however, has this connexion +with the subject in hand, that it exposes the utter worthlessness of +political expediency, which depends on appearances only, and vindicates +the aspirations of philosophers, who devote themselves to the +contemplation of wisdom and true virtue[138]. + +----- + +Footnote 138: + + § 76-87. + +----- + +To return, then, to the original subject. Those who maintain that +whatever appears to each person exists to him to whom it appears, +persist that what a city enacts as appearing just to itself is just to +that city as long as it continues in force; but in enacting laws the +real object is to make them as advantageous to itself as possible, but +what is advantageous regards also the future, for laws are enacted that +they may be advantageous for the future. But if man is the measure of +all things, he must also contain within himself the criterion of things +about to happen; yet it will be admitted, in a variety of instances that +are adduced, that a person who is skilled is better able to judge of the +future than one who is unskilled: and Protagoras himself can judge +beforehand better than any private person what arguments are likely to +be available in a court of justice, so that not every man, but the wise +man only, is the true measure of things[139]. + +----- + +Footnote 139: + + § 87-91. + +----- + +This part of the argument being brought to a close, Socrates next +proposes to consider the essence that is said to consist in motion, a +doctrine which the followers of Heraclitus were then advocating very +strenuously. Now there are two species of motion, removal and change; +the former is when a thing passes from one place to another, the latter +a change of quality, as when a thing becomes black from white, or hard +from soft; and all things must undergo both kinds of motion, otherwise +the same thing would be both in motion and at rest at the same time, and +in that case it would not be more correct to say that all things are in +motion than that they are at rest. Since then every thing must be +continually undergoing a process of change at the same time that it is +in motion, there can be nothing fixed and certain, so that perception +cannot be science, for, as all things are in motion; perception itself, +which results from the relation between the object and the percipient, +must be in a constant state of motion and change[140]. + +----- + +Footnote 140: + + § 91-100. + +----- + +Theætetus now resumes the argument, and though it would seem that +Protagoras’s doctrine had been already sufficiently refuted, yet +Socrates resolves to try it by one more test. Each sense has its +peculiar perception, and such things as are perceived by one faculty +cannot be perceived by another; for instance, what is perceived by +hearing cannot be perceived by sight, and what is perceived by sight +cannot be perceived by hearing; yet we can form a notion of them both +together, and observe what properties they have in common, and how they +differ: this, however, is not done by the senses, but by the soul +itself, for children as soon as they are born are able to perceive by +the bodily organs, but only arrive, with much labour and difficulty, at +the power of comparing things with each other, and so obtain a knowledge +of them, whence again it follows that perception and science are not the +same[141]. + +----- + +Footnote 141: + + § 101-107. + +----- + +The first definition of science attempted by Theætetus being thus +overthrown, Socrates again asks him, What science is. To which he +answers that it appears to be true judgment. Socrates however thinks +proper first to enquire whether there is such a thing as false judgment. +People, he says, must either know or not know things about which they +form judgments. Now false judgments are formed, when a person thinks +that things which he does not know are certain other things that he does +not know, or when he thinks that things which he does know are other +things that he does know, or that things which he does not know are +things that he does know. But none of these things can happen, therefore +it is not possible to form false judgments. Again if existence is put +for knowledge a similar train of reasoning leads to the same conclusion. +A third method of forming false judgments may be when any one says that +any real object is another real object, changing one for the other in +his thoughts. But in that case he must think of both of them or one +only; if the former he would contradict himself; if the latter he cannot +judge that the one is the other, for he thinks of one only, so that +neither in this way can false judgment be formed. There still remains +another mode in which false judgments may be formed. Suppose that we +have in our souls a waxen tablet of various qualities in different +persons: on this tablet are impressed the images of our perceptions and +thoughts, and whatever is so impressed we remember and know so long as +the image remains. But by examining every possible mode by which +perception in the senses and impressions in the mind can be varied and +inter-changed, it will be found that false judgment takes place where +either the perception or the impression is imperfect and +indistinct[142]. + +----- + +Footnote 142: + + § 108-125. + +----- + +Socrates, however, is not satisfied with this conclusion, that false +judgment proceeds from the conjunction of perception with thought, and +shews that the mind alone by itself may err, for instance a man may +think that seven and five make eleven, though he knows they make twelve; +so that there must be either no false judgment at all, or it is possible +for a person not to know what he knows. Theætetus is unable to choose +between these alternatives. Socrates therefore proposes to abandon their +present course of argument and at once to enquire what it is to know. +Some people say it is to have science, Socrates prefers saying it is to +possess science; for having differs from possessing in that what we +have, we use, but what we possess, we use or not as we please. Suppose +the soul then to be a kind of aviary containing all sorts of birds, and +let the birds stand for sciences; now all the sciences that are shut up +in this aviary a man may be said to possess, but when he has occasion to +use any particular science, he may by mistake take one instead of +another, thus when he thinks that eleven is twelve he takes the science +of eleven instead of that of twelve, and so judges falsely; but when he +takes that which he endeavours to take, he judges truly. Still another +even worse inconvenience appears to Socrates to follow from this; for it +is absurd to suppose that a person who has the science of any thing +should at the same time be ignorant of that thing; and if that can be, +nothing hinders but that ignorance when present should make us know +something. So that after all they have only come round again to the +point from whence they started and have still to enquire what science +is. Theætetus persists in answering that it is true judgment. But +Socrates shews that this cannot be the case; for that judges, who listen +to the arguments of lawyers, form true judgments without science, whence +it follows that true judgment and science are not the same[143]. + +----- + +Footnote 143: + + § 126-138. + +----- + +Theætetus, pressed by this objection, attempts a third definition of +science, and says it is true judgment in conjunction with reason. But +then, observes Socrates, how are we to distinguish the things that can +be known from those that cannot? For instance, elements cannot be +defined, but things composed of them can be defined. Again, elements can +be perceived but not known, for he who cannot give an explanation of a +thing cannot know it, but things compounded of them, because they can be +defined, can also be known. Theætetus agrees to this; but Socrates is +not satisfied with the statement, that the elements are unknown, but the +nature of things compounded of them known. He illustrates his objection +by an examination of the component parts of a syllable, and shews that +if a whole is known its parts must also be known; if, then, letters are +the elements of a syllable, being also the parts of it, they must also +be known as well as the syllable[144]. + +----- + +Footnote 144: + + § 139-149. + +----- + +But in order to ascertain the accuracy of Theætetus’s last definition of +science, it is necessary to determine the meaning of the word _logos_. +First of all, then, it may mean the expressing one’s thoughts by means +of words, but in that case there will be no difference between true +judgment and science. Secondly, it may mean the being able to describe a +thing by its elements; but this has been already answered in considering +the elements of syllables. Lastly, it may mean definition; but it is +absurd to say that science is true judgment joined to definition, for +definition can only be of that which a person already knows, so that +this would be to say that science is true judgment joined to +science[145]. + +----- + +Footnote 145: + + § 149-157. + +----- + +At this point the argument is broken off, without having been brought to +any satisfactory conclusion. But Socrates requests that they may meet +again the following day and continue the discussion. + + + + + THEÆTETUS, + + OR + + ON SCIENCE. + + FIRST EUCLIDES, AND TERPSION, + THEN SOCRATES, THEODORUS, AND THEÆTETUS. + + ------- + + +_Euc._ Are you just now, Terpsion, or long since come from the country? + +_Ter._ A considerable time since, and I have been seeking for you in the +forum, and wondered that I could not find you. + +_Euc._ I was not in the city. + +_Ter._ Where then? + +_Euc._ As I was going down to the port, I met with Theætetus, who was +being carried from the camp at Corinth to Athens. + +_Ter._ Alive or dead? + +_Euc._ Alive, though scarcely so; for he is in a bad state from several +wounds, though he suffers more from the disease that is prevalent in the +army. + +_Ter._ Is it dysentery? + +_Euc._ Yes. + +_Ter._ What a man you speak of as being in danger! + +_Euc._ An honourable and good man, Terpsion, and I just now heard some +persons highly extolling his conduct in the battle. + +_Ter._ Nor is that surprising, but it would be much more wonderful if he +had not behaved so. But why did he not stop here at Megara? + +_Euc._ He was hastening home; although I begged and advised him, yet he +would not. And after I had attended him on his journey, on my return +hither I recollected, and was filled with admiration of Socrates, who +often spoke prophetically about other things, and especially about him. +2. For if I remember rightly, a little before his death, he met with +Theætetus who was then a youth, and being in company and discoursing +with him, he very much admired his natural disposition. And when I went +to Athens, he related to me the conversation he had had with him, which +was very well worth hearing, and he said that he must necessarily +distinguish himself, if he lived to a mature age. + +_Ter._ And he spoke truly as it seems. But what was the conversation? +are you able to relate it? + +_Euc._ No, by Jupiter, not by heart; but as soon as I returned home, I +made notes of it, and afterwards at my leisure calling it to mind I +wrote it down, and as often as I came to Athens, I asked Socrates to +repeat what I did not remember, and, on my return hither, corrected it; +so that I have nearly the whole conversation written out. + +3. _Ter._ True: I have heard you say so before, and though I always +meant to beg you to shew it me, I have hitherto delayed doing so. But +what should hinder us from now going through it? For I am in great need +of rest, having just come from the country. + +_Euc._ I too accompanied Theætetus as far as Erinion, so that I should +not be at all sorry to rest myself. Let us go, then, and while we rest +the boy shall read to us. + +_Ter._ You say well. + +_Euc._ This then is the book, Terpsion. But I wrote the conversation +thus, not as if Socrates related it to me, as he did, but as if he was +conversing with the persons with whom he said he did converse. But +these, he said, were Theodorus the geometrician, and Theætetus. 4. In +order, then, that phrases interposed in the discourse might not give us +trouble in the writing, when Socrates spoke of himself, as “I said,” or +“Thereupon I replied,” and again when he spoke of the person who gave +the answer, “He assented,” or “He denied,” for this reason I have +introduced Socrates himself as conversing with them, and have done away +with all such expressions. + +_Ter._ And that is not at all improper, Euclides. + +_Euc._ Here then, boy, take the book and read. + +_Socr._ If I took more interest in the people at Cyrene, Theodorus, I +should enquire of you what is going on there, and of the people, whether +there are any young men there who devote their attention to geometry, or +any other liberal study. But now, for I love them less than these, I am +more anxious to know who of our young men promise to become eminent. For +I myself examine into this as far as I am able, and enquire of others, +with whom I see the young men willingly associating. But no small number +attach themselves to you, and justly; for you deserve it, both in other +respects, and on account of your geometry. If, therefore, you have met +with any one worth mentioning, I should be glad to be informed of it. + +5. _Theo._ And indeed, Socrates, it is very well worth while both for me +to tell and you to hear, what a youth I have met with among your +fellow-citizens. And if he were beautiful, I should be very much afraid +to mention him, lest I should appear to any one to be enamoured with +him; but now, and don’t be angry with me, he is not handsome, for he +resembles you in the flatness of his nose and the prominence of his +eyes: but he has these in a less degree than you. You see I speak +without reserve. Be assured then, that of all I ever met with, and I +have been in company with very many, I never yet knew one of such an +admirable disposition. For a man to be apt to learn, as it is at all +times difficult, and at the same time remarkably mild, and added to this +brave beyond compare, I, for my part, thought could never happen, nor do +I see any who are so. But those who are acute, as this one, sagacious, +and of a good memory, are for the most part easily roused to anger, and +are hurried violently along like ships without ballast, and are +naturally rather furious than brave; on the other hand those who are +more sedate commonly set about their studies more sluggishly and are +forgetful. 6. But he so calmly, steadily, and effectually applies +himself to his studies and investigations, with so much gentleness, like +oil flowing noiselessly, that one wonders how one at his age can manage +to do this. + +_Socr._ You bring good news. But whose son is he of our citizens? + +_Theo._ I have heard the name, but do not remember it. However he is the +middle one of those who are now approaching. For both he and these who +are some of his companions were just now anointing themselves in the +outer course; and now they appear to me to be coming here after having +anointed themselves. Observe, however, if you know him. + +_Socr._ I do know him. He is the son of Euphronius of Sunium, who, my +friend, was just such a man as you describe the son to be, and who was +otherwise a person of consideration, and besides left behind him a very +large fortune. + +7. _Theo._ Theætetus is his name, Socrates. But I think his guardians +have squandered his fortune. However notwithstanding this, he is +wonderfully liberal with his money, Socrates. + +_Socr._ You describe a noble man. Bid him come here, and sit down by us. + +_Theo._ I will. Theætetus, come hither to Socrates. + +_Socr._ By all means come, Theætetus, that I may look at myself, and see +what sort of a face I have. For Theodorus says I am like you. But if we +had each of us a lyre, and he should say that they were modulated alike, +should we believe him at once, or consider first whether he speaks as a +musician? + +_Theæ._ We should consider that first. + +_Socr._ Should we not, then, on finding that he was so, believe him, +but, if he was ignorant of music, disbelieve him? + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ Now, then, I think, if we care at all about the resemblance of +our faces, we should consider whether he speaks as a painter, or not. + +_Theæ._ It appears so to me. + +_Socr._ Is Theodorus a painter then? + +_Theæ._ Not that I know of. + +_Socr._ And is he not a geometrician either? + +_Theæ._ Most assuredly he is, Socrates. + +8. _Socr._ Is he also an astronomer, a reasoner, and a musician, and +acquainted with all such things as are requisite for a good education? + +_Theæ._ He appears so to me. + +_Socr._ If, then, he says that we resemble each other in some part of +our body, praising or blaming it, it is not very well worth while to pay +any attention to him. + +_Theæ._ Perhaps not. + +_Socr._ But what if he should praise the soul of either of us for virtue +or wisdom? would it not be worth while for the one who heard him to take +pains to examine him that was praised, and for the latter to discover +himself willingly? + +_Theæ._ Certainly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ It is time then, my dear Theætetus, for you to discover +yourself, and for me to examine you; for be assured that Theodorus, +though he has ere now praised many both strangers and citizens to me, +has never praised any one so much as he praised you just now. + +_Theæ._ May it be well, Socrates; but beware that he did not speak in +jest. + +_Socr._ That is not Theodorus’s habit. But do not retract what you have +granted, under the pretence that he spoke in jest, lest he should be +compelled to bear witness. For no one assuredly will accuse him of +giving false evidence. Therefore adhere firmly to your agreement. + +_Theæ._ It is proper to do so, if you think fit. + +9. _Socr._ Tell me, then; Do you learn geometry from Theodorus? + +_Theæ._ I do. + +_Socr._ And, likewise, astronomy, and harmony, and reasoning? + +_Theæ._ I endeavour to do so. + +_Socr._ I too, my boy, endeavour to learn both from him and from others +who I think understand any thing of these matters. However, though I am +tolerably well informed in other subjects, yet I am in doubt about a +trifle which I wish to consider with you, and these here present. Tell +me, then, is not to learn to become wiser in that which one learns? + +_Theæ._ How otherwise? + +_Socr._ And by wisdom, I think, the wise are wise. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But does this differ at all from science? + +_Theæ._ What? + +_Socr._ Wisdom. Are not men wise in things of which they have a +scientific knowledge? + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Then are wisdom and science the same? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +10. _Socr._ This, then, is the thing that I doubt about, and I am not +able to determine satisfactorily by myself what science is. Can we then +explain it? What do you say? Which of us shall speak first? But he that +mistakes, and as often as any one mistakes, shall sit as an ass, as the +boys say when they play at ball; but whoever shall get the better +without making a mistake shall be our king, and shall order any question +he pleases to be answered. Why are you silent? Am I rude at all, +Theodorus, from my love of talking, and in my anxiety to bring about a +conversation amongst us, and of making us all friends, and sociable with +one another? + +_Theo._ Such a thing, Socrates, cannot by any means be rude, but bid one +of these young men answer you. For I am unaccustomed to this kind of +conversation, and am not of an age to accustom myself to it; whereas it +is suitable to them, and they will benefit by it much more; for, in +truth, youth can derive benefit from every thing. As you begun, +therefore, do not let Theætetus off, but question him. + +11. _Socr._ You hear, Theætetus, what Theodorus says, whom, I think, you +will neither be willing to disobey, nor is it right for a young man not +to submit to a wise man, when he commands him in matters of this kind. +Tell me, therefore, frankly and ingenuously, what does science appear to +you to be? + +_Theæ._ I must then, Socrates, since you bid me. And if I make any +mistake you will assuredly correct me. + +_Socr._ Certainly, if we are able. + +_Theæ._ It appears to me, then, that sciences are such things as one may +learn from Theodorus, geometry, and the others which you just now +enumerated; and again, the shoemaker’s art, and those of other artizans, +all and each of these are nothing else but science. + +_Socr._ Nobly and munificently, my friend, when asked for one thing you +give many, and various things instead of the single one. + +_Theæ._ What mean you by this, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Perhaps nothing: but I will tell you what I think. When you +speak of the shoemaker’s art, do you mean any thing else than the +science of making shoes? + +_Theæ._ Nothing. + +12. _Socr._ But what of the carpenter’s art? Do you mean any thing else +than the science of making implements in wood? + +_Theæ._ Still nothing else. + +_Socr._ In both, then, do you not define that of which each is the +science? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But the question asked, Theætetus, was not this, of what things +there is science, nor how many sciences there are; for we did not +enquire, with a view to enumerate them, but to know what science itself +is. Do I say nothing to the purpose? + +_Theæ._ You speak very correctly. + +_Socr._ Consider this too. If any one should ask us about any mean and +obvious thing, as, for instance, clay, what it is, if we were to answer +him, there is the potters’ clay, the oven-builders’ clay, and the +brick-makers’ clay, should we not be ridiculous? + +_Theæ._ Probably. + +_Socr._ In the first place, _we should be ridiculous_ for thinking that +he who asks the question can understand from our answer, when we say +Clay, adding, image-makers, or any other artizans whatever. Do you think +that any one can understand the name of a thing when he does not know +what that thing is? + +_Theæ._ By no means. + +13. _Socr._ Neither does he understand the science of shoes who does not +know what science is? + +_Theæ._ He does not. + +_Socr._ He then does not understand what is the art of shoe-making, or +any other art, who is ignorant of what science is? + +_Theæ._ It is so. + +_Socr._ It is, therefore, a ridiculous answer for one to give who is +asked what science is, when he answers the name of some art. For he +answers, of what there is a science, though this is not what he was +asked. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ In the next place, when he might have answered plainly and +briefly he goes round an endless way. As for instance to the question +about clay, it is a plain and simple answer to give, that clay is earth +mixed with moisture, without mentioning what use is made of it. + +_Theæ._ It appears easy now, in this way, Socrates; for you appear to +ask just such a question as lately occurred to me when we were +conversing together, I and your namesake here, Socrates. + +_Socr._ What was that, Theætetus? + +14. _Theæ._ Theodorus here was describing to us something about powers, +with respect to magnitudes of three and five feet, shewing that they are +not commensurate in length to a magnitude of one foot, and thus +proceeding through every number as far as to a magnitude of seventeen +feet; at this he stopped. Since then powers appeared to be infinite in +multitude, something of the following kind occurred to us, to endeavour +to comprehend them in one name, by which we might denominate all these +powers. + +_Socr._ And did you discover any thing of the kind? + +_Theæ._ I think we did. But do you also consider. + +_Socr._ Say on. + +_Theæ._ We divided all number into two classes; then comparing that in +which the factors[146] are the same to a square figure, we called it +square and equilateral. + +----- + +Footnote 146: + + The literal translation instead of “in which the factors are the + same,” is “which is able to become equally equal,” by which is meant a + number multiplied by itself. + +----- + +_Socr._ Very well. + +_Theæ._ But the intermediate numbers, such as three and five, and every +one in which the factors are not the same, but a greater number is +multiplied by a less, or a less by a greater, so that a greater and a +lesser side always enclose them, we compared to an oblong figure, and +called them oblong numbers. + +_Socr._ Admirable. But what next? + +_Theæ._ Such lines as square an equilateral and plane number, we defined +to be length, and such as square an oblong number, powers, as not being +commensurate with them in length, but with the planes which they +produce. And the case is the same with solids. + +15. _Socr._ Excellently done, my boys; so that Theodorus appears to me +not liable to the charge of having given false testimony. + +_Theæ._ However, Socrates, I shall not be able to answer your question +about science, as I did that about length and power; though you appear +to me to seek something of the same kind. So that Theodorus again +appears to be a false witness. + +_Socr._ How so? If, praising you for running, he should say that he +never met with any youth who ran so swift, and afterwards you should be +defeated in running by a man who is full grown and very swift, do you +think he would have praised you with less truth? + +_Theæ._ I do not. + +_Socr._ But with respect to science, as I just now spoke of it, do you +think it is a trifling matter to find out what it is, and not in every +way difficult? + +_Theæ._ By Jupiter, I think it difficult in the extreme. + +16. _Socr._ Have confidence, then, in yourself, and think that Theodorus +spoke to the purpose, and endeavour by all possible means to comprehend +the notion both of other things, and also of science, what it is. + +_Theæ._ As far as endeavour goes, Socrates, it shall be found out. + +_Socr._ Come then: for you began very well just now; endeavour, in +imitation of your answer about powers, as you comprised those, which are +many, under one general idea, so likewise to designate many sciences by +one notion. + +_Theæ._ Be assured, Socrates, I have often attempted to examine this, on +hearing the questions that are propounded by you; but I can neither +persuade myself that I can say any thing satisfactory, nor can I hear +any one else answering in the manner you require, though still I do not +desist from the attempt. + +17. _Socr._ You are in labour, my dear Theætetus, not because you are +empty, but pregnant. + +_Theæ._ I know not, Socrates; however I tell you how the case stands +with me. + +_Socr._ What, absurd youth, have you not heard that I am son of the very +noble and awful midwife Phænarete? + +_Theæ._ I have heard so. + +_Socr._ And have you also heard that I study the same art? + +_Theæ._ By no means. + +_Socr._ Be assured, however, that it is so: but do not betray me to +others. For they are not aware, my friend, that I possess this art? but +they, since they are ignorant of it, do not say this of me, but that I +am a most absurd man, and make men doubt. Have you not heard this? + +_Theæ._ I have. + +_Socr._ Shall I tell you the reason of it? + +_Theæ._ By all means. + +_Socr._ Consider, then, every thing that relates to midwives, and you +will more easily understand what I mean. For you doubtless know, that +not one of them delivers others, while she herself can conceive and +bring forth, but those who can no longer bring forth. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +18. _Socr._ But they say that Diana is the cause of this, because being +herself a virgin she has the charge of child-births. Now to barren women +she has not given the power of becoming midwives, because human nature +is too weak to undertake an art in things of which it has had no +experience, but she has imposed that office on those who from their age +are incapable of bearing children, doing honour to the resemblance of +herself. + +_Theæ._ That is reasonable. + +_Socr._ And is not this also reasonable and necessary, that who are +pregnant and who are not should be better known by midwives than by +others? + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Moreover, midwives by applying drugs and using enchantments, are +able both to excite and, if they please, to alleviate the pangs, and to +deliver those that bring forth with difficulty, and if the child appears +to be abortive, they produce a miscarriage. + +_Theæ._ It is so. + +_Socr._ Have you not also heard this of them, that they are most skilful +match-makers, as being perfectly competent to distinguish what kind of +woman ought to be united to what kind of man, in order to produce the +finest children? + +_Theæ._ I did not altogether know that. + +19. _Socr._ Be assured, then, that they pride themselves more in this +than in cutting the navel-string. For consider; do you think it belongs +to the same or a different art to cultivate and gather in the fruits of +the earth, and again to know in what soil what plant or seed ought to be +sown? + +_Theæ._ No, but to the same art. + +_Socr._ But with respect to women, my friend, do you think that there is +one art of that kind[147], and another of gathering in the fruit? + +----- + +Footnote 147: + + That is, of choosing the soil. + +----- + +_Theæ._ It is not reasonable to suppose so. + +_Socr._ It is not. But by reason of the illegitimate and ill-assorted +unions of men and women, to which the name of pandering has been given, +midwives out of regard to their own dignity avoid match-making also, +fearing lest by this they should incur the other imputation, since it +doubtless belongs to real midwives only to make marriages properly. + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Such then is the office of midwives, but less important than my +task. For it does not happen to women, sometimes to bring forth images, +and sometimes realities, which cannot be easily discriminated; for, if +it did happen, it would be the greatest and noblest work for midwives to +distinguish that which is true and that which is not; do you not think +so? + +_Theæ._ I do. + +20. _Socr._ But in my art of midwifery all other things are the same as +in theirs; but it differs in this, that it delivers men and not women, +and that it attends to their souls bringing forth and not their bodies. +But the most important thing in my art is, that it is able to test in +every possible way whether the mind of a young man is bringing forth an +image and a cheat, or what is genuine and true: for the case is the same +with me as with midwives; I am barren of wisdom, and as to what many +have reproached me with, that I question others, but give no answer +myself on any subject, because I have no wisdom, they reproach me truly. +But the cause of this is as follows: the deity compels me to act the +part of a midwife, but forbids me to bring forth myself. I am not, +therefore, myself at all wise, and I have no such discovery as is the +offspring of my own mind; but those who associate with me at first +appear, some of them, exceedingly ignorant, but all, as our intimacy +continues, to whom the deity grants that privilege, make a wonderful +proficiency, as is evident both to themselves and others; and this is +clear, that they make this proficiency without ever learning any thing +from me, but from their own resources finding and becoming possessed of +many beautiful things; of the midwife’s office, however, the deity and I +are the cause. 21. But it is evident from this: many, from not knowing +this, and deeming themselves to be the cause, but despising me, either +of themselves or through the persuasion of others, have left me sooner +than was proper, and after they have left me have miscarried for the +future, in consequence of their depraved associations, and badly +nurturing what they have been delivered of through me, they have +destroyed it, setting a higher value on cheats and images than on that +which is true, they have at last appeared to be ignorant both to +themselves and others. One of these was Aristides son of Lysimachus, and +many others, with some of whom, when they again come to me, begging to +renew their intercourse with me, and doing every thing in their power to +obtain it, the demon that attends me prevents me from associating, but +with others it allows me, and these again make considerable proficiency. +And they that associate with me are in this respect affected in the same +way as women who bring forth; they suffer pangs, and are filled with +anxieties, to a far greater degree than the women are. But their pangs +my art is able both to excite and appease. And these are affected in +this way. 22. But sometimes, Theætetus, there are some who do not appear +to me to be at all pregnant, and I, knowing that they do not need my +assistance, very kindly sue others for them, and with the aid of the +deity, conjecture well enough, from associating with whom they will +derive benefit. Of these I have handed many over to Prodicus, and many +to other wise and divine men. I have dwelt long on this, my excellent +friend, for this reason, because I suspect, as you also think yourself, +that you are in pain from being pregnant with something inwardly. Deal +with me, then, as son of a midwife, and as myself skilled in midwifery, +and endeavour to answer the questions I put to you to the best of your +ability. And if, on examining any thing that you say, I shall consider +it to be an image and not true, and should thereupon remove it and throw +it away, do not be angry with me, like women who are delivered for the +first time are for their children: for many, my admirable friend, have +ere this been so affected towards me as to be actually ready to bite me, +when I take away any trifle from them, and they do not think that I do +this with a good design, in that they are very far from knowing that no +deity designs ill to men, and that neither do I do any thing of this +kind through ill-will, but because it is by no means allowable for me to +give way to falsehood and conceal the truth. 23. Again, therefore, from +the beginning, Theætetus, endeavour to tell me what science is; but +never say that you are unable to do so; for if God wills and you strive +manfully you will be able. + +_Theæ._ Indeed, Socrates, when you are thus urgent, it would be +disgraceful for one not to endeavour to the utmost of one’s power to say +what one is able. He, then, that knows any thing appears to me to +perceive what he knows, and, as it now seems, science is nothing else +than perception. + +_Socr._ Well and nobly said, my boy; for it is right thus to declare +one’s opinion. But come, let us consider this together, whether it is +solid or empty. Science, you say, is perception? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ You appear, indeed, to have given no mean definition of science, +but that which Protagoras has given; but he said the same thing in a +different manner. For he says that man is the measure of all things, of +the existence of those that exist, and of the non-existence of those +that do not exist. You have doubtless read this? + +_Theæ._ I have read it, and that often. + +24. _Socr._ Does he not say pretty much, that such as every thing +appears to me, such it is to me, and as it appears to you, such it is to +you, but you and I are men? + +_Theæ._ He does indeed say so. + +_Socr._ It is probable however that a wise man does not trifle; let us, +therefore, follow him. Does it not sometimes happen that when the same +wind blows, one of us is cold, and another not, and one slightly, but +another exceedingly? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ Whether, then, shall we say, that the wind at that time is in +itself cold or not cold? or shall we believe Protagoras, that it is cold +to him that is cold, but not to him that is not? + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Does it not, then, appear so to both of them? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But to appear is the same as to be perceived? + +_Theæ._ It is. + +_Socr._ Appearance then and perception are the same in things hot, and +every thing of that kind; for such as every one perceives things to be, +such also they seem to be to every one. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Perception, therefore, has always reference to that which really +is, and is free from falsehood, as being science. + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +25. _Socr._ By the graces, then, was not Protagoras a very wise man, and +did he express himself thus enigmatically to us, the general rabble, but +speak the truth to his disciples in secret? + +_Theæ._ What mean you by this, Socrates? + +_Socr._ I will tell you, and that no mean account; he asserts, that no +one thing exists of itself, nor can you correctly designate any thing by +any quality, but if you call it great, it will appear small, and if +heavy, light, and so with every thing else; as if nothing was one thing, +or any thing, or possessed of any quality: but as if all things which we +say exist, become so from impulse, motion, and admixture with each +other, thereby designating them incorrectly; for nothing ever is, but is +always becoming. And in this all the wise men in succession, except +Parmenides, agreed, namely, Protagoras, Heraclitus, and Empedocles, and +of the poets, those who rank highest in each kind of poetry, in comedy +Epicharmus, and in tragedy Homer; for in saying that[148] “Oceanus is +father of the gods, and Tethys mother,” he asserts that all things are +produced by flux and motion. Does he not seem to say so? + +----- + +Footnote 148: + + Iliad, xiv. 201. + +----- + +_Theæ._ To me he does. + +26. _Socr._ Who then can contend with such an army, with Homer for its +leader, and not be ridiculous? + +_Theæ._ It is not easy, Socrates. + +_Socr._ It is not, indeed, Theætetus. For this is a strong proof in +favour of their argument, that motion gives the appearance of existence +and of generation, but repose of non-existence and decay; for heat and +fire, which engenders and supports other things, is itself engendered by +impulse and friction, but this is motion. Are not these the origin of +fire? + +_Theæ._ Surely they are. + +_Socr._ And moreover the race of animals springs from the same causes. + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ But what? Does not the habit of the body perish by rest and +inaction, but is it not for the most part preserved by exercise and +motion? