Chapter XVII: Part 17

_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.

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Footnote 133:

Ψιλὴν ἢ ἐν ᾠδῇ, without music or with.

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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].

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Footnote 134:

§ 1-22.

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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].

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Footnote 135:

§ 23-46.

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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].

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Footnote 136:

§ 47-65.

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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].

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Footnote 137:

§ 66-75.

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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].

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Footnote 138:

§ 76-87.

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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].

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Footnote 139:

§ 87-91.

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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].

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Footnote 140:

§ 91-100.

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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].

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Footnote 141:

§ 101-107.

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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].

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Footnote 142:

§ 108-125.

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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].

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Footnote 143:

§ 126-138.

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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].

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Footnote 144:

§ 139-149.

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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].

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Footnote 145:

§ 149-157.

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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.

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_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.

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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.

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_Socr._ Very well.