Chapter XVIII: Part 18

_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?

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Footnote 147:

That is, of choosing the soil.

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_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?

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Footnote 148:

Iliad, xiv. 201.

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_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].

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Footnote 149:

See Eurip. Hippol. l. 612.

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_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?

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Footnote 150:

Hesiod, Theog. l. 780. Thauma signifies “wonder.”

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_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?

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Footnote 151:

Literally “unmusical.”

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_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].

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Footnote 152:

Of conversations when awake, and of fancied conversations in dreams.

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_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.

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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?