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But does not the habit of the soul acquire and retain learning +and become better by study and practice, which are motions, but by rest, +which is want of practice and ignorance, it neither learns any thing, +and forgets what it has learnt? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +27. _Socr._ Motion, therefore, is good both for the soul and the body; +but rest, the contrary. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Shall I add further, with respect to stillness of the air, and +calms and things of that kind, that rest corrupts and destroys, but the +contrary preserves. And besides this shall I put the finishing stroke to +my argument by compelling you to admit, that by the golden chain Homer +meant nothing else than the sun, and intimated that as long as the +universe and the sun are moved, all things exist, and are preserved, +both amongst gods and amongst men; but if they were to stand still, as +it were bound, all things would be destroyed, and, as the saying is, +turned upside down. + +_Theæ._ He appears to me too, Socrates, to intimate what you say. + +_Socr._ Then put the argument thus, my excellent friend: first with +respect to the eyes, suppose that what you call white colour is not any +thing different, external to your eyes, nor in your eyes; nor can you +assign it any place; for then it would have a fixed position, and would +continue, and not be liable to production. + +28. _Theæ._ But how? + +_Socr._ Let us follow our late principle, and lay it down that there is +nothing which is of itself one thing; and thus black and white, and +every other colour, will appear to us to be produced by the application +of the eyes to a corresponding movement, and each thing that we say is +colour, will neither be that which is applied, nor that to which it is +applied, but some intermediate production peculiar to each. Would you +positively maintain, that what each colour appears to you, such it also +appears to a dog, and every other animal? + +_Theæ._ Not I, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ But what? Does any thing appear similar to another man and to +you? are you positive about this, or rather that it does not appear the +same even to you, because you are never identical with yourself? + +_Theæ._ The latter seems to me to be the case rather than the former. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, that which we measure by comparison, or which we +touch, were great, or white, or warm, it would never, by coming in +contact with any thing else, become different, for it would not be in +any respect changed. But if that which measures or touches were some one +of these things, it could not, in consequence of something else +approaching it or being affected in any way, become any thing else, +because it would not itself be in any respect affected. 29. For now, my +friend, we are in a manner compelled to assert things altogether +wonderful and ridiculous, as Protagoras would acknowledge, and every one +who supports his opinions. + +_Theæ._ How and what do you mean? + +_Socr._ Take a trifling example, and you will understand all that I +wish. Six dice for instance, if you should put four by them, we say are +more than the four and half as many again, but if twelve we say they are +fewer, and the half; nor would it be allowable to say otherwise. Would +you allow it? + +_Theæ._ Not I, indeed. + +_Socr._ What then? If Protagoras or any one else should ask, “Theætetus, +is it possible for any thing to become greater or more otherwise than by +being increased? What would you answer? + +_Theæ._ If, Socrates, I should answer what appears to me to be the case +with reference to the present question, I should say that it is not +possible; but if with reference to the former question, to avoid +contradicting myself, I should say that it is possible. + +_Socr._ By Juno, well and divinely said, my friend. But, as it seems, if +you should answer that it is possible, something like that saying of +Euripides will happen; for the tongue will be blameless, but the mind +not blameless[149]. + +----- + +Footnote 149: + + See Eurip. Hippol. l. 612. + +----- + +_Theæ._ True. + +30. _Socr._ If, therefore, you and I were skilful and wise, after we had +thoroughly examined our minds, we should then, out of mere wantonness, +make trial of each other’s strength, and engaging in such a contest +after the manner of the sophists, should mutually parry argument with +argument: but now, as being novices, we shall desire first of all, to +examine what the things themselves are which we have in our minds, +whether they accord with each other, or not at all. + +_Theæ._ I should certainly desire this. + +_Socr._ And so do I. But since this is the case, shall we not quietly, +seeing we have abundance of leisure, again consider, not feeling any +annoyance, but really examining ourselves, in order to see what those +appearances in us are. And on considering them, we shall say in the +first place, I think, that nothing ever becomes greater or less, either +in bulk, or number, as long as it continues equal to itself. Is it not +so? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +31. _Socr._ And, in the second place, that a thing to which nothing is +either added and from which nothing is taken away, will neither be ever +increased or diminished, but always be equal. + +_Theæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ And shall we not say, in the third place, that it is impossible +for a thing which did not before exist, to exist afterwards, without it +has been produced and is produced. + +_Theæ._ It seems so, indeed. + +_Socr._ These three admissions, I think, contend with each other in our +soul, when we speak about dice, or when we say that I, being of the size +I am, having neither increased, nor suffered diminution in the space of +a year, am now larger than you, who are a young man, but afterwards +less, though my bulk has not been diminished, but yours has been +increased. For I am afterwards, what I was not before, without having +been made so. 32. For it is impossible for a thing to have been made, +without being made, and having lost nothing of my bulk, I cannot have +been made less. And the case is the same with ten thousand other things +with reference to ten thousand others, if we admit this. You doubtless +follow me, Theætetus; for you appear to me not to be a novice in things +of this kind. + +_Theæ._ By the gods, Socrates, I wonder extremely what these things can +be, and, truly, sometimes when I look at them, I become dizzy. + +_Socr._ Theodorus, my friend, appears not to have formed an erroneous +estimate of your disposition; for wonder is very much the affection of a +philosopher; for there is no other beginning of philosophy than this, +and he who said that Iris was the daughter of Thaumas[150], seems not to +have described her genealogy badly. But do you understand now, why these +things are so, from what we say Protagoras maintains, or not yet? + +----- + +Footnote 150: + + Hesiod, Theog. l. 780. Thauma signifies “wonder.” + +----- + +_Theæ._ I don’t think I do yet. + +33. _Socr._ Shall you not, then, be obliged to me, if I assist you in +searching out the true, but concealed opinion of a man, or rather of men +of celebrity? + +_Theæ._ How should I not be, and indeed exceedingly obliged to you? + +_Socr._ Look round, then, and see that no profane person hears us. But +they are so who think that nothing else exists except what they can +grasp with their hands, but do not admit that actions, and productions, +and whatever is invisible, are to be reckoned in the number of things +that exist. + +_Theæ._ Indeed, Socrates, you speak of hard and obstinate men. + +_Socr._ For they are very ignorant[151], my boy. But there are others +far more refined than these, whose mysteries I am about to reveal to +you. Their principle, on which all the things, that we have just now +mentioned, depend, is this: That the universe is motion, and nothing +else besides, but that there are two species of motion, each infinite in +amount, and that one has an active, the other a passive power. 34. That +from the intercourse and friction of these with one another are formed +productions infinite in number, but of two kinds, one that is +perceivable, the other perception, which always coincides and is +engendered together with that which is perceivable. Now to the +perceptions we give the following names, seeing, hearing, smelling, cold +and heat, and moreover pleasures, pains, desires, and fears are so +called, and there are innumerable others which have no name, and vast +multitudes that have been named: again there is a class of perceivable +things akin to each of these, all kinds of colours to all kinds of +vision, and in like manner voices to hearing, and other perceivable +things are produced corresponding to the other perceptions. What then is +the meaning of this discourse, Theætetus, in reference to the former? Do +you understand what it is? + +----- + +Footnote 151: + + Literally “unmusical.” + +----- + +_Theæ._ Not very well, Socrates. + +_Socr._ But observe if by any means it can be brought to a conclusion. +For it means to say that all these things are, as we said, moved, and +that there is swiftness and slowness in their motion. 35. Whatever then +is slow is moved in the same place and towards things near it, and so +produces, and the things which are produced are accordingly slower; and +on the contrary, whatever is swift moves towards things at a distance, +and so produces, and the things which are produced are accordingly +swifter, for they are impelled, and their motion consists in impulse. +When, therefore, the eye and any of the things that correspond to it +meet together and produce whiteness, and the perception connate to this, +which would never have been produced had each of them approached +something else, then they being in the meanwhile impelled, _that is to +say_, sight from the eyes, and whiteness from that which together with +it generates colour, the eye becomes filled with vision, and then sees, +and becomes not vision, but a seeing eye; but that which together with +it generates colour is filled with whiteness, and becomes not whiteness, +but white, whether it is wood or stone, or whatever may happen to be +tinted with a colour of this kind. 36. And so with the rest, hard and +warm, and every thing, we must in the same manner conceive that none of +these is any thing of itself, as we have observed before that all things +and of all kinds are produced by their intercourse with each other, from +motion, for, as they say, we cannot determine positively with regard to +any one thing, that that which is active really exists, nor again that +which is passive; for neither is the active any thing before it meets +with the passive, nor the passive before it meets with the active; and +that which, meeting with any thing, is active, when it falls upon +something else, is found to be passive. 37. So that it results from all +this, as we said at the beginning, that nothing is essentially one, but +is always being produced by something, and the word “being” must be +entirely done away with, although we have already been compelled by +custom and ignorance to use it frequently; but, as the sages say, we +ought not to allow any thing, either of any other, or of me, or this, or +that, or any other name which designates permanency, but that according +to nature, things ought to be said to be produced and made, to perish +and be changed: so, if any one asserts permanency of any thing, he who +does so may easily be confuted. Thus then we ought to speak of things +individually, and of many collectively, to which collection are given +the names of man, stone, animal, and each several species. Do not these +things, Theætetus, appear pleasant to you, and have you not found them +agreeable to your taste? + +_Theæ._ I don’t know, Socrates; for I can’t make you out; whether you +are giving your own opinions or are trying me. + +38. _Socr._ You do not remember, my friend, that I neither know nor +claim as my own any of these things, but that I am barren of them, but I +act the midwife towards you, and for this purpose I enchant you, and put +before you the opinions of the several wise men, that you may taste +them, until I bring your own opinion to light: but when it is brought +forth, I will then examine whether it shall prove to be empty or +productive. Be therefore confident and bold, and answer in an honest and +manly way, what you think of the questions I put to you. + +_Theæ._ Ask then. + +_Socr._ Tell me then again, whether it is your opinion that the good, +and the beautiful, and every thing that we just now mentioned, have an +actual existence or are constantly being produced? + +_Theæ._ To me indeed, when I hear you thus explaining the matter, it is +wonderful how far you appear to have reason on your side, and I think +that your statements must be admitted. + +39. _Socr._ Let us not, then, omit what remains of it. But it remains +that we should speak of dreams, diseases, and, besides other things, of +madness; and whatever else is called error of hearing or seeing, or of +any other perception. For you know, without doubt, that in all these +cases the doctrine which we have just now described, is considered to be +completely confuted, since the sensations produced in these instances +are utterly false, and so far are the things that appear to each person +from existing, that quite contrariwise none of the things that appear +have any real existence. + +_Theæ._ You speak most truly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ What argument, then, remains for him, who asserts that +perception is science, and that things which appear to every one are to +that person what they appear to be? + +_Theæ._ I am afraid to say, Socrates, that I have no answer to give, +because you just now blamed me for having said so: but in truth I cannot +controvert the fact, that those who are mad or dreaming, form false +opinions, since some of the former think they are gods, and the latter +that they are winged and fancy that they are flying in their sleep. + +40. _Socr._ Do you not know, then, the controversy that is raised on +these points, especially about dreaming and being awake? + +_Theæ._ What is that? + +_Socr._ That which I think you have often heard, when people ask, what +proof one could give, if any one should ask us now at the present +moment, whether we are asleep, and all our thoughts are dreams, or +whether we are awake, and really conversing with each other. + +_Theæ._ And indeed, Socrates, it is difficult to say what proof one +ought to give: for in both states all things in a manner correspond with +each other. For, with respect to our present conversation, nothing +hinders our fancying that we converse with each other in a dream: and +when in sleep we fancy we are telling our dreams, the similarity of one +with the other is surprising[152]. + +----- + +Footnote 152: + + Of conversations when awake, and of fancied conversations in dreams. + +----- + +_Socr._ You see, then, that it is not difficult to raise a controversy, +since it is even controverted whether a state is that of being awake or +dreaming; moreover since the time during which we sleep is equal to that +when we are awake, in each of these states our soul persists that the +opinions that are present for the time are most certainly true, so that +for an equal space of time we say that these are real, and for an equal +space that those are, and we are equally positive for each of them. + +_Theæ._ Most assuredly. + +41. _Socr._ May not, then, the same argument be used with respect to +diseases and madness, except with regard to time, that it is not equal. + +_Theæ._ Right. + +_Socr._ What then? Shall truth be defined by length and brevity of time? + +_Theæ._ That, indeed, would be ridiculous in many ways. + +_Socr._ Have you, then, any other clear mark by which you can shew which +of these opinions is true? + +_Theæ._ I think not. + +_Socr._ Hear, therefore, from me, what will be said about these things +by those who maintain that appearances are always real to the person to +whom they appear. They will question you thus, I think: “Theætetus, can +a thing which is totally different from another, have the same power as +that other?” And we are not to suppose that the thing we ask about is +partly the same, and partly different, but altogether different. + +_Theæ._ It is impossible that it should possess any thing the same, +either in power, or in any other respect, since it is entirely +different. + +42. _Socr._ Must we not, then, necessarily confess, that a thing of this +kind is dissimilar? + +_Theæ._ It seems so to me. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, any thing happens to become similar or dissimilar +to any thing, whether to itself or to another, so far as it becomes +similar we shall say it is the same, but, so far as dissimilar, +different. + +_Theæ._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ Have we not said before, that there are many, and indeed +innumerable things, which are active, and likewise passive? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And moreover, that one thing commingled first with one thing and +then with another, will produce not the same, but different things. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Let us speak, then, of you and me and other things in the same +manner, of Socrates in health, and again of Socrates ill. Whether shall +we say that the latter is similar to the former or dissimilar? + +_Theæ._ By Socrates ill, do you mean the whole of the latter opposed to +the whole of the former, Socrates in health? + +_Socr._ You understand me perfectly; that is the very thing I mean. + +_Theæ._ Dissimilar, surely. + +43. _Socr._ And is it not different inasmuch as it is dissimilar? + +_Theæ._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ And should you not speak in the same way of Socrates asleep, and +in the several states we just now described? + +_Theæ._ I should. + +_Socr._ But will not each of those things whose nature it is to make any +thing something else, when it lights upon Socrates in health, treat me +as one thing, and when ill, as a different thing? + +_Theæ._ How should it not? + +_Socr._ And shall we not produce different things in each case, both I +the patient, and that the agent? + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Now when I drink wine, being in health, it appears to me +pleasant and sweet. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ For, from what has been already granted, the agent and the +patient produce sweetness and perception, both being put in motion +together; and the perception proceeding from the patient causes the +tongue to perceive, but the sweetness proceeding from the wine and set +in motion about it, causes the wine both to be and to appear sweet to a +healthy tongue. + +44. _Theæ._ Certainly, what was granted before comes to this. + +_Socr._ But when it lights on me, being ill, first of all does not a +different thing in reality light on one who is not the same person? for +it approaches one who is dissimilar. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But Socrates in this state, and the wine drunk, again generate +different things, with regard to the tongue a perception of bitterness, +and with regard to the wine bitterness produced and set in motion, and +that, indeed, not bitterness, but bitter, and me not perception, but +perceiving. + +_Theæ._ Exactly so. + +_Socr._ Therefore I shall never become any thing else while I perceive +thus; for a different perception of a different thing causes the +percipient to be changed and different: nor will that, which thus +affects me, by coming in contact with another, though it produces the +same effect, ever become such as it was to me; for by generating a +different thing from a different thing it will become changed. + +_Theæ._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ Neither, then, shall I become such by myself, nor will it become +such by itself[153]. + +----- + +Footnote 153: + + That is to say, the relation between agent and patient is so close + that neither can be what it is, under that particular aspect, without + the other. + +----- + +_Theæ._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ But it is necessary that I, when I become percipient, should +become so in relation to something: for it is impossible to become +percipient, and yet percipient of nothing: and it is likewise necessary, +when any thing becomes sweet or bitter, or any thing of the kind, that +it should become so in relation to some one; for it is impossible for a +thing to become sweet, and yet sweet to no one. + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +45. _Socr._ It remains, I think, that we[154], if we are, should be, or +if we are produced, should be produced, by relation to each other; since +necessity unites our existence together, and unites it to no other +thing, nor even to ourselves. It remains, therefore, that we are united +to each other. So that, if any one says that any thing exists, he must +say that it exists for something, or of something, or in relation to +something, and in like manner of any thing said to be produced: but he +must not say, nor must he allow any one else to say, that any thing +exists or is produced of itself, as the argument we have deduced clearly +proves. + +----- + +Footnote 154: + + “We,” that is, the agent and patient. + +----- + +_Theæ._ Assuredly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Since, then, that which affects me is relative to me and not to +another, do not I perceive it, and another not perceive it? + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ My perception, therefore, is true to me; for it always belongs +to my existence. And I, according to Protagoras, am a judge of things +that exist in relation to me, that they do exist, and of things that do +not so exist, that they do not exist. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +46. _Socr._ How then, since I am not deceived and do not falter in my +mind about things that exist or are produced, can I fail to have a +scientific knowledge of things which I perceive? + +_Theæ._ It cannot fail to be so. + +_Socr._ It was, therefore, very finely said by you, that science is +nothing else than perception; and all come to the same result, the +doctrine of Homer and Heraclitus and all that tribe, that all things are +in motion like streams, and that of the very wise Protagoras, that man +is the measure of all things, and that of Theætetus, that, if this is +the case, perception must be science. Is it not so, Theætetus? Shall we +say that this is your new-born infant as it were, delivered by my +midwifery? How say you? + +_Theæ._ It is necessary to say so, Socrates. + +47. _Socr._ This, then, as it appears, we have with much difficulty +produced, whatever it may turn out to be. But after the birth, we must, +in truth, perform the ceremony of running[155] round in argument, and +consider whether, without our perceiving it, that which is produced is +not unworthy of being reared, but empty and false. Do you think that we +ought by all means to rear your offspring, and not expose it? and will +you endure to see it refuted, and not be very much offended if any one +should take it away from you, as having been delivered for the first +time? + +----- + +Footnote 155: + + On the fifth day after the birth of a child the midwives, having + purified their hands, ran with it round the hearth, so Socrates + proposes that the bantling of Theætetus should run the gauntlet of + discussion. + +----- + +_Theo._ Theætetus will endure this, Socrates, for he is not at all +morose. But, by the gods, say whether it is not so. + +_Socr._ You are really very fond of discussion, Theodorus, and pleasant, +in thinking that I am a sack full of arguments, and that I can easily +pick one out and prove that these things are not so. But you do not +observe how the case stands, that no argument proceeds from me, but +always from the person who is conversing with me, and that I know +nothing but a very little, just enough to apprehend and examine +moderately well an argument advanced by another who is wise. And now I +will endeavour to do this from him, without saying any thing of myself. + +48. _Theo._ You say well, Socrates; then do so. + +_Socr._ Do you know, Theodorus, what I wonder at in your friend +Protagoras? + +_Theo._ What? + +_Socr._ In other respects I thought what he said was very acceptable, +that what appears to each person, really exists, but I wondered at the +beginning of his essay, that he did not say at the commencement of his +book on Truth that a pig or a cynocephalus or some other more monstrous +creature that possesses perception, is the measure of all things, in +order that he might begin by speaking grandly and very contemptuously to +us, shewing that we indeed admire him as if he were a god, for his +wisdom, whereas with respect to understanding, he is no better than a +tadpole, let alone any other man. What are we to say, Theodorus? 49. For +if that opinion which is formed from perception will be true to each +person, and no one will be able to decide better on the way in which +another is affected, nor one more competent to examine the opinion of +another, whether it is true or false, but, as we have often said, each +person by himself alone will form opinions for himself, and all these +are right and true, why in the world, my friend, should Protagoras be so +wise as to be thought justly worthy to teach others for high pay, while +we are more ignorant and must have recourse to him, though each person +is to himself the measure of his own wisdom? How can we avoid saying +that Protagoras speaks thus out of joke? As to myself and my art of +midwifery, I say nothing of the ridicule we should be exposed to, and I +think, so would the whole study of reasoning; for will it not be great +and signal vanity to examine and endeavour to confute the fancies and +opinions of others, each person’s being true, if the Truth of Protagoras +is true, and he has not uttered his oracles in sport from the sanctuary +of his book? + +50. _Theo._ Socrates, he is my friend, as you just now said; I cannot, +therefore, allow Protagoras to be confuted by my concessions, nor yet +can I oppose you contrary to my own opinion. Again, therefore, take +Theætetus; for he certainly appears to have listened to you just now +very attentively. + +_Socr._ If you went to Lacedæmon, Theodorus, to the wrestling grounds, +and were to see others naked, some of them mean, should you hesitate to +strip yourself and shew your own form in turn? + +_Theo._ Why do you think I should not, at least if they would permit me +and be persuaded by me? as I think I shall now persuade you to allow me +to be a spectator, and not drag me to the gymnasium, now that my limbs +are stiff, but for you to wrestle with one who is younger and more +supple. + +51. _Socr._ But if this is agreeable to you, Theodorus, it is not +disagreeable to me, as the vulgar saying goes. I must have recourse +again, therefore, to the wise Theætetus. Tell me, then, Theætetus, first +of all as to what we just now discussed, do you not wonder with me, that +you have so suddenly discovered yourself to be not inferior in wisdom to +any man or god? or do you think that the measure of Protagoras has less +to do with gods than men? + +_Theæ._ Not I, by Jupiter: and I very much wonder at your question. For +when we discussed in what manner they said, that what appears to each +person is true to him to whom it appears, it seemed to me to be well +said, but now the very contrary has speedily occurred to me. + +_Socr._ For you are young, my dear boy, and quickly give ear to and are +persuaded by plausible speeches. For to these things Protagoras or some +one on his behalf would say: “Noble boys and old men, you here sit and +converse together, dragging gods into the question, of whom, whether +they exist or not, I do not think proper either to speak or write, and +what the multitude hear and admit, this you assert, as if it were +strange if every man did not excel any beast whatever in wisdom, but you +do not adduce any proof, or conclusive argument, but have recourse to +likelihood, which if Theodorus or any other geometrician were to employ +in geometry, he would be deemed unworthy of notice.” 52. Do you, +therefore, and Theodorus, consider, whether on such matters you will +admit of arguments deduced from probability and likelihood. + +_Theæ._ But, Socrates, neither would you nor we say that this is right. + +_Socr._ We must therefore consider it in another way, as it appears, +according to what you and Theodorus says. + +_Theæ._ In another way, certainly. + +_Socr._ Let us, then, consider it thus, whether science and perception +are the same or different: for to this surely our whole discourse tends, +and for the sake of this we have mooted these many absurd points; have +we not? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ Shall we allow then that whatever we perceive by sight or +hearing, this we at the same time know? for instance, before we have +learnt the language of barbarians, whether shall we deny that we hear +them when they speak, or that we both hear and know what they say? And +again, when unacquainted with letters, on looking at them, whether shall +we insist that we do not see, or know them, though we do see them? + +53. _Theæ._ Whichever of them, Socrates, we see and hear, we shall say +that we know, for that of the latter we see and know the form and +colour, and of the former, that we both hear and know the sharpness and +flatness of the sounds; but that what grammarians and interpreters teach +about them, we neither perceive by sight or hearing, nor know. + +_Socr._ Admirable, Theætetus, and it is not worth while to dispute with +you about these things, in order that you may make a greater +proficiency. But observe also this other difficulty that stands in our +way, and consider how we can repel it. + +_Theæ._ What is that? + +_Socr._ This: if any one should ask, whether it is possible for a person +who still possesses and retains the memory of a thing which he once +knew, at the very time when he remembers it, not to know the very thing +that he remembers. But I am becoming prolix, as it seems, through a wish +to ask whether a person who has learnt any thing and remembers it, does +not know it. + +_Theæ._ How should he not, Socrates? for, otherwise, what you say would +be a prodigy. + +_Socr._ Am I then trifling? Consider. 54. Do you not then say that to +see is to perceive, and that sight is perception? + +_Theæ._ I do. + +_Socr._ Has not he, then, who sees any thing, obtained a scientific +knowledge of that which he sees, according to our late argument? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ What then? do you not say that memory is something? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Whether of nothing or something? + +_Theæ._ Of something, surely. + +_Socr._ Is it not, then, of the things which he learns and perceives, of +some such things as these? + +_Theæ._ What else? + +_Socr._ And what a person sees, does he not sometimes remember? + +_Theæ._ He does remember. + +_Socr._ When he shuts his eyes too? or, when he does this, does he +forget? + +_Theæ._ It would be strange to say that, Socrates. + +_Socr._ We must say it though, if we would keep to our former argument, +otherwise it is gone. + +_Theæ._ And I suspect so, by Jupiter, though I do not clearly understand +it; but tell me how. + +55. _Socr._ Thus. We say that a person who sees has obtained a +scientific knowledge of that which he sees; for sight and perception and +science are allowed to be the same. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But he who sees, and has obtained a scientific knowledge of that +which he sees, if he shuts his eyes, remembers it indeed, but does not +see it. Is it not so? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But to say that he does not see is as much as to say he does not +know, since to see is the same thing as to know. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ It follows, therefore, that a person who still remembers a thing +of which he had a scientific knowledge, does not know it, because he +does not see it; which we have said would be a prodigy, if it happened. + +_Theæ._ You say most truly. + +_Socr._ An impossibility, then, appears to result, if any one should say +that science and perception are the same. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Each, then, must be confessed to be different. + +_Theæ._ So it seems. + +56. _Socr._ What then is science? must again, as it appears, be enquired +from the beginning. What however shall we do, Theætetus? + +_Theæ._ About what? + +_Socr._ We appear to me, like a dunghill cock, to have jumped from our +argument and begun to crow, before we have gained the victory. + +_Theæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ Like disputants we seem to have come to an agreement about the +allowed meaning of words, and, having got the better thus far in the +discussion, to be content, and though we say we are not wranglers but +lovers of wisdom, we do the same as those shrewd men. + +_Theæ._ I do not yet understand what you mean. + +_Socr._ But I will endeavour to explain what I mean on this point. We +enquired whether a person who has learnt and remembers any thing, does +not know it, and having shewn that a person who has seen a thing and +then shut his eyes, remembers it, but does not see it, we proved that he +does not know it and remembers it at the same time; but that this is +impossible. And so the Protagorean fable is destroyed, and yours at the +same time of science and perception, that they are the same. + +57. _Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ It would not be so, my friend, I think, if the father of the +other fable were alive, but he would defend it stoutly: but now, as it +is an orphan, we have insulted it. For not even the guardians, whom +Protagoras left, are willing to assist it, in the number of whom is +Theodorus here. We ourselves, however, for justice sake, will venture to +assist it. + +_Theo._ It is not I, Socrates, but rather Callias son of Hipponicus who +is guardian of his doctrine; for I very quickly turn aside from mere +disputations to geometry. Nevertheless, I shall be obliged to you if you +will assist him. + +_Socr._ You say well, Theodorus. Observe, then, what assistance I give. +For any one would make more strange admissions than those just now, if +he did not attend carefully to the meaning of words, in what way we are +generally accustomed to employ them in affirming and denying. Shall I +tell you or Theætetus, in what way? + +_Theo._ Tell us both together, but let the younger answer. For if he +makes a mistake, it will be less disgraceful. + +58. _Socr._ I am going to propose then a very strange question; it is, I +think, something of this kind: Is it possible that he who knows any +thing should not know the thing that he knows? + +_Theo._ What shall we answer, Theætetus? + +_Theæ._ Impossible without doubt, I think. + +_Socr._ Not so, if you maintain that to see is to know. For how will you +deal with this inexplicable question, as the saying is, you will be +caught in a well, if an imperturbable opponent should ask you, closing +one of your eyes with his hand, whether you see his dress with the +closed eye? + +_Theæ._ I should say, I think, Not with this, but I do with the other. + +_Socr._ Would you not, therefore, see, and not see the same thing at the +same time? + +_Theæ._ In some respects. + +_Socr._ I do not require this, he will say, nor did I ask in what +respect, but whether, what you know, this you also do not know. But now +what you do not see, you are found to see: and you have already +admitted, that to see is to know, and not to see, not to know. Infer +then, what conclusion follows from this. + +_Theæ._ I infer the very contrary to what I supposed. + +59. _Socr._ But perhaps, my admirable youth, many things of this kind +would happen to you, if any one should further ask you whether it is +possible to know sharply and dully, and near, but not at a distance, +intensely and slightly as well, and ten thousand other questions, which +a cunning mercenary light-armed combatant would put to you in +discussion, when you asserted science and perception to be the same, +attacking the hearing, smelling, and such other channels of perception, +and he would confute you, keeping you to it and not letting you off, +until through admiration of his exquisite wisdom you are completely +caught in his toils, from whence, after he had conquered and bound you, +he would at length set you free on payment of such a ransom as you and +he could agree on. What argument, should you probably say, would +Protagoras adduce in support of his own opinions? Shall we endeavour to +say? + +_Theæ._ By all means. + +60. _Socr._ He will, then, both say all that we have said in his +defence, and besides, I think, he will come to the encounter, despising +us and saying; “This fine fellow Socrates, because a boy, when asked by +him, whether it were possible for the same person to remember the same +thing, and at the same time not to know it, was frightened, and being +frightened, answered in the negative, through being unable to look on to +results, has made me appear ridiculous by his arguments. But, most +stupid Socrates, the case is thus, when you examine any of my opinions +by questioning, if he to whom the questions are put gives the same +answers that I should give and is proved wrong, I am confuted, but if he +gives different answers, then he that is questioned _is confuted_. For, +to the point, do you think that any one would grant you, that memory is +present to any one, of the things by which he has been affected, as if +memory were such an affection as he then experienced, though now he +experiences it no longer? Far from it. Do you think, again, that he +would hesitate to allow, that it is possible for the same person to know +and not to know the same thing? or if he should be afraid to say this, +do you think he would ever grant that a person who has become changed is +the same as he was before he was changed? but rather that he is one +person, and not several, and those infinite in number, since change is +constantly going on, for we must beware of catching at one another’s +words. 61. But my good sir,” he will say, “attack my system in a more +generous spirit, confute what I say, if you can, and shew that we have +not perceptions peculiar to each of us, or that, if they are peculiar, +it does not follow that what appears to any one becomes, or if we must +use the word existence, exists to him alone to whom it appears. But when +you speak of pigs and cynocephali, you not only act like a pig yourself, +but you persuade those that hear you to treat my writings in the same +way, herein not doing well. For I affirm that the truth is, as I have +written; for that each of us is the measure both of things that do and +do not exist; though there is an infinite difference between one man and +another, in this very circumstance, that they are and appear different +to one person from what they are and do to another. And I am far from +denying that there is such a thing as wisdom and a wise man, but I call +that man wise, who, changing the aspect of objects to any of us, to whom +they appear and are evil, causes them to appear and to be good. 62. But +do not, again, follow out my arguments, attending to the words only, but +thus in a still clearer manner understand what I mean. For call to mind +what was said in a former part of the discussion, that to a sick man +what he eats appears and is bitter, but to a man in health it is and +appears the contrary. But there is no need to make either of them wiser +than the other; for that is not possible; nor must we allege that the +sick man is ignorant, because he is of a different opinion, and that he +who is in health is wise, because he thinks differently; but we must +endeavour to make him change over to the other side; for the other habit +is better. In like manner, in education, we should endeavour to make a +man change from one habit to a better. But the physician effects a +change by medicines, and the sophist by arguments. 63. For no one ever +makes one who entertains false opinions, afterwards entertain true ones; +for it is not possible for a man to have an opinion on things that do +not exist, or on any others than those by which he is affected, and +these are always true. And I think that a man, who from a depraved habit +of soul forms opinions corresponding to it, a good habit causes to form +different opinions of the same character, but these appearances some +people, through ignorance, call true, but I say that some things are +better than others, but not at all more true. Moreover, my dear +Socrates, I am far from calling the wise, frogs, but as regards bodies, +I call them physicians, and as regards plants, husbandmen. For I say +that these last produce in plants, when they are at all diseased, +instead of depraved perceptions, good and wholesome perceptions and +truths, and that wise and good orators cause good instead of depraved +things to appear to be just to states. For whatever things appear just +and honourable to each city, these are so to that city, so long as it +thinks them so; but a wise man, instead of the several depraved things +that they have, makes good things to be and to appear. 64. By the same +reason a sophist, who is thus able to instruct his pupils, is wise, and +deserves large pay from those whom he instructs. And thus some are wiser +than others, and yet no one entertains false opinions, and you must +admit, whether you will or not, that you are the measure of things; for +this principle is maintained throughout, if then you are able to +controvert this from the beginning, do so, by answering it in a +consecutive speech, or if you had rather by questioning, do it by +questioning; for neither is this to be avoided, but most of all pursued +by a man of sense. However do it thus; don’t act unfairly in your +questions. For it is a great inconsistency for one who pretends to be a +lover of virtue, to persevere in doing nothing else but act unfairly in +argument. But it is to act unfairly in a matter of this kind, when a man +does not make a difference between disputation and discussion, and in +the former jests and leads into error as far as he can, but in the +latter speaks seriously, and sets the person with whom he is conversing +right, pointing out to him those errors only into which he has been led +by himself and his former conversations. 65. If, then, you act thus, +those who converse with you will have to blame themselves for their own +confusion and perplexity, but not you, and they will follow and love +you, but hate themselves, and fly from themselves to philosophy, that, +becoming different, they may be changed from what they formerly were: +but if you act the contrary to this, as most men do, the very contrary +will befal you, and you will make those who associate with you, instead +of being philosophers, hate this pursuit, when they are more advanced in +life. If, then, you will be persuaded by me, as I said before, applying +yourself to it not hostilely or pugnaciously, but in a favourable +spirit, you will truly consider what I have said, in maintaining that +all things are moved, and that whatever appears to every one, also +exists, both to an individual and a city; and from hence you will +further consider, whether science and perception are the same or +different, and you will not, as just now, depart from the usual meaning +of words and names, which most men forcing wherever it suits them, +occasion one another all kinds of perplexity.” 66. These things, +Theodorus, I have advanced by way of assistance to your friend, +according to my ability, trifling from trifling means; but, if he were +alive, he would defend his own opinions in a more noble manner. + +_Theo._ You are joking, Socrates: for you have defended the man very +vigorously. + +_Socr._ You say well, my friend. But tell me: did you observe that +Protagoras said just now and reproached us, that in arguing with a boy, +we took advantage of the boy’s fear to oppose his principles, and giving +it the contemptuous name of cavilling, and vaunting his measure of all +things, he exhorted us to be serious in examining his doctrine? + +_Theo._ How should I not have observed it, Socrates? + +_Socr._ What then? Do you require us to obey him? + +_Theo._ By all means. + +_Socr._ Do you see, then, that all these, except you, are boys? If then +we are to obey him, it is requisite that you and I, questioning and +answering each other, should be serious in examining his doctrine, that +he may not have this to object to us that we have discussed this +question again jesting with youths. + +67. _Theo._ But what? Would not Theætetus follow this investigation much +better than many who have long beards? + +_Socr._ But not better than you, Theodorus. Do not, therefore, think +that I ought in every way to defend your deceased friend, but you not at +all. But come, my good sir, follow me a little, just so far as to enable +us to see whether it is right that you should be the measure of +diagrams, or whether all men equally with you are sufficient for +themselves in astronomy, and the other things in which you have the +reputation of excelling. + +_Theo._ It is not easy, Socrates, for one who is sitting by you, to +refuse to answer you. But I was just now trifling when I said that you +would permit me not to strip myself, and that you would not compel me +like the Lacedæmonians. But you appear to me to resemble Sciron[156] +rather. For the Lacedæmonians bid us either depart or strip; but you +seem to me to act rather like Antæus[157], for you do not let any one go +who approaches you until you have compelled him to strip and wrestle +with you in argument. + +----- + +Footnote 156: + + A noted robber between Megara and Corinth, who used to throw all + travellers whom he fell in with into the sea. He was slain by Theseus. + +Footnote 157: + + Antæus dwelt in a cave in Lybia, and compelled all strangers who came + by to wrestle with him. He met with his match in Hercules, and was + slain. + +----- + +68. _Socr._ You have found out an admirable comparison for my disease, +Theodorus, though I am stronger than they were; for an innumerable +multitude of Herculeses and Theseuses, who were powerful in argument, +have met with me and beaten me heartily, but I do not desist any the +more, such a strange passion for this kind of exercise has got +possession of me. Do not you, therefore, refuse to have a fall with me, +and to benefit yourself and me at the same time. + +_Theo._ I hold out no longer, but lead me wherever you please: I must +needs submit to the destiny that you weave for me, and be confuted. +However I shall not be able to give myself up to you further than you +proposed. + +_Socr._ So far will be sufficient. And I beg of you observe this very +closely, that we do not, unawares, get into a puerile mode of talking, +and so let any one reproach us again for that. + +_Theo._ I will endeavour, as far as I can. + +69. _Socr._ First of all, then, let us impugn the argument which we did +before, and see whether we correctly or incorrectly find fault with and +reprobate the assertion, that every one is sufficient to himself with +respect to wisdom. Now Protagoras has conceded to us that some men excel +others with respect to better or worse, and those too who are wise: has +he not? + +_Theo._ Yes. + +_Socr._ If he then being present in person had agreed to this, and we in +assisting him had not made this concession in his behalf, there would be +no need to recur to it in order to confirm it; but now, perhaps, some +one may consider us incompetent to assent on his behalf, wherefore it +will be better to come to a more clear understanding on this point; for +it makes no small difference whether it is so or otherwise. + +_Theo._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ Not from others, then, but from his own statements, we may in +very few words get his assent. + +70. _Theo._ How so? + +_Socr._ Thus. Does he not say that what appears to each person exists to +him to whom it appears? + +_Theo._ He does say so. + +_Socr._ Now, Protagoras, we speak the opinions of a man, or rather of +all men, and say that there is no one who does not think himself in some +respects wiser than others, and in other respects others wiser than +himself, and in the greatest dangers, when men are in peril, in wars, or +diseases, or storms at sea, they behave towards those who have power in +each several case as towards gods, looking up to them as their saviours, +though they excel them in nothing else than in knowledge; and the whole +world is almost full of men seeking for masters and governors of +themselves and other animals and works, and again of men who think +themselves competent to teach and competent to rule. And in all these +cases what else shall we say, than that men themselves think that there +is wisdom and ignorance among themselves? + +_Theo._ Nothing else. + +_Socr._ Do they not, then, think that wisdom is true opinion, and +ignorance false opinion? + +_Theo._ How should they not? + +71. _Socr._ How then, Protagoras, shall we deal with the assertion? +Whether shall we say that men always form true opinions, or sometimes +true and sometimes false? For in either way the result is that they do +not always form true opinions, but both true and false. For consider, +Theodorus, whether any one of the followers of Protagoras, or you +yourself, would contend that no one thinks that there is another who is +ignorant, and forms false opinions. + +_Theo._ That is incredible, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Yet the assertion, that man is the measure of all things, of +necessity comes to this? + +_Theo._ How so? + +_Socr._ When you have determined any thing within yourself, and make +known your opinion to me on any point, then, according to his statement, +your opinion must be true to you; but may not the rest become judges of +your judgment, or must we determine that you always form true opinions? +Will not myriads, who form contrary opinions to yours, continually +oppose you, deeming that you judge and think falsely? + +_Theo._ By Jupiter, Socrates, there are myriads, as Homer says, who give +me a vast deal of trouble. + +72. _Socr._ What then? Will you allow us to say that you then form +opinions that are true to yourself, but false to innumerable others? + +_Theo._ This seems to me necessary, from the assertion. + +_Socr._ But what with respect to Protagoras himself? If neither he +thought that man is the measure of all things, nor the multitude, as +indeed they do not, does it not necessarily follow that this truth which +he has described exists to no one? But if he himself thought so, but the +multitude do not agree with him, you must be aware that, in the first +place, by how many more they are to whom it does not appear so, than +those to whom it does so appear, by so much the more it is not than it +is? + +_Theo._ Necessarily so, since, according to each several opinion, it +will be or will not be. + +_Socr._ In the next place, this is very pleasant; for he, with respect +to his own opinion, admits, that the opinion of those who differ from +him, in that they think he is in error, is true, since he allows that +all men form opinions of things that exist. + +_Theo._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Must he not, therefore, admit that his own opinion is false, if +he allows that the opinion of those who think he is in error is true? + +_Theo._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ The others however do not admit that they are in error? + +_Theo._ Surely not. + +73. _Socr._ He however, from what he has written, allows that this +opinion also is true. + +_Theo._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ It will therefore be controverted by all men, Protagoras not +excepted, or rather will be allowed by him, that when he admits to one +who differs from him, that he forms a true opinion, then even Protagoras +himself will admit that neither a dog, nor any man whatever, is the +measure of a thing that he has not learnt. Is it not so? + +_Theo._ It is. + +_Socr._ Therefore, since this is controverted by all men, Protagoras’s +truth will not be true to any one, neither to any one else, nor to +himself. + +_Theo._ We run down my friend too severely, Socrates. + +_Socr._ But, moreover, my friend, it is uncertain whether we have not +also exceeded the bounds of propriety. For it is probable that he being +older is wiser than we are: and if he should suddenly rise up as far as +his neck, having reproved me much for trifling, as is probable, and you +for assenting, he would sink down again and hurry away. 74. But it is +necessary for us, I think, to make use of our own abilities such as they +are, and to say whatever appears to us to be true. Well then, shall we +now say that any one will grant this, that one man is wiser than +another, and another also more ignorant? + +_Theo._ It appears so to me. + +_Socr._ Shall we say too that our argument holds good as we have laid it +down in our endeavours to assist Protagoras, that most things are as +they appear to every one, warm, dry, sweet, and all other things of this +kind; but that if in some things he shall admit that one man excels +another, he would say with regard to things wholesome and unwholesome, +that not every silly woman, boy and brute, is competent to cure itself +by knowing what is wholesome for itself, but that here, if any where, +one excels another? + +_Theo._ So it appears to me. + +75. _Socr._ And with respect to political matters, he will admit that +things honourable and base, just and unjust, holy and unholy, as each +city thinks right to enact laws for itself, are in truth such to each +city, and yet that in these things one individual is not at all wiser +than another, nor one city than another; but in enacting what is +expedient for itself or not expedient, here again, if any where, he will +allow that one counsellor excels another, and the opinion of one city +that of another with regard to truth; nor will he by any means venture +to affirm, that the laws which a city enacts, thinking them to be +expedient for itself, must certainly be so. But here in the matter I am +speaking about, with respect to what is just and unjust, holy and +unholy, men will persist that none of these have by nature an essence of +their own, but that what appears to the community to be true, that +becomes true at the time when it so appears, and so long as it appears. +And those who do not altogether hold the doctrine of Protagoras, deal +with philosophy in some such manner as this. But one topic of +conversation, Theodorus, springs from another, a greater from a less. + +76. _Theo._ Have we not leisure, Socrates? + +_Socr._ We appear to have. And I have often at other times observed, my +excellent friend, and especially now, with what good reason those who +have spent much time in philosophical studies, are found to be +ridiculous orators when they enter courts of justice. + +_Theo._ What mean you by this? + +_Socr._ They that have been from their youth in courts of justice, and +places of that kind, when compared with those who have been nurtured in +philosophy and such-like studies, appear to have been educated like +slaves compared with freemen. + +_Theo._ In what respect? + +_Socr._ In this, that these, as you said, have always leisure, and +converse in peace at their leisure, just as we now are taking up our +third topic in succession, so they too, if any question occurs to them +that pleases them better than the one in hand, as is the case with us, +are not at all concerned whether they speak at length or briefly, if +they can but arrive at the truth. But the others always speak in a +hurry, for the running water presses them on, nor are they allowed to +speak on whatever subject they wish, but their opponent stands by them +with this instrument of compulsion[158], and the record (which they call +the pleadings) read aloud, out of which they must not travel; and their +speeches are always about a fellow slave before the master who is seated +holding the scales of justice in his hand, their contests too, are never +unrestrained, but are always to the point before them, and oftentimes it +is a race for life. 77. So that, from all these causes they become +vehement and keen, knowing how to flatter the master by words, and to +conciliate him by actions, being mean and not upright in soul. For +slavery from childhood has taken away their growth, and rectitude, and +freedom, compelling them to do crooked actions, by exposing their yet +tender souls to great dangers and fears, which not being able to bear up +against with justice and truth, they immediately have recourse to lying +and injuring one another, and become so bent and distorted, that they +pass from youth to manhood without having any solidity in their minds, +but have become clever and wise, as they think. Such then are these, +Theodorus. But are you willing that I should describe the men of our +band, or that, passing them by, we should return again to our subject, +lest we abuse too much our liberty and powers of digression, which we +just now spoke of. + +----- + +Footnote 158: + + I have followed Stallbaum in giving this meaning to ἀνάγκη. See his + note on this passage. I have perhaps taken a liberty in translating + ἀντωμοσίαν in the next line “pleadings,” but I know of no other word + that will convey our author’s meaning to an English reader, and in the + passage before us technicality is unnecessary. + +----- + +78. _Theo._ By no means, Socrates, but describe them. For you observed +very well, that we who are members of this band, are not the servants of +topics of discussion, but they are our servants as it were, and each of +them must wait for its completion until we think proper. For neither +does a judge nor a spectator preside over us, to rebuke and keep us in +order, as is the case with the poets. + +_Socr._ Let us speak then, as we ought, since it is agreeable to you, +about the chiefs; for why should any one speak of those who spend their +time in philosophy to but little purpose? These then from early youth do +not know the way to the forum, nor where the law-court, or senate house, +or any other public place of assemblage in the city is situated; and +they neither see nor hear laws or decrees, proclaimed or written. And +canvassing of partisans for magistracies, and meetings, and banquets, +and revelry with flute-players, they never think of even in a dream. +Whether any one in a city is well or ill born, or what evil has befallen +any one from his ancestors, whether men or women, is as little known to +him as how many measures of water there are in the sea, as the saying +is. 79. And he does not know that he is ignorant of all this; for he +does not keep aloof from them for vanity’s sake, but in reality his body +only is situated and dwells in the city, but his mind, considering all +these things as trifling and of no consequence, holds them in contempt, +and is borne every where, according to the expression of Pindar, +measuring things beneath the earth and upon its surface, contemplating +the stars in heaven above, and searching thoroughly into the entire +nature of every thing in the universe, and not stooping to any thing +that is near. + +_Theo._ What mean you by this, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Just, Theodorus, as a smart and witty Thracian servant-girl is +related to have joked Thales, when, contemplating the stars and looking +upwards, he fell into a well, that he was anxious to know what was going +on in heaven, but forgot to notice what was before him, and at his feet. +80. The same joke is applicable to all who devote themselves to +philosophy; for, in reality, such a one is ignorant about his near +neighbour, not only what he is doing but almost whether he is a man or +some other animal. But what man is, and what such a nature ought to do +or suffer beyond others, he enquires and takes pains to investigate. You +understand me surely, Theodorus; do you not? + +_Theo._ I do: and you say truly. + +_Socr._ Therefore, my friend, a man of this kind dealing privately with +each person, or publicly, as I said at the outset, when he is compelled, +in a court of justice or any where else, to speak about things at his +feet and before his view, affords laughter not only to Thracian damsels, +but to the rest of the crowd, by falling into wells and all kinds of +perplexities through inexperience, and his strange awkwardness gives him +a character of stupidity. 81. For when he is reviled he has nothing +personal to retort against any one, as he does not know any evil of any +one from not having troubled himself about such matters therefore, not +having any thing to say, he appears to be ridiculous: and when he hears +others praise and boast of themselves, being seen to laugh not feignedly +but really he is considered to be a simpleton. For when encomiums are +passed on a tyrant or king, he thinks that he hears a herdsman, a +swineherd for instance, or a shepherd, or a cowkeeper pronounced happy +for milking abundantly: but he thinks that they feed and milk an animal +that is more hard to manage and more cunning than the others do; and +that such a one must necessarily, from their occupations, be not at all +less rustic and uneducated than herdsmen, being shut up within walls as +in a mountain pen. But when he hears that any one who possesses ten +thousand acres of land or even more, is possessed of vast property, it +appears to him very trifling, as he has been accustomed to survey the +whole earth. 82. And when they extol nobility of birth, accounting any +one noble from being able to shew seven rich ancestors, he thinks that +this praise proceeds from men of dull minds, and who look at trifles, +being unable through want of education to look at the succession of ages +and compute that every man has had innumerable myriads of grandsires and +ancestors, amongst whom there must have been an innumerable multitude of +rich and poor, kings and slaves, barbarians and Greeks; but when they +pride themselves in a catalogue of five-and-twenty ancestors, and refer +their origin to Hercules son of Amphitryon, it appears to him absurd +from its littleness; and he laughs at their being unable to compute and +so rid themselves of the vaunting of a silly mind, that the +five-and-twentieth ancestor from Amphitryon and the fiftieth from him +was such as fortune happened to make him. In all these things, +therefore, such a man is ridiculed by the multitude, partly from bearing +himself haughtily, as it seems, and partly from not knowing what is at +his feet, and being on all occasions embarrassed. + +_Theo._ You say exactly what takes place, Socrates. + +83. _Socr._ But when he is able, my friend, to draw any one upwards, and +any one is willing to leave those questions, of “What injury do I do +you?” or “What injury do you do me?” for the consideration of justice +and injustice themselves, what each of them is, and in what respect they +differ from all other things, or from each other, or the inquiry, +Whether a king is happy, and again, he who possesses abundance of gold, +for the consideration of royalty and human happiness and misery in +general; what they both are, and in what way it is proper for the nature +of man to seek the one and shun the other,—when, therefore, it is +requisite for that little-minded, sharp, and pettifogging fellow to give +an account of all these things, he then shews the opposite side of the +picture; becoming dizzy through being suspended aloft and looking so +high up, from want of use, and becoming stupified, and perplexed, and +stammering, he does not, indeed, afford laughter to the Thracian damsels +or any other uneducated person, (for they do not perceive any thing,) +but to all who have been brought up otherwise than as slaves. 84. This, +then, is the character of each of them, Theodorus, the one, that of him +who is truly brought up in liberty and leisure, whom you call a +philosopher, to whom it is no disgrace to be thought simple and to be +good for nothing, when he has to attend to servile offices, for +instance, that he does not know how to pack and tie up luggage, or +season viands or make flattering speeches; the other, that of him who is +able to perform all such offices dexterously and quickly, but knows not +how to gather up his cloak with his right hand like a well-bred person, +nor perceiving harmony of language to celebrate the life of gods and +happy men such as it really is. + +_Theo._ If, Socrates, you could persuade all men of what you say, as you +have me, there would be more peace and less evil among men. + +_Socr._ But it is not possible, Theodorus, that evil should be +destroyed; for it is necessary that there should be always something +contrary to good; nor can it be seated among the gods, but of necessity +moves round this mortal nature and this region. Wherefore we ought to +endeavour to fly hence thither as quickly as possible. But this flight +consists in resembling God as much as possible, and this resemblance is +the becoming just and holy with wisdom. 85. But, my excellent friend, it +is not very easy to persuade men, that not for the reasons for which +most men say we ought to flee from vice and pursue virtue, ought we to +study the one and not the other, namely, that a man may not seem to be +vicious, but may seem to be good; for these are, as the saying is, the +drivellings of old women, as it appears to me. But let us describe the +truth as follows. God is never in any respect unjust, but as just as +possible, and there is not any thing that resembles him more than the +man amongst us who has likewise become as just as possible. And on this +depends the true excellence of a man, and his nothingness and +worthlessness. For the knowledge of this is wisdom and true virtue, but +the not knowing it is manifest ignorance and vice, but all other seeming +excellencies and wisdoms, when they are found in political government, +are abject, but in arts sordid. It is therefore by far the best not to +allow him who acts unjustly, and who speaks or acts impiously, to excel +by reason of his wickedness; for they delight in this reproach, and +think they hear that they are not valueless, mere burdens on the earth, +but men such as they ought to be who will be safe in a city. The truth, +therefore, must be spoken, that they are so much the more what they +think they are not, from not thinking that they are such. For they are +ignorant of the punishment of injustice, of which they ought to be least +of all ignorant: for it does not consist in what they imagine, stripes +and death, which they sometimes suffer who do not commit injustice, but +in that which it is impossible to avoid. + +86. _Theo._ What do you mean? + +_Socr._ Since, my friend, there are two models in the nature of things, +one divine and most happy, the other ungodly and most miserable, they, +not perceiving that this is the case, through stupidity and extreme +folly, unknown to themselves become similar to the one by unjust +actions, and dissimilar to the other. Wherefore they are punished, by +leading a life suited to that to which they are assimilated. But if we +should tell them, that unless they abandon this excellence, that place +which is free from all evil will not receive them when dead, but here +they will always lead a life resembling themselves, and there will +associate with evil, these things, as being altogether shrewd and +crafty, they will listen to as the extravagances of foolish men. + +87. _Theo._ Assuredly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ I know it, my friend. One thing, however, happens to them; it +is, that if they have to give and listen to reasons privately respecting +the things that they blame, and if they are willing to persevere +manfully for a length of time, and not fly like cowards, then at length, +my excellent friend, they are very absurdly displeased with themselves +for what they have said, and that rhetoric of theirs becomes somehow so +weak that they appear to be no better than boys. However, let us quit +this subject, since what we have been saying was only a digression; if +we do not, more topics constantly flowing in will shut out the subject +with which we began. Let us, then, return to our former subject, if it +is agreeable to you. + +_Theo._ Such things, Socrates, are not at all unpleasing to me to hear; +for it is easier for one of my age to follow them; if you please, +however, let us return to our subject. + +_Socr._ If I mistake not, then, we were at that part of our discussion +in which we said that those who maintain motion to be essence, and that +whatever appears to each person exists also to him to whom it appears, +would in other things persist, and especially with regard to justice, +that on every account what a city enacts as appearing just to itself, +this also is just to the city that enacts it, so long as it continues in +force: but that with respect to what is good, no one is so hardy as to +venture to contend that whatever things a city has enacted, thinking +that they are advantageous to itself, are also advantageous so long as +they continue in force, except one should speak only of the name: but +this would be a mere mockery on such a subject as we are speaking on; +would it not? + +_Theo._ Certainly. + +88. _Socr._ Let him not, then, speak of the name, but of the thing +designated by it. + +_Theo._ Just so. + +_Socr._ But the thing that the name designates is doubtless that which +the city aims at in enacting laws, and enacts all laws, as far as it +thinks and is able, to be as advantageous to itself as possible. Does it +look to any thing else in enacting laws? + +_Theo._ By no means. + +_Socr._ Does it, then, always accomplish its purpose, or is every city +often mistaken? + +_Theo._ I think it is often mistaken. + +_Socr._ Still more then would every one allow this very thing, if the +question should be asked with reference to the whole genus, to which the +advantageous belongs: but surely it regards also the future; for, when +we enact laws, we enact them that they may be advantageous for the time +to come; and this we should correctly call the future. + +_Theo._ Certainly. + +89. _Socr._ Come then, let us thus question Protagoras, or some one else +who holds the same opinions with him, Man, as you say, Protagoras, is +the measure of all things, white, heavy, light, and every thing of that +kind: for, as he contains the criterion of them within himself, in +thinking they are such as he feels them to be, he thinks what is true to +himself, and really is? Is it not so? + +_Theo._ It is. + +_Socr._ Shall we also say, Protagoras, that he contains within himself +the criterion of things about to happen, and that such things as he +thinks will happen, do become such to him who thinks so? For instance, +with regard to heat, when any particular person thinks that he shall +catch a fever, and that this kind of heat will happen to him, and +another, a physician, thinks differently, according to the opinion of +which of the two shall we say will the result prove? or will it be +according to the opinion of both of them, and to the physician will he +be neither hot nor feverish, but to himself both? + +_Theo._ That, indeed, would be ridiculous. + +_Socr._ And I think the opinion of the husbandman, and not that of the +harper, respecting the future sweetness or roughness of wine, would +prevail. + +_Theo._ How not? + +_Socr._ Nor again would a teacher of gymnastics form a better opinion +than a musician respecting what will be inharmonious and harmonious, and +what will afterwards appear to the teacher of gymnastics himself to be +harmonious. + +_Theo._ By no means. + +90. _Socr._ Therefore also, when a banquet is prepared, the judgment of +one who, not being skilled in cookery is about to feast on it, is less +sound than that of the cook, respecting the pleasure that will ensue. +For we are not arguing at all about that which now is or has been +pleasant to each person, but about that which will hereafter both appear +and be so, whether every one is the best judge for himself? Could not +you, Protagoras, judge beforehand better than any private person what +arguments are likely to be available for us in a court of justice? + +_Theo._ Indeed, Socrates, in this he himself professes to excel all men +by far. + +_Socr._ By Jupiter, he does, my friend; otherwise no one would pay him +large sums for his instructions, if he had not persuaded his pupils that +no prophet or other person would be able to judge better than he could +for himself, as to what in future would both be and appear to be. + +_Theo._ Most true. + +_Socr._ But do not legislation and the useful regard the future, and +would not every one acknowledge, that a city, in enacting laws, of +necessity often misses that which is most useful? + +_Theo._ Assuredly. + +91. _Socr._ We have, therefore, rightly urged against your master, that +he must needs confess, that one man is wiser than another, and that such +a one is the true measure, but that there is no necessity at all for me +who am ignorant, to become a measure, as the argument advanced on his +behalf just now compelled me to be, whether I would or not. + +_Theo._ In that way, Socrates, his argument appears to me to be +effectually refuted, and it was also refuted by this, that he makes the +opinions of others sound; and these were found to consider his arguments +as by no means to be true. + +_Socr._ In many other ways, too, Theodorus, this may be demonstrated, +that not every opinion of every man is true. But, with respect to the +manner in which each person is affected, whence perceptions and +corresponding opinions are produced, it is more difficult to demonstrate +that they are not true. But perhaps I should say, it is quite +impossible: for probably they cannot be refuted, and those who say that +they are certain and sciences, may possibly say the truth, and in that +case Theætetus here did not speak amiss in asserting that perception and +science are the same. 92. Let us, then, approach nearer to it, as the +argument advanced in behalf of Protagoras enjoined us, and examine this +essence, that is said to consist in motion[159], by knocking it, and see +whether it sounds whole or cracked. For the contest about it is neither +mean nor among a few. + +----- + +Footnote 159: + + See § 87. + +----- + +_Theo._ It is very far from being mean, but is spreading very much +throughout Ionia. For the partisans of Heraclitus advocate this doctrine +very strenuously. + +_Socr._ Therefore, my dear Theodorus, we should the rather examine it +from the beginning, as they propound it. + +_Theo._ Assuredly. For, Socrates, with respect to these Heraclitian, or, +as you say, Homeric, and even older doctrines, it is no more possible to +converse about them with the people of Ephesus who pretend to be +acquainted with them, than with persons who are raving mad. For, just as +their written doctrines, they are truly in constant motion, but to keep +to an argument and a question, and quietly to answer and ask in turn, is +less in their power than any thing; or rather the power of rest in these +men is infinitely less than nothing. But if you ask any one of them a +question, they draw out, as from a quiver, certain dark enigmatical +words, and shoot them off, and if you wish to get from him a reason for +what he has said, you will be forthwith stricken with another newly +coined word, but will never come to any conclusion with any one of them; +nor do they with one another, but they take very good care not to allow +any thing to be fixed, either in their discourse, or in their souls, +thinking, as it appears to me, that this very thing is stationary[160]; +and they make constant war upon it, and as far as they are able, expel +it from every where. + +----- + +Footnote 160: + + And so opposed to their doctrine of constant motion. + +----- + +93. _Socr._ Perhaps, Theodorus, you have seen these men contending, but +have never been in their company when peaceable, for they are no friends +of yours. But I think they say such things when at leisure, to their +disciples, whom they wish to render like themselves. + +_Theo._ What disciples, my good friend? Amongst such men, one is not the +disciple of another, but they spring up spontaneously, from whatever +place each of them happens to be seized with a frenzy, and each thinks +that the other knows nothing. From these, therefore, as I was just now +saying, you will never get a reason either willingly or unwillingly: but +we must take the matter up as if it were a problem and examine it +ourselves. + +_Socr._ You say right. But have we not received this problem from the +ancients, who by the aid of poetry concealed it from the multitude, that +Ocean and Tethys, the origin of all things, are streams, and that +nothing is at rest, and from the moderns, as being wise, who have +declared openly, so that even cobblers on hearing them learn wisdom, and +give up their foolish opinion, that some things are at rest and others +in motion, and learning that all things are in motion, they pay great +respect to their teachers. 94. But I had almost forgotten, Theodorus, +that others have declared the very contrary to this, that “that which is +called the universe is Immoveable,” and every thing else that the +followers of Melissus and Parmenides maintain in opposition to all this, +as, that all things are one, and that this is at rest in itself, and has +no place in which it can be moved. What then shall we do with all these +people, my friend? For advancing by little and little, we have unawares +fallen between both of them, and if we do not defend ourselves and +escape, we shall be punished like those who in the wrestling grounds +play on the line, who, when they are caught by both parties, are dragged +in contrary directions. It appears therefore to me, that we should first +of all consider those with whom we set out, the advocates of perpetual +motion, and, if they shall prove to speak to the purpose, we will join +with them, and endeavour to escape from the others; but if those who say +that the universe is at rest appear to speak more truly, we will on the +other hand fly to them from those who move even things immoveable. 95. +And if both shall be found to speak nothing right, we shall be +ridiculous for thinking that we, mean as we are, can say any thing to +the purpose, after we have condemned men of great antiquity and wisdom. +Consider therefore, Theodorus, whether it is for our interest to venture +on so great a danger. + +_Theo._ It would be unpardonable, Socrates, not thoroughly to examine +what each of these men say. + +_Socr._ We must examine it, since you are so anxious to do so. It +appears to me then, that the first thing to be done in an enquiry about +motion, is to find out what they mean by saying that all things are in +motion. I mean this: whether they say that there is one species of +motion, or, as it appears to me, two. Nor should it appear to me only, +but do you also join with me, that we may both fall into the same error, +if we must err. Tell me, therefore, do you call it being in motion, when +a thing passes from one place to another, or is turned round in the same +place? + +_Theo._ I do. + +96. _Socr._ Let this, therefore, be one species. But when it remains in +the same place, and grows old, and either becomes black from white or +hard from soft, or undergoes any other change, is it not right to say +that this is another species of motion? + +_Theo._ It appears so to me. + +_Socr._ It must be so: I say, then, that there are these two species of +motion, change and removal. + +_Theo._ You say right. + +_Socr._ Having, therefore, made this distinction, let us now address +ourselves to those who say that all things are in motion, and ask them: +Whether do you say that every thing undergoes both kinds of motion, and +is both removed and changed, or that one thing is moved both ways, and +another only in one way? + +_Theo._ By Jupiter, I know not what to answer; but I think they would +say, both ways. + +_Socr._ Otherwise, my friend, the same things would appear to them to be +both in motion and at rest, and it would not be at all more correct to +say that all things are in motion, than that they are at rest. + +_Theo._ You speak most truly. + +_Socr._ Since, therefore, it is necessary that every thing should be in +motion, and that the absence of motion should be in nothing, all things +must always be moved with every kind of motion. + +97. _Theo._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ Consider this, then, I beg: did we not say that they explain the +generation of heat, or whiteness, or any thing else pretty much in this +manner, that each of them is impelled, together with perception, between +the agent and the patient, and that the patient becomes affected by +perception, but is not yet perception itself, and that the agent becomes +affected by a certain quality, but is not quality itself? Perhaps, +however, quality may appear to you to be a strange word, and you may not +understand it when used in this collective sense. Hear me, then, explain +it in detail. For the agent becomes neither heat nor whiteness, but hot +and white, and so with respect to other things. For you surely remember +that we said before[161], that no one thing exists of itself, neither +that which is an agent nor that which is a patient, but that, from the +meeting together of each with the other, perceptions and objects of +perception being produced cause the one to be of a certain quality, and +the other percipient. + +----- + +Footnote 161: + + § 28. + +----- + +98. _Theo._ I recollect. How should I not. + +_Socr._ Let us then dismiss the rest of their system, whether they speak +this way or that way; and let us keep to that point alone which concerns +our discussion and ask, Are all things in motion and in a state of flux, +as you say? Is it not so? + +_Theo._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And by both those kinds of motion which we have distinguished, +removal and change? + +_Theo._ Undoubtedly; if they are to be perfectly moved. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, they were only removed, but not changed, we +should surely be able to say what kind of things are removed. Must we +not say so? + +_Theo._ Just so. + +_Socr._ But since not even this continues in the same state, namely that +that which flows continues to flow white, but it changes so that there +is also a flux of this very thing, whiteness, and a transition into +another colour, in order that it may not be found continuing in the same +state, will it ever be possible to call any thing a colour, so as to +designate it correctly? + +_Theo._ How is it possible, Socrates? or any thing else of the kind, +since, while we are speaking about it, it is constantly escaping, as +being in a state of flux? + +_Socr._ But what shall we say of any kind of perception, for instance of +seeing or hearing? Does it ever continue in the state of seeing or +hearing? + +_Theo._ It ought not, since all things are in motion. + +99. _Socr._ We must not affirm then, that any one sees rather than not +sees, or has any other perception rather than not, since all things are +in constant motion. + +_Theo._ Surely not. + +_Socr._ Yet perception is science, as Theætetus and I said. + +_Theo._ That is the case. + +_Socr._ On being asked, therefore, what science is, we answered, that it +is not at all science rather than not science. + +_Theo._ You appear to have done so. + +_Socr._ A fine correction of our answer it would be, if we endeavour to +prove that all things are in motion, in order that our former answer may +appear correct. But this, as it seems, is the result, if all things are +in motion, every answer on whatever subject it may be given, will be +equally correct, whether we say that a thing is so or is not so, or, if +you will, becomes so, that we may not fix them by a definite expression. + +_Theo._ You say rightly. + +_Socr._ Except, Theodorus, that I said “so and not so.” But we ought not +to use this word “so,” for in this way it will no longer be in motion; +nor again must we use the expression “not so,” for neither does this +express motion; but they who maintain this doctrine must find out some +other term, since at present they have not words suited to their +hypothesis, except perhaps, this, “not in any manner.” This would suit +them best, as having an indefinite meaning. + +_Theo._ This manner of speaking would indeed be most proper for them. + +100. _Socr._ We have done then with your friend, Theodorus, nor can we +by any means concede to him, that any man is the measure of all things, +except he is wise: nor can we concede to him that science is perception, +at least according to the doctrine that all things are in motion; unless +Theætetus here says otherwise. + +_Theo._ You say admirably well, Socrates; for since these things are +brought to a conclusion, it is right that I too should have done with +answering according to our agreement, now that our discussion about the +doctrine of Protagoras has come to end. + +_Theæ._ Not so, Theodorus, until you and Socrates have discussed the +doctrine of those who say that the universe is at rest, as you just now +proposed to do. + +_Theo._ Do you who are so young, Theætetus, teach old men to act +unjustly, by violating their compacts. But prepare to give account to +Socrates of what remains to be discussed. + +_Theæ._ If he wishes it, though I should be very glad to hear you on the +subject I mentioned. + +_Theo._ You are challenging riders to a race in challenging Socrates to +a discussion. Ask therefore and you will hear. + +_Socr._ But I think, Theodorus, I shall not comply with the request of +Theætetus. + +_Theo._ Why not comply? + +101. _Socr._ Though I am ashamed of examining with too much freedom +Melissus and others, who say that the universe is one and immoveable, +yet I am less ashamed to do so with respect to them than Parmenides +alone. For Parmenides appears to me, that I may use the words of +Homer[162], “both venerable and formidable.” For I was acquainted with +him when I was very young and he was very old, and he appeared to me to +possess a depth of wisdom altogether extraordinary. I am afraid, +therefore, that we should not understand his words, and that we should +be much less able to discover the meaning of what he said, and above +all, I fear lest with respect to the main subject of our discussion, +science, what it is, should be left unconsidered by reason of the +digressions that will rush across us, if we listen to them. Besides, the +question which we have now raised is of immense extent, and if one +should consider it only by the way, it would be treated unworthily, but +if as it deserves, the discussion, being extended to too great length, +will put out of sight the subject of science. But neither of these +things ought to happen; but we ought to endeavour, by the midwife’s art, +to deliver Theætetus of his conceptions respecting science. + +----- + +Footnote 162: + + Iliad, iii. 172. + +----- + +_Theæ._ It is proper to do so, if you think well. + +102. _Socr._ Again, therefore, Theætetus, consider this with respect to +what has been said. You answered that perception is science; did you +not. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ If then any one should ask you, with what a man sees things +white and black, and with what he hears sounds sharp and flat, you would +say, I think, with the eyes and ears. + +_Theæ._ I should. + +_Socr._ The free use of names and words and without excessive precision, +is for the most part not unbecoming a person of education, but rather +the contrary to this is illiberal, though sometimes it is necessary; as +in the present case it is necessary to find fault with your answer, so +far as it is not correct. For consider, which answer is more correct, +that it is the eyes with which we see or by which we see, and the ears +with which we hear, or by which we hear? + +_Theæ._ By which we receive each perception, it seems to me, Socrates, +rather than with which. + +_Socr._ For surely it would be strange, my boy, if many senses were +seated in us, as in wooden horses, and they did not all tend to one +certain form, whether it is soul, or whatever it is proper to call it, +with which, by means of these as instruments, we perceive all objects of +perception. + +_Theæ._ The case appears to me to be rather in this way than in that. + +103. _Socr._ But why do I require so much accuracy from you on this +point? For this reason, that we may discover whether by some one and the +same part in us we, by means of the eyes, attain to things white and +black, and again other things by means of the other senses, and whether, +when questioned, you will be able to refer all such things to the bodily +organs. But perhaps it will be better that you should say this by +answering my questions, than that I should take all this trouble for +you. Tell me, then; the things by which you perceive things hot and dry, +and light and sweet, do you refer each of them to the body, or to any +thing else? + +_Theæ._ To nothing else. + +_Socr._ Are you also willing to allow, that such things as you perceive +by means of one faculty it is impossible for you to perceive by means of +another, for instance, that what you perceive by means of hearing you +cannot perceive by means of sight, and what you perceive by means of +sight, you cannot perceive by means of hearing? + +_Theæ._ How should I not be willing to allow it? + +_Socr._ If, then, you form a notion of them both together, you cannot +receive this perception of both together by means of one organ or the +other. + +_Theæ._ Surely not. + +104. _Socr._ Now with respect to sound and colour, is not this the very +first notion that you have of them both, that they both exist. + +_Theæ._ It is. + +_Socr._ Is it not also, that each is different from the other, and the +same with itself? + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ And that both are two, but each one? + +_Theæ._ And this also. + +_Socr._ Are you not also able to consider whether they are like or +unlike each other? + +_Theæ._ Probably. + +_Socr._ By means of what, then, do you acquire all these notions about +them? For it is not possible by means either of hearing or sight to +apprehend that which is common between them. Moreover, this too is a +proof of what we say. For, if it were possible to examine respecting +them both, whether they are salt or not, you know you would be able to +say with what you would make this examination, and this proves to be +neither sight nor hearing, but something else. + +_Theæ._ How not, and that the faculty of taste by means of the tongue? + +_Socr._ You say well. But in what does the faculty consist which shews +you that which is common to all things, and to these two, to which you +give the name of existence and non-existence, and those other names +about which we were just now asking? what organs will you attribute to +all these, by means of which our perceptive faculty perceives these +several things? + +105. _Theæ._ You speak of existence and non-existence, similitude and +dissimilitude, identity and difference, and moreover of unity and other +numbers: and it is evident that you ask about the even and odd and +whatever else depends on them, by which of the organs of the body we +perceive these things in our soul. + +_Socr._ You follow me exceedingly well, and these, Theætetus, are the +very things about which I ask. + +_Theæ._ But by Jupiter, Socrates, I know not what to say, except that it +seems to me that there is no organ at all peculiar to these things as +there is to the others, but the soul of itself appears to me to examine +that which is common in all things. + +_Socr._ You are beautiful, Theætetus, and not ugly, as Theodorus said; +for he who speaks beautifully is beautiful and good. But, besides being +beautiful, you have done well in having released me from a very long +discussion, if it appears to you that the soul beholds some things by +itself, and others by the faculties of the body. For this was the very +thing that seemed to me, and I wished it might likewise seem so to you. + +_Theæ._ And indeed it does appear so to me. + +106. _Socr._ To which of the two classes, then, do you refer existence? +For this especially attaches to all things. + +_Theæ._ I refer it to those things which the soul of itself reaches +after. + +_Socr._ Is it the same with similarity and dissimilarity, identity and +difference? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ What then? with the beautiful and the ugly, good and evil? + +_Theæ._ It appears to me that the soul especially considers the essence +of these in reference to each other, comparing within itself things past +and present with the future. + +_Socr._ Stay: will it not perceive the hardness of that which is hard by +the touch, and the softness of that which is soft in like manner? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But their essence, both what they are, and their opposition to +each other, and the nature of this opposition, the soul itself, +examining them repeatedly and comparing them with each other, endeavours +to determine for us. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Are not, then, both men and beasts by nature able to perceive as +soon as they are born those things that pass by means of the bodily +organs to the soul, but comparisons of these with reference to their +essence and use they arrive at with difficulty, and after a long time, +by means of much labour and study, if ever they do arrive at it? + +_Theæ._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ For is it possible to apprehend the truth of that of which we +cannot apprehend the existence? + +_Theæ._ Impossible. + +107. _Socr._ But can any one possess a scientific knowledge of a thing, +of which he cannot apprehend the truth? + +_Theæ._ How can he, Socrates? + +_Socr._ There is, therefore, no science in sensations, but in reasoning +on them; for in this way, as it seems, it is possible to touch upon +essence and truth, but in that way impossible. + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Can you, therefore, call that and this the same, when there is +so great a difference between them? + +_Theæ._ It would not be right to do so. + +_Socr._ What name, then, do you give to that, to sight, hearing, +smelling, tasting, being hot, and being cold? + +_Theæ._ Perceiving; for what other name can be given? + +_Socr._ Do you, therefore, call the whole of this perception? + +_Theæ._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ To which, as we said, it does not appertain to touch upon truth, +for it does not ever touch upon essence. + +_Theæ._ Certainly not. + +_Socr._ Nor, therefore, upon science? + +_Theæ._ No. + +_Socr._ Perception, therefore, and science, Theætetus, can never be the +same? + +_Theæ._ It appears not, Socrates. + +108. _Socr._ And now it has been made perfectly clear that science is +something different from perception. But we did not commence this +conversation with this view, that we might find out what science is not, +but what it is. However, we have advanced so far as not to seek it at +all in perception, but in that name, whatever it is, which the soul +possesses when it employs itself about things that exist. + +_Theæ._ But this, I think, Socrates, is called, to judge. + +_Socr._ You think rightly, my friend. And now consider again from the +beginning, having obliterated all that has been said before, if you see +at all more clearly, now that you have come to this point. And tell me +again what science is. + +_Theæ._ It is impossible, Socrates, to say that it is every judgment, +because there is also false judgment. But it appears that true judgment +is science, and let this be my answer. For if, as we proceed, it shall +not appear to be so, as it does at present, we will endeavour to say +something else. + +109. _Socr._ Thus, then, Theætetus, you must speak more promptly, and +not, as at first, hesitate to answer. For if we do so, one of two things +will happen; we shall either find that which we are in search of, or we +shall in a less degree think that we know what we do not know at all; +though this would be no despicable reward. Now, then, what do you say? +Since there are two species of judgment, one true, and the other false, +do you define science to be true judgment? + +_Theæ._ I do; for this at present appears to me to be the case. + +_Socr._ Is it, then, worth while again to resume the discussion +respecting judgment? + +_Theæ._ What do you mean? + +_Socr._ Somehow this matter troubles me just now, and has often done so +at other times, so that I have had great doubt with respect to myself +and others, from not being able to say what this affection in us is, and +in what way it is produced. + +_Theæ._ What affection? + +_Socr._ This, that any one forms false judgments; and I even now still +consider and am in doubt whether we shall let this alone, or examine it +in a different manner than we did just now. + +_Theæ._ How not, Socrates? at least if it appears necessary to be done +in some way or other? For you and Theodorus just now remarked, not +badly, respecting leisure, that there is no urgency in matters of this +kind. + +110. _Socr._ You have reminded me very properly. For perhaps it will not +be foreign to our purpose in a manner to retrace our steps. For it is +better to finish a little well than much insufficiently. + +_Theæ._ Why not? + +_Socr._ How then? what do we say? do we not affirm that sometimes +judgments are false? or that one of us forms false judgments and another +true ones, as if this was naturally the case? + +_Theæ._ We doubtless do affirm this. + +_Socr._ Does not this happen to us with regard to things in general and +each particular, that we either know it or do not know it? For learning +and forgetting, as being between these, I pass by for the present, for +now they have nothing to do with our discussion. + +_Theæ._ However, Socrates, there is no other alternative with respect to +each particular, except knowing or not knowing it. + +_Socr._ Then, is it not necessary, that he who judges should judge +either what he does know, or does not know? + +_Theæ._ It is necessary. + +_Socr._ But that a person who knows should not know the same thing, or +that he who does not know it should know it, is impossible. + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Does not he, then, who forms a false judgment about what he +knows, think that these are not the same, but different from what he +knows, and thus while he knows both, he is at the same time ignorant of +both? + +_Theæ._ But this is impossible, Socrates. + +111. _Socr._ Does he, then, think that things which he does not know are +certain other things that he does not know, and is it possible for one +who knows neither Theætetus nor Socrates, to imagine that Socrates is +Theætetus, or Theætetus Socrates? + +_Theæ._ How could that be? + +_Socr._ Neither, surely, does any one think that the things which he +knows are the same as those that he does not know, nor again that the +things which he does not know, are the same as those that he does know. + +_Theæ._ For that would be monstrous. + +_Socr._ How then can any one form false judgments? For it is impossible +to form judgments in any other way than this, since we either know or do +not know all things, and in these it appears to be by no means possible +to form false judgments. + +_Theæ._ Most true. + +_Socr._ Ought we, then, to consider the object of our enquiry, not by +proceeding according to knowing and not knowing, but according to being +and not being? + +_Theæ._ How do you mean? + +_Socr._ Whether it is not universally true, that he who thinks things +that are not, with respect to any thing whatever, must unavoidably form +a false judgment, however intelligent he may be in other respects. + +_Theæ._ That is reasonable, Socrates. + +_Socr._ How then? what shall we say, Theætetus, if any one should ask +us, “Is it possible for any one to do what you say, and can any man +think that which is not, whether respecting any real object or abstract +essence?” And we, it seems, shall say to this, “When he who thinks does +not think what is true.” What else can we say? + +_Theæ._ Nothing else. + +112. _Socr._ Does a thing of this kind happen also in other cases? + +_Theæ._ Of what kind? + +_Socr._ If a person sees something, and yet sees nothing. + +_Theæ._ But how can that be? + +_Socr._ But if he sees some one thing, he sees something that exists; +and do you think that one thing is ever among things that do not exist? + +_Theæ._ I do not. + +_Socr._ He, therefore, who sees some one thing sees that which exists. + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ And, therefore, he who hears something, both hears some one +thing, and hears that which exists. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And doubtless he who touches both touches some one thing, and +that which exists, since it is one thing? + +_Theæ._ And this too. + +_Socr._ Does not he then who judges, judge some one thing? + +_Theæ._ Of necessity. + +_Socr._ And does not he who judges some one thing, judge something that +exists? + +_Theæ._ I grant it. + +_Socr._ He therefore who judges what does not exist, judges nothing. + +_Theæ._ It appears not. + +_Socr._ But he who judges nothing, does not judge at all. + +_Theæ._ That is evident, as it seems. + +_Socr._ It is impossible, therefore, to judge that which is not, either +with respect to real objects or abstract essences. + +_Theæ._ It appears not. + +_Socr._ To form false judgments, therefore, is different from judging +things that do not exist. + +_Theæ._ It seems to be different. + +_Socr._ Neither then in this way nor in the way we considered a little +before, is false judgment formed in us. + +_Theæ._ On no account. + +113. _Socr._ Do we then give that name to what takes place as follows. + +_Theæ._ How? + +_Socr._ We say that a mistaken judgment is a false judgment, when any +one says that any real object is another real object, changing one for +the other in his thoughts. For thus he always judges that which exists, +but one thing instead of another, and erring in that which he was +considering, he may be justly said to form a false judgment. + +_Theæ._ You now appear to me to have spoken most correctly: for, when +any one forms a judgment that a thing is ugly instead of beautiful, or +beautiful instead of ugly, then he truly forms a false judgment. + +_Socr._ It is evident, Theætetus, that you esteem me lightly and have no +fear of me. + +_Theæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ I do not seem to you, I imagine, likely to lay hold of your +“truly false,” by asking whether it is possible for swift to take place +slowly or light heavily, or any other contrary, not according to its own +nature, but according to the nature of its contrary, contrariwise to +itself. This, however, I dismiss, that your confidence may not be in +vain. But are you satisfied, as you say, that to form false judgments is +to form mistaken judgments? + +_Theæ._ I am. + +114. _Socr._ It is possible, then, according to your opinion, for one +thing to be comprehended in the mind as another, and not as it is. + +_Theæ._ It is possible. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, any one’s mind does this, is it not necessary +that it should think about both objects, or one of them? + +_Theæ._ Quite necessary. + +_Socr._ Either together or in turns? + +_Theæ._ Very well. + +_Socr._ But by thinking do you mean the same that I do? + +_Theæ._ What do you mean by it? + +_Socr._ The discourse which the soul holds with itself about the objects +that it considers. I explain this to you as a person who does not know +what he says. For the soul, when it thinks, appears to me to do nothing +else than discourse with itself, asking itself questions and answering +them, affirming and denying; but when it has decided, whether it has +come to its decision more slowly or more rapidly, and now asserts and +does not doubt, this we call judgment. So that to form a judgment I call +to speak, and judgment a sentence spoken, not indeed to another person +nor with the voice but in silence to itself. But what do you call it? + +_Theæ._ The same. + +_Socr._ When any one, therefore, forms a judgment that one thing is +another, he says to himself, as it seems, that one thing is another. + +115. _Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Recollect, then, whether you have ever said to yourself, that +the beautiful is certainly ugly, or the unjust, just, or even, chief of +all, consider whether you have ever attempted to persuade yourself, that +one thing is certainly another, or, quite contrariwise, whether you have +ever ventured even in sleep to say to yourself, that undoubtedly odd is +even, or any thing else of the kind. + +_Theæ._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ But do you think that any one else in his senses or even mad +would venture to say seriously to himself, being himself persuaded, that +an ox must needs be a horse, or two one? + +_Theæ._ Not I, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ If, therefore, to speak to one’s-self is to form judgments, no +one, who speaks and forms judgments of both objects, and touches upon +both with his soul, would say and judge that one is another. You must +therefore give up what you said about the other. For I assert this, that +no one thinks that the ugly is beautiful, or any thing else of the kind. + +_Theæ._ I give it up then, Socrates, and it appears to me as you say. + +_Socr._ It is impossible, then, for one who forms judgments about both, +to think that the one is the other. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +116. _Socr._ He, however, who judges one thing only, but the other in no +respect, will never judge that the one is the other. + +_Theæ._ You say truly: for he would be compelled to touch upon that also +of which he does not judge. + +_Socr._ It is not possible then for a person who judges either both or +one of the two, to judge that one is the other: so that if any one +should define false judgment to be the judgment of one thing instead of +another, he would say nothing to the purpose; for neither in this way, +nor in those before mentioned, does it appear that false judgment +pertains to us. + +_Theæ._ It seems not. + +_Socr._ However, Theætetus, if this should appear not to be so, we shall +be compelled to admit many absurdities. + +_Theæ._ What are they? + +_Socr._ I will not tell you, until I have endeavoured to consider the +matter in every point of view; for I should be ashamed for both of us, +if, while we are in the difficulty we are, we should be compelled to +admit what I now say. But if we discover the object of our search and +become free, then we will speak of others, as subject to this, being +ourselves placed beyond the reach of ridicule: but if we shall continue +still involved in difficulties, we must humble ourselves, I imagine, and +give ourselves up to discussion, like those who are sea-sick, to be +trampled on and treated as it pleases. Hear, then, how I still find a +way out of our enquiry. + +117. _Theæ._ Only speak. + +_Socr._ I shall deny that we made a correct admission, when we admitted +that it is impossible for a person to judge that what he knows is what +he does not know and be thus deceived; but in some respect it is +possible. + +_Theæ._ Do you mean that which I suspected at the time when we said +this, might be the case, that sometimes I knowing Socrates, and seeing +another person at a distance whom I do not know, have thought it was +Socrates, whom I do know? For what you mention happens in a case of this +kind. + +_Socr._ Are we not, then, driven from that position, because it made us, +while we know, not know the things that we do know? + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Let us not, then, make our assumption in this way but as +follows; and perhaps it will in some respect succeed for us, and perhaps +it will oppose us. For we are in a condition in which it is necessary to +examine out whole argument in every point of view. Consider, therefore, +whether I say any thing to the purpose. Is it possible for a person who +did not know something before, afterwards to learn it? + +_Theæ._ It is indeed. + +_Socr._ And can he not also learn another thing after another? + +118. _Theæ._ Why not? + +_Socr._ Suppose, then, I beg, for the sake of argument, that we have in +our souls a waxen tablet, in one larger, in another smaller, in one of +purer wax, in another of impurer, in some of harder, and in others again +of softer, but in some of a moderate quality. + +_Theæ._ I do suppose it. + +_Socr._ Let us say, then, that this is a gift of Mnemosyne the mother of +the Muses; and that, whatever we wish to remember of things that we have +seen, or heard, or have ourselves thought of, we impress in this, by +placing it under our perceptions and thoughts, as if we were taking off +the impressions from rings: and that whatever is imprinted, this we +remember and know, as long as its image remains; but when it is effaced, +or can be no longer imprinted, we forget and do not know it. + +_Theæ._ Be it so. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, a person knows these things and considers any +of the things that he sees or hears, consider whether in this way he can +judge falsely? + +_Theæ._ In what way? + +_Socr._ By thinking with respect to what he knows, that they are at one +time the things that he knows, and at another the things that he does +not know. For in a former part of our discussion we made an improper +admission in admitting that this was impossible. + +119. _Theæ._ But how do you mean now? + +_Socr._ We must speak thus on this subject, defining it from the +beginning: It is impossible that he who knows any thing, and has a +remembrance of it in his soul, but does not actually perceive it, can +think that it is some other thing that he knows, of which he has the +impression, though he does not perceive it: and again, it is impossible +that any one can think that what he knows is that which he does not +know, and of which he has not the seal: or that what he does not know is +that which he does not know: or that what he does not know is that which +he does know: or think that what he perceives is some other thing that +he perceives: or that what he perceives is something that he does not +perceive: or that what he does not perceive is some other thing that he +does not perceive: or that what he does not perceive is something that +he does perceive. And again it is still more impossible, if that can be, +that a person should think that what he knows and perceives, and of +which he has an impression by means of perception, is something else +that he knows and perceives, and of which in like manner he has an +impression by means of perception. And it is impossible that what he +knows and perceives, and of which he has a correct remembrance, he can +think is something else that he knows: or that what he knows and +perceives, and in like manner retains in his remembrance, is something +else that he perceives: or again, that what he neither knows nor +perceives is something else that he neither knows nor perceives: or that +what he neither knows nor perceives is something else that he does not +know; or that what he neither knows nor perceives is something else that +he does not perceive. In all these cases it is utterly impossible for +any one to judge falsely. It remains, therefore, that it must take +place, if anywhere, in the following cases. + +120. _Theæ._ In what cases? perhaps I shall understand you better from +them; for at present I do not follow you. + +_Socr._ In things which a person knows, he may think that they are +different from the things that he knows and perceives; or from those +which he does not know, but perceives; or that the things which he knows +and perceives are some of the things which he likewise knows and +perceives. + +_Theæ._ Now I am left much further behind than I was. + +_Socr._ Listen again, then, as follows: I, knowing Theodorus, and +remembering within myself what kind of a person he is, and in like +manner, Theætetus, do I not sometimes see them, and sometimes not, and +sometimes touch them, and sometimes not, and hear or perceive them by +some other sense, but sometimes have I no perception of you at all, yet +nevertheless do I remember you, and know you within myself? + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Understand this, then, the first of the things that I wish to +prove, that it is possible for a man not to perceive what he knows, and +that it is possible for him to perceive it. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ And does it not often happen that a man does not perceive what +he does not know, and often that he perceives it only? + +_Theæ._ This also is true. + +121. Consider then, whether you can now follow me better. Socrates knows +Theodorus and Theætetus, but he sees neither of them, nor has he any +other perception respecting them, now he can never form this judgment +within himself, that Theætetus is Theodorus? Do I say any thing to the +purpose or not? + +_Theæ._ Yes, quite true. + +_Socr._ This then was the first of the cases that I mentioned. + +_Theæ._ It was. + +_Socr._ But the second was this, that I knowing one of you, but not +knowing the other, and perceiving neither, should never think that he +whom I know is the person whom I do not know. + +_Theæ._ Right. + +_Socr._ The third was this, that I neither knowing nor perceiving either +of them, should not think that he whom I do not know is some other +person of those whom I do not know: and consider that you again hear in +succession all the instances before put, in which I shall never form a +false judgment respecting you and Theodorus, neither while knowing nor +ignorant of you both, nor while knowing one, and not the other; and in +the same way with regard to perceptions, if you follow me. + +_Theæ._ I do follow you. + +122. _Socr._ It remains, therefore, that I may form a false judgment in +this case, when knowing you and Theodorus, and having the impression of +both of you in that waxen tablet made by a seal ring as it were, seeing +you both from a distance and not sufficiently distinguishing you, I +endeavour, by attributing the peculiar impression of each to his +peculiar aspect, applying it so as to adapt it to its own form in order +that I may recognise it, then failing in this, and changing them like +those that put their shoes on the wrong feet, I fit the aspect of each +to the impression of the other, as happens in looking into mirrors, +where the sight passes from the right to the left, so I fall into the +same error; then mistaken opinion and false judgment take place. + +_Theæ._ What happens with regard to judgment, Socrates, seems +wonderfully like what you describe. + +_Socr._ Still further, when, knowing both of you, in addition to knowing +I perceive one, but not the other, I have a knowledge of the other not +according to perception, which I thus described before, but you did not +then understand me. + +_Theæ._ I did not. + +123. _Socr._ I said this however, that a person who knows and perceives +one and has a knowledge of him according to perception, will never think +that he is some other person whom he knows and perceives, and of whom he +has a knowledge according to perception. Was not this what I said? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ There remained then the case that was just now mentioned, in +which we said that false judgment takes place, when a person knowing you +both and seeing you both, or having some other perception of you both, +has not the impression of each according to the perception of each, but, +like an unskilful archer, shoots beside the mark and misses, this then +is called a falsehood. + +_Theæ._ And very properly so. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, perception is present to one of the +impressions, and not to the other, and the one applies the impression of +the absent perception to that which is present, in this case the mind is +altogether deceived: and, in a word, with respect to things that a +person has neither known nor ever perceived, it is not possible, as it +seems, either to be deceived, or to form a false judgment, if there is +any soundness in what we now say: but with respect to things that we +know and perceive, in these very things judgment is conversant and turns +round, becoming both false and true, by collecting together in a direct +and straight line the copies and marks proper to each, it is true, but +sideways and obliquely, false. + +124. _Theæ._ Is it not well described, Socrates? + +_Socr._ You will say so still more, when you hear what follows. For to +judge truly is beautiful, but to be deceived is base. + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ They say, then, that these things proceed from hence. When the +wax in any one’s soul is deep, abundant, smooth, and properly moulded, +objects entering by means of the perceptions and impressing themselves +on this heart[163] of the soul, as Homer calls it, obscurely intimating +its resemblance to wax, then pure and sufficiently deep impressions +being made in these, become lasting, and such men are first of all +easily taught, next have retentive memories, and lastly do not change +the impressions of the perceptions, but form true judgments; for, as +these impressions are clear, and in a wide space, they quickly +distribute to their proper images each of the things that are called +beings; and such men are called wise. Does it not appear so to you? + +----- + +Footnote 163: + + A play on the words κέαρ or κῆρ and κήρος, which cannot be retained in + an English version. + +----- + +_Theæ._ Entirely so. + +125. _Socr._ When, therefore, any one’s heart is covered with hair, +which the very wise poet has celebrated, or when it is muddy, and not of +pure wax, or very soft, or hard, those in whom it is soft are easily +taught, but are forgetful, and those in when it is hard, the contrary; +but those who have it hairy and rough, and stony or full of earth or +mixed mud, have indistinct impressions; they are also indistinct in +those that are hard, for there is no depth in them; they are likewise +indistinct in those that are soft, for by being confused they soon +become obscure; but if, in addition to all this, they fall one upon +another by reason of narrowness of space, if any one’s soul is little, +they are still more indistinct than the others. All these, therefore, +are such as form false judgments. For when they see, or hear, or think +about any thing, not being able at once to attribute each object to its +impression, they are slow, and attributing different objects to +different impressions, they for the most part see wrongly, and hear +wrongly, and think wrongly; and these are said to be deceived in objects +and ignorant. + +_Theæ._ You speak as correctly as man can do, Socrates. + +126. _Socr._ Shall we say, then, that there are false judgments in us? + +_Theæ._ By all means. + +_Socr._ And true judgments also? + +_Theæ._ And true. + +_Socr._ Do we, then, consider it to have been sufficiently established +that these two judgments do without doubt exist? + +_Theæ._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ A talkative man, Theætetus, appears to be really troublesome and +disagreeable. + +_Theæ._ How so? Why do you say this? + +_Socr._ Because I am angry at my own ignorance, and, in truth, +talkativeness. For what other name can any one give it when a man drags +the conversation upwards and downwards, and cannot be persuaded through +his dulness, and is with difficulty torn from each several topic? + +_Theæ._ But why are you angry? + +_Socr._ I am not only angry, but I am afraid that I should not know what +to answer, if any one should ask me, “Socrates, have you found that +false judgment is neither in the perceptions compared with each other, +nor in the thoughts, but in the conjunction of perception with thought?” +I think I shall say, I have, priding myself as if we had made a very +fine discovery. + +127. _Theæ._ What has just now been proved appears to me, Socrates, to +be by no means despicable. + +_Socr._ Do you therefore assert, he will say, that we can never suppose +that a man whom we think of only, but do not see, is a horse, which we +neither see nor touch, but think of only, and do not perceive in any +other way? I believe I should say, that I do assert this. + +_Theæ._ And rightly. + +_Socr._ What then? he will say, according to this mode of reasoning, can +the number eleven, which one thinks of only, ever be supposed to be +twelve, which also one thinks of only? Come then, do you answer? + +_Theæ._ I should answer, that a person seeing or touching might suppose +that eleven are twelve, but that he would never think thus respecting +numbers which he embraces only in thought. + +_Socr._ What then? do you suppose that any one has ever proposed to +consider within himself of five and seven, I do not mean seven and five +men, or any thing else of the kind, but the numbers five and seven +themselves, which we said were in his soul like impressions in wax, and +that it is impossible to judge falsely respecting them,—has any man at +any time considered these very things, speaking to himself and asking +how many they are, and answered, one that he supposes they are eleven, +and another that they are twelve, or do all men say and suppose that +they are twelve? + +128. _Theæ._ No, by Jupiter, but many suppose that they are eleven. And +if a person considers about a greater number, he is still more mistaken; +for I suppose that you rather speak about every number. + +_Socr._ You suppose rightly, but consider whether any thing else ever +happens than this, that he supposes that the number twelve impressed in +his soul is eleven? + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Does it not then come back to our former statements? For he who +is in this condition supposes that what he knows is something else that +he also knows, which we said was impossible, and from which very +circumstance we demonstrated that there is no such thing as false +judgment, in order that the same person might not be compelled to know +and not to know the same thing at the same time. + +_Theæ._ Most true. + +_Socr._ Therefore we must show that false judgment is something else +than an interchange of mind with perception. For, if this were so, we +could never be deceived in the thoughts themselves: but now there is +either no such thing as false judgment, or it is possible for a person +not to know what he knows: and which of these two do you choose? + +_Theæ._ You offer me a difficult choice, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Our argument however appears as if it would not allow both these +to take place: though (for we must venture on every thing), what if we +should determine to lay aside all shame? + +_Theæ._ How? + +_Socr._ By taking upon ourselves to declare what it is to know. + +_Theæ._ But why would this be shameless? + +129. _Socr._ You do not seem to consider that the whole of our +discussion from the beginning has been an investigation respecting +science, as if we did not know what it is. + +_Theæ._ I do consider it. + +_Socr._ Does it not, then, appear to be a shameless thing, to explain +what it is to know, when we are ignorant of what science is? But, +Theætetus, our conversation has been all along full of defects. For we +have over and over again used the expressions, We know, and We do not +know, We have a scientific knowledge, and We have not a scientific +knowledge, as if we both of us understood something about it, whereas we +are still ignorant of what science is. But if you please, we will still +at the present moment use the terms, to be ignorant, and to understand, +as if we could properly use them, though we are destitute of science. + +_Theæ._ But how will you converse, Socrates, if you abstain from the use +of these expressions? + +_Socr._ Not at all, while I am what I am. If however I were contentious, +or if a person of that kind were now present, he would say that I must +abstain from them, and would strongly object to what I say. But as we +are poor creatures, do you wish I should venture to say what it is to +know? For it appears to me that it would be worth while to do so. + +_Theæ._ Venture then, by Jupiter; for you will be readily pardoned for +not abstaining from these expressions. + +130. _Socr._ Have you heard, then, what they now say it is to know? + +_Theæ._ Perhaps so; but at present I do not remember. + +_Socr._ They say, I believe, that it is to have science. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ Let us, then, change it a little, and say that it is to possess +science. + +_Theæ._ But in what will you say this differs from that? + +_Socr._ Perhaps in nothing: but whether it seems to differ or not, +listen and examine with me. + +_Theæ._ I will, if I am able. + +_Socr._ To possess, therefore, does not appear to me to be the same as +to have: for instance, if any one having bought a garment, and having it +in his power, should not wear it, we should not say that he has it, but +that he possesses it. + +_Theæ._ And very properly. + +_Socr._ See then whether it is possible thus to possess science without +having it: just as if any one having caught some wild birds, as doves or +any others, and having constructed a dove-cote at home, should feed +them; we should probably say that in some respects he always has them, +because he possesses them: should we not? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But in another respect we should say that he has none of them, +but that he has acquired a power over them, since he has brought them +under his control, in an enclosure of his own, so as to take and have +them when he pleases, by catching whichever he wishes, and again of +letting them go: and this he is at liberty to do as often as he thinks +fit. + +_Theæ._ Such is the case. + +131. _Socr._ Again, therefore, as in a former part of our discussion we +constructed I know not what kind of waxen figment in the soul, so now +let us make in each soul a kind of aviary of all sorts of birds, some +being in flocks, apart from others, and others few together, and others +alone, flying amongst all the rest wherever it may chance. + +_Theæ._ Suppose it to be made: but what next? + +_Socr._ While we are children, we must say, that this receptacle is +empty, and instead of birds we must understand sciences; whatever +science, then, one has become possessed of and shut up in this +enclosure, one must say that he has learnt or discovered the thing of +which this is the science, and that this is to know. + +_Theæ._ Be it so. + +_Socr._ Again, therefore, when any one wishes to catch any one of these +sciences, and, when he has taken it, to have it, and again to let it go, +consider what words he requires, whether the same as before, when he +possessed them, or different ones. But from what follows you will more +clearly understand what I mean. Do you call arithmetic an art? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +132. _Socr._ Suppose this to be a catching of the sciences of every even +and odd number. + +_Theæ._ I do suppose it. + +_Socr._ By this art, then, I think, he has the sciences of numbers under +his control, and, if he pleases, transfers them to others. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And we say that he who transfers them teaches, and that he who +receives them learns, but that having them, by possessing them in that +aviary, he knows them. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +Socr. Attend now to what follows. Does not he who is a perfect +arithmetician know all numbers? for the sciences of all numbers are in +his soul. + +_Theæ._ How not? + +_Socr._ Does not then such a person sometimes calculate either something +within himself, or something else that is external, that is capable of +being calculated. + +_Theæ._ Undoubtedly. + +_Socr._ But to calculate we shall say is nothing else than to examine +what is the quantity of any number. + +_Theæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ What therefore he knows, he appears to examine, as if he did not +know, though we admitted that he knows all number. You surely hear such +questions as these. + +_Theæ._ I do. + +133. _Socr._ We, therefore, carrying on our comparison with the +possession and catching of doves, will say that this catching is of two +kinds, one before possessing for the sake of possessing, the other when +one has already obtained possession, for the purpose of taking and +having in the hands what was already possessed. So with respect to the +things of which a person has already acquired the science by learning, +and which he knew, he may learn these same things again, and recover and +retain the science of each, which he formerly possessed, but had not +ready in his mind. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ On this account, I just now asked, what words it is proper to +use in speaking of these things, when an arithmetician sets about +calculating, or a grammarian reading any thing. Shall we say that +knowing such a subject he again applies himself to learn from himself +what he knows? + +_Theæ._ This would be absurd, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Shall we say, then, that he is going to read or calculate what +he does not know, though we have granted him that he knows all letters +and all numbers? + +_Theæ._ This too would be unreasonable. + +134. _Socr._ Will you, then, that we say, that we care nothing at all +about words, in what way any one chooses to employ the words knowing and +learning, but, since we have settled that it is one thing to possess a +science, and another to have it, we maintain that it is impossible for a +person not to possess what he does possess, so that it never happens +that any one does not know what he knows, though it is possible for him +to form a false judgment respecting it? For it is possible for him not +to have the science of this particular thing, but another instead of it, +when hunting after some one of the sciences that he possesses as they +are flying about, he may by mistake take one instead of another; +accordingly when he thinks that eleven is twelve, he takes the science +of eleven instead of that of twelve, as it were taking a pigeon that he +possessed instead of a dove. + +_Theæ._ It is reasonable to suppose so. + +_Socr._ But when he takes that which he endeavours to take, then he is +not deceived, and judges truly: and thus we will say that false and true +judgment subsist, and none of the things which occasioned difficulty +before will any longer stand in our way. Perhaps you agree with me, or +what will you do? + +_Theæ._ Agree with you. + +135. _Socr._ We are freed then, from the dilemma of a man’s not knowing +what he knows: for it never happens that we do not possess what we do +possess, whether we are deceived respecting any thing or not. However, +another much worse inconvenience appears to me to present itself. + +_Theæ._ What is that? + +_Socr._ If the interchange of sciences can ever become false judgment. + +_Theæ._ But how? + +_Socr._ In the first place, that having the science of any thing one +should be ignorant of that thing, not through ignorance, but through the +science of the thing itself, and in the next place, that one should +judge this thing to be another thing and another thing this, how is it +not a great piece of absurdity, that when science is present the soul +should know nothing, but be ignorant of all things? For, from this mode +of reasoning, nothing hinders but that ignorance when present should +make us know something, and blindness should make us see, if science +will ever make a man ignorant. + +_Theæ._ Perhaps, Socrates, we have done wrong in making sciences only +take the place of the birds, and we ought to have supposed that various +kinds of ignorance were flying about in the soul with them, and that the +sportsman at one time taking science, and at another time ignorance, +with respect to the same thing, judges falsely through ignorance, but +truly through science. + +136. _Socr._ It is not by any means easy, Theætetus, to forbear praising +you: however, examine again what you have just said. For suppose it to +be as you say. He who takes ignorance, will judge falsely you say; is it +not so? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Yet surely he will not think that he judges falsely. + +_Theæ._ How should he? + +_Socr._ But truly, and he will fancy that he knows the things about +which he is deceived. + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ He will therefore judge that by sporting he has taken science, +and not ignorance. + +_Theæ._ Clearly. + +_Socr._ Having therefore made a long circuit, we have come back again to +our first doubt. For that critic will laugh at us and say, “Can any one, +my excellent friends, who knows both, science as well as ignorance, +think that what he knows is some other thing that he knows? or, knowing +neither of them, can judge that what he does not know, is some other +thing that he does not know? or, knowing one, and not the other, can he +suppose that what he knows is what he does not knew, or what he does not +know is what he does know? Will you tell me again, that there are +sciences of sciences and ignorances, which their possessor having +enclosed in some other ridiculous aviaries, or waxen figments, knows as +long as he possesses them, though he has them not ready in his soul? And +will you be thus compelled to revolve perpetually round the same circle, +without making any progress?” What answer shall we give to this, +Theætetus? + +137. _Theæ._ By Jupiter, Socrates, I have no notion what ought to be +said. + +_Socr._ Does not the argument, then, my boy, reprove us very properly, +and shew that we did wrong in searching for false judgment before +science, and neglecting that? But it is impossible to know this until we +have sufficiently discovered what science is. + +_Theæ._ It is necessary, Socrates, at present to think as you say. + +_Socr._ Again therefore, what shall one say from the beginning about +science? For we surely must not give it up yet. + +_Theæ._ By no means, unless you refuse to persevere. + +_Socr._ Tell me, then, how can we best speak concerning science so as +not to contradict ourselves. + +_Theæ._ As we attempted to do before, Socrates, for I know of no other +plan. + +_Socr._ What is that? + +_Theæ._ That true judgment is science. For to judge truly is surely free +from error, and whatever results from it is beautiful and good. + +_Socr._ He who acted as guide in fording a river, Theætetus, said that +it would shew its own depth; so if we go on in our enquiries, perhaps +the impediment that we meet with will shew us what we are in search of, +but if we stop nothing will be clear. + +_Theæ._ You say well; let us go on then and examine it. + +138. _Socr._ This then requires but a brief examination, for one whole +art shews that it is not science. + +_Theæ._ How so? and what art is it? + +_Socr._ That which belongs to those who are most renowned for wisdom, +whom they call orators and lawyers. For they, in fact, persuade, not by +teaching, but by making men form such judgments as they please. Do you +think that there are any teachers so clever as, when persons have not +been present while others were robbed of their money, or treated with +some other violence, to be able, while a little water is running, to +teach those persons sufficiently of the truth of what took place? + +_Theæ._ I by no means think so, but that they can persuade. + +_Socr._ But do you not say that to persuade is to make a person form a +judgment? + +_Theæ._ How otherwise? + +_Socr._ When, therefore, judges are justly persuaded about things which +can only be known by seeing and in no other way, then judging these +things from hearsay, do they not, when they form a true opinion, judge +without science, being persuaded properly, since they decide correctly? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +139. _Socr._ But, my friend, if true judgment and science are the same, +a perfect judge could never form a correct judgment without science; but +now each appears to be different from the other. + +_Theæ._ I had forgotten, Socrates, what I heard some one say, but now I +remember it: he said that true judgment in conjunction with reason is +science, but that without reason it is out of the pale of science, and +that things for which a reason cannot be given cannot be known; these +were his very words; and that things for which a reason can be given are +known. + +_Socr_. You speak admirably well. But how do you distinguish the things +that can be known from those that cannot? tell me, for perhaps you and I +have heard the same thing. + +_Theæ._ I know not whether I can explain it; but I could follow another +person describing it, I think. + +_Socr._ Hear, then, a dream for a dream. For I too seem to myself to +have heard some people say, that the first elements, as it were, from +which we and all other things are composed, cannot be explained by +reason; for that each several element by itself can only be named, but +that nothing else can be predicated of it, neither that it exists nor +does not exist; for that this would be to attribute to it existence or +non-existence, whereas nothing ought to be added to it, if one means to +speak of the thing itself only; neither must we add to it the term the, +or that, or each, or only, or this, or many others of the same kind; for +these are constantly varying and are applied to all things, and are +different from the things to which they are added. 140. But we ought, if +it were possible, to speak of the thing itself, and, if it has a +definition peculiar to itself, to speak of it without the addition of +any thing else. Now, however, it is impossible for any of the first +elements to be explained by a definition, for it does not admit of any +thing else than being named, for it has only a name; but the things that +have been composed from these, as they are complex, so their names, when +connected together, constitute a definition; for a connection of names +is the essence of definition. Thus the elements themselves cannot be +defined or known, but only perceived, but things compounded of them can +be both known and defined, and apprehended by true judgment. When, +therefore, any one forms a true judgment of any thing, without +explanation, his soul indeed perceives the truth respecting it, but does +not know it, for he who is not able to give and receive an explanation +of a thing must be ignorant of that thing, but when he adds an +explanation to it then he is capable of knowing all these things, and +may be perfect in science. Is it thus that you have heard the dream, or +in some other way? + +_Theæ._ In this way precisely. + +141. _Socr._ Are you willing then that we should settle it thus, that +science is true judgment in conjunction with reason? + +_Theæ._ Exactly so. + +_Socr._ Have we, then, Theætetus, thus on this very day discovered what +of old so many sages sought for and grew old before they found it? + +_Theæ._ For my part, Socrates, it appears to me that what has been now +stated is well said. + +_Socr._ And it is reasonable that this very thing should be the case; +for what science could there be without reason and right judgment? +However one of the things that were stated displeases me. + +_Theæ._ Which is that? + +_Socr._ That which seems to be very forcibly said, that the elements are +unknown, but that the natures of things compounded of them are known. + +_Theæ._ Is not that right? + +_Socr._ We must see. For we have as sureties for this doctrine the +examples which he used who said all these things. + +_Theæ._ What are they? + +_Socr._ The elements of letters and syllables: do you think that he who +said what we have mentioned had any thing else in view when he said it? + +_Theæ._ No, but these. + +142. _Socr._ Let us, then, apply ourselves to these and examine them, or +rather ourselves, whether we learnt letters in this way, or not. First +of all then do syllables admit of a definition, but are the elements +undefinable? + +_Theæ._ Probably. + +_Socr._ It certainly appears so to me, too. If, then, any one should ask +thus respecting the first syllable of the word Socrates, “Theætetus, +tell me, what is _So_?” what would you answer? + +_Theæ._ That it is _S_ and _o_. + +_Socr._ Have you not, then, this definition of the syllable? + +_Theæ._ I have. + +_Socr._ Come then, in the same way give me the definition of the letter +_S_. + +_Theæ._ But how can any one speak of the elements of an element? For +_S_, Socrates, is a consonant, only a sound, as of the tongue hissing; +again the letter _B_ has neither voice nor sound, nor have most of the +elements. So that it is very right to say that they are undefinable, +since the most distinct among them, to the number of seven, have only a +sound, but do not admit of any definition. + +_Socr._ Thus far, then, my friend, we have determined rightly with +respect to science. + +_Theæ._ We appear to have done so. + +143. _Socr._ What then? have we shewn rightly that the element cannot be +known, but that the syllable can? + +_Theæ._ It is probable. + +_Socr._ Come then, do we say that a syllable is both the elements, and, +if there are more than two, all of them, or some one form resulting from +their conjunction? + +_Theæ._ All, we appear to me to say. + +_Socr._ Observe, then, with respect to the two letters _S_ and _o_; both +of them together form the first syllable of my name, does not then he +who knows this syllable know both of them? + +_Theæ._ How should he not? + +_Socr._ He knows, therefore, _S_ and _o_. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But what? is he ignorant of each of them, and knowing neither, +does he know both? + +_Theæ._ That would be strange and absurd, Socrates. + +_Socr._ However, if it is necessary to know each, in order that he may +know both, it is quite necessary for a person who is ever to know a +syllable to know the elements first, and thus our former statement will +escape us and be off. + +_Theæ._ And very suddenly too. + +_Socr._ For we did not guard it well. For, perhaps, we ought to suppose +that a syllable does not consist of the elements, but of some one +species resulting from them, which has a form peculiar to itself, +different from the elements. + +_Theæ._ Certainly; and perhaps the case is rather in this way than in +the other. + +144. _Socr._ We must examine it, and not so unmanfully abandon a weighty +and venerable statement. + +_Theæ._ We ought not, indeed. + +_Socr._ Let it be then as we just now said; let the syllable be one form +resulting from the several elements, connected together, as well in +letters as in all other things. + +_Theæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ It must, therefore, have no parts. + +_Theæ._ Why not? + +_Socr._ Because where there are parts, the whole must necessarily be the +same as all the parts: or do you say that a whole resulting from parts +is one certain species different from all the parts? + +_Theæ._ I do. + +_Socr._ Whether do you call all and the whole the same, or each +different from the other? + +_Theæ._ I cannot say any thing for certain, but since you bid me answer +boldly, I venture to say that they are different. + +_Socr._ Your boldness, Theætetus, is right; but whether your answer is +so, must be considered. + +_Theæ._ It must indeed. + +_Socr._ Does not the whole, then, differ from all, according to your +present statement? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +145. _Socr._ But what, is there any difference between all the parts, +and the all? for instance when we say one, two, three, four, five, six, +or twice three, or thrice two, or four and two, or three and two and +one, or five and one, whether in all these cases do we say the same +thing, or that which is different? + +_Theæ._ The same thing. + +_Socr._ Do we say any thing else than six? + +_Theæ._ Nothing. + +_Socr._ And in each mode of speaking did we not mention all the parts of +six? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Again, therefore, when we say all the parts do we say nothing? + +_Theæ._ We necessarily do say something. + +_Socr._ Do we say any thing else than six? + +_Theæ._ Nothing. + +_Socr._ In all things, then, that consist of number, do we not call the +all and all the parts the same thing? + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ Thus then let us speak of them; the number of an acre and an +acre are the same; is it not so? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And the number of a stadium in like manner? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And moreover the number of an army, and an army, and in like +manner with respect to all other things of the kind? For all number is +all that which each of them is. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But is the number of each of them any thing else than its parts? + +_Theæ._ Nothing. + +_Socr._ Such things, then, as have parts must consist of parts? + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ But it is admitted that all the parts are the all, since all +number is the all. + +_Theæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ The whole, therefore, does not consist of parts; for it would be +all, if it were all the parts. + +_Theæ._ It seems not. + +_Socr._ But is a part a part of any thing else than a whole? + +_Theæ._ Yes, of the all. + +146. _Socr._ You fight manfully, Theætetus. But is not this very all, +the all when nothing is wanting to it? + +_Theæ._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ And will not the whole be this very same thing when nothing is +wanting to it? but when any thing is wanting, it is neither the whole, +nor all, each becoming the same thing from the same cause? + +_Theæ._ It appears to me now, that the whole and the all in no respect +differ from each other. + +_Socr._ Did we not say, that where there are parts, the whole and the +all will be all the parts? + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Again, therefore, to return to what I just now attempted to +prove, if a syllable is not the elements, does it not necessarily follow +that it has not elements as parts of itself, or that, if it is the same +with them, it must be equally known with them? + +_Theæ._ Just so. + +_Socr._ In order that this might not follow, did we not suppose it to be +different from them? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ What then? if the elements are not parts of a syllable, can you +mention any other things that are parts of a syllable, and yet not its +elements? + +147. _Theæ._ By no means; for if, Socrates, I should admit that it has +parts, it would surely be ridiculous to reject the elements and search +for other things. + +_Socr._ From what you now say, therefore, Theætetus, a syllable must +certainly be some one indivisible form. + +_Theæ._ So it seems. + +_Socr._ Do you remember then, my friend, that we admitted a little +before, and thought it was well said, that there cannot be a definition +of first elements, of which other things are composed, because each +considered by itself is uncompounded, and neither can the term “being” +be correctly attributed to it nor the term “this,” because these things +would be said as different and foreign to it; and indeed this very cause +makes it undefinable and unknown. + +_Theæ._ I do remember. + +_Socr._ Is there any other cause, then, than this of its being simple +and indivisible? I for my part see no other. + +_Theæ._ There does not appear to be any. + +_Socr._ Does not the syllable, then, fall under the same class as the +elements, since it has not parts, and is one form? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +148. _Socr._ If, therefore, a syllable is many elements, and a whole, +and these are its parts, syllables and elements may be equally known and +defined, since all the parts have been found to be the same as the +whole. + +_Theæ._ By all means. + +_Socr._ But if it is one and indivisible, a syllable equally as an +element must be undefinable and unknown; for the same cause will make +them alike. + +_Theæ._ I cannot say otherwise. + +_Socr._ We must not, therefore, allow this, if any one should say, that +a syllable is known and definable, but an element the contrary. + +_Theæ._ We must not, if we admit this reasoning. + +_Socr._ What then? should you pay any more attention to one who should +assert the contrary of what you are conscious happened to yourself in +learning your letters? + +_Theæ._ What is that? + +_Socr._ That in learning you did nothing else than endeavour to +distinguish the elements both by sight and hearing, each separated by +itself, in order that their position when pronounced or written, might +not confuse you. + +_Theæ._ You say most truly. + +_Socr._ And at your music-master’s was learning perfectly any thing else +than the being able to follow each note, and distinguish to what chord +it belonged, which every one would allow is called the elements of +music. + +_Theæ._ Nothing else. + +149. _Socr._ If, therefore, we may conjecture from the elements and +syllables in which we are skilled, to others, we shall say that the +class of elements are capable of a much more clear and distinct +knowledge than that of syllables, in order to our acquiring each study +in perfection; and if any one should say that a syllable is known, but +that an element is by nature unknown, we shall think that he is jesting +either intentionally or unintentionally. + +_Theæ._ Most assuredly. + +_Socr._ Moreover, other proofs of this might still be found, as it +appears to me; but let us not lose sight of the question before us by +considering them, that is to say, what is meant by the statement, that +reason united to true judgment is the most perfect science. + +_Theæ._ This, then, we must consider. + +_Socr._ Come then, what is the signification of the word _logos_[164]: +for it appears to me to mean one of three things. + +----- + +Footnote 164: + + As no one English word will express the three different meanings + contained in the word λόγος, I have thought it better to retain the + original word throughout this part of the argument. + +----- + +_Theæ._ What are they? + +_Socr._ The first would be to make one’s thought clear by the voice, +through the means of verbs and nouns, impressing one’s judgment on what +flows from the mouth, as it were on a mirror, or water; does not _logos_ +appear to you to be something of this kind? + +_Theæ._ It does: and we say that he who does this speaks. + +150. _Socr._ Every one, therefore, is able to do this more quickly or +slowly, that is, can shew what he thinks about every thing, unless he is +altogether dumb or deaf, and thus all who form right judgments on any +matter, will be found to do so in conjunction with _logos_, and right +judgment will never subsist without science. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ We must not, therefore, too readily condemn him as having spoken +nothing to the purpose, who asserted that science is that which we are +now examining. For perhaps he who said it did not mean that, but that a +person, when asked what each thing is, should be able to give an answer +to the questioner by means of each thing’s element. + +_Theæ._ For instance, how do you mean, Socrates? + +_Socr._ As Hesiod for instance says of a chariot, that it is made of a +hundred pieces of wood, which I, for my part, could not enumerate, +neither do I think could you, but we should be contented, if when asked +what a chariot is, we could say wheels, axle, frame, rails, and yoke. + +151. _Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But he probably would think us ridiculous, just as if we, when +asked concerning your name and having answered syllable by syllable, +thereby judging and saying correctly what we do say, should think +ourselves grammarians, and that we know and speak grammatically the +definition of the name of Theætetus; whereas it is not possible to say +any thing scientifically, before one has given a complete account of +each thing by means of its elements, together with true judgment, as was +observed before, if I mistake not. + +_Theæ._ It was observed. + +_Socr._ So, too, we have a correct judgment respecting a chariot, but he +who is able to describe its nature by means of those hundred pieces, by +adding this, both adds _logos_ to true judgment, and instead of forming +a mere judgment becomes an artist and knowing in the nature of a +chariot, in that he gives a complete account of the whole, by means of +its elements. + +_Theæ._ Does not this appear to you, Socrates, to be well said? + +_Socr._ If it appears to you, my friend, and you allow that the +description of each thing by its element is _logos_, and that that made +by syllables, or even larger parts is devoid of _logos_, tell me, that +we may examine it. + +_Theæ._ I certainly do allow it. + +_Socr._ Whether do you think that any one has a scientific knowledge of +any thing, when the same thing appears to him at one time to belong to +the same thing and at another to a different thing, or when he forms at +one time one judgment and at another a different judgment about the same +thing? + +_Theæ._ By Jupiter, not I. + +152. _Socr._ Have you forgotten then, that in learning your letters at +first both you and others did this? + +_Theæ._ Do you mean that we thought that at one time one letter, and at +another time another, belonged to the same syllable, and that we placed +the same letter at one time to its proper syllable, and at another time +to another? + +_Socr._ I do mean that. + +_Theæ._ By Jupiter, I do not forget, nor do I think that they have +knowledge who are in this condition. + +_Socr._ What then? when a person at that time of life writing the name +Theætetus, thinks that he ought to write and does write _Th_ and _e_, +and again attempting to write Theodorus, thinks that he ought to write +and does write _T_ and _e_, shall we say that he knows the first +syllable of your names? + +_Theæ._ We have just now admitted, that a person in this condition does +not yet know. + +_Socr._ Does any thing, then, hinder the same person from being in this +condition with respect to the second, third, and fourth syllable? + +_Theæ._ Nothing. + +153. _Socr._ Will he not then have the description by means of the +elements, and write Theætetus with correct judgment, when he writes it +in its proper order? + +_Theæ._ Clearly. + +_Socr._ Will he not still be void of science, though he judges +correctly, as we said? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And yet he has _logos_ together with correct judgment; for he +wrote it knowing the order of the elements, which we allowed to be +_logos_. + +_Theæ._ True. + +_Socr._ There is, therefore, my friend, correct judgment accompanied +with _logos_ which must not yet be called science. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ We have been enriched then, as it appears, in a dream, in +thinking that we possess the truest definition of science: or shall we +not condemn it yet? For perhaps some one may not define _logos_ in this +manner, but may consider it to be the remaining species of the three, +one of which we said would be adopted by him who defined science to be +correct judgment accompanied with _logos_. + +_Theæ._ You have rightly reminded me; for there is still one left. For +the first was an image of the thought as it were expressed by the voice: +and that just now mentioned was a proceeding to the whole by means of +the elements: but what do you say the third is? + +_Socr._ That which most men would say it is, the being able to mention +some mark by which the object of enquiry differs from all other things. + +_Theæ._ Can you give me a _logos_ of any thing by way of example? + +154. _Socr._ For instance, if you please, with respect to the sun, I +think it would be sufficient for you to admit, that it is the most +luminous of the heavenly bodies that move round the earth. + +_Theæ._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Observe then why this was said. It is that which we just now +mentioned, that when you find the difference of each thing, by which it +differs from all others, you will find, as some say, the _logos_; but as +long as you lay hold of some common quality, you will have the _logos_ +of those things to which this common quality belongs. + +_Theæ._ I understand; and it appears to me very proper to call such a +thing _logos_. + +_Socr._ He, therefore, who together with correct judgment respecting any +thing whatever can find out its difference from all other things, will +have arrived at the knowledge of that of which he before only formed a +judgment. + +_Theæ._ We say it certainly is so. + +_Socr._ Now, however, Theætetus, since I have come near what has been +said, as if it were a picture in perspective, I find that I do not +understand it in the least, but while I stood at a distance it appeared +to me to have some meaning. + +155. _Theæ._ How is this? + +_Socr._ I will tell you, if I can. If, when I have a correct judgment +respecting you, I likewise find your _logos_, then I know you, but if +not, I only form a judgment. + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But _logos_ was the explanation of your difference. + +_Theæ._ It was. + +_Socr._ When, therefore, I formed a judgment only, is it not true that I +reached by my thought none of those things by which you differ from +others? + +_Theæ._ It seems that you did not. + +_Socr._ I, therefore, thought of some common qualities, none of which +belong to you more than to any one else. + +_Theæ._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ Come, then, by Jupiter, how in such a case did I form a judgment +of you rather than of any one else? For suppose me to be thinking that +this is Theætetus, who is a man, and has nose, eyes, a mouth, and so on +with each several member. Will this thought cause me to think of +Theætetus rather than of Theodorus, or, as the saying is, the last of +the Mysians? + +_Theæ._ How should it? + +156. _Socr._ But if I not only think of one who has nose and eyes, but +also of one who has a snub nose and prominent eyes, shall I in that case +think of you rather than of myself, or any other persons of that +description? + +_Theæ._ Not at all. + +_Socr._ But I think I shall not form the image of Theætetus in my mind, +until his snubbiness shall have impressed on me and left with me some +mark different from all other instances of snubbiness that I have seen, +and so with respect to the other parts of which you are made up; which, +if I should meet you to-morrow, would recal you to my mind, and make me +form a correct judgment respecting you. + +_Theæ._ Most true. + +_Socr._ Right judgment, therefore, respecting each object has to do with +difference. + +_Theæ._ It appears so. + +_Socr._ What then will become of adding _logos_ to correct judgment? For +if it means that we should moreover form a judgment of the manner in +which any thing differs from others, the injunction will be very +ridiculous. + +_Theæ._ How so? + +_Socr._ It bids us add a right judgment of the manner in which things +differ from others, when we have a right judgment of the manner in which +they differ from others. And thus the turning round of a scytala, or a +pestle, or any other proverb of the kind, would be nothing compared with +this injunction, though it might more properly be called the advice of a +blind man; for to bid us add those things that we already have, in order +that we may learn what we already have formed judgments about, seems +remarkably suited to one who is utterly blind. + +_Theæ._ Tell me, then, what did you mean by asking me just now? + +157. _Socr._ If, O boy, in bidding us add _logos_ it bids us know, but +not form a judgment of the difference, this most beautiful of all the +definitions of science would be a delightful thing: for to know, surely, +is to acquire science. Is it not? + +_Theæ._ Yes. + +_Socr._ When asked, therefore, as it appears, what science is, he will +answer, that it is correct judgment with the science of difference. For, +according to him, this will be the addition of _logos_. + +_Theæ._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ But it is altogether foolish, when we are searching for science, +to say that it is correct judgment with science, either of difference or +any thing else. Neither perception, therefore, Theætetus, nor true +judgment, nor _logos_ united with true judgment, can be science. + +_Theæ._ It seems not. + +_Socr._ Are we, then, still pregnant and in labour, my friend, with +reference to science, or have we brought forth every thing? + +_Theæ._ And by Jupiter, with your help, I have said more than I had in +myself. + +_Socr._ Does not, then, our midwife’s art pronounce that all these +things are empty, and not worth rearing? + +_Theæ._ Assuredly. + +158. _Socr._ If, therefore, after this you should wish to become +pregnant with other things, Theætetus, and if you do become so, you will +be full of better things by means of the present discussion; but if you +should be empty, you will be less troublesome to your companions, and +more meek through modesty, in not thinking that you know what you do not +know. For thus much only my art is able to accomplish, but nothing more, +nor do I know any of the things which others do who are and have been +great and wonderful men. But this midwife’s art I and my mother received +from the deity; she about women, and I for young and noble men and such +as are beautiful. Now, however, I must go to the king’s porch, to answer +the indictment which Melitus has preferred against me: to-morrow, +Theodorus, let us meet here again. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE EUTHYPHRON. + + +Euthyphron, a person who professes to be thoroughly conversant in the +knowledge of divine things, is represented as meeting Socrates at the +king’s porch, that is, the entrance of the court in which trials for +murder and impiety were carried on. He is surprised at seeing Socrates +at such a spot, for he cannot believe that he has a cause pending there. +Socrates tells him that he is indicted by one Melitus, a person of no +note at Athens, but one who knows how to govern the city rightly, for +that he charges Socrates with impiety in introducing new gods and +corrupting the youth. Socrates then asks Euthyphron whether he too has a +cause in the same court, and is informed that he has indicted his own +father for murder, because he had occasioned the death of one of their +hired servants, who had himself first slain a slave of Euthyphron’s +father, and then been cast bound into a ditch, where he died from hunger +and cold. On hearing this, Socrates asks whether he has such a perfect +knowledge of holiness and impiety that he is sure he is right in +bringing his father to trial; and on Euthyphron’s asserting that he has, +Socrates begs that he will accept him for his disciple, in order that he +may learn how to clear himself in his own approaching trial, and first +of all desires to know what holiness and impiety are. Euthyphron +confidently answers that what he is now doing is holy, namely, to +prosecute any one who acts unjustly, whoever he may be, but that not to +prosecute such an one is impious. Socrates, however, is not satisfied +with this answer, for that he did not ask about particular actions, but +about holiness in the abstract. “That, then, which is pleasing to the +gods is holy,” says Euthyphron. But Socrates shews that different things +are pleasing to different gods, so that the same things are both loved +and hated by divers of them, whence it follows that the same things are +both holy and unholy. + +Euthyphron, feeling the force of this objection, next says that the holy +is that which all the gods love, and the impious that which they all +hate: but here again Socrates shews that this cannot be a correct +definition of holiness, for that it is not holy because they love it, +but they love it because it is holy. To help him out of his difficulty, +Socrates suggests that holiness is a part of justice; to which +Euthyphron assents, and adds that it is that part of it which is +concerned about our care for the gods. But, asks Socrates, what care for +the gods will holiness be? A kind of service paid to them, is the +answer. But to what end do our services of the gods avail? Euthyphron +evades the question by saying they are many and beautiful; but when +further pressed, he says that holiness consists in sacrificing and +praying to the gods, wherein, he is led to admit, men beg those things +that they need, and sacrifice such things as the gods need, from whence +Socrates concludes that holiness is a kind of traffic between gods and +men. But it is clear that the gods cannot be benefited by men; +therefore, as Euthyphron says, it must be that which is most dear. But +this definition of holiness had been already rejected. Socrates, +therefore, proposes to renew the enquiry, but Euthyphron, finding +himself defeated at all points, suddenly breaks off the discussion, on +pretence of business elsewhere. + + + + + EUTHYPHRON, + + OR + + ON HOLINESS. + + EUTHYPHRON. SOCRATES. + + ------- + + +_Euth._ What new thing has happened, Socrates, that you have left your +haunts in the Lyceum, and are now waiting about the king’s porch! You +surely have not a trial before the king as I have. + +_Socr._ The Athenians, Euthyphron, do not call it a trial, but an +indictment. + +_Euth._ What say you! Some one, it seems, has preferred an indictment +against you, for I cannot believe that you have indicted any one else. + +_Socr._ Surely not. + +_Euth._ Has some one else, then, indicted you? + +_Socr._ Certainly. + +_Euth._ Who is he? + +_Socr._ I do not myself very well know the man, Euthyphron; for he +appears to me to be young and unknown; however they call him Melitus, I +think; and he is of the borough of Pithos, if you know any Melitus of +Pithos, who has lank hair, a thin beard, and a hook nose. + +_Euth._ I don’t know him, Socrates, but what indictment has he preferred +against you? + +_Socr._ What? One not unworthy of a high-minded man, as it appears to +me; for it is no contemptible matter for one who is so young, to be +versed in so weighty a business. For he knows, as he says, how the youth +are corrupted, and who they are that corrupt them. And he appears to be +a shrewd man, and, observing my ignorance, he comes before the city, as +before a mother, to accuse me of corrupting those of the same age with +himself. And he appears to me to be the only one of our statesmen who +knows how to govern rightly; for it is right first of all to pay +attention to the young, that they may become as virtuous as possible, +just as it is proper for a good husbandman first of all to pay attention +to the young plants, and afterwards the others: so Melitus probably +first purges us who corrupt the blossoms of youth, as he says; then +after this it is clear that by paying attention to the older men, he +will be the cause of very many and great blessings to the city, as may +be expected to happen from one who makes such a beginning. + +2. _Euth._ I wish it were so, Socrates; but I dread lest the contrary +should happen. For, in reality, he appears to me, in attempting to +injure you, to begin by assailing the city from the hearth. But tell me, +by doing what does he say that you corrupt the youth? + +_Socr._ Absurd even to hear mentioned, my admirable friend: for he says +that I am a maker of gods, and, as if I made new gods and did not +believe in the ancient ones, he has indicted me on their account, as he +says. + +_Euth._ I understand, Socrates, it is because you say that a demon +constantly attends you. As if, then, you introduced innovations in +religion he has preferred this indictment against you, and he comes to +accuse you before the court, knowing that such charges are readily +entertained by the multitude. And me too, when I say any thing in the +public assembly concerning divine things, and predict to them what is +going to happen, they ridicule as mad; and although nothing that I have +predicted has not turned out to be true, yet they envy all such men as +we are. However we ought not to heed them, but pursue our own course. + +3. _Socr._ But, my dear Euthyphron, to be laughed at is perhaps of no +consequence. For the Athenians, as it appears to me, do not care very +much whether they think a man is clever, so long as he does not +communicate his wisdom; but when they think a man makes others so, they +are angry, either through envy, as you say, or from some other cause. + +_Euth._ With respect to that matter, how they are affected towards me I +am not very anxious to try. + +_Socr._ For perhaps you seem to shew yourself but rarely, and to be +unwilling to impart your wisdom; but I am afraid that, from my love of +mankind, I appear to them to tell every man too freely whatever I know, +not only without pay, but even gladly offering myself, if any one is +willing to listen to me. If then, as I just now said, they were going to +laugh at me, as you say they do at you, there would be nothing +unpleasant in passing some time in a court of justice, jesting and +laughing; but if they are in earnest, how this affair may terminate is +unknown, except to you prophets. + +_Euth._ Perhaps, however, it will be of no consequence, Socrates, but +you will conduct your cause to your mind, as I think I shall mine. + +4. _Socr._ Have you too a cause, Euthyphron? Do you defend it, or +prosecute? + +_Euth._ I prosecute. + +_Socr._ Whom? + +_Euth._ One, in prosecuting whom, I seem to be mad. + +_Socr._ What then? do you prosecute some one that can fly? + +_Euth._ He is very far from being able to fly, for he happens to be very +old. + +_Socr._ Who is he? + +_Euth._ My father. + +_Socr._ Your father, my excellent friend? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But what is the charge, and what is the trial about? + +_Euth._ Murder, Socrates. + +_Socr._ By Hercules! Surely, Euthyphron, the generality of men are +ignorant how this can ever be right. For I do not think any common +person could do this properly, but he must be very far advanced in +wisdom. + +_Euth._ Far indeed, by Jupiter, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Is it any one of your relations who has been killed by your +father? It must be so; for surely you would not prosecute him for the +murder of a stranger. + +_Euth._ Ridiculous, Socrates, to think that it makes any difference +whether the person killed is a stranger or a relation, and that we ought +not to consider this only, whether he killed him justly or not, and, if +justly, let him go, but if not, prosecute him, even though the murderer +should live at the same hearth and the same table with you. For the +pollution is equal, if you knowingly associate with such a one, and do +not purify both yourself and him by bringing him to justice. However, +the deceased was a dependant of our’s, and when we were farming at +Naxos, he worked there for us, for hire. This man, then, having drunk +too much wine and being in a passion with one of our slaves, slew him. +My father, therefore, having bound his hands and feet, and thrown him +into a pit, sends a man here to enquire of the interpreter of religious +matters, what he ought to do with him; and in the mean time he neglected +the prisoner, and took no care of him as being a murderer, and as if it +was of no consequence if he died; which did happen. For he died from +hunger, cold, and the chains, before the messenger returned from the +interpreter. For this reason my father and all my relatives are angry +with me, because I, for the sake of a murderer, accuse my father of +murder, who, as they say, did not kill him, and even if he had killed +him, as the deceased was a murderer, they say that I ought not to +concern myself about such a man; for that it is impious for a son to +prosecute his father for murder; little knowing, Socrates, what the +divine rule is with respect to holiness and impiety. + +_Socr._ But, by Jupiter, Euthyphron, do you think you have such an +accurate knowledge of divine things, how they are circumstanced, with +respect both to things holy and impious, that those things having been +done as you say, you are not afraid, in bringing your father to trial, +lest you should commit an impious action? + +_Euth._ I should be a sorry person, Socrates, nor would Euthyphron in +any respect excel the generality of men, if I did not know all such +things accurately. + +5. _Socr._ Admirable Euthyphron, it will be a most excellent thing for +me to become your disciple, and, before Melitus’s indictment comes on +for hearing, to object this very thing to him, saying, that I hitherto +deemed it of the utmost consequence to be acquainted with divine things, +and that now, since he says I am guilty of acting rashly, and +introducing innovations with respect to divine things, I have become +your disciple. If then, I should say, Melitus, you admit that Euthyphron +is wise in such matters and thinks rightly, suppose that I do so too, +and do not bring me to trial; but if otherwise, call him, the teacher, +to account before you do me, as one who corrupts the elders, both me and +his father, me by teaching me, and him by admonishing and punishing him: +and if he is not persuaded by me and does not let me off the trial, or +indict you instead of me, it will be necessary to say these very things +in the court, which I have already objected to him. + +_Euth._ By Jupiter, Socrates, if he should attempt to indict me, I +should find, I think, his weak side, and we should much sooner have a +discussion in the court about him than about me. + +_Socr._ And I, my dear friend, knowing this, am anxious to become your +disciple, being persuaded that some others and this Melitus do not +appear even to see you, though he has so very keenly and easily seen +through me, as to indict me for impiety. 6. Now therefore, by Jupiter, +tell me what you just now asserted you know so well; what do you say is +piety and impiety, both with respect to murder and other things? Is not +holiness itself the same with itself in every action, and again, is not +impiety, which is contrary to all holiness, in every case similar to +itself, and has not every thing that is impious some one character with +respect to impiety? + +_Euth._ Most assuredly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Tell me, then, what you say holiness is, and what impiety? + +_Euth._ I say, then, that that is holy which I am now doing, to +prosecute any one who acts unjustly either with respect to murder or +sacrilege, or who commits any similar offence, whether he be one’s +father or mother, or whoever else he may be, but not to prosecute him is +impious. For observe, Socrates, what a great proof I will give you that +the law is so, as I have also said to others, shewing that it is rightly +done, when one does not spare one who acts impiously, whoever he may be. +For all men believe that Jupiter is the best and most just of the gods, +and yet they admit that he put his own father in chains, because he +unjustly swallowed his children, and again, that he mutilated his father +for other similar reasons, but they are indignant with me, because I +prosecute my father for having acted unjustly, and thus these men +contradict themselves with respect to the gods and me. + +_Socr._ Is this the reason then, Euthyphron, for which I am defendant in +this indictment, because when any one says things of this kind +respecting the gods, I admit them with difficulty? on which account, as +it seems, some one will say that I am guilty. Now, therefore, if these +things appear so to you likewise, who are well versed in such matters, +we must of necessity, as it seems, agree with you. For what else can we +say, who acknowledge that we know nothing about these things? But tell +me, by Jupiter, who presides over friendship, do you think that these +things did really happen so? + +_Euth._ And things still more wonderful than these, Socrates, which the +multitude are unacquainted with. + +_Socr._ Do you then think that there is in reality war among the gods +one with another, and fierce enmities and battles, and many other things +of the kind such as are related by the poets, and with representations +of which by good painters both other sacred places have been decorated, +and moreover in the great Panathenaic festival a veil full of such +representations is carried into the Acropolis. Must we say that these +things are true, Euthyphron? + +_Euth._ Not these only, Socrates; but, as I just now said, I can, if you +please, relate to you many other things respecting divine affairs, which +I am sure you will be astonished to hear. + +7. _Socr._ I should not wonder; but you shall relate these things to me +hereafter, at our leisure. Now, however, endeavour to explain to me more +clearly what I just now asked you. For you have not yet, my friend, +sufficiently answered my question as to holiness what it is, but you +have told me that what you are now doing is holy, prosecuting your +father for murder. + +_Euth._ And I said the truth, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Perhaps so. But, Euthyphron, you may also say that many other +things are holy. + +_Euth._ For such is the case. + +_Socr._ Do you remember, then, that I did not beg this of you, to teach +me some one or two from among many holy things, but the particular +character itself by which all holy things are holy? For you surely said +that unholy things are unholy, and holy things holy, from one character: +do you not remember? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ Teach me, then, this very character, what it is, in order that +looking to it, and using it as a model, I may say that such a thing of +all that you or any one else does is holy, and that what is not such is +not holy. + +_Euth._ But if you wish it, Socrates, I will also tell you this. + +_Socr._ I do indeed wish it. + +_Euth._ That, then, which is pleasing to the gods is holy, and that +which is not pleasing to them is impious? + +_Socr._ Admirably, Euthyphron, you have answered just as I begged you to +answer. Whether truly, however, I do not yet know, but you will +doubtless convince me that what you say is true. + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +8. _Socr._ Come then, let us consider what we say. A thing that is +pleasing to the gods, and a man who is pleasing to the gods, are holy; +but a thing that is hateful to the gods, and a man that is hateful to +the gods, are impious; but the holy is not the same with the unholy, but +most contrary to it: is it not so? + +_Euth._ Assuredly. + +_Socr._ And this appears to have been well said. + +_Euth._ I think so, Socrates; for it has been said. + +_Socr._ And that the gods quarrel, Euthyphron, and are at variance with +each other, and that there are enmities amongst them one towards +another: has not this also been said? + +_Euth._ It has. + +_Socr._ But, my excellent friend, variance about what occasions enmity +and anger? Let us consider it thus. If you and I differed about numbers, +which of two was the greater, would a difference on this point make us +enemies and angry with each other, or having recourse to computation, +should we soon be freed from such dissension? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And if we differed about the greater and the less, by having +recourse to measuring should we not soon put an end to our difference? + +_Euth._ Such is the case. + +_Socr._ And by having recourse to weighing, as I think, we should be +able to decide respecting the heavier and the lighter? + +_Euth._ How not? + +_Socr._ About what then disagreeing and in what being unable to come to +a decision, do we become enemies to, and angry with, each other? Perhaps +you cannot readily answer, but consider when I say whether they are +these, the just and the unjust, the beautiful and the base, the good and +the evil. Are not these the things about which disagreeing, and not +being able to arrive at a satisfactory decision respecting them, we +become enemies to each other when we do become so, both you and I, and +all other men? + +_Euth._ This, indeed, is difference itself, Socrates, and it is about +these things. + +_Socr._ But what? If the gods, Euthyphron, differ at all, must they not +differ about these very things? + +_Euth._ Most necessarily. + +_Socr._ According to your account, then, noble Euthyphron, different +gods think different things just, and beautiful and base, and good and +evil. For surely they could not quarrel with each other if they did not +differ about these things; is it not so? + +_Euth._ You say rightly. + +_Socr._ Do they not severally, then, love the things which they consider +beautiful and good and just, and hate their contraries? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And these same things, as you admit, some consider to be just, +and others unjust; disputing about which they quarrel and make war on +each other; is it not so? + +_Euth._ Just so. + +_Socr._ The same things, therefore, as it seems, are both hated and +loved by the gods, and these are both hateful to the gods and pleasing +to the gods. + +_Euth._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ From this reasoning also the same things must be holy and +unholy, Euthyphron? + +_Euth._ It appears so. + +9. _Socr._ You have not, therefore, answered my question, my admirable +friend: for I did not ask you this, what is at the same time both holy +and impious; but what is pleasing to the gods is also hateful to the +gods, as it seems. So that, Euthyphron, in punishing your father, as you +are now doing, it is not at all wonderful if in doing this you do what +is pleasing to Jupiter, but odious to Saturn and Heaven, and what is +pleasing to Vulcan, but odious to Juno; and if any other of the gods +differs from another on this point, to them also in like manner. + +_Euth._ But I think, Socrates, that no one of the gods will differ from +another about this, and say that he ought not to be punished who has +slain any one unjustly. + +_Socr._ But what? Have you ever heard any man doubting, Euthyphron, +whether he who has slain another unjustly, or has committed any other +injustice, ought to be punished? + +_Euth._ They never cease doubting about these things, both elsewhere and +in courts of justice. For they who commit very many acts of injustice +say and do every thing in their power to escape punishment. + +_Socr._ Do they also confess, Euthyphron, that they have acted unjustly, +and confessing, do they nevertheless say that they ought not to be +punished? + +_Euth._ They by no means say this. + +_Socr._ They do not, therefore, do and say every thing in their power. +For I think they dare not say nor doubt this, that if they act unjustly +they ought to suffer punishment; but, I think, they deny that they have +acted unjustly: is it not so? + +_Euth._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ They do not, therefore, doubt this, whether he who acts unjustly +ought to be punished; but this, perhaps, they doubt, who has acted +unjustly, and by doing what, and when. + +_Euth._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ Do not, then, the very same things happen to the gods if they +quarrel about things just and unjust, according to your statement, and +do not some say that they act unjustly towards each other, and others +again deny it? For surely, my admirable friend, no one, either of gods +or men, dare maintain this, that he who acts unjustly ought not to +suffer punishment. + +_Euth._ Yes, and what you say is true, Socrates, at least in general. + +_Socr._ But they who doubt, Euthyphron, doubt, I think, about each +particular that has been done, both men and gods, if the gods do doubt: +and when they differ about any action, some say that it has been done +justly, and others unjustly: is it not so? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +10. _Socr._ Come then, my dear Euthyphron, teach me too, that I may +become wiser, what proof you have that all the gods think he died +unjustly, who serving for wages and having committed homicide, and being +put in chains by the master of the deceased, died in his fetters before +he that put him in chains received an answer respecting him from the +interpreters, as to what he ought to do; and that for such a cause it is +right for a son to prosecute and demand judgment against his father. +Come, endeavour to make it clear to me, with respect to this, that all +the gods without exception consider this action to be right. And if you +make this sufficiently clear, I will never cease extolling you for your +wisdom. + +_Euth._ But perhaps this is no trifling matter, Socrates; though I could +prove it to you very plainly. + +_Socr._ I understand you; I appear to you to be more dull of +apprehension than the judges; for it is evident that you will prove to +them that it was unjust, and that all the gods hate such actions. + +_Euth._ Very plainly, Socrates, if only they will hear what I have to +say. + +11. _Socr._ But they will hear you, if only you shall appear to speak +well. However, while you were speaking, I made this reflexion, and +considered within myself: if Euthyphron should certainly convince me +that all the gods think such a death to be unjust, what more shall I +have learnt from Euthyphron as to what is holy, and what impious? For +this action, as it seems, would be hateful to the gods. Yet what was +lately defined has not appeared from this, namely what is holy, and what +not: for that which is hateful to some gods appeared also to be pleasing +to others. So that I grant you this, Euthyphron, and if you please let +all the gods think it unjust, and let them all hate it. Shall we, then, +make this correction in the definition, and say, that what all the gods +hate is impious, and what they love is holy; but that what some love, +and others hate, is neither, or both? Are you willing that we should +give this definition of the holy and the impious? + +_Euth._ What hinders, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Nothing hinders me, Euthyphron; but do you, for your part, +consider whether, assuming this, you can thus easily teach me what you +promised? + +_Euth._ But I should say that the holy is that which all the gods love, +and the contrary, the impious, that which all the gods hate. + +_Socr._ Shall we examine this, then, Euthyphron, whether it is well +said? or shall we let it pass, and thus concede both to ourselves and +others, that if any one only says that any thing is so, we shall allow +that it is? or must we examine what the speaker says? + +_Euth._ We must examine it: for my part, however, I think that this is +now well said. + +12. _Socr._ We shall soon, my good friend, know this more clearly. For +consider it in this way: Is the holy loved by the gods because it is +holy; or is it holy, because it is loved? + +_Euth._ I don’t understand what you mean, Socrates. + +_Socr._ I will endeavour, then, to express myself more clearly. We say +that a thing is carried, and carries; that it is led, and leads; that it +is seen, and sees: and you understand that all things of this kind are +different from each other, and in what they differ? + +_Euth._ For my part, I seem to understand it. + +_Socr._ Is not, then, that which is beloved one thing, and that which +loves different from it? + +_Euth._ How not? + +_Socr._ Tell me, then, is that which is carried, carried because one +carries it, or for some other reason? + +_Euth._ No, but for this. + +_Socr._ And that which is led, because one leads it, and that which is +seen, because one sees it? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ One does not therefore see a thing because it is seen, but on +the contrary it is seen because one sees it: nor does one lead a thing +because it is led, but it is led because one leads it: nor does one +carry a thing because it is carried, but it is carried because one +carries it. Is my meaning clear, then, Euthyphron? I mean this, that if +one does any thing, or suffers any thing, one does it not because it is +done; but it is done because one does it; nor does one suffer any thing +because it is suffered, but it is suffered because one suffers: do you +not admit this to be the case? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ Is not, then, the being loved, something either done or suffered +by some one? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ And is not the case the same with this as with all the former +instances; those who love it do not love it because it is loved, but it +is loved, because they love it? + +_Euth._ Necessarily so. + +_Socr._ What then do we say respecting holiness, Euthyphron? Do not all +the gods love it according to your statement? + +_Euth._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Is it for this reason, because it is holy, or for some other +reason? + +_Euth._ No, but for this. + +_Socr._ They love it then because it is holy, but it is not holy because +they love it. + +_Euth._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ Therefore because the gods love it it is beloved, and that which +is pleasing to the gods is pleasing to them. + +_Euth._ How not? + +_Socr._ That which is pleasing to the gods, therefore, is not holy, +Euthyphron, nor is that holy which is pleasing to the gods, as you say, +but one is different from the other. + +_Euth._ How so, Socrates? + +_Socr._ Because we agree that what is holy is therefore loved because it +is holy, and that it is not holy because they love it; is it not so? + +_Euth._ Yes. + +_Socr._ But that which is pleasing to the gods because the gods love it, +is from the very circumstance of their loving it pleasing to them; but +they do not love it because it is pleasing to them. + +_Euth._ You say truly. + +_Socr._ But, my dear Euthyphron, if the being pleasing to the gods and +being holy were the same thing, since that which is holy is loved +because it is holy, that which is pleasing to the gods would also be +loved because it is pleasing to them; and if that which is pleasing to +the gods were pleasing to them because they love it, that which is holy +would also be holy because they love it. Now, however, you see that they +are contrary, as being altogether different from each other. For the one +is such as is loved because they love it, but the other is loved because +it is of such a character that it ought to be loved. And you appear, +Euthyphron, when asked what holiness is, not to have been willing to +make known to me its essence, but to have mentioned an affection to +which this same holiness is subject, namely the being loved by all the +gods; but what it is, you have not yet told me. If therefore it is +agreeable to you, do not conceal it from me, but again say from the +beginning what holiness is, whether it is loved by the gods, or is +subject to any other affection: for we shall not differ about this. But +tell me frankly what the holy is and what the impious. + +_Euth._ But, Socrates, I know not how to tell you what I think. For +whatever we put forward some how constantly moves from its position, and +will not remain where we have placed it. + +_Socr._ What you have advanced, Euthyphron, appears to resemble the +statues of my ancestor Dædalus. And if I had said and laid down these +things, you would probably have joked me, for that owing to my +relationship to him, my works, by way of discussion, escape, and will +not remain where one places them. But now, for the hypotheses are yours, +there is need of some other raillery. For they will not remain with you, +as you too perceive yourself. + +_Euth._ But it appears to me, Socrates, that what has been said needs +pretty much the same raillery. For I am not the person who causes them +to shift about in this way and not remain in the same place, but you +appear to me to be the Dædalus. For as far as I am concerned, they would +have remained as they were. + +_Socr._ I appear, then, my friend, to have become much more skilful than +him in my art, in that he only made his own works moveable, but I +besides my own, as it seems, make those of others so. And this, +moreover, is the most wonderful thing in my art, that I am skilful +against any will. For I should wish that my reasonings should remain and +be immovably fixed, rather than have the riches of Tantalus, in addition +to the skill of Dædalus. But enough of this. 13. Since, however, you +appear to be too nice, I will assist you to shew how you may teach me +respecting holiness, and not be tired before you have done. For see, +whether it does not appear to you to be necessary that every thing that +is holy should be just. + +_Euth._ To me it does. + +_Socr._ Is, then, every thing that is just also holy, or is every thing +that is holy just, but not every thing that is just holy, but partly +holy, and partly something else? + +_Euth._ I do not follow your questions, Socrates. + +_Socr._ And yet you are younger no less than wiser than I am; but, as I +said, you are too delicate through abundance of wisdom. However, my +blessed friend, exert yourself; for it is not difficult to understand +what I mean. For I mean the contrary to what the poet said, who wrote, +“You are unwilling to mention Jove the creator who made this universe: +for where fear is there is also shame.” I, however, differ from this +poet. Shall I tell you in what respect? + +_Euth._ By all means. + +_Socr._ It does not appear to me, that where fear is there is also +shame. For there appear to me to be many who fearing diseases, poverty, +and many other things of the kind, fear indeed but are by no means +ashamed of what they fear. Does it not appear so to you? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But wherever shame is, there is also fear: for is there any one +who is ashamed of and blushes at any thing, that is not afraid of and +does not fear the reputation of baseness? + +_Euth._ Assuredly he does fear it. + +_Socr._ It is not right, therefore, to say, that where fear is, there +also is shame, but where shame is, there also is fear; not however, +wherever there is fear, there is also shame. For I think that fear is +more extensive than shame; for shame is a part of fear, as the odd is a +part of number, so that it does not follow that wherever number is, +there also is the odd, but wherever the odd is, there also is number. Do +you follow me now? + +_Euth._ Perfectly. + +_Socr._ I asked you, then, about a thing of this kind above, whether +where the just is, there also is the holy, or where the holy is, there +also is the just, but wherever the just is, here is not always the holy: +for the holy is a part of the just. Shall we say thus, or does it seem +to you otherwise? + +_Euth._ No, but thus. For you appear to me to speak correctly. + +14. _Socr._ Observe then what follows. If the holy is a part of the +just, it is necessary, as it seems, that we should find out what part of +the just the holy is. If then you were to ask me about some of the +things before mentioned, for instance, what part of number the even is, +and what number it is, I should say that it is not scalene, but +isosceles[165]. Does it not appear so to you? + +----- + +Footnote 165: + + That is, it can be divided into equal parts, which the odd cannot. + +----- + +_Euth._ It does. + +_Socr._ Do you, then, also endeavour in like manner to teach me what +part of the just the holy is, that I may tell Melitus no longer to treat +me unjustly nor indict me for impiety, since I have now sufficiently +learnt from you what things are pious and holy, and what not. + +_Euth._ That part of justice then, Socrates, appears to me to be pious +and holy, which is concerned about our care for the gods; but that which +is concerned about our care for mankind is the remaining part of +justice. + +15. _Socr._ You appear to me, Euthyphron, to speak well; but I still +require a trifle further. For I do not yet understand what care you +mean. For you surely do not mean such care is to be had for the gods as +is employed about other things. For we say, for instance, not every one +knows how to take care of horses, but a groom; do we not? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ For surely the groom’s business is the taking care of horses. + +_Euth._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Nor does every one know how to take care of dogs, but a +huntsman. + +_Euth._ Just so. + +_Socr._ For the huntsman’s business is the taking care of dogs. + +_Euth._ Yes. + +_Socr._ And the herdsman’s of cattle. + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ But holiness and piety of the gods, Euthyphron; do you say so? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ All care, therefore, aims at the same thing, that is to say, it +is for some good and advantage of that which is taken care of, as you +see that horses, taken care of by one skilled in the groom’s business, +are benefited and become better: do they not seem so to you? + +_Euth._ They do. + +_Socr._ Dogs also are benefited by one skilled in the huntsman’s +business, and oxen by that of the herdsman, and all other things in like +manner: do you think that the care is employed for the injury of that +which is taken care of? + +_Euth._ Not I, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ But for its advantage? + +_Euth._ How should it not? + +_Socr._ Is holiness, therefore, since it is a care for the gods, an +advantage to the gods, and does it make the gods better? And would you +admit this, that when you do any thing holy, you make some one of the +gods better? + +_Euth._ Not I, by Jupiter. + +_Socr._ Nor do I think, Euthyphron, that you mean this; I am far from +doing so: but for this reason I asked you what care for the gods you +mean, not thinking that you mean such as this. + +_Euth._ And rightly, Socrates; for I do not mean such as this. + +_Socr._ Be it so: but what care for the gods will holiness be? + +_Euth._ That, Socrates, which slaves take of their masters. + +_Socr._ I understand: it will be a kind of service, as it seems, paid to +the gods. + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +16. _Socr._ Can you then tell me, to the performance of what the service +of physicians is subservient? Do you not think it is to health? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ But what? to the performance of what work is the service of +shipwrights subservient? + +_Euth._ Clearly, Socrates, to that of a ship. + +_Socr._ And that of architects, to houses? + +_Euth._ Yes. + +_Socr._ Tell me, then, my excellent friend; to the performance of what +work will the service of the gods be subservient? For it is clear that +you know, since you say that you have a knowledge of divine things +beyond that of other men. + +_Euth._ And I say truly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Tell me then, by Jupiter, what is that very beautiful work which +the gods effect, by employing us as servants. + +_Euth._ They are many and beautiful, Socrates. + +_Socr._ So do generals, my friend; though you could easily tell the +principal of them, that they effect victory in war; is it not so? + +_Euth._ How should I not? + +_Socr._ Husbandmen too, I think, effect many and beautiful things; but +the principal thing they effect is the production of food from the +earth. + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ What then? of the many and beautiful things which the gods +effect, what is the principal? + +_Euth._ I told you just now, Socrates, that it is a difficult matter to +learn all these things accurately; this however I tell you simply, that +if any one knows how to speak and do things grateful to the gods, by +praying and sacrificing, these things are holy, and such things preserve +both private houses and the general weal of cities; but the contraries +to things acceptable to them are impious, which also subvert and ruin +all things. + +17. _Socr._ You might, if you had pleased, Euthyphron, have told me the +principal of what I asked in fewer words. But it is clear that you are +not willing to teach me. For now when you were just upon the point of +doing so, you turned aside; whereas if you had answered, I should by +this time have sufficiently learnt from you what holiness is. But now +(for it is necessary that he who asks questions should follow the person +questioned wherever he may lead) what again do you say is the holy, and +holiness? Do you not say it is a knowledge of sacrificing and praying? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ Is not to sacrifice to offer gifts to the gods, and to pray to +beg something of the gods? + +_Euth._ Assuredly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ From this statement it follows that holiness must be a knowledge +of begging from and giving to the gods. + +_Euth._ You quite understand what I mean, Socrates. + +_Socr._ For I am very anxious, my friend, to obtain your wisdom, and I +apply my mind to it: so that what you say will not fall to the ground. +But tell me what this service of the gods is? Do you say it is to beg of +them and to give to them? + +_Euth._ I do. + +18. _Socr._ Must we not then, therefore, to beg rightly, beg those +things of them which we need from them? + +_Euth._ What else? + +_Socr._ And again to give rightly must we give them in return such +things as they stand in need of from us? For surely it would not be +suitable to offer those gifts to any one which he does not need. + +_Euth._ You say truly, Socrates. + +_Socr._ Holiness, therefore, Euthyphron, will be a kind of traffic +between gods and men. + +_Euth._ A kind of traffic, if it pleases you to call it so. + +_Socr._ But it is not at all pleasing to me, unless it happens to be +true. Tell me therefore, what advantage the gods derive from the gifts +which they receive from us? For the advantage arising from what they +give is clear to every one; for we have no good at all which they do not +impart? but how are they benefited by what they receive from us? Do we +get so much the advantage over them in this traffic, that we receive all +good things from them, but they nothing from us? + +_Euth._ But do you think, Socrates, that the gods are benefited by what +they receive from us? + +_Socr._ What is the use then, Euthyphron, of all our gifts to the gods? + +_Euth._ What else do you think except honour and reverence, and, as I +just now mentioned, gratitude? + +_Socr._ Holiness then, Euthyphron, is that which is grateful, but not +profitable or dear to the gods. + +_Euth._ I for my part think it is of all things most dear to them. + +_Socr._ This then again is, as it seems, holiness, that which is dear to +the gods. + +_Euth._ Most certainly. + +19. _Socr._ Can you wonder then, when you say this, that your statements +do not remain fixed, but move about, and can you accuse me as being the +Dædalus that makes them move about, when you yourself are far more +skilful than Dædalus, and make them go round in a circle? Do you not +perceive that our discussion, turning round, comes to the same point? +For you surely remember that in a former part of our discussion that +which is holy and that which is acceptable to the gods appeared to us +not to be the same, but different from each other: do you not remember? + +_Euth._ I do. + +_Socr._ Now, then, do you not perceive that you say that holiness is +that which is dear to the gods? But is this any thing else than that +which is acceptable to the gods? is it not so? + +_Euth._ Certainly. + +_Socr._ Either, therefore, we did not then admit that properly, or, if +we did, our present statement is not correct? + +_Euth._ It seems so. + +_Socr._ From the beginning, therefore, we must consider again what +holiness is; for I shall not willingly run away like a coward, until I +have learnt it. Do not then despise me, but by all means apply your mind +earnestly to it and tell me the truth. For you know it, if any man does; +and I cannot let you go like Proteus, until you have told me. For if you +had not known clearly both what is holy and what is impious, it is not +possible that you could ever have attempted, for the sake of a hireling, +to prosecute your aged father for murder; but you would have feared both +to incur the anger of the gods, in case you should not act rightly in +this matter, and would have been ashamed in the sight of men. But now I +am sure that you think you clearly know both what is holy and what is +not. Tell me, therefore, most excellent Euthyphron, and do not conceal +from me what you believe it to be? + +_Euth._ At some other opportunity then, Socrates: for now I am in haste +to go somewhere, and it is time for me to depart. + +_Socr._ What are you about, my friend? By going away you deprive me of +the great hope I entertained that by learning from you what things are +holy and what not, I might get rid of Melitus’s indictment, by shewing +him that I had now become skilled in divine things by the aid of +Euthyphron, and that I no longer through ignorance speak rashly, or +introduce innovations respecting them, and that therefore I should lead +a better life for the future. + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO THE LYSIS. + + +As Socrates was one day going from the Academy to the Lyceum he met with +Hippothales, Ctesippus, and other youths, who were on that day +celebrating the Hermæan festival in a newly-erected palæstra hard by. +They invite him to come in and join their conversation; he promises to +do so on condition that they will first tell him who is the beauty among +them. Hippothales, to whom he first puts the question, shews, by his +embarrassment, that he is himself far gone in love; and on being taxed +with it by Socrates blushes still more, whereupon Ctesippus says that he +is constantly overwhelming them with his poems and speeches on his +favourite Lysis. Socrates, on hearing this, begs Hippothales to inform +him how a lover ought to speak of or address his favourite. Hippothales, +though he does not deny his being in love, does deny that he makes +verses or speeches; but Ctesippus shews that he is constantly giving +utterance to the most extravagant praises of his favourite and his +family; on which Socrates remarks that he should not celebrate his +victory before it is won; for that it is not wise to praise the object +of one’s affection before a return of affection on his part is secured, +and moreover such as are beautiful when highly praised are apt to become +arrogant, and so are more difficult to be won. Hippothales takes these +suggestions in good part, and begs Socrates to advise him how to address +his favourite so as to win his affection, which Socrates readily +promises to do if they will give him an opportunity of conversing with +Lysis. To this end they all enter the palæstra, and almost as soon as +Socrates, Ctesippus, Menexenus and others had seated themselves down in +a quiet corner, Lysis, who is very fond of listening to conversations, +comes and takes his seat next his friend Menexenus, while Hippothales is +concealed in the back-ground out of sight of his favourite[166]. + +----- + +Footnote 166: + + § 1-10. + +----- + +Socrates begins by addressing a few words to the latter, but on +Menexenus being called out by the master of the palæstra, he turns to +Lysis, and asks him whether his parents do not love him very much. On +Lysis replying that they certainly do, Socrates shews him that though, +since they love him, they must needs wish to make him as happy as +possible, yet they are so far from letting him do whatever he pleases, +that they put him under the government of others, even of slaves, and +this not on account of his youth, but because he has not yet acquired +sufficient experience and knowledge to be entrusted with the government +of himself; but that whenever he is wise enough, not only his father, +but all others, will entrust him with the management of themselves and +their affairs[167]. + +----- + +Footnote 167: + + § 10-18. + +----- + +At this point of the conversation Menexenus returned and resumed his +seat near Lysis, who begs of Socrates to say over again to Menexenus +what he had been saying to him; but Socrates desires him to tell it +himself on some future occasion, and for the present engages to converse +on some other subject with Menexenus. Having observed, therefore, the +friendship that subsisted between Lysis and Menexenus, he asks the +latter, when any one loves another, which of the two becomes a friend of +the other, the lover or the beloved? Menexenus replies that there is no +difference. But Socrates shews that it frequently happens that a lover +is not only not loved in turn, but is even hated. In that case, then, +which is the friend? Menexenus is forced to admit that unless both love +neither can be a friend to the other. But here Socrates interposes this +difficulty; he remarks that men often love horses, dogs, and other +things which cannot love in turn; and the poet, as Menexenus admits, +speaks truly who says, “Happy the man who has boys for his friends and +horses and dogs,” so that the beloved now appears to be a friend of the +lover, and not the lover of the beloved; and by the same reasoning he +who is hated is an enemy, and not he who hates, whence the absurd +conclusion follows that people are beloved by their enemies and hated by +their friends. This, however, is impossible; therefore the reverse must +be the case, and the lover must be a friend of the beloved. “If, then, +neither those who love are to be friends, nor those who are loved, nor +yet those who both love and are loved,” who are to be called friends? +Lysis interposes with the remark that they do not appear to him to have +conducted their enquiries aright; so Socrates avails himself of the +opportunity thus offered him, and directs his discourse to Lysis[168]. + +----- + +Footnote 168: + + § 18-24. + +----- + +“The poets say,” he observes, that “God ever conducts like to like,” and +the wisest among men say the same, “that like must ever needs be +friendly to like.” Lysis agrees to this. But, objects Socrates, only +half of this appears to be true, for the more wicked men are the more +hostile are they to each other; so that it appears that the good man +only is a friend to the good man only, but that the bad man never +arrives at true friendship. But here again a new doubt is started. + +The like can derive no benefit from the like; how, therefore, can they +be held in regard by each other? and how can that which is not held in +regard be a friend? In like manner, the good man is sufficient for +himself; but he who is sufficient needs nothing, and so will not regard +any thing, and therefore not love. So that from this it appears, that +not even the good will be friends to each other[169]. + +----- + +Footnote 169: + + § 24-27. + +----- + +Socrates then remarks, that he once heard some one say that like is most +hostile to like, and the good to the good; and generally that things +most like each other are most full of envy, strife and hatred, but such +as are most unlike are most disposed to friendship, just as the dry +desires the moist, the cold heat, and so on. Menexenus admits the truth +of this, and of its consequence, that the contrary is most friendly to +its contrary. But again Socrates drives him to this absurd conclusion, +that since enmity is most contrary to friendship, therefore an enemy +must be a friend to a friend, or a friend a friend to an enemy[170]. + +----- + +Footnote 170: + + § 27-29. + +----- + +Since it appears, then, that neither is the like friendly to the like, +nor the contrary to the contrary, Socrates next proposes to enquire +whether that which is neither good nor evil can be the friend of the +good. According to an ancient proverb, the beautiful is friendly, and +the good is beautiful, whence he would conclude that that which is +neither good nor evil is friendly to the beautiful and the good. There +are three several classes of things, he says, the good, the evil, and +that which is neither good nor evil. It has already been proved that the +good is not friendly to the good, nor the evil to the evil, nor yet the +good to the evil, nor the evil to the good; it remains, therefore, that +that which is neither good nor evil must be friendly to the good. But a +little further discussion leads to the more narrow conclusion, that that +which is neither evil nor good is friendly to the good, on account of +the presence of evil[171]. + +----- + +Footnote 171: + + § 29-33. + +----- + +Both Lysis and Menexenus agree to this conclusion; but Socrates soon +raises new difficulties, and shews the fallaciousness of their former +reasoning. A friend, he says, is a friend to some one, and for the sake +of something, and on account of something; for a rich man is a friend to +a physician on account of disease, which is an evil, and for the sake of +health, which is a good, so that that which is friendly is a friend for +the sake of a friend, on account of an enemy. By proceeding in this way, +he argues, we shall at length arrive at some principle, which will not +have to be referred to another friend, but will arrive at the first +friend, for the sake of which all other things are friends, and which is +friendly for its own sake. Now it has already appeared that we are +friendly to that which is good, and that we love the good on account of +evil; if, therefore, evil were to be done away with the good would be of +no use to us, and we should not love it. In this, too, his young friends +are willing to acquiesce, but Socrates dispels this delusion also, and +shews that evil cannot be the cause of love, since if evil were done +away with the desires would still remain, which in reality are the +causes of friendship; for that which desires desires what it stands in +need of, and that which stands in need is friendly to that of which it +stands in need: and so love, desire, and friendship respect that which, +in a manner, belongs to a man; but then evil belongs to evil and good to +good, consequently they will each severally be friendly to their fellow, +and the evil will be no less a friend to the evil than the good to the +good; but both these positions have already been shewn to be erroneous, +and so no positive solution of the question proposed is arrived at[172]. + +----- + +Footnote 172: + + § 34-43. + +----- + + + + + LYSIS, + + OR + + ON FRIENDSHIP. + + SOCRATES, HIPPOTHALES, CTESIPPUS, MENEXENUS, AND LYSIS. + + ------- + + +I was going from the Academy straight to the Lyceum on the road outside +the wall close to the wall itself, but when I reached the little gate, +where is the fountain of the Panops, I there met with Hippothales son of +Hieronymus, Ctesippus the Pæanian, and other young men with them +standing together in a group. And Hippothales seeing me approach said, +“Socrates, whither are you going, and whence come you?” + +“From the Academy,” I replied, “and am going straight to the Lyceum.” + +“Hither, then,” said he, “straight to us. Won’t you come here? it is +worth while.” + +“Where do you mean,” said I, “and whom do you mean by ‘you’?” + +“Hither,” he replied, shewing me an enclosure opposite the wall and an +open gate, “there we are passing away our time, we and a good many other +fine fellows.” + +“And what is this, and what your occupation?” + +“A palæstra,” he said, “lately built; our occupation consists chiefly in +conversation, which we would gladly share with you.” + +“You do well,” said I. “But who teaches there?” + +“Your friend and encomiast,” said he, “Miccus.” + +“By Jupiter,” said I, “he is no mean person, but an apt sophist.” + +“Will you follow us then,” said he, “that you may see those that are +there?” + +2. “I should be glad to hear this first, and on that condition I enter, +who is the beauty?” + +“To some of us,” said he, “Socrates, one appears so, to some, another.” + +“But who appears so to you, Hippothales? Tell me this.” Then he blushed +at the question. And I said, “Hippothales, son of Hieronymus, you need +no longer tell me this, whether you are in love with any one or not: for +I know that you are not only in love, but are already pretty far gone in +love. I, for my part, am in other matters poor and useless, but this +somehow has been given me by the deity, to be able quickly to discern +both a lover, and one that is beloved.” + +On hearing this, he blushed still more. Whereupon Ctesippus said, “It is +a fine thing in you to blush, Hippothales, and hesitate to tell Socrates +the name, though if he were to stay here with you even for a short time +he would be tired to death with hearing you frequently telling it. 3. He +has certainly deafened our ears, Socrates, and filled them with the name +of Lysis: and if he is somewhat tipsy, it is easy for us, even when we +awake out of sleep, to fancy that we hear the name of Lysis. And what he +tells of him in his ordinary talk, though wearisome, is not so very much +so; but when he attempts to overwhelm us with his poems and +set-speeches! and what is still more wearisome than these, is that he +sings about his favourite with a wonderful voice, which we must endure +to listen to. But now when questioned by you, he blushes.” + +“This Lysis, then,” said I, “is a youth, as it seems. I conjecture this, +because on hearing the name I did not know it.” + +“They don’t often call him by his own name,” said he, “but he still goes +by his father’s name, because his father is so very well known. For I am +very sure, that you are far from being unacquainted with the form of the +youth; for he may be sufficiently known from this only.” + +4. “Tell me then,” said I, “whose son he is.” + +“The eldest son of Democrates, of Æxone,” he replied. + +“Well done, Hippothales,” said I, “what a noble and in every way +admirable love is this you have met with! Come then, display to me what +you display to these also, that I may discover whether you know what a +lover ought to say about his favourite, either to himself or to others.” + +“Do you really put any weight, Socrates,” said he, “on any thing that he +says?” + +“Do you deny,” said I, “that you are in love with the person whom he +speaks of?” + +“I do not,” said he, “but I do deny that I make verses on my favourite +or compose speeches.” + +“He is not in his right senses,” said Ctesippus, “but is delirious and +mad.” + +Upon this I said, “Hippothales, I do not wish to hear your verses, nor +any song that you may have made on the youth, but their meaning, that I +may know in what way you behave towards your favourite.” + +“He doubtless will tell you,” said he, “for he knows and remembers it +well, since, as he says, he has been stunned by constantly hearing it +from me.” + +5. “By the gods,” said Ctesippus, “assuredly I do; and ridiculous it is +too, Socrates. For that being a lover, and devoting himself to the youth +beyond all others, he should have nothing of his own to say, that even a +boy might not say, how can it be otherwise than ridiculous? For what the +whole city resounds with about Democrates and Lysis the boy’s +grandfather, and all his ancestors, their wealth, their breed of horses, +and their victories in the Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean games, with +four horses and with one, these things he puts into poems and speeches, +and besides these, things still more absurd: for he lately described to +us in a poem, the entertainment of Hercules, how an ancestor of theirs +received Hercules on account of his relationship to him, being himself +sprung from Jupiter and the daughter of the founder of his borough, such +things as old women sing, and many others of the same kind, Socrates. 6. +These are the things that he speaks of and sings and compels us to +listen to.” + +Upon hearing this, I said, “O ridiculous Hippothales, before you have +gained the victory do you compose and sing an encomium on yourself?” + +“But I neither compose nor sing on myself, Socrates.” + +“You do not think so,” I replied. + +“How is that?” said he. + +“These songs,” said I, “most of all relate to you. For if you gain your +favourite being such as you describe, what you have said and sung will +be an honour to you, and in reality an encomium on yourself as +victorious in having won such a favourite. But if he should escape you, +by how much greater the encomiums are which you uttered on your +favourite, by so much the more ridiculous will you appear in being +deprived of greater blessings. Whoever therefore, my friend, is skilled +in matters of love, does not praise his beloved before he has caught +him, fearing how the event will turn out. Moreover such as are beautiful +when any one praises and extols them, are filled with pride and +arrogance. Do you not think so?” + +“I do,” he replied. + +7. “And by how much the more arrogant they are, are they not more +difficult to be caught?” + +“That is probable at least.” + +“What sort of huntsman, then, would he appear to you to be, who in +hunting should scare away his prey, and make it more difficult to be +caught?” + +“Without doubt, a bad one.” + +“And by speeches and songs not to soothe but exasperate, shews a great +want of skill; does it not?” + +“It appears so to me.” + +“Consider then, Hippothales, whether you will not expose yourself to all +these charges by your poetry. Though I think you would not be willing to +allow that a man who harms himself by his poetry can be a good poet, in +that he harms himself.” + +“No, by Jupiter,” said he, “for that would be a great piece of folly. +But on this very account, Socrates, I communicate the matter to you, and +if you have any thing else to suggest, advise me, by saying what or by +doing what one may win the affections of one’s favourite.” + +“It is not easy to say,” I replied: “but if you will make Lysis himself +converse with me, I could perhaps shew you what you ought to say to him, +instead of the things which your friends allege that you say and sing.” + +8. “There is no difficulty in that,” he replied. “For if you will enter +with Ctesippus here, and sit down and converse, I think that he will +join you of his own accord, for he is exceedingly fond of listening, +Socrates, and moreover, as they are celebrating the Hermæa, young men +and boys are all mixed up together. He will therefore join you: but if +not, he is intimate with Ctesippus, through his cousin Menexenus; for +Menexenus is his most particular friend. Let him call him, therefore, if +he does not join you of his own accord.” + +“This,” said I, “we must do.” And at the same time, laying hold of +Ctesippus, I entered the palæstra, and the others came after us. + +On entering there, we found that the boys had finished their sacrifices, +and, the ceremonies being now nearly ended, playing at dice, and all +full dressed. 9. Many of them were playing in the court outside, but +some in a corner of the dressing-room were playing at odd and even with +a great number of dice which they drew out of certain little baskets. +Others stood round these, looking on; and among them was Lysis, and he +stood in the midst of the boys and youths, crowned, and surpassing them +in form, so as not only to deserve to be called beautiful, but beautiful +and noble. Then we withdrawing to the opposite side sat down, (for it +was quiet there,) and entered into conversation with each other. Lysis, +thereupon, turning round, frequently looked at us, and was evidently +anxious to come to us; but for some time he hesitated, and was averse to +approach alone. Then, Menexenus comes in, in the midst of his game from +the court, and as soon as he saw me and Ctesippus, came and seated +himself by us. 10. Lysis, therefore, seeing him, followed, and sat down +by the side of Menexenus. Others likewise came up, and moreover +Hippothales, when he saw a good many standing round, concealing himself +behind them, took up a position where he thought Lysis could not see +him, fearing lest he should give him offence, and in this position he +listened to our discourse. And I, looking towards Menexenus, said, “Son +of Demophon, which of you is the elder?” + +“We are in doubt,” he replied. + +“Should you not also contend which of you is the more noble?” said I. + +“Certainly,” said he. + +“And in like manner, which of you is the more beautiful?” + +Hereupon they both laughed. “However,” said I, “I will not ask which of +you is the more rich, for you are friends; are you not?” + +“Certainly,” they replied. + +“Now the property of friends is said to be common, so that in this +respect there will be no difference between you if what you say about +friendship is true.” + +They assented. + +After this, I was purposing to ask, which of them was the more just and +the more wise; but in the meanwhile some one came and made Menexenus get +up, saying that the master of the palæstra called him; for he appeared +to me to be one concerned in the sacrifices. He therefore left us; and I +questioned Lysis: 11. “Doubtless,” said I, “Lysis, your father and +mother love you very much?” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +“Would they not, then, wish you to be as happy as possible?” + +“How not?” + +“Does a man appear to you to be happy who is a slave, and who is not +permitted to do any thing he desires?” + +“By Jupiter, no,” said he. + +“If, therefore, your father and mother love you and wish that you may be +happy, this is quite evident, that they endeavour to make you happy?” + +“How should they not?” said he. + +“Do they, therefore, permit you to do what you please, and in no respect +find fault with you or hinder you from doing whatever you desire?” + +“By Jupiter, Socrates,” said he, “they do indeed hinder me in very many +things.” + +“How say you?” I asked, “wishing you to be happy do they hinder you from +doing whatever you please? Answer me thus; If you should desire to mount +on one of your father’s chariots, and to take the reins when a race is +to be run, would he not allow you, but hinder you?” + +“By Jupiter,” said he, “he would not allow me.” + +“Whom would he then?” + +“There is a charioteer who receives pay from my father.” + +12. “How say you? Do they suffer a hired servant rather than you to do +what he pleases with the horses, and moreover pay him money for so +doing?” + +“Why not?” said he. + +“But I suppose they suffer you to drive the pair of mules and, if you +wish to take the whip and beat them, they would allow you.” + +“Why allow me?” said he. + +“But what?” said I, “is no one allowed to beat them?” + +“Certainly,” said he, “the mule-driver.” + +“Is he a slave, or free?”. + +“A slave,” he replied. + +“They think more of a slave then, as it seems, than of you, their son, +and commit their property to him rather than to you, and allow him to do +what he pleases, but you they hinder. Tell me this too. Do they allow +you to govern yourself; or do they not even suffer this?” + +“How should they suffer it?” he said. + +“Who then governs you?” + +“My pædagogue here,” said he. + +“Is he a slave?” + +“How should he be otherwise? ours though,” said he. + +“It is shameful, surely,” said I, “that a freeman should be governed by +a slave. And by doing what does this pædagogue govern you?” + +“Of course,” said he, “he conducts me to my masters.” + +“And do they too govern you, the masters? + +“Assuredly.” + +13. “Your father, then, voluntarily sets over you many rulers and +governors. But when you return home to your mother, does she allow you +to do whatever you please, that you may be happy as far as she is +concerned, either with her wool or her loom when she is spinning? She +surely does not hinder you from touching the comb or the shuttle, or any +other of her spinning instruments.” + +Whereupon, he laughing replied, “By Jupiter, Socrates, she not only +hinders me, but I should be beaten too if I touched them.” + +“By Hercules,” said I, “have you in any way injured your father or your +mother?” + +“By Jupiter, not I,” he said. + +“For what reason, then, do they so shamefully hinder you from being +happy and doing what you please, and bring you up throughout the whole +day in subjection to some one, and in a word let you do scarcely any +thing that you wish? So that, as it seems, neither have you any +advantage from such great riches, but any one manages them rather than +you, nor from your person, which is so noble, but this too another tends +and takes care of: but you, Lysis, neither govern any thing, nor do any +thing that you wish.” + +14, “For I am not yet old enough, Socrates,” said he. + +“That should not hinder you, son of Democrates: since thus far, I think, +both your father and mother permit you and do not wait till you are old +enough: for when they wish any thing to be read to or written for them, +they appoint you, I think, first of all in the house to this office; do +they not?” + +“Certainly,” said he. + +“Are you allowed then, in this case, to write whichever letter you +please first, and which second, and are you allowed to read in like +manner? And when you take the lyre, I think, neither your father nor +your mother hinder you from tightening and loosening any string you +please, and from twanging and striking them with the quill; do they +hinder you?” + +“By no means.” + +“What then can be the cause, Lysis, that in these cases they do not +hinder you, but do hinder you in those that we just now mentioned?” + +“Because, I think,” said he, “I know the one, but not the other.” + +15. “Be it so,” said I, “my excellent youth; your father, then, is not +waiting for your being old enough to entrust every thing to you, but on +the very day that he shall think you are wiser than he is, he will +entrust to you both himself and his property?” + +“I think he will,” said he. + +“Be it so,” said I, “what then? Will not your neighbour follow the same +rule as your father respecting you? Do you think he will entrust you +with the management of his household when he thinks you are wiser than +himself with respect to household-management, or will he preside over it +himself?” + +“I think he will entrust it to me.” + +“But what? do you think the Athenians will entrust their affairs to you, +when they perceive that you are wise enough?” + +“I do.” + +“By Jupiter,” said I, “what then as to the great king? Would he suffer +his eldest son, who will succeed to the government of Asia, when his +meat is being cooked, to throw into the sauce whatever he pleases, +rather than us, if we should go to him and shew that we are more skilled +in the preparation of dishes than his son?” + +“Us, clearly,” he replied. + +16. “And he would not allow him to throw any thing in, however trifling, +but us he would allow, even if we wished to throw in salt by the +handful.” + +“How not?” + +“But what if his son should be diseased in his eyes, would he allow him +to touch his own eyes, not considering him a physician, or would he +hinder him?” + +“He would hinder him.” + +“But if he supposed we were good physicians, even if we wished to open +his eyes and sprinkle them with ashes, I think he would not hinder us, +considering we judged rightly.” + +“You say true.” + +“Would he not entrust every thing else to us rather than to himself or +his son, with respect to which we appeared to him to be wiser than +either of them?” + +“Necessarily so, Socrates,” he replied. + +“This, then, is the case,” said I, “my dear Lysis, all persons, both +Greeks and barbarians, men and women, will entrust us with those things +with respect to which we are found to be wise, and we shall do in them +whatever we please, nor will any one purposely hinder us, but we shall +both be free ourselves in these matters, and governors over others, and +these things will be our own, for we shall derive benefit from them. 17. +But those things about which we have no knowledge no one will suffer us +to do as we think proper, but all men will hinder us as much as they are +able, not only strangers, but even our own father and mother, and any +one else who is more nearly related to us than them, and in these +matters we ourselves shall be subject to others, and they will be +strange to us, for we shall derive no benefit from them. Do you admit +that this is the case?” + +“I do.” + +“Shall we, then, be friends to any one, and will any one love us in +those things in which we are of no use?” + +“No, surely,” said he. + +“Now, then, neither does your father love you, nor does any one else +love another person, in so far as he is useless?” + +“It appears not,” he said. + +“If, then, you become wise, my boy, all men will be your friends, and +all men will be attached to you, for you will be useful and good. But if +not, neither will any one else, nor your father be a friend to you, nor +your mother, nor any of your kindred. Is it possible, then, Lysis, that +any one can deem himself wise in those things of which as yet he has no +knowledge at all?” + +“How can he?” said he. + +“If, then, you require a teacher, you are not yet wise?” + +18. “True.” + +“Neither, then, are you very wise, if you are still unwise?” + +“By Jupiter,” said he, “Socrates, I do not think that I can be.” + +Then I, upon hearing this, looked at Hippothales, and almost committed a +blunder, for it occurred to me to say, “Thus, Hippothales, we ought to +converse with favourites, humbling and checking them, and not, as you +do, puffing them up and filling them with vanity.” However, perceiving +him anxious and disturbed at what was said, I recollected that, although +he was standing near, he wished to escape the observation of Lysis; I +therefore recovered myself, and restrained my speech. + +At this moment Menexenus came again, and sat down by Lysis, whence he +had risen before. Lysis, then, in a very boyish and affectionate manner, +unobserved by Menexenus, talking to me a little while, said, “Socrates, +say over again to Menexenus what you have been saying to me.” + +And I replied, “Do you tell it him, Lysis, for you paid very great +attention.” + +“I certainly did,” he replied. + +“Endeavour, then,” said I, “to remember it as well as you can, that you +may tell him all clearly; but if you forget any thing, ask me again the +first time you meet me.” + +19. “I will most certainly do so, Socrates,” said he, “be well assured. +But say something else to him, that I too may hear, until it is time for +me to go home.” + +“I must do so,” said I, “since you bid me; but take care that you assist +me, if Menexenus should attempt to confute me. Do you not know that he +is fond of disputing?” + +“By Jupiter,” said he, “very much so; and for this reason I wish you to +converse with him.” + +“That I may make myself ridiculous?” said I. + +“No, by Jupiter,” said he, “but that you may punish him.” + +“How so,” said I, “that’s not an easy matter, for the man is clever, a +disciple of Ctesippus. And besides, he is here in person, do not you see +Ctesippus?” + +“Don’t concern yourself about that, Socrates,” said he, “but come, +converse with him.” + +“We must converse, then,” I replied. + +While we were speaking thus to each other, Ctesippus said, “What are you +two feasting on by yourselves, without letting us share in the +conversation?” + +“But indeed,” said I, “you shall have a share, for Lysis here does not +understand something that I have said, but says he thinks Menexenus +knows it, and bids me ask him.” + +20. “Why then,” said he, “do you not ask him?” + +“But I will ask him,” I replied. “Answer me, then, Menexenus, what I +shall ask you; for from my childhood I happen to have had a desire for a +certain thing, as another person may have of something else: for one +desires to possess horses, another dogs, another gold, and another +honours; but I, for my part, am indifferent about these things, but have +a fond desire for the possession of friends, and I had rather have a +good friend than the best quail or cock in the world; and, by Jupiter, +than the best horse or dog, and I think, by the dog, that I should much +rather prefer the possession of an intimate, than the gold of Darius, or +even than Darius himself, so fond am I of intimate friends. Seeing you, +therefore, and Lysis, I was amazed, and pronounced you happy, because, +young as you are, you have been able so quickly and easily to acquire +this possession, and you have so quickly and sincerely acquired him for +your friend, and again he you. But I am so far from making this +acquisition, that I do not even know in what way one man becomes the +friend of another; but I wish to ask this very thing of you, as being an +experienced person. 21. Tell me, then, when any one loves another, which +of the two becomes a friend, the lover of the beloved, or the beloved of +the lover? or is there no difference?” + +“It appears to me,” said he, “that there is no difference.” + +“How say you?” I replied, “Do both then become friends of each other, if +one alone loves the other?” + +“To me it appears so,” said he. + +“But what? Is it not possible for one who loves not to be loved in turn +by the object of his love?” + +“It is.” + +“But what? is it not possible, then, for one who loves ever to be hated? +as lovers surely sometimes seem to be treated by their favourites: for +though they love most ardently, some of them think that they are not +loved in turn, and some even that they are hated. Does not this appear +to you to be true?” + +“Quite true,” said he. + +“In such a case, then,” said I, “does one love, and is the other loved?” + +“Yes.” + +“Which then of these is the friend of the other? the lover of the +beloved, whether he is loved in turn, or even if he is hated, or the +beloved of the lover? or again, in such a case, is neither the friend of +neither, unless both love each other?” + +“It seems indeed to be so.” + +22. “Now, then, it appears to us otherwise than it appeared before. For +then if one loved, both appeared to be friends; but now, unless both +love neither is a friend.” + +“It appears so,” said he. + +“Nothing, therefore, is a friend to that which loves unless it loves in +turn.” + +“It seems not.” + +“Neither, then, are they friends of horses, whom horses do not love in +turn, nor friends of quails, nor again friends of dogs, and friends of +wine, and friends of gymnastics, and of wisdom, unless wisdom loves them +in turn: or do they severally love these things although they are not +friends, and does the poet speak falsely who says, ‘Happy the man who +has boys for his friends, and solid-hoofed horses, and hunting dogs, and +a foreign guest?’” + +“It does not seem so to me,” he replied. + +“But does he appear to you to speak the truth?” + +“Yes.” + +“The beloved, then, is a friend to that which loves, as it seems, +Menexenus, whether it loves or whether it hates; just as children newly +born, who partly do not yet love, and partly even hate, when they are +punished by their mother or their father, nevertheless, at the very time +when they hate, are in the highest degree beloved by their parents. + +“It appears to me,” said he, “that this is the case.” + +23. “The lover, therefore, from this reasoning, is not the friend, but +the beloved.” + +“It seems so.” + +“And he who is hated, therefore, is an enemy, but not he who hates.” + +“So it appears.” + +“Many, therefore, are beloved by their enemies and hated by their +friends; and are friends to their enemies, but enemies to their friends, +if the beloved is a friend, and not the lover. Though it is very absurd, +my dear friend, or rather, I think, impossible, to be an enemy to a +friend, and a friend to an enemy.” + +“You seem to speak truly, Socrates,” said he. + +“If, therefore, this is impossible, the lover will be a friend of the +beloved.” + +“So it appears.” + +“Again, therefore, that which hates must be the enemy of that which is +hated.” + +“Necessarily so.” + +“Therefore, the result will be that we must of necessity admit the very +things that we did before, that a man is often a friend of that which is +not a friend, and often even of that which is an enemy, when either any +one loves that which does not love, or even loves that which hates, and +is often an enemy of that which is not an enemy, or is even a friend, +when either any one loves that which does not hate, or even hates that +which loves.” + +“It appears so,” said he. + +“What shall we do, then,” said I, “if neither those who love are to be +friends, nor those who are loved, nor yet those who both love and are +loved? Shall we say that some others besides these become friends to +each other?” + +“By Jupiter, Socrates,” said he, “I don’t well know what answer to +make.” + +24. “Have we not, then, Menexenus,” said I, “conducted our enquiries +altogether right?” + +“To me it appears not, Socrates,” said Lysis; and as he said this he +blushed: for his remark appeared to me to escape from him involuntarily +through his earnest attention to the conversation: and he was plainly +most attentive while he was listening. + +I then, wishing that Menexenus should cease speaking, and being +delighted with the other’s love of wisdom, accordingly turned round and +directed my discourse to Lysis, and said, “Lysis, you seem to me to say +truly, that if we had conducted our enquiries properly, we should never +have wandered in this manner. But let us proceed no longer in this way, +(for the investigation appears to me to be difficult as if it were a +road,) but it seems to me that we should proceed by the road to which we +turned aside, and conduct our enquiries after the poets; for they are to +us, as it were, fathers of wisdom and guides. They speak however, I +imagine, so as not to give a mean account of such as happen to be +friends, but they say that God himself makes them friends, by conducting +them to each other. They express themselves as I think somehow as +follows: ‘God ever conducts like to like[173],’ and makes them known; +have you not met with this verse?” + +----- + +Footnote 173: + + Homer, Odyss. xvii. 218. + +----- + +“I have,” said he. + +25. “Have you not met, too, with the writings of the wisest of men that +say the very same things, that like must ever needs be friendly to like? +But these are they who discourse and write about nature and the +universe.” + +“You say truly,” he replied. + +“Whether, then,” said I, “do they say well?” + +“Perhaps so,” said he. + +“Perhaps,” said I, “the half is true, and perhaps the whole, but we do +not understand it: for the wicked man, by how much nearer he approaches, +and is more intimate with a wicked man, seems to us to become so much +the more hostile to him; for he injures him; but, surely, it is +impossible for those who injure and are injured to be friends: is it not +so?” + +“Yes,” he replied. + +“Thus, then, the half of this saying will not be true, since the wicked +are like each other?” + +“You say true.” + +“But they seem to me to say that the good are like each other and +friends, but that the bad, as it is said of them, are never alike even +to themselves, but are inconstant and unstable. But that which is unlike +and at variance with itself, can scarcely be like or friendly to +another; does it not seem so to you too?” + +“To me it does,” said he. + +26. “They intimate this, then, my friend, as it seems to me, when they +say that like is friendly to like, that the good man only is a friend to +the good man only, but that the bad man never arrives at true +friendship, either with a good or a bad man: does it seem so to you +also?” + +He nodded assent. + +“We have now discovered, then, who are friends, for our argument shews +that it must be those who are good.” + +“It certainly seems so,” said he. + +“And I think so too,” said I. “Nevertheless, I find some difficulty in +it. Come then, by Jupiter, let us see what it is I suspect. The like, in +so far as he is like, is a friend to the like, and such an one is useful +to such an one: or rather thus: can any thing that is like confer any +benefit on or do any harm to any thing that is like, which it cannot +also do to itself; or suffer any thing which it cannot also suffer from +itself? But how can such things be held in regard by each other when +they are unable to afford any assistance to each other? is it possible?” + +“It is not possible.” + +“But how can that which is not held in regard be a friend?” + +“In no way.” + +“The like, then, is not a friend to the like: but will the good be a +friend to the good, so far as he is good, and not so far as he is like?” + +“Perhaps so.” + +27. “But what? Will not the good man, so far as he is good, be +sufficient for himself?” + +“Yes.” + +“But he who is sufficient stands in need of nothing, so far as +sufficiency is concerned?” + +“How can it be otherwise?” + +“And he who stands in need of nothing will not regard any thing?” + +“He will not.” + +“But he who does not feel a regard cannot love?” + +“Surely not.” + +“How, then, will the good be in any respect friends to the good, who +neither when absent regret each other, for they are sufficient for +themselves when apart, nor when present stand in need of each other? By +what contrivance can such persons value each other very highly?” + +“By none at all,” said he. + +“But they will not be friends who do not value each other very highly?” + +“True.” + +“Observe then, Lysis, how we are deceived. Are we, then, deceived in the +whole?” + +“How so?” said he. + +“I once heard a person say, and I just now call it to mind, that like is +most hostile to like, and the good to the good. And moreover, he adduced +Hesiod[174] as a witness, saying that ‘potter is angry with potter, bard +with bard, and beggar with beggar.’ And so, he said, with regard to all +other things, that as a matter of absolute necessity, things most like +each other are most full of envy, strife, and hatred; but such as are +most unlike, of friendship; 28. for that the poor man is compelled to be +a friend to the rich, and the weak to the strong, for the sake of +assistance, and the sick man to the physician; and that every one who is +ignorant must regard and love him that has knowledge. Moreover, he +carried on the subject in a more lofty style, saying that the like is so +far from being friendly to the like, that the very contrary to this +takes place. For that the most contrary is in the highest degree +friendly to the most contrary; for every thing desires its contrary, and +not its like. Thus the dry desires the moist, the cold heat, the bitter +sweet, the sharp blunt, the empty fulness, and the full emptiness; and +all other things in the same way. For the contrary is food to the +contrary, but the like can derive no enjoyment from the like. And +indeed, my friend, he who said this seemed to be an accomplished man, +for he spoke well. But how does he seem to you to speak?” I asked. + +----- + +Footnote 174: + + Op. et Di., v. 25. + +----- + +29. “Well,” replied Menexenus, “as it seems on first hearing.” + +“Shall we say, then, that the contrary is most friendly to the +contrary?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Be it so,” said I, “but is it not monstrous, Menexenus, and will not +those perfectly wise men, the disputants, immediately spring upon us +exultingly, and ask, if friendship is not most contrary to enmity? What +answer shall we give them? Must we not of necessity admit that they say +truly?” + +“Of necessity.” + +“‘Well then,’ they will ask, ‘is an enemy a friend to a friend, or is a +friend a friend to an enemy?’”. + +“Neither the one nor the other,” he replied. + +“But is the just a friend to the unjust, or the temperate to the +intemperate, or the good to the bad?” + +“I does not appear to me to be so.” + +“However,” said I, “if one thing is a friend to another by reason of +contrariety, these things must also of necessity be friendly?” + +“Of necessity.” + +“Neither, therefore, is the like friendly to the like, nor the contrary +to the contrary?” + +“It appears not.” + +“Further, let us consider this, whether it still more escapes our +observation, that a friend is in reality none of these, but that what is +neither good nor evil may sometimes become the friend of the good.” + +“How mean you?” said he. + +“By Jupiter,” said I, “I don’t know; for I am in reality myself dizzy +with the perplexity of the argument. It appears, however, according to +the ancient proverb, that the beautiful is friendly. 30. It certainly +resembles something soft, smooth, and plump; on which account perhaps it +slips away from us and escapes us, because it is a thing of this kind. +For I say that the good is beautiful: do you not think so?” + +“I do.” + +“I say, therefore, prophetically, that that which is neither good nor +evil is friendly to the beautiful and the good. But hear why I thus +prophesy. There appear to me to be as it were three several classes, one +good, a second evil, a third neither good nor evil. What think you?” + +“It seems so to me also,” said he. + +“Now that the good is friendly to the good, or the evil to the evil, or +the good to the evil, our former argument does not allow us to say. It +remains therefore, if any thing is friendly to any thing, that that +which is neither good nor evil, must be friendly either to the good, or +to that which is such as itself; for nothing surely can become friendly +to the evil.” + +“True.” + +“Neither is like friendly to like, we just now said; did we not?” + +“Yes.” + +“Therefore to that which is neither good nor evil, that which resembles +it will not be friendly?” + +“It appears not.” + +“The result then is, that that which is neither good nor evil alone +becomes friendly to the good alone?” + +“Necessarily so, as it seems.” + +31. “Well then, my boys,” said I, “does what is now said lead us in the +right direction? Surely if we will consider, a healthy body has no need +of the medicinal art, or of any assistance; for it is sufficient for +itself; so that no healthy person is a friend to a physician on account +of health; is it not so?” + +“No one.” + +“But the sick man I think is, on account of disease?” + +“How not?” + +“But disease is an evil, and the medicinal art beneficial and good.” + +“Yes.” + +“But a body surely, so far as it is body, is neither good nor evil.” + +“Just so.” + +“But a body is compelled, on account of disease, to embrace and love the +medicinal art.” + +“It seems so to me.” + +“That, therefore, which is neither evil nor good, becomes friendly to +the good, on account of the presence of evil.” + +“So it seems.” + +“But it is evident that it becomes so, prior to its becoming evil +through the evil which it contains; for when it has once become evil, it +will no longer desire the good, and be friendly to it: for we have said +that it is impossible for the evil to be friendly to the good.” + +“It is impossible.” + +“Consider, then, what I say. For I say that some things are themselves +such as that which is present with them, and some not. Thus, if any one +wishes to dye any thing with any colour, the colour that is dyed in is +surely present in the thing that is dyed.” + +“Certainly.” + +32. “Is then, that which is dyed, afterwards, the same as to colour, as +that which is on it?” + +“I don’t understand you,” he replied. + +“But thus,” said I, “If any one should dye your hairs, which are yellow, +with white lead, would they then be white, or appear so?” + +“They would appear so,” he replied. + +“Though whiteness would be present with them.” + +“Yes.” + +“And yet your hairs would not be at all the more white, but though +whiteness is present, they are neither white nor black.” + +“True.” + +“But when, my friend, old age has brought this colour on them, then they +become such as that which is present with them, white by the presence of +white.” + +“How can it be otherwise?” + +“This then I now ask, if a thing be present in any thing, will that +which contains it be such as that which is present with it, or if it be +present after a certain manner, will it be such, but otherwise not?” + +“Thus, rather,” he replied. + +“That then which is neither evil nor good, sometimes when evil is +present, is not yet evil, but sometimes it has already become such.” + +“Certainly.” + +“When, therefore, it is not yet evil, though evil be present, this very +presence of evil makes it desirous of good, but this presence which +makes it evil, deprives it at the same time of the desire and friendship +for the good. 33. For it is now no longer neither evil nor good, but +evil; evil however we saw, is not friendly to good.” + +“It is not.” + +“On this account we must say, that those who are already wise no longer +love wisdom, whether they are gods or men; nor again do they love wisdom +who have so much ignorance, as to be evil: for no evil and foolish +person loves wisdom. They therefore are left, who possess indeed this +evil, ignorance, but are not yet thereby stupid or foolish, but still +think that they do not know the things that they do not know. Wherefore +they who are not yet either good or evil are lovers of wisdom; but such +as are evil do not love wisdom, nor do the good: for we have seen in a +former part of our discussion, that neither is the contrary friendly to +the contrary, nor the like to the like: do you not remember this?” + +“Certainly,” they both replied. + +“Now then,” said I, “Lysis and Menexenus, we have certainly discovered +what it is that is friendly and what not. For we say, that with respect +to the soul, and with respect to the body, and every thing else, that +which is neither evil nor good, is friendly to the good on account of +the presence of evil.” + +34. They quite admitted and agreed that such was the case. + +And I for my part was rejoicing exceedingly, like any hunter, in having +just caught the prey that I was in chase of. And then, I know not from +what quarter, a most strange suspicion came into my mind, that what we +had assented to was not true. And immediately being distressed, I said, +“Alas, Lysis and Menexenus, we seem to have grown rich in a dream.” + +“Why so?” said Menexenus. + +“I am afraid,” I replied, “that as if with braggart men, we have fallen +in with some such false reasonings respecting a friend.” + +“How so?” he asked. + +“Let us consider it thus,” said I; “whether is he who is a friend, a +friend to some one or not?” + +“Necessarily so,” said he. + +“Whether, therefore, for the sake of nothing, and on account of nothing, +or for the sake of something, and on account of something?” + +“For the sake of something and on account of something.” + +“Whether is that thing friendly for the sake of which a friend is a +friend to a friend, or is it neither friendly nor hostile?” + +“I do not quite follow you,” said he. + +“Probably,” said I. “But thus perhaps you will be able to follow me; and +I think that I too shall better understand what I say. The sick man, we +just now said, is a friend to the physician; is it not so?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is he not, then, a friend to the physician on account of disease, for +the sake of health?” + +“Yes.” + +“But disease is an evil?” + +“How not?” + +“But what is health?” said I; “is it good or evil, or neither?” + +“Good,” said he. + +35. “We stated, then, as it seems, that the body, which is neither good, +nor evil, on account of disease, that is on account of evil, is friendly +to the medicinal art: but the medicinal art is a good; and the medicinal +art acquires the friendship for the sake of health; and health is good: +is it not?” + +“Yes.” + +“But is health a friend, or not a friend?” + +“A friend.” + +“And is disease an enemy?” + +“Certainly.” + +“That then which is neither evil nor good, on account of what is evil +and an enemy, is a friend to the good, for the sake of what is good and +a friend.” + +“It appears so.” + +“The friendly therefore is a friend for the sake of the friend, on +account of that which is an enemy.” + +“So it seems.” + +“Well then,” said I, “since we have reached this point, my boys, let us +pay every attention that we be not deceived. For that a friend becomes a +friend to a friend, and that like becomes a friend to like, which we +said is impossible, I give up. However let us consider this, that what +is now asserted may not deceive us. The medicinal art, we say, is a +friend for the sake of health?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is not, then, health also a friend?” + +“Certainly.” + +36. “If, then, it is a friend, it must be so for the sake of something?” + +“Yes.” + +“And indeed of something friendly, if we will keep to our former +admission?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Will not, therefore, that again be a friend, for the sake of something +friendly?” + +“Yes.” + +“Must we not, then, necessarily be tired out with going on thus, and +arrive at some principle, which will not have to be referred to another +friend, but will arrive at that which is the first friend, for the sake +of which we say that all other things are friendly?” + +“Necessarily so.” + +“This, then, is what I say, we must take care that all those other +things which we said were friendly for the sake of that, do not, as +being certain images of it, deceive us, but that that may be the first +which is truly a friend. For let us consider it thus. If any one values +any thing very highly, as, for instance, sometimes a father prizes a son +above all other things, will not such an one, because he esteems his son +above every thing, also value something else very highly? For instance, +if he were to hear that he had drunk hemlock, would he not value wine +very highly, if he thought this would save his son?” + +“How should he not?” said he. + +37. “And the vessel too that contained the wine?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Will he then set the same value on an earthenware cup as he does upon +his son, or three measures of wine as on his son? or is the case thus? +all such anxiety is employed not about those things that are procured +for the sake of something else, but about that for the sake of which all +such things are procured: for although we often say that we value gold +and silver very highly, yet we may observe that the truth is not at all +the more thus; but what we value so very highly is that, whatever it may +prove to be, for the sake of which gold and all other provisions are +procured. Shall we not say so?” + +“Certainly.” + +“May not the same thing also be said of a friend? for whatever things we +say are friendly to us, for the sake of some friendly thing, we appear +to describe by a name that belongs to another, but that very thing seems +in reality to be friendly in which all those so-called friendships +terminate?” + +“This seems to be the case,” said he. + +“That, then, which is in reality friendly is not friendly for the sake +of any other friendly thing?” + +“True.” + +“This, then, is settled, that what is friendly is not friendly for the +sake of any other friendly thing. Is the good, then, friendly?” + +“It seems so to me.” + +38. “Is the good, then, loved on account of evil, and is the case thus? +If of the three things which we just now mentioned, good, evil, and that +which is neither good nor evil, two only were to be left, but evil were +to depart altogether, and not come in contact with any thing, either +with body, or soul, or any other of the things which we say in +themselves are neither evil nor good, in that case would not good be of +no use to us, but become useless? For if there were nothing to hurt us +any more, we should stand in need of no assistance whatever. And thus it +would then become evident that we had a regard for and loved the good on +account of evil, since good is a medicine for evil, but evil is a +disease. But when there is no disease, there is no need of medicine. Is +this, then, the nature of good, and is it loved on account of evil, by +us who are placed between evil and good, and is it of no use itself, for +the sake of itself?” + +“Such seems to be the case,” he replied. + +“That which is friendly, therefore, to us, is that in which terminate +all other things, which we said are friendly for the sake of some other +friendly thing, but in no respect resembles them? 39. For these are +called friendly for the sake of a friendly thing; but that which is in +reality friendly appears to be of a nature quite contrary to this; for +we have found it to be friendly for the sake of that which is hostile: +but if that which is hostile should depart, it would no longer, as it +seems, be friendly to us.” + +“It seems to me that it would not,” said he, “according to what is now +said.” + +“Whether, by Jupiter,” said I, “if evil were to be destroyed, would +there no longer be any hunger or thirst, or any thing else of the kind? +or would there be hunger, if men and other animals existed, yet not so +as to be hurtful? and thirst, and other desires, yet not be evil, since +evil is destroyed? or is the question ridiculous, what would then be the +case or not be the case? for who knows? This, however, we know, that at +present it is possible to be harmed by being hungry, and it is also +possible to be benefited; is it not so?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Therefore it is possible that one who thirsts, or is affected by any +other similar desire, may sometimes be affected by it beneficially, and +sometimes harmfully, and sometimes neither?” + +“Assuredly.” + +“If, therefore, evil were destroyed, must things that are not evil be +destroyed together with the evil?” + +“Not at all.” + +“There will be, then, such desires as are neither good nor evil, even if +evils were destroyed?” + +“It appears so.” + +40. “Is it, then, possible, that one who desires and is fond of any +thing, should not love that which he desires and is fond of?” + +“It does not appear so to me.” + +“When evils, then, are destroyed, there will remain, as it seems, +certain friendly things?” + +“Yes.” + +“Not so; at least if evil were the cause of any thing being friendly, +for, when that is destroyed, one thing could not be friendly to another: +for when the cause is destroyed, it is surely impossible that that of +which it was the cause should any longer exist?” + +“You say rightly.” + +“Did we not admit that the friendly loved something, and on account of +something, and did we not then think that, on account of evil, that +which is neither good nor evil loved the good?” + +“True.” + +“But now, as it seems, there appears to be some other cause of loving +and being loved?” + +“So it seems.” + +“Whether, then, in reality, as we just now said, is desire the cause of +friendship, and is that which desires friendly to that which it desires, +and at the time when it desires, but is what we before said was friendly +mere trifling, like a poem[175] heedlessly composed?” + +----- + +Footnote 175: + + I have adopted Ast’s suggestion of μάτην for μακρόν. Stallbaum would + retain both, and read μακρὸν μάτην. + +----- + +“It seems so,” said he. + +“However,” I said, “that which desires desires that which it stands in +need of; does it not?” + +“Yes.” + +“And is that which stands in need friendly to that of which it stands in +need?” + +“It seems so to me.” + +“And it stands in need of that which is taken from it?” + +41. “How should it not?” + +“As it seems, then, love, friendship, and desire, respect that which +belongs to a man; so it appears, Menexenus and Lysis?” + +They both assented. + +“If, therefore, you two are friends to each other, you must, in a +manner, by nature belong to each other?” + +“Assuredly,” they both replied. + +“If, then,” said I, “any one desires or is fond of another, my boys, he +could never desire, or be fond of, or be a friend, unless he, in a +manner, belonged to the object of his love, either as to his soul, or as +to some habit of the soul, or disposition, or form?” + +“Certainly,” said Menexenus, but Lysis was silent. + +“Well, then,” said I, “it has proved necessary for us to love that which +by nature belongs to us?” + +“It seems so,” said he. + +“It is necessary, then, for a genuine, and not a pretended lover, to be +beloved by his favourite?” + +To this Lysis and Menexenus scarcely nodded assent, but Hippothales, +through delight, exhibited all sorts of colours. And I, being willing to +examine the matter, said, “If there is any difference between that which +belongs to us and that which is like, we shall be able to say, as it +seems to me, Lysis and Menexenus, respecting a friend, what he is, but +if the like and that which belongs are the same, it is not easy to get +rid of our former conclusion, that the like is useless to the like, as +regards similitude; but to admit that what is useless can be friendly is +absurd. 42. Are you willing, then,” I added, “since we are, as it were, +intoxicated by the discussion, that we should grant and affirm that that +which belongs is different from that which is like?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Whether, then, shall we admit that good belongs to every thing, but +that evil is foreign? or that evil belongs to evil, good to good, and +that which is neither good nor evil, to that which is neither good nor +evil?” + +They both said, that so it appeared to them, that each belongs to each. + +“Again, therefore,” said I, “my boys, we have fallen upon those +conclusions which we at first rejected respecting friendship. For the +unjust will be no less a friend to the unjust, and the evil to the evil, +than the good to the good.” + +“So it seems,” he said. + +“But what? if we should say that the good and that which belongs are the +same, will not the good only be a friend to the good?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But in this too we thought we had confuted ourselves; do you not +remember?” + +“We do remember.” + +“In what way, then, can we still deal with the subject; is it not clear, +in no way at all? I require, then, like skilful pleaders in the law +courts, to sum up all that has been said; for if neither those that are +loved, nor those that love, nor the like, nor the unlike, nor the good, +nor those that belong to us, nor any others that we have described, (for +I do not remember them any further, on account of their number,) but if +no one of these is a friend, I have nothing more to say.” + +43. When I had said this, I purposed to stir up some one of the older +men; but just then, like evil spirits, the pedagogues of Lysis and +Menexenus approaching us, having hold of their brothers by their hand, +called to them, and bade them go home, for it was already late. At +first, then, both we and the bystanders drove them away; but when they +paid no attention to us, but murmured in their barbarous dialect, and +desisted not from calling them, and seemed to us, from having drunk too +much at the Hermæan festival, to be difficult to manage, we yielded to +them, and dissolved the conference. However, as they were just going +away, I said, Lysis and Menexenus, we have made ourselves ridiculous, +both I, an old man, and you; for those who are now leaving us will say, +that we think ourselves to be each other’s friends, (for I reckon myself +among you,) but that we have not yet been able to discover what a friend +is. + + + END OF VOL. I. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note + +Each dialogue is footnoted beginning anew with ‘a’, and cycling back to +‘a’ if needed. The footnote sequence has the occasional lapse. However, +all have been re-sequenced numerically across the entire volume. + +A single erratum, referring to 428.32, was included in the front matter +of the volume. The change has been applied. + +There were several section numbers referred to in the text which were +missing. Where possible, these have been added (delimited by square +brackets), based on the Greek edition of Bekker (1826), which the author +used as the basis for his translation. + +At 288.7, an closing single quotation mark has no obvious opening. + +Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and +are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. + + 23.41 quietly awaits your decision.[”] Added. + 25.41 Crito[,] Critobulus Added, + 110.40 “The same as snow and fire?[’/”] Replaced. + 111.19 must it not?[”] Added. + 111.34 do you admit this or not?[”] Added. + 112.18 which is always a contrary?[”] Added. + 121.32 and it is possi[ /b]le Replaced. + 123.1 [“]But those who appear Added. + 167.33 64. [_Pol._ ]But this is more difficult Added. + 187.41 as if αὐτ[α/ὰ] ταῦτα preceded ἃ [ἃ/ἂ]ν Replaced. + 240.32 given by Protagoras[?/.] Replaced. + 288.37 [‘]Protagoras and Socrates Added. + 293.1 what is dreadful, and no[t] dreadful Added. + 320.43 οἰωνιστική, [augury _augury_] Italicize. + 326.10 best of all enthusia[s]ms Inserted. + 352.15 who take an interest in such matters[./?] Replaced. + 359.8 of composing poet[r]y Inserted. + 373.19 and reasoning[./?] Replaced. + 377.2 as I just now spoke of it[./,] Replaced. + 380.2 both to themselves a[m/n]d others. Replaced. + 455.8 what science is[,] Added. + 481.35 Tell me this.[’/”] Replaced. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78618 *** |